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    LI B i A R Y ..
    OF THE
  U N I\/ ER.S IY
  OF ILLINO I
  From the Library of
Dr. R. E. Hieronymus
       1942

   63C3G55







WILHELM          MEIST        S




   APPRENTICESHIP AND TRAVELS.   .


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.









     By THOMAS CARLYLE.






     COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.






           NEW YORK:
      A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER.






















CONTENTS.


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    BOOK



    BOOK

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PAGE
  15


II.   .  .

III.  .      .

IV.

V.    .   ..

VI.
*V.J. .  .


4


.  ..  74

.    . 134

.   . 185

.   . 254

.   . 320

.   . 372


3


A


.   .  .   .















               TO THE READER.




  THESE two translations, " Meister's Apprenticeship " and
" Meister's Travels," have long been out of print, but never
altogether out of demand; nay, it would seem, the originally
somewhat moderate demand has gone on increasing, and con-
tinues to increase. They are, therefore, here republished;
and the one being in some sort a sequel to the other, though
in rather unexpected sort, they are now printed together.
The English version of " Meister's Travels" has been ex-
tracted, or extricated, from a compilation of very various
quality named " German Romance," and placed by the side
of the " Apprenticeship," its forerunner, which, in the trans-
lated as in the original state, appeared hitherto as a separate
work.
  In the " Apprenticeship," the first of these translations,
which was executed some fifteen years ago, under questiona
ble auspices, I have made many little changes, but could
not,'unfortunately, change it into a right translation : it hung,
in many places, stiff and labored, too like some unfortunate
buckram cloak round the light, harmonious movement of
the original, - and, alas! still hangs so, here and there,
and may now hang. In the second translation, " Meister's
Travels," two years later in date, I have changed little of
nothing. I might have added much; for the original, since
that time, was, as it were, taken to pieces by the authot
himself in his last years, and constructed anew, and, in the
final edition of his works, appears with multifarious inter-
calations, giving a great expansion, both of size and of
scope. Not pedagogy only, and husbandry and art and
religion and human conduct in the nineteenth century,
but geology, astronomy, cotton-spinning, metallurgy, ana-
                                                  5





TO THE READER.


tomical lecturing, and much else, are typically shadowed
forth in this second form of the "Travels," which, how-
ever, continues a fragment like the first, significantly point-
ing on all hands towards infinitude, - not more complete than
the first was, or indeed perhaps less so. It will well reward
the trustful student of Goethe to read this new form of the
"' Travels," and see how in that great mind, beaming in
mildest mellow splendor, beaming if also trembling, like a
great sun on the verge of the horizon, near now to its long
farewell, all these things were illuminated and illustrated:
but, for the mere English reader, there are probably in our
prior edition of the " Travels " already novelties enough;
for us, at all events, it seemed unadvisable to meddle with
it further at present.
  Goethe's position towards the English public is greatly
altered since these translations first made their appearance.
Criticisms near the mark, or farther from the mark, or even
altogether far and away from any mark, - of these there have
been enough. These pass on their road: the man and his
works remain what they are and were, - more and more
recognizable for what they are. Few English readers can
require now to be apprised that these two books, named
novels, come not under the Minerva-Press category, nor
the Ballantyne-Press category, nor any such category; that
the author is one whose secret, by no means worn upon his
sleeve, will never, by any ingenuity, be got at in that way.
  For a translator, in the present case, it is enough to
reflect, that he who imports into his own country any true
delineation, a rationally spoken word on any subject, has
done well. Ours is a wide world, peaceably admitting many
different modes of speech. In our wide world, there is but
one altogether fatal personage, - the dunce, - he that speaks
irrationally, that sees not, and yet thinks he sees. A genu-
ine seer and speaker, under what conditions soever, shall be
welcome to us: has he not seen somewhat of great Nature
our common mother's bringing forth, - seen it, loved it, laid
his heart open to it and to the mother of it, so that he
can now rationally speak it for us? He is our brother,
and a good, not a bad, man : his words are like gold, pre-
cious, whether stamped in our mint, or in what mint soever
stamped.
                                            T. CARLYLE.
  LoNDoN, November, 1839.










         TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE

                          TO THE


 FIRST EDITION OF MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.




 WHETHER it be that the quantity of genius among our-
 selves and the French, and the number of works more
lasting than brass produced by it, have of late been so con-
siderable as to make us independent of additional supplies;
or that, in our ancient aristocracy of intellect, we disdain
to be assisted by the Germans, whom, by a species of sec-
ond sight, we have discovered, before knowing any thing
about them, to be a tumid, dreaming, extravagant, insane
race of mortals, - certain it is, that hitherto our literary inter-
course with that nation has been very slight and precarious.
After a brief period of not too judicious cordiality, the
acquaintance on our part was altogether dropped: nor, in
the few years since we partially resumed it, have our feel-
ings of affection or esteem been materially increased. Our
translators are unfortunate in their selection or execution,
or the public is tasteless and absurd in its demands; for,
with scarcely more than one or two exceptions, the best
works of Germany have lain neglected, or worse than neg-
lected: and the Germans are yet utterly unknown to us.
Kotzebue still lives in our minds as the representative of a
nation that despises him; Schiller is chiefly known to us by
the monstrous production of his boyhood; and Klopstock
by a hacked and mangled image of his " Messiah," in which
a beautiful poem is distorted into a theosophic rhapsody,
and the brother of Virgil and Racine ranks little higher than
the author of " Meditations among the Tombs."
   But of all these people there is none that has been more
unjustly dealt with than Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
For half a century the admiration --we might almost say





TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.


the idol - of his countrymen, to us he is still a stranger.
His name, long echoed and re-echoed through reviews and
magazines, has become familiar to our ears; but it is a
sound and nothing more : it excites no definite idea in almost
any mind. To such as know him by the faint and garbled
version of his " Werther," Goethe figures as a sort of poetic
Heraclitus; some woe-begone hypochondriac, whose eyes are
overflowing with perpetual tears, whose long life has been
spent in melting into ecstasy at the sight of waterfalls and
clouds, and the moral sublime, or dissolving into hysterical
wailings over hapless love-stories, and the miseries of human
life. They are not aware that Goethe smiles at this per-
formance of his youth, or that the German Werther, with
all his faults, is a very different person from his English
namesake; that his Sorrows are in the original recorded in
a tone of strength and sarcastic emphasis, of which the
other offers no vestige, and intermingled with touches of
powerful thought, glimpses of a philosophy deep as it is
bitter, which our sagacious translator has seen proper wholly
to omit. Others, again, who have fallen in with Retsch's
" Outlines " and the extracts from " Faust," consider Goethe
as a wild mystic, a dealer in demonology and osteology,
who draws attention by the aid of skeletons and evil spirits,
whose excellence it is to be extravagant, whose chief aim
it is to do what no one but himself has tried. The tyro in
German may tell us that the charm of " Faust" is alto-
gether unconnected with its preternatural import; that the
work delineates the fate of human enthusiasm struggling
against doubts and errors from within, against scepticism,
contempt, and selfishness from without; and that the witch-
craft and magic, intended merely as a shadowy frame for
so complex and mysterious a picture of the moral world and
the human soul, are introduced for the purpose, not so much
of being trembled at as laughed at. The voice of the tyro
is not listened to; our indolence takes part with our igno-
rance; " Faust" continues to be called a monster; and
Goethe is regarded as a man of " some genius," which he
has perverted to produce all manner of misfashioned prodi-
gies, - things false, abortive, formless, Gorgons and hydras,
and chimeras dire.
  Now, it must no doubt be granted, that, so long as our
invaluable constitution is preserved in its pristine purity,
the British nation may exist in a state of comparative pros-
perity with very inadequate ideas of Goethe; but, at the





TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.


same time, the present arrangement is an evil in its kind, -
slight, it is true, and easy to be borne, yet still more easy
to be remedied, and which, therefore, ought to have been
remedied ere now. Minds like Goethe's are the common
property of all nations; and, for many reasons, all should
have correct impressions of them.
  It is partly with the view of doing something to supply
this want, that " Wilhelm Meister's Lehrjahre." is now pre-
sented to the English public. Written in its author's forty-
fifth year, embracing hints or disquisitions on almost every
leading point in life and literature, it affords us a more dis-
tinct view of his matured genius, his manner of thought,
and favorite subjects, than any of his other works. Nor
is it Goethe alone whom it portrays: the prevailing taste of
Germany is likewise indicated by it. Since the year 1795,
when it first appeared at Berlin, numerous editions of " Meis-
ter" have been printed: critics of all ranks, and some of
them dissenting widely from its doctrines, have loaded it
with encomiums; its songs and poems are familiar to every
German ear; the people read it, and speak of it, with an
admiration approaching in many cases to enthusiasm.
  That it will be equally successful in England, I am far
indeed from anticipating. Apart from the above considera-
tions, - from the curiosity, -intelligent or idle, which it may
awaken, - the number of admiring, or even approving,
judges it will find can scarcely fail of being very limited.
To the great mass of readers, who read to drive away the
tedium of mental vacancy, employing the crude phantas-
magoria of a modern novel, as their grandfathers employed
tobacco and diluted brandy, " Wilhelm Meister " will appear
beyond endurance weary, flat, stale, and unprofitable.
Those, in particular, who take delight in " King Cambyses'
vein," and open " Meister " with the thought of '" Werther "
in their minds, will soon pause in utter dismay; and their
paroxysm of dismay will pass by degrees into unspeakable
contempt. Of romance interest there is next to none in
" Meister; " the characters are samples to judge of, rather
than persons to love or hate; the incidents are contrived
for other objects than moving or affrighting us; the hero
is a milksop, whom, with all his gifts, it takes an effort to
avoid despising. The author himself, far from " doing it
in a passion," wears a face of the most still indifference
throughout the whole affair: often it is even wrinkled by a
slight sardonic grin. For the friends of the sublime, then,


9





TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.


-- for those who cannot do without heroical sentiments, and
" moving accidents by flood and field," -there is nothing
here that can be of any service.
  Nor among readers of a far higher character, can it be
expected that many will take the praiseworthy pains of
Germans, reverential of their favorite author, and anxious
to hunt out his most elusive charms. Few among us will
disturb themselves about the allegories and typical allusions
of the work; will stop to inquire whether it includes a
remote emblem of human culture, or includes no such mat-
ter; whether this is a light, airy sketch of the development of
man in all his endowments and faculties, gradually proceed-
ing from the first rude exhibitions of puppets and mounte-
banks, through the perfection of poetic and dramatic art,
up to the unfolding of the principle of religion, and the
greatest of all arts, - the art of life, - or is nothing more
than a bungled piece of patchwork, presenting in the shape
of a novel much that should have been suppressed entirely,
or at least given out by way of lecture. Whether the char-
acters do or do not represent distinct classes of men, includ-
ing various stages of human nature, from the gay, material
vivacity of Philina to the severe moral grandeur of the
uncle and the splendid accomplishment of Lothario, will to
most of us be of small importance; and the everlasting
disquisitions about plays and players, and politeness and
activity, and art and nature, will weary many a mind that
knows not and heeds not whether they are true or false.
Yet every man's judgment is, in this free country, a lamp
to himself: whoever is displeased will censure; and many,
it is to be feared, will insist on judging " Meister" by the
common rule, and, what is worse, condemning it, let Schlegel
bawl as loudly as he pleases. " To judge," says he, "of
this book, - new and peculiar as it is, and only to be under-
stood and learned from itself, by our common notion of the
novel, a notion pieced together and produced out of custom
and belief, out of accidental and arbitrary requisitions, -
is as if a child should grasp at the moon and stars, and
insist on packing them into its toy-box." 1 Unhappily the
most of us have boxes, and some of them are very small.
  Yet, independently of these its more recondite and dubi-
ous qualities, there are beauties in " Meister " which cannot
but secure it some degree of favor at the.hands of many.
The philosophical discussions it contains; its keen glances
                   1 Charakteristik des Meister.


10





TRANSLATOR'S PRE ACE.


11


into life and art; the minute and skilful delineation of men;
the lively, genuine exhibition of the scenes they move in;
the occasional touches of eloquence and tenderness, and
even of poetry, the very essence of poetry; the quantity
of thought and knowledge embodied in a style so rich in
general felicities, of which, at least, the new and sometimes
exquisitely happy metaphors have been preserved, - cannot
wholly escape an observing reader, even on the most cursory
perusal. To those who have formed for themselves a pic-
ture of the world, who have drawn out, from the thousand
variable circumstances of their being, a philosophy of life,
it will be interesting and instructive to see how man and
his concerns are represented in the first of European minds :
to those who have penetrated to the limits of their own con-
ceptions, and wrestled with thoughts and feelings too high
for them, it will be pleasing and profitable to see the horizon
of their certainties widened, or at least separated with a
firmer line from the impalpable obscure which surrounds
it on every side. Such persons I can fearlessly invite to
study " Meister."   Across the disfigurement of a transla-
tion, they will not fail to discern indubitable traces of the
greatest genius in our times. And the longer they study,
they are likely to discern them the more distinctly. New
charms will successively arise to view; and of the many
apparent blemishes, while a few superficial ones may be
confirmed, the greater and more important part will vanish,
or even change from dark to bright. For, if I mistake not,
it is with " Meister " as with every work of real and abiding
excellence,- the first glance is the least favorable. A pic-
ture of Raphael, a Greek statue, a play of Sophocles or
Shakspeare, appears insignificant to the unpractised eye;
and not till after long and patient and intense examination,
do we begin to descry the earnest features of that beauty,
which has its foundation in the deepest nature of man, and
will continue to be pleasing through all ages.
  If this appear excessive praise, as applied in any sense
to "Meister," the curious sceptic is desired to read and
weigh the whole performance, with all its references, rela-
tions, purposes, and to pronounce his verdict after he has
clearly seized and appreciated them all. Or, if a more
faint conviction will suffice, let him turn to the picture of
Wilhelm's states of mind in the end of the first book, and
the beginning of the second; the eulogies of commerce and
poesy, which follow; the description of Hamlet; the char-





12


TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.


acter of histrionic life in Serlo and Aurelia; that of sedate
and lofty manhood in the uncle and Lothario. But, above
all, let him turn to the history of Mignon. This mysterious
child, at first neglected by the reader, gradually forced on
his attention, at length overpowers him with an emotion
more deep and thrilling than any poet since the days of
Shakspeare has succeeded in producing. The daughter of
enthusiasm, rapture, passion, and despair, she is of the
earth, but not earthly. When she glides before us through
the light mazes of her fairy dance, or twangs her cithern
to the notes of her homesick verses, or whirls her tambou-
rine and hurries round us like an antique Maenad, we could
almost fancy her a spirit; so pure is she, so full of fervor,
so disengaged from the clay of this world. And when all
the fearful particulars of her story are at length laid to-
gether, and we behold in connected order the image of her
hapless existence, there is, in those dim recollections,- those
feelings so simple, so impassioned and unspeakable, con-
suming the closely shrouded, woe-struck, yet ethereal spirit
of the poor creature, --something which searches into the
inmost recesses of the soul. It is not tears which her fate
calls forth, but a feeling far too deep for tears. The very
fire of heaven seems miserably quenched among the obstruc-
tions of this earth. Her little heart, so noble and so help-
less, perishes before the smallest of its many beauties is
unfolded; and all its loves and thoughts and longings do
but add another pang to death, and sink to silence -utter and
eternal. It is as if the gloomy porch of Dis, and his pale
kingdoms, were realized and set before us, and we heard
the ineffectual wail of infants reverberating from within
their prison-walls forever.
         " Continub auditae voces, vagitus et ingens,
         Infantumque anime flentes in limine primo:
         Quos dulcis vitro exsortes, et ab ubere raptos,
         Abstulit atra dies, et funere mersit acerbo."
  The history of Mignon runs like a thread of gold through
the tissue of the narrative, connecting with the heart much
that were else addressed only to the head. Philosophy and
eloquence might have done the rest, but this is poetry in
the highest meaning of the word. It must be for the power
of producing such creations and emotions, that Goethe is
by many of his countrymen ranked ,at the side of Homer
and Shakspeare, as one of the only three men of genius
that have ever lived.





TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.


  But my business here is not to judge of " Meister" or
its author, it is only to prepare others for judging it; and
for this purpose the most that I had room to say is said.
All I ask in the name of this illustrious foreigner is, that
the court which tries him be pure, and the jury instructed
in the cause; that the work be not condemned for wanting
what it was not meant to have, and by persons nowise
called to pass sentence on it.
  Respecting my own humble share in the adventure, it is
scarcely necessary to say any thing. .Fidelity is all the
merit I have aimed at: to convey the author's sentiments,
as he himself expressed them; to follow the original, in all
the variations of its style, - has been my constant endeavor.
In many points, both literary and moral, I could have wished
devoutly that he had not written as he has done; but to
alter any thing was not in my commission. The literary
and moral persuasions of a man like Goethe are objects of
a rational curiosity, and the duty of a translator is simple
and distinct. Accordingly, except a few phrases and sen-
tences, not in all amounting to a page, which I have dropped
as evidently unfit for the English taste, I have studied to
present the work exactly as it stands in German. That my
success has been indifferent, I already know too well. In
rendering the ideas of Goethe, often so subtle, so capriciously
expressive, the meaning was not always easy to seize, or to
convey with adequate effect. There were thin tints of style,
shades of ridicule or tenderness or solemnity, resting over
large spaces, and so slight as almost to be evanescent:
some of these I may have failed to see; to many of them
I could do no justice. Nor, even in plainer matters, can I
pride myself in having always imitated his colloquial famil-
iarity without falling into sentences bald and rugged, into
idioms harsh or foreign; or in having copied the flowing
oratory of other passages, without at times exaggerating or
defacing the swelling cadences and phrases of my original.
But what work, from the translating of a German novel to
the writing of an epic, was ever as the workman wished
and meant it? This version of " Meister," with whatever
faults it may have, I honestly present to my countrymen:
if, while it makes any portion of them more familiar with
the richest, most gifted of living minds, it increase their
knowledge, or even afford them a transient amusement, they
will excuse its errors, and I shall be far more than paid for
all my tabor.


18















          MEISTER'S      APPRENTICESHIP.




                       BOOK I.


                     CHAPTER I.

  THE play was late in breaking up: old Barbara went more
than once to the window, and listened for the sound of car-
riages. She was waiting for Mariana, her pretty mistress,
who had that night, in the afterpiece, been acting the part
of a young officer, to the no small delight of the public.
Barbara's impatience was greater than it used to be, when
she had nothing but a frugal supper to present: on this
occasion Mariana was to be surprised with a packet, which
Norberg, a young and wealthy merchant, had sent by the
post, to show that in absence he still thought of his love.
  As an old servant, as confidant, counsellor, manager,
and housekeeper, Barbara assumed the privilege of opening
seals; and this evening she had the less been able to restrain
her curiosity, as the favor of the open-handed gallant was
more a matter of anxiety with herself than with her mistress.
On breaking up the packet, she had found, with unfeigned
satisfaction, that it held a piece of fine muslin and some
ribbons of the newest fashion, for Mariana; with a quantity
of calico, two or three neckerchiefs, and a moderate rouleau
of money, for herself. Her esteem for the absent Norberg
was of course unbounded : she meditated only how she might
best present him to the mind of Mariana, best bring to her
recollection what she owed him, and what he had a right
to expect from her fidelity and thankfulness.
  The muslin, with the ribbons half unrolled, to set it off
                                                15





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


by their colors, lay like a Christmas present on the small
table; the position of the lights increased the glitter of the
gilt; all was in order, when the old woman heard Mariana's
step on the stairs, and hastened to meet her. But what was
her disappointment, when the little female officer, without
deigning to regard her caresses, rushed past her with unusual
speed and agitation, threw her hat and sword upon the table,
and walked hastily up and down, bestowing not a look on
the lights, or any portion of the apparatus.
  "What ails thee, my darling? " exclaimed the astonished
Barbara. " For Heaven's sake, what is the matter? Look
here, my pretty child! See what a present! And who
could have sent it but thy kindest of friends? Norberg has
given thee the muslin to make a night-gown of; he will
soon be here himself; he seems to be fonder and more gen-
erous than ever."
  Barbara went to the table, that she might exhibit the
memorials with which Norberg had likewise honored her,
when Mariana, turning away from the presents, exclaimed
with vehemence, "Off! off! Not a word of all this to-
night. I have yielded to thee; thou hast willed it; be it so !
When Norberg comes, I am his, am thine, am any one's;
make of me what thou pleasest; but till then I will be my
own; and, if thou hadst a thousand tongues, thou shouldst
never talk me from my purpose. All, all that is my own
will I give up to him who loves me, whom I love. No sour
faces! I will abandon myself to this affection, as if it were
to last forever."
  The old damsel had abundance of objections and serious
considerations to allege: in the progress of the dialogue,
she was growing bitter and keen, when Mariana sprang at
her, and seized her by the breast. The old damsel laughed
aloud. "' I must have a care," she cried, "that you don't
get into pantaloons again, if I mean to be sure of my life.
Come, doff you! The girl will beg my pardon for the fool-
ish things the boy is doing to me. Off with the frock. Off
with them all. The dress beseems you not; it is dangerous
for you, I observe ; the epaulets make you too bold."
  Thus speaking, she laid hands upon her mistress: Mari-
ana pushed her off, exclaiming, "Not so fast ! I expect a
visit to-night."
  " Visit! " rejoined Barbara : "you surely do not look for
Meister, the young, soft-hearted, callow merchant's son?"
  "Just for him," replied Mariana.


16





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  '" Generosity appears to be growing your ruling passion,"
said the old woman with a grin: "you connect yourself
with .minors and moneyless people, as if they were the
chosen of the earth. Doubtless it is charming to be wor-
shipped as a benefactress."
  "Jeer as thou pleasest. I love him! I love him! With
what rapture do I now, for the first time, speak the word !
This is the passion I have mimicked so often, when I knew
not what it meant. Yes! I will throw myself about his
neck: I will clasp him as if I could hold him forever. I
will show him all my love, will enjoy all his in its whole
extent."
  " Moderate yourself," said the old dame coolly, " mod-
erate yourself. A single word will interrupt your rapture:
Norberg is coming ! Coming in a fortnight ! Here is the
letter that arrived with the packet."
  " And, though the morrow were to rob me of my friend,
I would conceal it from myself and him. A fortnight ! An
age ! Within a fortnight, what may not happen, what may
not alter ? "
  Here Wilhelm entered. We need not say how fast she
flew to meet him, with what rapture he clasped the red uni-
form, and pressed the beautiful wearer of it to his bosom.
It is not for us to describe the blessedness of two lovers.
Old Barbara went grumbling away: we shall retire with her,
and leave the happy two alone.




                     CHAPTER II.

   WHEN Wilhelm    saluted his mother next morning, she
informed him that his father was very greatly discontented
with him, and meant to forbid him these daily visits to the
playhouse. " Though I myself often go with pleasure to the
theatre," she continued, "I could almost detest it entirely,
when I think that our fireside-peace is broken by your exces-
sive passion for that amusement. Your father is ever re-
peating, 'What is the use of it? How can any one waste
his time so ? '
   "He has told me this already," said Wilhelm, "and
perhaps I answered him too hastily; but, for Heaven's sake,


17





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mother, is nothing, then, of use but what immediately puts
money in our purse? but what procures us some property
that we can lay our hands on? Had we not, for instance,
room enough in the old house? and was it indispensable to
build a new one? Does not my father every year expend
a large part of his profit in ornamenting his chambers? Are
these silk carpets, this English furniture, likewise of no
use? Might we not content ourselves with worse? For
my own part, I confess, these striped walls, these hundred
times repeated flowers and knots and baskets and figures,
produce a really disagreeable effect upon me. At best, they
but remind me of the front curtain of our theatre. But
what a different thing it is to sit and look at that ! There,
if you must wait for a while, you are always sure that it
will rise at last, and disclose to you a thousand curious
-objects to entertain, to instruct, and to exalt you."
    " But you go to excess with it," said the mother. " Your
 father wishes to be entertained in the evenings as well as
 you: besides, he thinks it diverts your attention; and, when
 he grows ill-humored on the subject, it is I that must bear
 the blame. How often have I been upbraided with that
 miserable puppet-show, which I was unlucky enough to pro-
 vide for you at Christmas, twelve years ago! It was the
 first thing that put these plays into your head."
    " Oh,*do not blame the poor puppets ! do not repent of
 your love and motherly care ! It was the only happy hour
 I had enjoyed in the new empty house. I never can forget
 that hour; I see it still before me; I recollect how surprised
 I was, when, after we had got our customary presents, you
 made us seat ourselves before the door that leads to the
 other room. The door opened, but not, as formerly, to let
 us pass and repass: the entrance was occupied by an unex-
 pected show. Within it rose a porch, concealed by a mys-
 terious curtain. All of us were standing at a distance: our
 eagerness to see what glittering or jingling article lay hid
 behind the half-transparent veil was mounting higher and
 higher, when you bade us each sit down upon his stool, and
 wait with patience.
    ' At length all of us were seated and silent: a whistle
 gave the signal; the curtain rolled aloft, and showed us the
 interior of the temple, painted in deep-red colors. The high-
 priest Samuel appeared with Jonathan, and their strange
 alternating voices seemed to me the most striking thing on
 earth. Shortly after entered Saul, overwhelmed with con-


18





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


fusion at the impertinence of that heavy-limbed warrior, who
had defied him and all his people. But how glad was I when
the little dapper son of Jesse, with his crook and shepherd's
pouch and sling, came hopping forth, and said, ' Dread king
and sovereign lord, let no one's heart sink down because of
this: if your Majesty will grant me leave, I will go out to
battle with this blustering giant !' Here ended the first act,
leaving the spectators more curious than ever to see what
further would happen; each praying that the music might
soon be done. At last the curtain rose again. David de-
voted the flesh of the monster to the fowls of the air and the
beasts of the field: the Philistine scorned and bullied him,
stamped mightily with both his feet, and at length fell like
a mass of clay, affording a splendid termination to the piece.
And then the virgins sang, ' Saul hath slain his thousands,
but David his ten thousands ! ' The giant's head was borne
before his little victor, who received the king's beautiful'
daughter to wife. Yet withal, I remember, I was vexed
at the dwarfish stature of this lucky prince; for the great
Goliath and the small David had both been formed, accord-
ing to the common notion, with a due regard to their figures
and proportions. I pray you, mother, tell me what has now
become of those puppets? I promised to show them to a
friend, whom I was lately entertaining with a history of all
this child'A work."
  " I can easily conceive," said the mother, " how these
things should stick so firmly in your mind: I well remember
what an interest you took in them, - how you stole the little
book from me, and learned the whole piece by heart. I first
noticed it one evening when you had made a Goliath and a
David of wax: you set them both to declaim against each
other, and at length gave a deadly stab to the giant, fixing
his shapeless head, stuck upon a large pin with a wax han-
dle, in little David's hand. I then felt such a motherly con-
tentment at your fine recitation and good memory, that I
resolved to give you up the whole wooden troop to your own
disposal. I did not then foresee that it would cause me so
many heavy hours."
  " Do not repent of it," said Wilhelm: " this little sport
has often made us happy." So saying, he got the keys,
made haste to find the puppets, and, for a moment, was
transported back into those times when they almost seemed
to him alive, when he felt as if he himself could give them
life by the cunning of his voice and the movements of his





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


hands. He took them to his room, and locked them up with
care.




                     CHAPTER III.

  IF the first love is indeed, as I hear it everywhere main-
tained to be, the most delicious feeling which the heart of
man, before it or after, can experience, then our hero
must be reckoned doubly happy, as permitted to enjoy the
pleasure of this chosen period in all its fulness. Few men
are so peculiarly favored: by far the greater part are led by
the feelings of their youth into nothing but a school of hard-
ship, where, after a stinted and checkered season of enjoy-
ment, they are at length constrained to renounce their
dearest wishes, and to learn forever to dispense with what
once hovered before them as the highest happiness of exist-
ence.
  Wilhelm's passion for that charming girl now soared aloft
on the wings of imagination. After a short acquaintance, he
had gained her affections: he found himself in possession of
a being, whom, with all his heart, he not only loved, but
honored-; for she had first appeared before him in the flatter-
ing light of theatric pomp, and his passion for the stage com-
bined itself with his earliest love for woman. His youth
allowed him to enjoy rich pleasures, which the activity of his
fancy exalted and maintained. The situation of his mis-
tress, too, gave a turn to her conduct which greatly enliv-
ened his emotions. The fear lest her lover might, before the
time, detect the real state in which she stood, diffused over
all her conduct an interesting tinge of anxiety and bashful-
ness; her attachment to the youth was deep; her very in-
quietude appeared but to augment her tenderness; she was
the loveliest of creatures while beside him.
   When the first .tumult of joy had passed, and our friend
began to look back upon his life and its concerns, every
thing appeared new to him : his duties seemed holier, his incli-
nations keener, his knowledge clearer, his talents stronger,
his purposes more decided. Accordingly, he soon fell upon
a plan to avoid the reproaches of his father, to still the cares
of his mother, and, at the same time, to enjoy Mariana's love
without disturbance. Through the day he punctually trans.


20





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


acted his business, commonly forbore attending the theatre,
strove to be entertaining at table in the evening; and, when
all were asleep, he glided softly out into the garden, and
hastened, wrapped up in his mantle, with all the feelings of
Leander in his bosom, to meet his mistress without delay.
  " What is this you bring ? " inquired Mariana, as he en-
tered one evening, with a bundle, which Barbara, in hopes it
might turn out to be some valuable present, fixed her eyes
upon with great attention. " You will never guess," said
Wilhelm.
  Great was the surprise of Mariana, great the scorn of Bar-
bara, when the napkin, being loosened, gave to view a per-
plexed multitude of span-long puppets. Mariana laughed
aloud, as Wilhelm set himself to disentangle the confusion
of the wires, and show her each figure by itself. Barbara
glided sulkily out of the room.
  A very little thing will entertain two lovers; and accord-
ihgly our friends, this evening, were as happy as they wished
to be. The little troop was mustered: each figure was mi-
nutely examined, and laughed at, in its turn. King Saul,
with his golden crown and his black velvet robe, Mariana
did not like: he looked, she said, too stiff and pedantic.
She was far better pleased with Jonathan, his sleek chin, his
turban, his cloak of red and yellow. She soon got the art
of turning him deftly on his wire: she made him bow, and
repeat declarations of love. On the other hand, she refused
to give the least attention to the prophet Samuel; though
Wilhelm commended the pontifical breastplate, and told her
that the taffeta of the cassock had been taken from a gown
of his own grandmother's. David she thought too small;
Goliath was too big; she held by Jonathan. She grew to
manage him so featly, and at last to extend her caresses
from the puppet to its owner, that, on this occasion, as on
others, a silly sport became the introduction to happy hours.
  Their soft, sweet dreams were broken in upon by a noise
which arose on the street. Mariana called for the old dame,
who, as usual, was occupied in furbishing the changeful
materials of the playhouse wardrobe for the service of the
play next to be acted. Barbara said the disturbance arose
from a set of jolly companions, who were just then sallying
out of the Italian tavern hard by, where they had been busy
discussing fresh oysters, a cargo of which had just arrived,
and by no means sparing their champagne.
  ' Pity," Mariana said, " that we did not think of it in





22


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


time: we might have had some entertainment to our-
selves."
  " It is not yet too late," said Wilhelm, giving Barbara
a louis-d'or: " get us what we want, then come and take a
share with us."
  The old dame made speedy work: erelong a trimly cov-
ered table, with a neat collation, stood before the lovers.
They made Barbara sit with them: they ate and drank, and
enjoyed themselves.
  On such occasions, there is never want of enough to say.
Mariana soon took up little Jonathan again, and the old
dame turned the conversation upon Wilhelm's favorite topic.
"You were once telling us," she said, " about the first exhi-
bition of a puppet-show on Christmas Eve: I remember you
were interrupted just as the ballet was going to begin. We
have now the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with the
honorable company by whom those wonderful effects were
brought about."
  " Oh, yes ! " cried Mariana : "do tell us how it all went on,
and how you felt then."
  " It is a fine emotion, Mariana," said the youth, "when
we bethink ourselves of old times, and old, harmless errors,
especially if this is at a period when we have happily gained
some elevation, from which we can look around us, and survey
the path we have left behind. It is so pleasant to think, with
composure and satisfaction, of many obstacles, which often
with painful feelings we may have regarded as invincible,
pleasant to compare what we now are with what we then were
struggling to become. But I am happy above others in this
matter, that I speak to you about the past, at a moment when
I can also look forth into the blooming country, which we are
yet to wander through together, hand in hand."
   " But how was it with the ballet ? " said Barbara. " I fear
it did not quite go off as it should have done."
   " I assure you," said Wilhelm, " it went off quite well. And
certainly the strange caperings of these Moors and Mooresses,
these shepherds and shepherdesses, these dwarfs and dwarf-
esses, will never altogether leave- my recollection while I
live. When the curtain dropped, and the door closed, our
little party skipped away, frolicking as if they had been
tipsy, to their beds. For myself, however, I remember that
I could not go to sleep: still wanting to have something told
me on the subject, I continued putting questions to every
one, and would hardly let the maid away who had brought
me up to bed.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " Next morning, alas ! the magic apparatus had altogether
 vanished; the mysterious veil was carried off; the door per-
 mitted us again to go and come through it without obstruc-
 tion; the manifold adventures of the evening had passed
 away, and left no trace behind. My brothers. and sisters
 were running up and down with their playthings; I alone
 kept gliding to and fro: it seemed to me impossible that two
 bare door-posts could be all that now remained, where the
 aight before so much enchantment had been displayed. Alas !
 the man that seeks a lost love can hardly be unhappier than
 I then thought myself."
 A rapturous look, which he cast on Mariana, convinced
 her that he was not afraid of such ever being his case.




                     CHAPTER IV.

   " MY sole wish now," continued Wilhelm, was to wit-
ness a second exhibition of the play. For this purpose I had
recourse, by constant entreaties, to my mother; and she at-
tempted iQ a favorable hour to persuade my father. Her
labor, however, was in vain. My father's principle was, that
none but enjoyments of rare occurrence were adequately
prized; that neither young nor old could set a proper value
on pleasures which they tasted every day.
   " We might have waited long, perhaps till Christmas
returned, had not the contriver and secret director of the
spectacle himself felt a pleasure in repeating the display of
it, partly. incited, I suppose, by the wish to produce a brand-
new harlequin expressly prepared for the afterpiece;
   " A young officer of the artillery, a person of great gifts
in all sorts of mechanical contrivance, had served my father
in many essential particulars during the building of the house ;
for which, having been handsomely rewarded, he felt desirous
of expressing his thankfulness to the family of his patron,
and so made us young ones a present of this complete thea-
tre, which, in hours of leisure, he had already carved and
painted, and strung together. It was this young man, who,
with the help of a servant, had himself managed the puppets,
disguising his voice to pronounce their various speeches. He
had no great difficulty in persuading my father, who granted,


23





MEISTER'S - APPRENTICESHIP.


out of complaisance to a friend, what he had denied fronm
conviction to his children. In short, our theatre was again
set up, some little ones of the neighborhood were invited,
and the play was again represented.
  " If I had formerly experienced the delights of surprise and
astonishmefit, I enjoyed on this second occasion the pleasure
of examining and scrutinizing. How all this happened was
my present concern. That the puppets themselves did not
speak, I had already decided; that of themselves they did
not move, I also conjectured; but, then, how came it all to be
so pretty, and to look just as if they both spoke and moved
of themselves? and where were the lights, and the people
that managed the deception? These enigmas perplexed me
the more, as I wished to be at the same time among the
enchanters and the enchanted, at the same time to have a
secret hand in the play, and to enjoy, as a looker-on, the
pleasure of illusion.
  "The play being finished, preparations were making for
the farce: the spectators had risen, and were all busy talk-
ing together. I squeezed myself closer to the door, and
heard, by the rattling within, that the people were packing
up some articles. I lifted the lowest screen, and poked in
my head between the posts. As our mother noticed it, she
drew me back: but I had seen well enough that here friends
and foes, Saul and Goliath, and whatever else their names
might be,- were lying quietly down together in a drawer;
and thus my half-contented curiosity received a fresh excite-
ment. To my great surprise, moreover, I had noticed the
lieutenant very diligently occupied in the interior of the
shrine. Henceforth, Jack-pudding, however he might clatter
with his heels, could not any longer entertain me. I sank
into deep meditation: my discovery made me both more sat-
isfied, and less so, than before. After a little, it first struck
me that I yet comprehended nothing : and here I was right;
for the connection of the parts with each other was entirely
unknown to me, and every thing depends on that."


24





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER V.

  "IN well adjusted and regulated houses," continued Wil-
helm, " children have a feeling not unlike what I conceive
rats and mice to have: they keep a sharp eye on all crevices
and holes, where they may come at any forbidden dainty;
they enjoy it also with a fearful, stolen satisfaction, which
forms no small part of the happiness of childhood.
  " More than any other of the young ones, I was in the
habit of looking out attentively, to see if I could notice any
cupboard left open, or key standing in its lock. The more
reverence I bore in my heart for those closed doors, on the
outside of which I had to pass by for weeks and months,
catching only a furtive glance when our mother now and then
opened the consecrated place to take something from it, the
quicker was I to make use of any opportunities which the
forgetfulness of our housekeepers at times afforded me.
  " Among all the doors, that of the storeroom was, of
course, the one I watched most narrowly. Few of the joyful
anticipations in life can equal the feeling which I used to
have when my mother happened to call me, that I might help
her to carry out something, whereupon I might pick up a
few dried plums, either with her kind permission, or by help
of my own dexterity. The accumulated treasures of this
chamber took hold of my imagination by their magnitude:
the very fragrance exhaled by so multifarious a collection of
sweet-smelling spices produced such a craving effect on me,
that I never failed, when passing near, to linger for a little,
and regale myself at least on the unbolted atmosphere. At
length, one Sunday morning, my mother, being hurried by
the ringing of the church-bells, forgot to take this precious
key with her on shutting the door, and went away, leaving
all the house in a deep Sabbath stillness. No sooner had I
marked this oversight than, gliding softly once or twice to
and from the place, I at last approached very gingerly,
opened the door, and felt myself, after a single step, in im-
mediate contact with these manifold and long-wished-for
means of happiness. I glanced over glasses, chests, and
bags, and drawers and boxes, with a quick and doubtful eye,
considering what I ought to choose and take; turned finally
to my dear withered plums, provided myself also with a few
dried apples, and completed the forage with an orange-chip.
I was quietly retreating with my plh der, when some little


25





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


chests, lying piled over one another, caught my attention, -
the more so as I noticed a wire, with hooks at the end of
it, sticking through the joint of the lid in one of them. Full
of eager hopes, I opened this singular package; and judge
of my emotions, when I found my glad world of heroes all
sleeping safe within ! I meant to pick out the topmost, and,
having examined them, to pull up those below; but in this
attempt the wires got very soon entangled : and I fell into a
fright and flutter, more particularly as the cook just then be-
gan making some stir in the kitchen, which was close by; so
that I had nothing for it but to squeeze the whole together
the. best way I could, and to shut the chest, having stolen
from it nothing but a little written book, which happened to
be lying above, and contained the whole drama of Goliath
and David. With this booty I made good my retreat into
the garret.
   " Henceforth all iny stolen hours of solitude were devoted
to perusing the play, to learning it by heart, and picturing in
thought how glorious it would be, could I but get the figures,
to make them move along with it. In idea I myself became
David and Goliath by turns. In every corner of the court-
yard, of the stables, of the garden, under all kinds of cir-
cumstances, I labored to stamp the whole piece upon my
mind; laid hold of all the characters, and learned their
speeches by heart, most commonly, however, taking up the
parts of the chief personages, and allowing all the rest to
move along with them, but as satellites, across my memory.
Thus day and night the heroic words of David, wherewith he
challenged the braggart giant, Goliath of Gath, kept their
place in my thoughts. I often muttered them to myself;
while no one gave heed to me, except my father, who, fre-
quently observing some such detached exclamation, would in
secret praise the excellent memory of his boy, that had re-
tained so much from only two recitations.
   " By this means growing bolder and bolder, I one evening
repeated almost the entire piece before my mother, whilst I
was busied in fashioning some bits of wax into players. She
observed it, questioned me hard; and I confessed.
   " By good fortune, this detection happened at a time when
the lieutenant had himself been expressing a wish to initiate
me in the mysteries of the art. My mother forthwith gave
him notice of these unexpected talents; and he now con-
trived to make my parents offer him a couple of chambers in
the top story, which commonly stood empty, that he might


26





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


accommodate the spectators in the one, while the other held
his actors, the proscenium again filling up the opening of
the door: my father had allowed his friend to arrange all
this; himself, in the mean time, seeming only to look at the
transaction, as it were, through his fingers; for his maxim
was, that children should not be allowed to see the kindness
which is felt towards them, lest their pretensions come to
extend too far. He was of opinion, that, in the enjoyments
of the young, one should assume a serious air; often inter-
rupting the course of their festivities, to prevent their satis-
faction from degenerating into excess and presumption."





                     CHAPTER VI.

   " THE lieutenant now set up his theatre, and managed all
the rest. During the week I readily observed that he often
came into the house at unusual hours, and I soon guessed
the cause. My eagerness increased immensely; for I well
understood, that, till Sunday evening, I could have no share
in what was going on. At last the wished-for day arrived.
At five in 'the evening my conductor came, and took me up
with him. Quivering with joy, I entered, and descried, on
both sides of the framework, the puppets all hanging in
order as they were to advance to view. I considered them
narrowly, and mounted on the steps, which raised them
above the scene, and allowed me to hover aloft over all that
little world. Not without reverence did I look down be-
tween the pieces of board, and recollect what a glorious effect
the whole would produce, and feel into what mighty secrets
i was now admitted. We made a trial, which succeeded
well.
  "Next day a party of children were invited: we per-
formed rarely; except that once, in the fire of action, I let
poor Jonathan fall, and was obliged to reach down with my
hand, and pick him up, -an accident which sadly marred
the illusion, produced a peal of laughter, and vexed me
unspeakably.   My father, however, seemed to relish tbks
misfortune not'a little. Prudently shrouding up the con-
ht'tment he felt at the expertness of his little boy, afte,r
the play was finished, he dwelt on the mistakes -we 3a d


27





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


committed, saying it would all have been very pretty had
not this or that gone wrong with us.
  " I was vexed to the heart at these things, and sad for all
the evening. By next morning, however, I had quite slept
off my sorrow, and was blessed in the persuasion, that, but
for this one fault, I had acted delightfully. The spectators
also flattered me with their unanimous approval: they all
maintained, that though the lieutenant, in regard to the
coarse and the fine voices, had done great things, yet his
declamation was in general too stiff and affected; whereas
the new aspirant spoke his Jonathan and David with exqui-
site grace. My mother in particular commended the gallant
tone in which I had challenged Goliath, and acted the mod-
est victor before the king.
  " From this time, to my extreme delight, the theatre con-
tinued open; and as the spring advanced, so that fires could
be dispensed with, I passed all my hours of recreation lying
in the garret, and making the puppets caper and play to-
gether. Often I invited up my comrades, or my brothers
and sisters; but, when they would not come, I staid by
myself not the less. My imagination brooded over that
tiny world, which soon afterwards acquired another form.
  " Scarcely had I once or twice exhibited the first play, for
which my scenery and actors had been formed and deco-
rated, vhen it ceased to give me any pleasure. On the
other hand, among some of my grandfather's books, I had
happened to fall in with ' The German Theatre,' and a few
translations of Italian operas; in which works I soon got
very deeply immersed, on each occasion first reckoning up
the characters, and then, withol further ceremony, proceed-
ing to exhibit the play. King Saul, with his blatk velvet
cloak, was therefore now obliged to personate Darius or
Cato, or some other pagan hero; in which cases, it may be
observed, the plays were never wholly represented, - for
most part, only the fifth acts, where the cutting and stab-
bing lay.
   " It was natural that the operas, with their manifold
adventures and vicissitudes, should attract me more than
any thing beside. In these compositions I found stormy
seas, gods descending in chariots of cloud, and, what most
of all delighted me, abundance of thunder and lightning.
I did my best with pasteboard, paint, and paper: I could
make night very prettily; my lightning was fearful to be-
hold; only my thunder did not always prosper, which,


28





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


however, was of less importance. In operas, moreover, I
found frequent opportunities of introducing my David and
Goliath, - persons whom the regular drama would hardly
admit. Daily I felt more attachment for the hampered spot
where I enjoyed so many pleasures; and, I must confess,
the fragrance which the puppets had acquired from the
storeroom added not a little to my satisfaction.
  " The decorations of my theatre were now in a tolerable
state of completeness. I had always had the knack of
drawing with compasses, and clipping pasteboard, and col-
oring figures; and here it served me in good stead. But
the more sorry was I, on the other hand, when, as frequently
happened, my stock of actors would not suffice for repre-
senting great affairs.
  " My sisters, dressing and undressing their dolls, awoke in
me the project of furnishing my heroes by and by with gar-
ments which might also be put off and on. Accordingly, I
slit the scraps of cloth from off their bodies, tacked the
fragments together as well as possible, saved a particle of
money to buy new ribbons and lace, begged many a rag of
taffeta, and so formed, by degrees, a full theatrical ward-
robe, in which hoop-petticoats for the ladies were especially
remembered.
   " My troop was now fairly provided with dresses for the
most important play, and you might have expected that
henceforth one exhibition would follow close upon the heels
of another; but it happened with me, as it often happens
with children,- they embrace wide plans, make mighty prep-
arations, then a few trials, and the whole undertaking is
abandoned. I was guilty o this fault. My greatest pleas-
ure lay in the inventive pa   and the employment of my
fancy. This or that piece inspired me with interest for a
few scenes of it, and immediately I set about providing new
apparel suitable for the occasion. In such fluctuating opera-
tions, many parts of the primary dresses of my heroes had
fallen into disorder, or totally gone out of sight; so that
now the first great play could no longer be exhibited. I
surrendered myself to my imagination; I rehearsed and pre-
pared forever; built a thousand castles in the air, and failed
to see that I was at the same time undermining the founda-
tions of these little edifices."

   During this recital, Mariana had called up and put in
 action all her courtesy for Wilhelm, that she might conceal


29





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


her sleepiness. Diverting as the matter seemed on one side,
it was too simple for her taste, and her lover's view of it too
serious. She softly pressed her foot on his, however, and
gave him all visible signs of attention and approval. She
drank out of his glass: Wilhelm was convinced that no
word of his history had fallen to the ground. After a short
pause, he said, "It is now your turn, Mariana, to tell
me what were your first childish joys. Till now we have
always been too busy with the present to trouble ourselves,
on either side, about our previous way of life. Let me hear,
Mariana, under what circumstances you were reared: what
are the first lively impressions which you still remember? "
  These questions would have very much embarrassed Mari-
ana, had not Barbara made haste to help her. " Think
you," said the cunning old woman, "we have been so mind-
ful of what happened to us long ago, that we have merry
things like these to talk about, and, though we had, that we
could give them such an air in talking of them?"
  "' As if they needed it ! " cried Wilhelm. " I love this
soft, good, amiable creature so much, that I regret every
instant of my life which has not been spent beside her.
Allow me, at least in fancy, to have a share in thy by-gone
life; tell me every thing ; I will tell every thing to thee ! If
possible, we will deceive ourselves, and win back those days
that have been lost to love."
  " If you require it so eagerly," replied the old dame,
" we can easily content you. Only, in the first place, let us
hear how your taste for the theatre gradually reached a
head; how you practised, how you improved so happily,
that now you can pass for a superior, actor. No doubt you
must have met with droll adventures in your progress. It
is not worth while to go to bed now: I have still one flask
in reserve; and who knows whether we shall soon all sit
together so quiet and cheery again? "
  Mariana cast upon her a mournful look, not noticed by
Wilhelm, who proceeded with his narrative.


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1MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER VII.

  " THE recreations of youth, as my companions began to
increase in number, interfered with this solitary, still enjoy-
ment. I was by turns a hunter, a soldier, a knight, as our
games required; and constantly I had this small advantage
above the rest, that I was qualified to furnish them suitably
with the necessary equipments. The swords, for exam-
ple, were generally of my manufacture; I gilded and deco-
rated the scabbards; and a secret instinct allowed me not to
stop till our militia was accoutred according to the antique
model. Helmets, with plumes of paper, were got ready;
shields, even coats of mail, were provided; undertakings in
which such of the servants as had aught of the tailor in
them, and the seamstresses of the house, broke many a
needle.
  " A part of my comrades I had now got well equipped;
by degrees, the rest were likewise furbished up, though on
a thriftier plan; and so a very seemly corps at length was
mustered. We marched about the court-yards and gardens,
smote fearfully upon each other's shields and heads: many
flaws of discord rose among us, but none that lasted.
  " This diversion greatly entertained my fellows; but
scarcely had it been twice or thrice repeated, when it
ceased to content me. The aspect of so many harnessed
figures naturally stimulated in my mind those ideas of
chivalry, which for some time, since I had commenced the
reading of old romances, were filling my imagination.
  " Koppen's translation of ' Jerusalem  Delivered' at
length fell into my hands, and gave these wandering
thoughts a settled direction. The whole poem, it is true,
I could not read; but there were passages which I learned
by heart, and the images expressed in these hovered round
me. Particularly was I captivated with Clorinda, and all
her deeds and bearing. The masculine womanhood, the
peaceful completeness of her being, had a greater influence
upon my mind, just beginning to unfold itself, than the
factitious charms of Armida; though the garden of that
enchantress was by no means an object of my contempt.
  ' But a hundred and a hundred times, while walking in
the evenings on the balcony which stretches along the front
of the house, and looking over the neighborhood, as the
quivering splendor streamed up at the horizon from the


31





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


departed sun, and the stars came forth, and night pressed
forward from every cleft and hollow, and the small, shrill
tone of the cricket tinkled through the solemn stillness, -
a hundred and a hundred times have I repeated to myself
the history of the mournful duel between Tancred and
Clorinda.
  "However strongly I inclined by nature to the party of
the Christians, I could not help declaring for the Paynim
heroine with all my heart when she engaged to set on fire
the great tower of the besiegers. And when Tancred in the
darkness met the supposed knight, and the strife began
between them under that veil of gloom, and the two battled
fiercely, I could never pronounce the words, -
         " ' But now the sure and fated hour is nigh:
           Clorinda's course is ended, -she must die;'-
without tears rushing into my eyes, which flowed plentifully
when the hapless lover, plunging his sword into her breast,
opened the departing warrior's helmet, recognized the lady
of his heart, and, shuddering, brought water to baptize her.
  " How my heart ran over when Tancred struck with his
sword that tree in the enchanted wood; when blood flowed
from the gash, and a voice sounded in his ears, that now
again he was wounding Clorinda; that Destiny had marked
him out ever unwittingly to injure what he loved beyond all
else.
  " The recital took such hold of my imagination, that what
I had read of the poem began dimly, in my mind, to con-
glomerate into a whole; wherewith I was so taken that I
could not but propose to have it some way represented.
I meant to have Tancred and Rinaldo acted; and, for this
purpose, two coats of mail, which I had before manufac-
tured, seemed expressly suitable. The one, formed of dark-
gray paper with scales, was to serve for the solemn Tancred;
the other, of silver and gilt paper, for the magnificent
Rinaldo. In the vivacity of my anticipations, I told the
whole project to my comrades, who felt quite charmed with
it, except that they could not well comprehend how so glo-
rious a thing could be exhibited, and, above all, exhibited
by them.
   " Such scruples I easily set aside. Without hesitation,
I took upon me, in idea, the management of two rooms in
the house of a neighboring playmate; not calculating that
his venerable aunt would never give them up, or considering


32





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


how a theatre could be made of them, whereof I had no
settled notion, except that it was to be fixed on beams, to
have side-scenes made of parted folding-screens, and on the
floor a large piece of cloth. From what quarter these mate-
rials and furnishings were to come, I had not determined.
  b So far as concerned the forest, we fell upon a good
expedient. We betook ourselves to an old servant of one
of our families, who had now become a woodman, with
many entreaties that he would get us a few young firs and
birches; which actually arrived more speedily than we had
reason to expect. But, in the next place, great was our
embarrassment as to how the piece should be got up before
the trees were withered. Now was the time for prudent
counsel. We had no house, no scenery, no curtain: the
folding-screens were all we had.
  " In this forlorn condition we again applied to the lieu-
tenant, giving him a copious description of all the glorious
things we meant to do. Little as he understood us, he was
very helpful: he piled all the tables he could get in the
house or neighborhood, one above the other, in a little room:
to these he fixed our folding-screens, and made a back-view
with green curtains, sticking up our trees along with it.
  "At length the appointed evening came: the candles
were lit, the maids and children were sitting in their places,
the piece was to go forward, the whole corps of heroes was
equipped and dressed, - when each for the first time discov-
ered that he knew not what he was to say. In the heat
of invention, being quite immersed in present difficulties, I
had forgotten the necessity of each understanding what and
where he was to speak; nor, in the midst of our bustling
preparations, had it once occurred to the rest; each believ-
ing he could easily enact a hero, easily so speak and bear
himself, as became the personage into whose world I had
transplanted him. They all stood wonder-struck, asking,
What was to come first? I alone, having previously got
ready Tancred's part, entered solus on the scene, and began
reciting some verses of the epic. But as the passage soon
changed into narrative, and I, while speaking, was at once
transformed into a third party, and the bold Godfredo, when
his turn came, would not venture forth, I was at last obliged
to take leave of my spectators under peals of laughter, - a
disaster which cut me to the heart. Thus had our undertak-
ing proved abortive; but the company still kept their places,
still wishing to see something. All of us were dressed: I





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


screwed my courage up, and determined, foul or fair, to
give them David and Goliath. Some of my companions
had before this helped me to exhibit the puppet-play; all
of them had often seen it; we shared the characters among
us; each promised to do his best; and one small, grinning
urchin painted a black beard upon his chin, and undertook,
if any lacuna should occur, to fill it with drollery as har-
lequin, -an arrangement to which, as contradicting the
solemnity of the piece, I did not consent without extreme
reluctance; and I vowed within myself, that, if once deliv-
ered out of this perplexity, I would think long and well
before risking the exhibition of another play."




                    CHAPTER VIII.

  MARIANA, overpowered with sleep, leaned upon her lover,
who clasped her close to him, and proceeded in his narrative;
while the old damsel prudently sipped up the remainder of
the wine.
  " The embarrassment," he said," into which, along with
my companions, I had fallen, by attempting to act a play
that did not anywhere exist, was soon forgotten. My pas-
sion for representing each romance I read, each story that
was told me, would not yield before the most unmanageable
materials. I felt convinced that whatever gave delight in
narrative must produce a far deeper impression when exhib-
ited: I wanted to have every thing befo-re my eyes, every
thing brought forth upon the stage. At school, when the
elements of general history were related to us, I carefully
marked the passages where any person had been slain or
poisoned in a singular way; and my imagination, glancing
rapidly along the exposition and intrigue, hastened to the
interesting fifth act. Indeed, I actually began to write
some plays from the end backwards, without, however, in
any of them reaching the beginning.
   " At the same time, partly by inclination, partly by the
counsel of my good friends, who had caught the fancy of
acting plays, I read a whole wilderness of theatrical produc-
tions, as chance put them into my hands. I was still in
those happy years when all things please us, when number


84





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


and variety yield us abundant satisfaction. Unfortunately,
too, my taste was corrupted by another circumstance. Any
piece delighted me especially, in which I could hope to give
delight; there were few which I did not peruse in this agree-
able delusion: and my lively conceptive power enabling me
to transfer myself into all the characters, seduced me to
believe that I might likewise represent them all. Hence, in
the distribution of the parts, I commonly selected such as
did not fit me, and always more than one part, if I could
by any means accomplish more.
  " In their games, children can make all things out of any:
a staff becomes a musket, a splinter of wood a sword, any
bunch of cloth a puppet, any crevice a chamber. Upon
this principle was our private theatre got up. Totally unac-
quainted with the measure of our strength, we undertook all:
we stuck at no quid pro quo, and felt convinced that every one
would take us for what we gave ourselves out to be. Now,
however, our affairs went on so soberly and smoothly, that I
have not even a curious insipidity to tell you of. We first
acted all the few plays in which only males are requisite,
next we travestied some of ourselves, and at last took our
sisters into the concern along with us. In one or two houses,
our amusement was looked upon as profitable; and company
was invited to see it. Nor did our lieutenant of artillery now
turn his back upon us. He showed us how we ought to make
our exits and our entrances; how we should declaim, and
with what attitudes and gestures. Yet generally he earned
small thanks for his toil, we conceiving ourselves to be much
deeper in the secrets of theatrical art than he himself was.
   " We very soon began to grow tired of tragedy; for all of
us believed, as we had often heard, that it was easier to write
or represent a tragedy than to attain proficiency in comedy.
In our first attempts, accordingly, we had felt as if exactly
in our element: dignity of rank, elevation of character, we
studied to approach by stiffness and affectation, and ima-
gined that we succeeded rarely; but our happiness was not
complete, except we might rave outright, might stamp with
our feet, and, full of fury and despair, cast ourselves upon
the ground.
   " Boys and girls had not long carried on these amusements
in concert, till Nature began to take her course; and our
society branched itself off into sundry little love-associations,
as generally more than one sort of comedy is acted in the
playhouse. Behind the scenes, each happy pair pressed


35





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


hands in the most tender style; they floated in blessedness,
appearing to one another quite ideal persons, when so trans-
formed and decorated; whilst, on the other hand, unlucky
rivals consumed themselves with envy, and out of malice and
spite worked every species of mischief.
  " Our amusements, though undertaken without judgment,
and carried on without instruction, were not without their
use to us. We trained our memories and persons, and ac-
quired more dexterity in speech and gesture than is usually
met with at so early an age. But, for me in particular, this
time was in truth an epoch: my mind turned all its faculties
exclusively to the theatre; and my highest happiness was in
reading, in writing, or in acting, plays.
  "Meanwhile the labors of my regular teachers continued:
I had been set apart for the mercantile life, and placed under
the guidance of our neighbor in the counting-house; yet my
spirit at this very time recoiled more forcibly than ever from
all that was to bind me to a low profession. It was to the
stage that I aimed at consecrating all my powers, -on the
stage that I meant to seek all my happiness and satisfaction.
  " I recollect a poem, which must be among my papers,
where the Muse of tragic art and another female form, by
which I personified Commerce, were made to strive very
bravely. for my most important self. The idea is common,
nor do I recollect that the verses were of any worth ; but you
shall see it, for the sake of the fear, the abhorrence, the love
and passion, which are prominent in it. How repulsively did
I paint the old housewife, with the distaff in her girdle, the
bunch of keys by her side, the spectacles on her nose, ever
toiling, ever restless, quarrelsome, and penurious, pitiful and
dissatisfied ! How feelingly did I describe the condition of
that poor man who has to cringe beneath her rod, and earn
his slavish day's wages by the sweat of his brow !
  "And how differently advanced the other ! What an appa-
rition for the overclouded mind ! Formed as a queen, in her
thoughts and looks she announced herself the child of free-
dom. The feeling of her own worth gave her dignity with-
out pride: her apparel became her, it veiled her form without
constraining it; and the rich folds repeated, like a thousand-
voiced echo, the graceful movements of the goddess. What
a contrast ! How easy for me to decide ! Nor had I for-
gotten the more peculiar characteristics of my Muse. Crowns
and daggers, chains and masks, as my predecessors had de-
livered them, were here produced once more. The contention


86





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was keen: the speeches of both were palpably enough con-
trasted, for at fourteen years of age one usually paints the
black lines and the white pretty near each other. The old
lady spoke as beseemed a person that would pick up a pin
from her path; the other, like one that could give away
kingdoms.    The warning threats of the housewife were
disregarded; I turned my back upon her promised riches :
disinherited and naked, I gave myself up to the Muse; she
threw her golden veil over me, and called me hers.
   " Could I have thought, my dearest," he exclaimed, press-
ing Mariana close to him, " that another, a more lovely god-
dess would come to encourage me in my purpose, to travel
with me on my journey, the poem might have had a finer turn,
a far more interesting end. Yet it is no poetry, it is truth
and life that I feel in thy arms : let us prize the sweet happi-
ness, and consciously enjoy it."
  The pressure of his arms, the emotion of his elevated voice.
awoke Mariana, who hastened by caresses to conceal her
embarrassment; for no word of the last part of his story had
reached her. It is to be wished, that in future, our hero,
when recounting his favorite histories, may find more atten-
tive hearers.




                     CHAPTER IX.

   Trus Wilhelm passed his nights in the enjoyment of con-
fiding love, his days in the expectation of new happy hours.
When desire and hope had first attracted him to Mariana, he
already felt as if inspired with new life; felt as if he were
beginning to be another man: he was now united to her; the
contentment of his wishes had become a delicious habitude.
His heart strove to ennoble the object of his passion; his
spirit, to exalt with it the young creature whom he loved. In
the shortest absence, thoughts of her arose within him. If
she had once been necessary to him, she was now grown indis-
pensable, now that he was bound to her by all the ties of
nature. His pure soul felt that she was the half, more than
the half, of himself. He was grateful and devoted without
limit.
   Mariana, too, succeeded in deceiving herself for a season:
 she shared with him the feeling of his liveliest blessedness.


37





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Alas! if but the cold hand of self-reproach had not often
come across her heart ! She was not secure from it, even in
Wilhelm's bosom, even under the wings of his love. And
when she was again left alone, again left to sink from the
clouds, to which passion had exalted her, into the conscious-
ness of her real condition, then she was indeed to be pitied.
So long as she had lived among degrading perplexities, dis-
guising from herself her real situation, or rather never think-
ing of it, frivolity had helped her through; the incidents she
was exposed to had come upon her each by itself ; satisfac-
tion and vexation had cancelled one another; humiliation had
been compensated by vanity ; want by frequent, though mo-
mentary, superfluity; she could plead necessity and custom
as a law or an excuse ; and hitherto all painful emotions from
hour to hour, and from day to day, had by these means been
shaken off. But now, for some instants, the poor girl had
feltherself transported to a better world; aloft, as it were,
in the midst of light and joy, she had looked down upon the
abject desert of her life, had felt what a miserable creature is
the woman, who, inspiring desire, does not also inspire rever-
ence and love: she regretted and repented, but found herself
outwardly or inwardly no better for regret. She had nothing
that she could accomplish or resolve upon. When she looked
into and searched herself, all was waste and void within her
soul: her heart had no place of strength or refuge. But the
more sorrowful her state was, the more vehemently did her
feelings cling to the man she loved: her passion for him even
waxed stronger daily, as the danger of losing him came daily
nearer.
  Wilhelm, on the other hand, soared serenely happy in
higher regions: to him also a new world had been disclosed,
but a world rich in the most glorious prospects. Scarcely
had the first excess of joy subsided, when all that had long
been gliding dimly through his soul stood up in bright dis-
tinctness before it. She is mine ! She has given herself up
to me ! She, the loved, the wished for, the adored, has given
herself up to me in trust and faith: she shall not find me
ungrateful for the gift. Standing or walking, he talked to
himself ; his heart constantly overflowed; with a copiousness
of splendid words, he uttered to himself the loftiest emotions.
He imagined that he understood the visible beckoning of Fate,
reaching out its hand by Mariana to save him from the stag-
nant, weary, drudging life, out of which he had so often
wished for deliverance. To leave his father's house and


38





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


people, now appeared a light matter. He was young, and
had not tried the world: his eagerness to range over its ex-
panses, seeking fortune and contentment, was stimulated by
his love. His vocation for the theatre was now clear to him:
the high goal, which he saw raised before him, seemed nearer
whilst he was advancing to it with Mariana's hand in his;
and, in his comfortable prudence, he beheld in himself the
embryo of a great actor, - the future founder of that national
theatre, for which he heard so much and various sighing on
every side. All that till now had slumbered in the inner-
most corners of his soul, at length awoke. He painted for
himself a picture of his manifold ideas, in the colors of love,
upon a canvas of cloud: the figures of it, indeed, ran sadly
into one another; yet the whole had an air but the more bril-
liant on that account.





                     CHAPTER X.

  HE was now in his chamber at home, ransacking his
papers, making ready for departure. Whatever savored of
his previous employment he threw aside, meaning at his
entrance upon life to be free, even from recollections that
could pain him. Works of taste alone, poets and critics,
were, as acknowledged friends, placed among the chosen
few. Heretofore he had given little heed to the critical
authors: his desire for instruction now revived, when, again
looking through his books, he found the theoretical part of
them lying generally still uncut. In the full persuasion that
such works were absolutely necessary, he had bought a num-
ber of them ; but, with the best disposition in the world, he
had not reached midway in any.
  The more steadfastly, on the other hand, he had dwelt
upon examples, and, in every kind that was known to him,
had made attempts himself.
  Werner entered the room; and, seeing his friend busied
with the well-known sheets, he exclaimed, "Again among
your papers? And without intending, I dare swear, to finish
any one of them! You look them through and through
once or twice, then throw them by, and begin something
new."


3980





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " To finish is not the scholar's care: it is enough if he
 improves himself by practice."
   " But also completes according to his best ability."
   "And still the question might be asked, ' Is there not
 good hope of a youth, who, on commencing some unsuitable
 affair, soon discovers its unsuitableness, and discontinues his
 exertions, not choosing to spend toil and time on what never
 can be of any value ? ' "
   " I know well enough it was never your concern to bring
 aught to a conclusion: you have always sickened on it before
 it came half way. When you were the director of our pup-
 pet-show, for instance, how many times were fresh clothes
 got ready for the dwarfish troop, fresh decorations furbished
 up? Now this tragedy was to be acted, now that; and at
 the very best you gave us some fifth act,-where all was going
 topsy-turvy, and people cutting one another's throats."
   " If you talk of those times, whose blame really was it
 that we ripped off from our puppets the clothes that fitted
 them, and were fast stitched to their bodies, and laid out
 money for a large and useless wardrobe? Was it not yours,
 my good friend, who had always some fragment of ribbon to
 traffic with; and skill, at the same time, to stimulate my
 taste, and turn it to your profit? "
   Werner laughed, and continued, " I still recollect, with
 pleasu'e, how I used to extract gain from your theatrical
 campaigns, as army contractors do from war. When you
 mustered for the ' Deliverance of Jerusalem,' I, for my part,
 made a pretty thing of profit, like the Venetians in the cor-
 responding case. I know of nothing in the world more
 rational than to turn the folly of others to our own advan-
 tage."
   " Perhaps it were a nobler satisfaction to cure men of their
 follies."
   " From the little I know of men, this might seem a vain
 endeavor. But something towards it is always done, when
 any individual man grows wise and rich; and generally this
 happens at the cost of others."
   " Well, here is 'The Youth at the Parting of the Ways:'
 it has just come into my hand," said Wilhelm, drawing out
 a bunch of papers from the rest; " this at least is finished,
 whatever else it may be."
   " Away with it ! to the fire with it ! " cried Werner. " The
 'nvention does not deserve the smallest praise: that affair
~as plagued me enough already, and drawn upon yourself


40





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


your father's wrath. The verses may be altogether beauti-
ful, but the meaning of them is fundamentally false. I
still recollect your Commerce personified: a shrivelled,
wretched-looking sibyl she was. I suppose you picked up
the image of her from some miserable huckster's shop. At
that time you had no true idea at all of trade; whilst I
could not think of any man whose spirit was, or needed to
be, more enlarged than the spirit of a genuine merchant.
What a thing is it to see the order which prevails throughout
his business! By means of this he can at any time survey
the general whole, without needing to perplex himself in the
details. What advantages does he derive from the system
of book-keeping by double entry ! It is among the finest
inventions of the human mind: every prudent master of a
house should introduce it into his economy."
   "Pardon me," said Wilhelm, smiling; "you begin by
the form, as if it were the matter: you traders commonly,
in your additions and balancings, forget what is the proper
net result of life."
   "My good friend, you do not see how form and matter
are in this case one, how neither can exist without the other.
Order and arrangement increase the desire to save and get.
A man embarrassed in his circumstances, and conducting
them imprudently, likes best to continue in the dark: he
will not gladly reckon up the debtor.entries he is charged
with. But, on the other hand, there is nothing to a prudent
manager more pleasant than daily to set before himself the
sums of his growing fortune. Even a mischance, if it sur-
prise and vex, will not affright, him; for he knows at once
what gains he has acquired to cast into the other scale. I
am convinced, my friend, that, if you once had a proper
taste for our employments, you would grant that many fac-
ulties of the mind are called into full and vigorous play by
them."
   " Possibly this journey I am thinking of may bring me to
 other thoughts."
   "Oh, certainly ! Believe me, you want but to look upon
 some great scene of activity to make you ours forever; and,
 when you come back, you will joyfully enroll yourself among
 that class of men whose art it is to draw towards themselves
 a portion of the money, and materials of enjoyment, which
 circulate in their appointed courses tlhrough the world. Cast
 a look on the natural and artificial productions of all the
 regions of the earth; consider how they have become, one


41





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


here, another there, articles of necessity for men. How
pleasant and how intellectual a task is it to calculate, at any
moment, what is most required, and yet is wanting, or hard
to find; to procure for each easily and soon what he de-
mands ; to lay in your stock prudently beforehand, and 'then
to enjoy the profit of every pulse in that mighty circulation.
This, it appears to me, is what no man that has a head can
attend to without pleasure."
  Wilhelm seemed to acquiesce, and Werner continued.
  "' Do but visit one or two great trading-towns, one or two
seaports, and see if you can withstand the impression.
When you observe how many men are busied, whence so
many things have come, and whither they are going, you
will feel as if you, too, could gladly mingle in the business.
You will then see the smallest piece of ware in its connec-
tion with the whole mercantile concern; and for that very
reason you will reckon nothing paltry, because every thing
augments the circulation by which you yourself are sup-
ported."
  Werner had formed his solid understanding in constant
intercourse with Wilhelm: he was thus accustomed to think
also of his profession, of his employments, with elevation of
soul; and he firmly believed that he did so with more justice
than his otherwise more gifted and valued friend, who, as it
seemed' to him, had placed his dearest hopes, and directed
all the force of his mind, upon the most imaginary objects
in the world. Many a time he thought his false enthusiasm
would infallibly be got the better of, and so excellent a soul
be brought back to the right path. So hoping in the present
instance, he continued, " The great ones of the world have
taken this earth of ours to themselves: they live in the midst
of splendor and superfluity. The smallest nook of the land
is already a possession which none may touch or meddle
with: offices and civil callings bring in little profit. Where,
then, will you find more honest acquisitions, juster conquests,
than those of trade? If the princes of this world hold the
rivers, the highways, the havens, in their power, and take a
heavy tribute from every thing that passes through them,
may not we embrace with joy the opportunity of levying tax
and toll, by our activity, on those commodities which the
real or imaginary wants of men have rendered indispensa-
ble? I can promise you, if you would rightly apply your
poetic view, my goddess might be represented as an invinci-
ble, victorious queen, and boldly opposed to yours. It is


42





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


true, she bears the olive rather than the sword: dagger or
chain she knows not. But she, too, gives crowns to her
favorites; which, without offence to yours be it said, are of
true gold from the furnace and the mine, and glance with
genuine pearls, which she brings up from the depths of the
ocean by the hands of her unwearied servants."
  This sally somewhat nettled Wilhelm; but he concealed
his sentiments, remembering that Werner used to listen with
composure to his apostrophes.   Besides, he had fairness
enough to be pleased at seeing each man think the best of
his own peculiar craft, provided only his, of which he was
so passionately fond, were likewise left in peace.
  " And for you," exclaimed Werner, " who take so warm
an interest in human concerns, what a sight will it be to
behold the fortune, which accompanies bold undertakings,
distributed to men before your eyes ! What is more spirit-
stirring than the aspect of a ship arriving from a lucky
voyage, or soon returning with a rich capture? Not only
the relatives, the acquaintances, and those that share with
the adventurers, but every unconcerned spectator also, is ex-
cited, when he sees the joy with which the long-imprisoned
shipman springs on land before his keel has wholly reached
it, feeling that he is free once more, and now can trust what
he has rescued from the false sea to the firm and faithful
earth. It is not, my friend, in figures of arithmetic alone
that gain presents itself before us. Fortune is the goddess
of breathing men: to feel her favors truly, we must live and
be men who toil with their living minds and bodies, and en-
joy with them also."





                     CHAPTER XI.

  IT is now time that we should know something more of
Wilhelm's father and of Werner's, - two men of very differ-
ent modes of thinking, but whose opinions so far coincided,
that both regarded commerce as the noblest calling ; and both
were peculiarly attentive to every advantage which any kind
of speculation might produce to them. Old Meister, when
his father died, had turned into money a valuable collec-
tion of pictures, drawings, copper-plates, and antiquities:


43





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ae had entii'ely rebuilt and furnished his house in the newest
style, and turned his other property to profit in all possible
ways. A considerable portion of it he had embarked in
trade, under the direction of the elder Werner, - a man
noted as an active merchant, whose speculations were com-
monly favored by fortune. But nothing was so much desired
by Meister as to confer upon his son those qualities of which
himself was destitute, and to leave his children advantages
which he reckoned it of the highest importance to possess.
Withal, he felt a peculiar inclination for magnificence, - for
whatever catches the eye, and possesses at the same time
real worth and durability. In his house he would have all
things solid and massive: his stores must be copious and
rich, all his plate must be heavy, the furniture of his table
must be costly. On the other hand, his guests were seldom
invited; for every dinner was a festival, which, both for its ex-
pense and for its inconvenience, could not often be repeated.
The economy of his house went on at a settled, uniform
rate; and every thing that moved or had place in it was just
what yielded no one any real enjoyment.
  The elder Werner, in his dark and hampered house, led
quite another sort of life. The business of the day, in his
narrow counting-house, at his ancient desk, once done, Wer-
ner liked to eat well, and, if possible, to drink better. Nor
could lte fully enjoy good things in solitude: with his family
he must always see at table his friends, and any stranger
that had the slightest connection with his house. His chairs
were of unknown age and antic fashion, but he daily invited
some to sit on them. The dainty victuals arrested the atten-
tion of his guests, and none remarked that they were served
up in common ware. His cellar held no great stock of wine,
but the emptied niches were usually filled by more of a supe
rior sort.
   So lived these two fathers, often meeting to take counsel
about their common concerns. On the day we are speaking
of, it had been determined to send Wilhelm out from home,
for the despatch of some commercia affairs.
   " Let him look about him in the world," said old Meister,
 " and at the same time carry on our business in distant parts.
 One cannot do a young man any greater kindness than initiate
 him early in the future business of his life. Your son re-
 turned so happily from his first expedition, and transacted
 his affairs so cleverly, that I am very curious to see how
 mine will do: his experience, I fear, will cost him dearer."


44





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Old Meister had a high notion of his son's faculties and
capabilities: he said this in the hope that his friend would
contradict him, and hold up to view the admilable gifts of
the youth. Here, however, he deceived himself. Old Wer-
ner, who, in practical concerns, would trust no man but
such as he had proved, answered placidly, " One must try
all things. We can send him on the same journey: we shall
give him a paper of directions to conduct him. There are
sundry debts to be gathered in, old connections are to be
renewed, new ones to be made. He may likewise help the
speculation I was lately talking of; for, without punctual
intelligence gathered on the spot, there is little to be done
in it."
  " He must prepare," said Meister, " and set forth as soon
as possible. Where shall we get a horse for him to suit this
business?"
  " We shall not seek far. The shopkeeper in H    , who
owes us somewhat, but is withal a good man, has offered me
a horse instead of payment. My son knows it, and tells
me it is a serviceable beast."
  " He may fetch it himself. Let him go with the diligence;
the day after to-morrow he is back again betimes; we have
his saddle-bags and letters made ready in the mean time; he
can set out on Monday morning."
  Wilhelm was sent for, and informed of their determina-
tion. Who so glad as he, now seeing the means of exe-
cuting his purpose put into his hands, the opportunity made
ready for him, without co-operation of his own ! So intense
was his love, so full was his conviction of the perfect recti-
tude of his intention to escape from the pressure of his actual
mode of life, and follow a new and nobler career, that his
conscience did not in the least rebel; no anxiety arose
within him; he even reckoned the deception he was medi-
tating holy. He felt certain, that, in the long-run, parents
and relations would praise and bless him for this resolution:
lihe acknowledged in these concurring circumstances the sig-
nal of a guiding fate.
  How slowly the time passed with him till night, till the
hour when he should again see his Mariana ! He sat in his
chamber, and revolved the plan of his journey; as a con-
jurer, or a cunning thief in durance, often draws out his feet
from the fast-locked irons, to cherish in himself the convic-
tion that his deliverance is possible, nay, nearer than short,
sighted turnkeys believe.


45





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  At last the appointed hour struck: he went out, shook off
all anxiety, and hastened through the silent streets. In the
middle of the great square he raised his hands to the sky,
feeling as if all was behind him and below him : he had freed
himself from all. One moment he figured himself as in the
arms of his beloved, the next as glancing with her in the
splendors of the stage: he soared aloft in a world of hopes,
only now and then the call of some watchman brought to his
recollection that he was still wandering on the vulgar earth.
  Mariana came to the stairs to meet him, - and how beauti-
ful, how lovely ! She received him in the new white negligde:
he thought he had never seen her so charming. Thus did she
handsel the gift of her absent lover in the arms of a present
one; with true passion she lavished on her darling the whole
treasure of those caresses which nature suggested, or art had
taught: need we ask if he was happy, if he was blessed?
  He disclosed to her what had passed, and showed her, in
general terms, his plan and his wishes. He would try, he
said, to find a residence, then come back for her: he hoped
she would not refuse him her hand. The poor girl was silent :
she concealed her tears, and pressed her friend against her
bosom. Wilhelm, though interpreting her silence in the
most favorable manner, could have wished for a distinct
reply; and still more, when at last he inquired of her in the
tenderest and most delicate terms, if he might not think him-
self a father. But to this she answered only with a sigh,
with a kiss.




                    CHAPTER XII.

  NEXT morning Mariana awoke only to new despondency;
she felt herself very solitary; she wished not to see the light
of day, but staid in bed, and wept. Old Barbara sat down
by her, and tried to persuade and console her; but it was
not in her power so soon to heal the wounded heart. The
moment was now at hand to which the poor girl had been
looking forward as to the last of her life. Who could be
placed in a more painful situation? The man she loved was
departing; a disagreeable lover was threatening to come;
and the most fearful mischiefs were to be anticipated, if the
two, as might easily happen, should meet together.


46





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " Calm yourself, my dear," said the old woman: " do not
spoil your pretty eyes with crying. Is it, then, so terrible
a thing to have two lovers? And though you can bestow
your love but on the one, yet be thankful to the other, who,
caring for you as he does, certainly deserves to be named
your friend."
  " My poor Wilhelm," said the other, all in tears, " had
warning that a separation was at hand. A dream discov-
ered to him what we strove so much to hide. He was sleep-
ing calmly at my side; on a sudden I heard him mutter some
unintelligible sounds: I grew frightened, and awoke him.
Ah ! with what love and tenderness and warmth did he clasp
me! ' O Mariana!' cried he, 'what a horrid fate have
you freed me from ! How shall I thank you for deliverance
from such torment? I dreamed that I was far from you in
an unknown country, but your figure hovered before me; I
saw you on a beautiful hill, the sunshine was glancing over
it all; how charming you looked! But it had not lasted
long, before I observed your image sinking down, sinking,
sinking: I stretched out my arms towards you; they could
not reach you through the distance. Your image still kept
gliding down: it approached a great sea that lay far ex-
tended at the foot of the hill, - a marsh rather than a sea.
All at once a man gave you his hand, and seemed meaning
to condu-ct you upwards; but he led you sidewards, and
appeared to draw you after him. I cried out: as I could
not reach you, I hoped to warn you. If I tried to walk, the
ground seemed to hold me fast; if I could walk, the water
hindered me; and even my cries were smothered in my
breast.' So said the poor youth, while recovering from his
terror, and reckoning himself happy to see a frightful dream
thrust aside by the most delicious reality."
  Barbara made every effort to reduce, by her prose, the
poetry of her friend to the domain of common life; employ-
ing, in the present case, the ingenious craft which so often
succeeds with bird-catchers, when they imitate with a whistle
the tones of those luckless creatures they soon hope to see
by dozens safely lodged in their nets. She praised Wilhelm :
she expatiated on his figure, his eyes, his love. The poor
girl heard her with a gratified heart, then arose, let herself
be dressed, and appeared calmer. " My child, my darling,"
continued the old woman, in a cozening tone, "I will not
trouble you or injure you: I cannot think of tearing from
you your dearest happiness. Could you mistake my inten-


47





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


tion ? Have you forgotten that on all occasions I have oared
for you more than for myself ? Tell me only what you wish :
we shall soon see how it may be brought about."
   " What can I wish?" said Mariana; " I am miserable,
miserable for life: I love him, and he loves me; yet I see
that I must part with him, and know not how I shall survive
it. Norberg is coming, to whom we owe our whole subsist-
ence, whom we cannot live without. Wilhelm is straitened
in his fortune : he can do nothing for me."
  " Yes, unfortunately, he is of those lovers who bring noth-
ing but their hearts; and these people, too, have the high-
est pretensions of any."
   " No jesting ! The unhappy youth thinks of leaving his
home, of going upon the stage, of offering me his hand."
  " Of empty hands we have already four."
  " I have no choice," continued Mariana: " do you decide
for me. Cast me away to this side or to that: mark only
one thing, - I think I carry in my bosom a pledge that ought
to unite me with him still more closely. Consider and deter-
mine: whom shall I forsake ? whom shall I follow ? "
  After a short silence, Barbara exclaimed, " Strange, that
youth should always be for extremes ! To my view, nothing
would be easier than for us to combine both the profit and
the enjoyment. Do you love the one, let the other pay for
it: all w.e have to mind, is being sharp enough to keep the
two from meeting."
  " Do as you please: I can imagine nothing, but I will
obey."
  " We have this advantage: we can humor the manager's
caprice and pride about the morals of his troop. Both lovers
are accustomed already to go secretly and cautiously to work.
For hours and opportunity I will take thought: only hence-
forth you must act the part that I prescribe to you. Who
knows what circumstances may arise to help us? If Nor-
berg would arrive even now, when Wilhelm is away ! Who
can hinder you from thinking of the one in the arms of the
other? I wish you a son, and good fortune with him: he
will have a rich father."
  These projects lightened Mariana's despondency only for
a very short time. She could not bring her situation into
harmony with her feelings, with her convictions: she would
fain have forgotten the painful relations in which she stood,
and a thousand little circumstances forced them back every
moment to her recollection.


48





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER      XIII.

   IN the mean time, Wilhelm had completed the short pre-
 liminary journey. His merchant being from home, he deliv-
 ered the letter of introduction to the mistress of the house.
 But neither did this lady give him much furtherance in his
 purposes: she was in a violent passion, and her whole econ-
 omy was in confusion.
   He had not waited long When she disclosed to him, what
 in truth could not be kept a secret, that her step-daughter
 had run off with a player,- a person who had parted lately
 from a small strolling company, and had staid in- the place,
 and commenced teaching French. The father, distracted
 with grief and vexation, had run to the Amt to have the fugi-
 tives pursued. She blamed her daughter bitterly, and vili-
 fied the lover, till she left no tolerable quality with either:
 she deplored at great length the shame thus brought upon the
 family; embarrassing our hero not a little, who here felt his
 own private scheme beforehand judged and punished, in the
 spirit of prophecy as it were, by this frenzied sibyl. Still
 stronger and deeper was the interest he took in the sorrows
 of the father, who now returned from the Amt, and with
 fixed sorrow, in broken sentences, gave his wife an account
 of the erraind, and strove to hide the embarrassment and dis-
 traction of his mind; while, after looking at the letter, he
 directed that the horse it spoke of should be given to Wil-
 helm.
   Our friend thought it best to mount his steed immediately,
 and quit a house where, in its present state, he could not
 possibly be comfortable; but the honest man would not allow
 the son of one to whom he had so many obligations to depart
 without tasting of his hospitality, without remaining at least
 a night beneath his roof.
   Wilhelm had partaken of a melancholy supper, worn out
 a restless night, and hastened, early in the morning, to get
 rid of these people, who, without knowing it, had, by their
' narratives and utterances, been constantly wounding him to
the quick.
   In a musing mood, he was riding slowly along, when all
 at once he observed a number of armed men coming through
 the fields. By their long, loose coats, with enormous cuffs;
 by their shapeless hats, clumsy muskets; by their unpre-
 tending gait, and contented bearing of the body, -he rece


49





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ognized in these people a detachment of provincial militia.
They halted beneath an old oak, set down their fire-arms,
and placed themselves at their ease upon the sward, to smoke
a pipe of tobacco. Wilhelm lingered near them, and entered
into conversation with a young man who came up on horse-
back. The history of the two runaways, which he knew but
too well, was again detailed to him, and that with comments
not particularly flattering, either to the young pair them-
selves, or to the parents. He also learned that the military
had come hither to take into custody the loving couple, who
had already been seized and detained in a neighboring
village. After some time, accordingly, a cart was seen ad-
vancing to the place, encircled with a city guard more ludi-
crous than appalling. An amorphous town-clerk rode forth,
and made his compliments to the Actuarius (for such was
the young man Wilhelm had been speaking to), on the bor-
der of their several districts, with great conscientiousness
and queer grimaces; as perhaps the ghost and the conjurer
do, when they meet, the one within the circle and the other
out of it, in their dismal midnight operations.
  But the chief attention of the lookers-on was directed to
the cart: they could not behold, without compassion, the
poor, misguided creatures, who were sitting upon bundles of
straw, looking tenderly at one another, and scarcely seeming
to observe the by-standers. Accident had forced their con-
ductors to bring them from the last village in that unseemly
style; the old chaise, which had previously transported the
lady, having there broken down. On that occurrence she
had begged for permission to sit beside her friend; whom,
in the conviction that his crime was of a capital sort, the
rustic bailiffs had so far brought along in irons. These irons
certainly contributed to give the tender group a more inter-
esting appearance, particularly as the young man moved and
bore himself with great dignity, while he kissed more thap
once the hands of his fair companion.
   " We are unfortunate," she cried to the by-standers, " but
not so guilty as we seem. It is thus that cruel men reward
true love; and parents, who entirely neglect the happiness
of their children, tear them with fury from the arms of joy,
when it has found them after many weary days."
   The spectators were expressing their sympathy in various
 ways, when, the officers of law having finished their cere-
 monial, the cart went on; and Wilhelm, who took a deep
 interest in the fate of the lovers, hastened forward by a foot


50





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


path to get some acquaintance with the Amtmann before the
procession should arrive. But scarcely had he reached the
Amthaus, where all was in motion, and ready to receive
the fugitives, when his new friend, the Actuarius, laid hold
of him; and giving him a circumstantial detail of the whole
proceedings, and then launching out into, a comprehensive
eulogy of his own horse, which he had got by barter the night
before, put a stop to every other sort of conversation.
  The luckless pair, in the mean time, had been set down be-
hind, at the garden, which communicated by a little door
with the Amthaus, and thus brought in unobserved. The
Actuarius, for this mild and handsome treatment, accepted
of a just encomium from Wilhelm; though in truth his sole
object had been to mortify the crowd collected in front of
the Amthaus, by denying them the satisfaction of looking at
a neighbor in disgrace.
  The Amtmann, who had no particular taste for such ex-
traordinary occurrences, being wont on these occasions to
commit frequent errors, and, with the best intentions, to be
often paid with sour admonitions from the higher powers,
went with heavy steps into his office-room; the Actuarius
with Wilhelm and a few respectable citizens following him.
  The lady was first produced: she advanced without pert-
ness, calm and self-possessed. The manner of her dress, the
way in which she bore herself, showed that she was a person
not without value in her own eyes. She accordingly began,
without any questions being put, to speak, not unskilfully,
about her situation.
  The Actuarius bade her be silent, and held his pen over
the folded sheet. The Amtmann gathered up his resolution,
looked at his assistant, cleared his throat by two or three
hems, and asked the poor girl what was her name, and how
old she was.
  " I beg your pardon, sir," said she," but it seems very
strange to me that you ask my name and age, seeing you
know very well what my name is, and that I am just of the
age of your oldest son. What you do want to know of me,
and need to know, I will tell freely without circumlocution.
  " Since my father's second marriage, my situation in his
house has not been of the most enviable sort. Oftener than
once I have had it in my power to make a suitable marriage,
had not my step-mother, dreading the expense of my por-
tion, taken care to thwart all such proposals. At length I
grew acquainted with the young Melina; I felt constrained


51





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


to love him ; and, as we both foresaw the obstacles that stood
in the way of our regular union, we determined to go forth
together, and seek in the wide world the happiness denied us
at home. I took nothing with me that was not my own: we
did not run away like thieves and robbers; and my lover
does not merit to be hauled about in this way, with chains
and handcuffs. The prince is just, and will not sanction
such severity. If we are liable to punishment, it is not pun-
ishment of this kind."
  The old Amtmann hereupon fell into doable and treble con-
fusion. Sounds of the most gracious eulogies were already
humming through his brain, and the girl's voluble speech
had entirely confounded the plan of his protocol. The mis-
chief increased, when to repeated official questions she refused
giving any answer, but constantly referred to what she had
already said.
  ' I am no criminal," she said. " They have brought me
hither on bundles of straw to put me to shame, but there is
a higher court that will bring us back to honor."
  The Actuarius, in the mean time, had kept writing down
her words: he whispered the Amtmann, " just to go on,- a
formal protocol might be made out by and by."
  The senior then again took heart, and began, with his
heavy .words, in dry prescribed formulas, to seek informa-
tion about the sweet secrets of love.
  The red mounted into Wilhelm's cheeks, and those of the
pretty criminal likewise glowed with the charming tinge of
modesty. She was silent, she stammered, till at last her
embarrassment itself seemed to exalt her courage.
   " Be assured," she cried, " that I should have strength
enough to confess the truth, though it made against myself;
and shall I now hesitate and stammer, when it does me
honor? Yes: from the moment when I first felt certain of
his love and faith, I looked upon him as my husband; I
freely gave him all that love requires, -that a heart once
convinced cannot long refuse. Now do with me what you
please. If I hesitated for a moment to confess, it was solely
owing to fear lest the admission might prove hurtful to my
lover."
  On hearing this confession, Wilhelm formed a high opinion
of the young woman's feelings, while her judges marked her
as an impudent strumpet; and the townsfolk present thanked
God that in their families no such scandal had occurred, or
at least been brought to light.


52





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Wilhelm transported his Mariana into this conjuncture,
answering at the bar: he put still finer words in her mouth,
making her uprightness yet more affecting, her confession
still nobler. The most violent desire to help the two lovers
took possession of him. Nor did he conceal this feeling, but
signified in private to the wavering Amtmann, that it were
better to end the business; all being clear as possible, and
requiring no further investigation.
  This was so far of service that the young woman was
allowed to retire ; though, in her stead, the lover was brought
in, his fetters having previously been taken off him at the
door. This person seemed a little more concerned about his
fate.  His answers were more careful; and, if he showed
less heroic generosity, he recommended himself by the pre-
cision and distinctness of his expressions.
  When this audience also was finished, and found to agree
in all points with the former, except that, from regard for
his mistress, Melina stubbornly denied what had already been
confessed by herself, the young woman was again brought
forward; and a scene took place between the two, which
made the heart of our friend entirely their own.
  What usually occurs nowhere but in romances and plays,
he saw here in a paltry court-room before his eyes, - the con-
test of reciprocal magnanimity, the strength of love in mis-
fortune.
   " Is it, then, true," said he internally, " that timorous
affection, which conceals itself from the eye of the sun and of
men, not daring to taste of enjoyment save in remote soli-
tude and deep secrecy, yet, if torn rudely by some cruel
chance into light, will show itself more courageous, strong,
and resolute than any of our loud and ostentatious pas-
sions ? "
  To his comfort, the business now soon came to a conclu-
sion. The lovers were detained in tolerable quarters: had it
been possible, he would that very evening have brought back
the young lady to her parents. For he firmly determined to
act as intercessor in this case, and to forward a happy and
lawful union between the lovers.
  He begged permission of the Amtmann to speak in private
with Melina, a request which was granted without difficulty.


53





54


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XIV.

  THE conversation of these new acquaintances very soon
grew confidential and lively. When Wilhelm told the down-
cast youth of his connection with the lady's parents, and
offered to mediate in the affair, showing at the same time
the strongest expectation of success, a light was shed across
the dreary and anxious mind of the prisoner: he felt him-
self already free, already reconciled with the parents of his
bride, and now began to speak about his future occupation
and support.
  " On this point," said our friend, " you cannot long be in
difficulty; for you seem to me directed, not more by your
circumstances than by nature, to make your fortune in the
noble profession you have chosen. A pleasing figure, a
sonorous voice, a feeling heart ! Could an actor be better
furnished? If I can serve you with a few introductions, it
will give me the greatest pleasure."
  " I thank you with all my heart," replied the other, " but
I shall hardly be able to make use of them; for it is my pur-
pose, if possible, not to return to the stage."
  "' Here you are certainly to blame," said Wilhelm, after a
pause, during which he had partly recovered out of his
astonishment; for it had never once entered his head, but
that the player, the moment his young wife and he were out
of durance, would repair to some theatre. It seemed to him
as natural and as necessary as for the frog to seek pools of
water. He had not doubted of it for a moment, and he now
heard the contrary with boundless surprise.
   " Yes," replied Melina, " I have it in view not to re-ap-
pear upon the stage, but rather to take up some civil call-
ing, be it what it will, so that I can but obtain one."
   " This is a strange resolution, which I cannot give my ap-
probation to. Without especial reasons, it can never be ad-
visable to change the mode of life we have begun with; and,
besides, I know of no condition that presents so much al-
lurement, so many charming prospects, as the condition of
an actor."
   I It is easy to see that you have never been one," said
the other.
   " Alas, sir," answered Wilhelm, " how seldom is any
man contented with the station where he happens to be
placed ! He is ever coveting that of his neighbor, from
which the neighbor in his turn is longing to be free."





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " Yet still there is a difference," said Melina, " between
bad and worse. Experience, not impatience, makes me
determine as you see. Is there in the world any creature
whose morsel of bread is attended with such vexation, un-
certainty, and toil? It were almost as good to take the staff
and wallet, and beg from door to door. What things to be
endured from the envy of rivals, from the partiality of
managers, from the ever-altering caprices of the public ! In
truth, one would need to have a hide like a bear's, that is
led about in a chain along with apes, and dogs of knowledge,
and cudgelled into dancing at the sound of a bagpipe before
the populace and children."
  Wilhelm thought a thousand things, which he would not
vex the worthy man by uttering. He merely, therefore, led
the conversation round them at a distance. His friend ex-
plained himself the more candidly and circumstantially on
that account. " Is not the manager obliged," said he, " to
fall down at the feet of every little Stadtrath, that he may
get permission, for a month between the fairs, to cause
another groschen or two to circulate in the place? Ours, on
the whole, a worthy man, I have often pitied; though at
other times he gave me cause enough for discontentment.
A good actor drains him by extortion; of the bad he cannot
rid himself; and, should he try to make his income at all
equal to his outlay, the public immediately takes umbrage,
the house stands empty; and, not to go to wreck entirely,
he must continue acting in the midst of sorrow and vexation.
No, no, sir ! Since you are so good as to undertake to help
me, have the kindness, I entreat you, to plead with the
parents of my bride: let them get me a little post of clerk
or collector, and I shall think myself well dealt with."
  After exchanging a few words more, Wilhelm went away
with the promise to visit the parents early in the morning,
and see what could be done. Scarcely was he by himself,
when he gave utterance to his thoughts in these exclama-
tions: " Unhappy Melina ! not in thy condition, but in thy-
self, lies the mean impediment over which thou canst not
gain the mastery. What mortal in the world, if without in-
ward calling he take up a trade, an art, or any mode of life,
will not feel his situation miserable? But he who is born
with capacities for any undertaking, finds in executing this
the fairest portion of his being. Nothing upon earth with-
out its difficulties ! It is the secret impulse within, it is the
love and the delight we feel, that help us to conquer ob-


55





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


stacles, to clear out new paths, and to overleap the bounds
of that narrow circle in which others poorly toil. For thee
the stage is but a few boards: the parts assigned thee are
but what a task is to a schoolboy. The spectators thou
regardest as on work-days they regard each other. For thee,
then, it may be well to wish thyself behind a desk, over ruled
ledgers, collecting tolls, and picking out reversions. Thou
feelest not the co-operating, co-inspiring whole, which the
mind alone can invent, comprehend, and complete: thou
feelest not that in man there lives a spark of purer fire,
which, when it is not fed, when it is not fanned, gets
covered by the ashes of indifference and daily wants, yet
not till late, perhaps never, can be altogether quenched.
Thou feelest in thy soul no strength to fan this spark into a
flame, no riches in thy heart to feed it when aroused.
Hunger drives thee on, inconveniences withstand thee; and it
is hidden from thee, that, in every human condition, foes lie
in wait for us, invincible except by cheerfulness and equa-
nimity. Thou dost well to wish thyself within the limits of
a common station, for what station that required soul and
resolution couldst thou rightly fill?   Give a soldier, a
statesman, a divine, thy sentiments, and as justly will he
fret himself about the miseries of his condition. Nay, have
there not been men so totally forsaken by all feeling of
existence, that they have held the life and nature of mortals
as a nothing, a painful, short, and tarnished gleam of being?
Did the forms of active men rise up living in thy soul; were
thy breast warmed by a sympathetic fire; did the vocation
which proceeds from within diffuse itself over all thy frame;
were the tones of thy voice, the words of thy mouth, delight-
ful to hear; didst thou feel thy own being sufficient for
thyself, - then wouldst thou doubtless seek place and op-
portunity likewise to feel it in others."
  Amid such words and thoughts, our friend undressed him-
self, and went to bed, with feelings of the deepest satisfac-
tion. A whole romance of what he now hoped to do, instead
of the worthless occupations which should have filled the
approaching day, arose within his mind: pleasant fantasies
softly conducted him into the kingdom of sleep, and then
gave him up to their sisters, sweet dreams, who received
him with open arms, and encircled his reposing head with
the images of heaven.
  Early in the morning he was awake again, and thinking of
the business that lay before him.   He revisited the house


56





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


of the forsaken family, where his presence caused no small
surprise. He introduced his proposal in the most prudent
manner, and soon found both more and fewer difficulties
than he had anticipated. For one thing, the evil was already
done: and though people of a singularly strict and harsh
temper are wont to set themselves forcibly against the past,
and thus to increase the evil that cannot now be remedied;
yet, on the other hand, what is actually done exerts an irre-
sistible effect upon most minds: an event which lately ap-
peared impossible takes its place, so soon as it has really
occurred, with what occurs daily. It was accordingly soon
settled, that Herr Melina was to wed the daughter; who,
however, in return, because of her misconduct, was to take
no marriage-portion with her, and to promise that she would
leave her aunt's legacy, for a few years more, at an easy
interest, in her father's hands. But the second point, touch-
ing a civil provision for Melina, was attended with greater
difficulties. They liked not to have the luckless pair con-
tinually living in their sight: they would not have a present
object ever calling to their minds the connection of a mean
vagabond with so respectable a family, --a family which
could number even a superintendent among its relatives ; nay,
it was not to be looked for, that the government would trust
him with a charge. Both parents were alike inflexible in
this mattfer; and Wilhelm, who pleaded very hard, unwilling
that a man whom he contemned should return to the stage,
and convinced that he deserved not such a happiness, could
not, with all his rhetoric, produce the slenderest impression.
Had he known the secret springs of the business, he would
have spared himself the labor of attempting to persuade.
The father would gladly have kept his daughter near him;
but he hated the young man, because his wife herself had
cast an eye upon him: while the latter could not bear to
have, in her step-daughter, a happy rival constantly before
her eyes.   So Melina with his young wife, who already
manifested no dislike to go and see the world, and be seen
of it, was obliged, against his will, to set forth in a few
days, and seek some place in any acting company where he
could find one.


57





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER XV.

   HAPPY season of youth ! Happy times of the first wish
 of love ! A man is then like a child that can for hours de-
 light itself with an echo, can support alone the charges of
 conversation, and be well contented with its entertainment,
 if the unseen interlocutor will but repeat the concluding
 syllables of the words addressed to it.
   So was it with Wilhelm in the earlier and still more in the
 later period of his passion for Mariana; he transferred the
 whole wealth of his own emotions to her, and looked upon
 himself as a beggar that lived upon her alms: and as a land-
 scape is more delightful, nay, is delightful only, when it is
 enlightened by the sun; so likewise in his eyes were all things
 beautified and glorified which lay round her or related to
 her.
   Often would he stand in the theatre behind the scenes, to
 which he had obtained the freedom of access from the man-
 ager. In such cases, it is true, the perspective magic was
. away; but the far mightier sorcery of love then first began
to act. For hours he could stand by the sooty light-frame,
inhaling the vapor of tallow lamps, looking out at his mis-
tress; and when she returned, and cast a kindly glance upon
him, he could feel himself lost in ecstasy; and, though close
upon laths and bare spars, he seemed transported into para-
dise. The stuffed bunches of wool denominated lambs, the
waterfalls of tin, the paper roses, and the one-sided huts of
straw, awoke in him fair poetic visions of an old pastoral
world. Nay, the very dancing-girls, ugly as they were when
seen at hand, did not always inspire him with disgust: they
trod the same floor with Mariana. So true is it, that love,
which alone can give their full charm to rose-bowers, myrtle-
groves, and moonshine, can also communicate, even to shav-
ings of wood, and paper-clippings, the aspect of animated
nature. It is so strong a spice, that tasteless or even nau-
seous soups are by it rendered palatable.
   So potent a spice was certainly required to render tolera-
 ble, nay, at last agreeable, the state in which he usually
 found her chamber, not to say herself.
   Brought up in a substantial burgher's house, cleanliness
 and order were the elements in which he breathed; and, in-
 heriting as he did a portion of his father's taste for finery,
 it had always been his care, in boyhood, to furbish up his


58





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


chamber, which he regarded as his little kingdom, in the
stateliest fashion. His bed-curtains were drawn together in
large, massy folds, and fastened with tassels, as they are
usually seen in thrones; he had got himself a carpet for the
middle of his chamber, and a finer one for his table; his
books and apparatus he had, almost instinctively, arranged
in such a manner, that a Dutch painter might have imitated
them for groups in his still-life scenes. He had a white cap,
which he wore straight up like a turban; and the sleeves of
his night-gown he had caused to be cut short, in the mode
of the Orientals. By way of reason for this, he pretended
that long, wide sleeves encumbered him in writing. When,
at night, the boy was quite alone, and no longer dreaded any
interruption, he usually wore a silk sash tied round his body:
and often, it is said, he would fix in his girdle a sword, which
he had appropriated from an old armory, and thus repeat
and declaim his tragic parts; nay, in the same trim he would
kneel down and say his evening prayer.
  In those times, how happy did he think the players, whom
he saw possessed of so many splendid garments, trappings,
and arms; and in the constant practice of a lofty demeanor,
the spirit of which seemed to hold up a mirror of whatever,
in the opinions, relations, and passions of men, was stateli-
est and most magnificent. Of a piece with this, thought
Wilhelm, is also the player's domestic life,- a series of dig-
nified transactions and employments, whereof their appear-
ance on the stage is but the outmost portion; like as a mass
of silver, long simmering about in the purifying furnace, at
length gleams with a bright and beautiful tinge in the eye of
the refiner, and shows him, at the same time, that the metal
now is cleansed of all foreign mixture.
  Great, accordingly, was his surprise at first, when he found
himself beside his mistress, and looked down, through the
cloud that environed him, on tables, stools, and floor. The
wrecks of a transient, light, and false decoration lay, like
the glittering coat of a skinned fish, dispersed in wild disor-
der. The implements of personal cleanliness, - combs, soap,
towels, - with the traces of their use, were not concealed.
Music, portions of plays and pairs of shoes, washes and
Italian flowers, pin-cushions, hair-skewers, rouge-pots, and
ribbons, books and straw hats, --no article despised the
neighborhood of another: all were united by a common ele-
ment, - powder and dust. Yet as Wilhelm scarcely noticed
in her presence aught except herself; nay, as all that haO


59





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


belonged to her, that she had touched, was dear to him, - he
came at last to feel, in this chaotic housekeeping, a charm
which the proud pomp of his own habitation never had com-
municated. When, on this hand, he lifted aside her bodice,
to get at the harpsichord; on that, threw her gown upon the
bed, that he might find a seat; when she herself, with care-
less freedom, did not seek to hide from him many a natural
office, which, out of respect for the presence of a second
person, is usually concealed, - he felt as if by all this he
was coming nearer to her every moment, as if the communion
betwixt them was fastening by invisible ties.
  It was not so easy to reconcile with his previous ideas the
behavior of the other players, whom, on his first visits, he
often met with in her house. Ever busied in being idle, they
seemed to think least of all on their employment and object:
the poetic worth of a piece they were never heard to speak
of, or to judge of, right or wrong ; their continual question
was simply, How much will it bring? Is it a stock-piece?
How long will it run? How often think you it may be
played? and other inquiries and observations of the same
description. Then commonly they broke out against the
manager, that he was stinted with his salaries, and especially
unjust to this one or to that; then against the public, how
seldom it recompensed the right man with its approval, how
the German theatre was daily improving, how the player was
ever growing more honored, and never could be honored
enough. Then they would descant largely about wine-gar-
dens and coffee-houses; how much debt one of their com-
rades had contracted, and must suffer a deduction from his
wages on account of; about the disproportion of their
weekly salaries; about the cabals of some rival company:
on which occasions, they would pass again to the great and
merited attention which the public now bestowed upon them;
not forgetting the importance of the theatre to the improve-
ment of the nation and the world.
   All this, which had already given Wilhelm many a restless
Shour, came again into his memory, as he walked his horse
slowly homewards, and contemplated the various occurrences
in which he had so lately been engaged. The commotion
produced by a girl's elopement, not only in a decent family,
but in a whole town, he had seen with his own eyes: the
scenes upon the highway and in the Amthaus, the views
entertained by Melina, and whatever else he had witnessed,
again arose before him, and brought his keen, forecasting


60





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mind into a sort of anxious disquietude; which no longer
to endure, he struck the spurs into his horse, and hastened
towards home.
  By this expedient, however, he but ran to meet new vexa-
tions.  Werner, his friend and future brother-in-law, was
waiting for him, to begin a serious, important, unexpected
conversation.
  Werner was one of those tried, sedate persons, with fixed
principles and habits, whom we usually denominate cold char-
acters, because on emergencies they do not burst forth quickly
or very visibly. Accordingly, his intercourse with Wilhelm
was a perpetual contest; which, however, only served to knit
their mutual affection the more firmly; for, notwithstanding
their very opposite modes of thinking, each found his account
in communicating with the other. Werner was very well con-
tented with himself, that he could now and then lay a bridle
on the exalted but commonly extravagant spirit of his friend;
and Wilhelm often felt a glorious triumph, when the staid
and thinking Werner could be hurried on with him in warm
ebullience. Thus each exercised himself upon the other;
they had been accustomed to see each other daily; and you
would have said, their eagerness to meet and talk together
had even been augmented by the inability of each to under-
stand the Qther. At bottom, however, being both good-hearted
men, they were both travelling together towards one goal;
and they could never understand how it was that neither of
the two could bring the other over to his own persuasion.
  For some time Werner had observed that Wilhelm's visits
had been rarer; that in his favorite discussions he was brief
and absent-minded; that he no longer abandoned himself to
the vivid depicting of singular conceptions, - tokens by which,
in truth, a mind getting rest and contentment in the presence
of a friend is most clearly indicated. The considerate and
punctual Werner first sought for the root of the evil in his
own conduct; till some rumors of the neighborhood set him
on the proper trace, and some unguarded proceedings on the
part of Wilhelm brought him nearer to the certainty. He
began his investigation, and erelong discovered, that for
some time Wilhelm had been openly visiting an actress, had
often spoken with her at the theatre, and accompanied her
home. On discovering the nightly visits of his friend, Wer-
ner's anxiety increased to a painful extent: for he heard
that Mariana was a most seductive girl, who probably was
draining the youth of his money ; while, at the same time,


61





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


she herself was supported by another and a very worthless
lover.
  Having pushed his suspicions as near certainty as possible,
he had resolved to make a sharp attack on Wilhelm: he was
now in full readiness with all his preparations, when his friend
returned, discontented and unsettled, from his journey.
  That very evening Werner laid the whole. of what he knew
before him, first calmly, then with the emphatic earnestness
of a well-meaning frienaship. He left no point of the sub-
ject undiscussed, and made Wilhelm taste abundance of
those bitter things which men at ease are accustomed, with
virtuous spite, to dispense so liberally to men in love. Yet,
as might have been expected, he accomplished little. Wil-
helm answered with interior commotion, though with great
confidence, ' You know not the girl ! Appearances, perhaps,
are not to her advantage; but I am certain of her faithful-
ness and virtue, as of my love."
  Werner maintained his accusations, and offered to bring
proofs and witnesses. Wilhelm waived these offers, and
parted with his friend out of humor and unhinged, like a
man in whose jaw some unskilful dentist has been seizing
a diseased, yet fast-rooted, tooth, and tugging at it harshly
to no purpose.
  It exceedingly dissatisfied Wilhelm to see the fair image
of Mafiana overclouded and almost deformed in his soul,
first by the capricious fancies of his journey, and then by the
unfriendliness of Werner. He adopted the surest means of
restoring it to complete brilliancy and beauty, by setting out
at night, and hastening to his wonted destination. She re-
ceived him with extreme joy: on entering the town, he had
ridden past her window; she had been expecting his com-
pany; and it is easy to conceive that all scruples were soon
driven from his heart. Nay, her tenderness again opened
up the whole stores of his confidence; and he told her how
deeply the public, how deeply his friend, had sinned against
her.
  Much lively talking led them at length to speak about the
earliest period of their acquaintance, the recollection of which
forms always one of 'the most delightful topics between two
lovers. The first steps that introduce us to the enchanted
garden of love are so full of pleasure, the first prospects so
charming, that every- one is willing to recall them to his
memory. Each party seeks a preference above the other;
each has loved sooner, more devotedly; and each, in this
contest, would rather be conquered than conquer.


62





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Wilhelm repeated to his mistress, what he had so often
told her before, how she soon abstracted his attention from
the play, and fixed it on herself ; how her form, her acting,
her voice, inspired him; how at last he went only on the
nights when she was to appear; how, in fine, having ventured
behind the scenes, he had often stood by her unheeded; and
he spoke with rapture of the happy evening when he found
an opportunity to do her some civility, and lead her into con-
versation.
  Mariana, on the other hand, would not allow that she had
failed so long to notice him: she declared that she had seen
him in the public walk, and for proof she described the clothes
which he wore on that occasion; she affirmed that even then
he pleased her before all others, and made her long for his
acquaintance.
  How gladly did Wilhelm credit all this ! How gladly did he
catch at the persuasion, that, when he used to approach her,
she had felt herself drawn towards him by some resistless
influence; that she had gone with him between the side-
scenes on purpose to see him more closely, and get acquainted
with him; and that, in fine, when his backwardness and
modesty were not to be conquered, she had herself afforded
him an opportunity, and, as it were, compelled him to hand
her a glass of lemonade.
   In this affectionate contest, which they pursued through
all the little circumstances of their brief romance, the hours
passed rapidly away; and Wilhelm left his mistress with his
heart at peace, and firmly determined on proceeding forth-
with to the execution of his project.





                     CHAPTER XVI.

   THE necessary preparations for his journey his father and
mother had attended to: some little matters, that were yet
wanting to his equipage, delayed his departure for a few days.
Wilhelm took advantage of this opportunity to write to Mari-
ana, meaning thus to bring to a decision the proposal, about
which she had hitherto avoided speaking with him.  The
letter was as follows :--
   " Under the kind veil of night, which has often over-


63





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


shadowed us together, I sit and think, and write to thee:
all that I meditate and do is solely on thy account. O
Mariana! with me, the happiest of men, it is as with a
bridegroom who stands in the festive chamber, dreaming
of the new universe that is to be unfolded to him, and by
means of him, and, while the holy ceremonies are proceed-
ing, transports himself in longing thought before the myste-
rious curtains, from which the loveliness of love whispers
out to him.
  " I have constrained myself not to see thee for a few
days: the sacrifice was easy, when united with the hope of
such a recompense, of being always with thee, of remaining
ever thine ! Need I repeat what I desire? I must ! for it
seems as if yet thou hadst never understood me.
  " How often, in the low tones of true love, which, though
wishing to gain all, dares speak but little, have I sought in
thy heart for the desire of a perpetual union. Thou hast
understood me, doubtless; for in thy own heart the same
wish must have arisen: thou didst comprehend me, in that
kiss, in the intoxicating peace of that happy evening. Thy
silence testified to me thy modest honor; and how did it
increase my love ! Another woman would have had recourse
to artifice, that she might ripen by superfluous sunshine the
purpose of her lover's heart, might elicit a proposal, and
secure' a firm promise. Mariana, on the contrary, drew
back: she repelled the half-opened confidence of him she
loved, and sought to conceal her approving feelings by
apparent indifference. But I have understood thee ! What
a miserable creature must I be, if I did not by these tokens
recognize the pure and generous love that cares not for
itself, but for its object ! Confide in me, and fear nothing.
We belong to one another; and neither of us leaves aught
or forsakes aught, if we live for one another.
   " Take it, then, this hand! Solemnly I offer this un-
 necessary pledge! All the joys of love we have already
 felt, but there is a new blessedness in the firm thought of
 duration. Ask not how, - care not. Fate takes care of
 love, and the more certainly as love is easy to provide for.
   " My heart has long ago forsaken my paternal home: it
 is with thee, as my spirit hovers on the stage. O my dar-
 ling ! to what other man has it been given to unite all his
 wishes, as it is to me? No sleep falls upon my eyes: like
 the redness of an everlasting dawn, thy love and thy happi-
 ness still glow around me.


64





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


65


  " Scarcely can I hold myself from springing up, from
rushing forth to thee, and forcing thy consent, and, with
the first light of to-morrow, pressing forward into the world
for the mark I aim at. But, no ! I will restrain myself; I
will not act like a thoughtless fool, will do nothing rashly :
my plan is laid, and I will execute it calmly.
  " I am acquainted with the manager Serlo : my journey
leads me directly to the place where he is. For above a
year he has frequently been wishing that his people had
a touch of my vivacity, and my delight in theatrical affairs:
I shall doubtless be very kindly received. Into your com-
pany I cannot enter, for more than one reason. Serlo's
theatre, moreover, is at such a distance from this, that I
may there begin my undertaking without any apprehension
of discovery. With him I shall thus at once find a tolerable
maintenance: I shall look about me in the public, get ac-
quainted with the company, and then come back for thee.
  " Mariana, thou seest what I can force myself to do, that
I may certainly obtain thee. For such a period not to see
thee; for such a period to know thee in the wide world ! I
dare not view it closely. But yet if I recall to memory thy
love, which assures me of all; if thou shalt not disdain my
prayer, and give me, ere we part, thy hand, before the
priest, - I may then depart in peace. It is but a form be-
tween us; yet a form so touching, - the blessing of Heaven
to the blessing of the earth. Close by thy. house, in the
Ritterschaftliche Chapel, the ceremony will be soon and
secretly performed.
  " For the beginning I have .gold enough; we will share
it between us; it will suffice for both; and, before that is
finished, Heaven will send us more.
   " No, my darling, I am not downcast about the issue.
What is begun with so much cheerfulness must reach a
happy end. I have never doubted that a man may force
his way through the world, if he really is in earnest about
it; and I feel strength enough within me to provide a liberal
support for two, and many more.. The world, we are often
told, is unthankful: I have never yet discovered that it was
unthankful, if one knew how, in the proper way, to do it
service. My whole soul burns at the idea, that I shall at
length step forth, and speak to the hearts of men something
they have long been yearning to hear. How many thousand
times has a feeling of disgust passed through me, alive as I
am to the nobleness of the stage, when I have seen the poor-





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


est creatures fancying they could speak a word of power to
the hearts of the people ! The tone of a man's voice sing-
ing treble sounds far pleasanter and purer to my ear: it is
incredible how these blockheads, in their coarse ineptitude,
deform things beautiful and venerable.
  " The theatre has often been at variance with the pulpit:
they ought not, I think, to quarrel. How much is it to be
wished, that in both the celebration of nature and of God
were intrusted to none but men of noble minds ! These are
no dreams, my darling ! As I have felt in thy heart that
thou couldst love, I seize the dazzling thought, and say, -
no, I will not say, but I will hope and trust,- that we two
shall yet appear to men as a pair of chosen spirits, to unlock
their hearts, to touch the recesses of their nature, and pre-
pare for them celestial joys, as surely as the joys I have
tasted with thee deserved to be named celestial, since they
drew us from ourselves, and exalted us above ourselves.
   " I cannot end.   I have already said too much, and
know not whether I have yet said all, all that concerns thy
interests; for to express the agitations of the vortex that
whirls round within myself, is beyond the power of words.
   " Yet take this sheet, my love! I have again read it
over: I observe it ought to have begun more cautiously; but
it contains in it all that thou hast need to know, -enough to
prepare' thee for the hour when I shall return with the light-
ness of love to thy bosom. I seem to myself like a prisoner
that is secretly filing his irons asunder. I bid good-night to
my soundly sleeping parents. Farewell, my beloved, fare-
well! For this time I conclude; my eyelids have more than
once dropped together; it is now deep in the night."





                    CHAPTER XVII.

   IT seemed as if the day would never end, while Wilhelm,
 with the letter beautifully folded in his pocket, longed to
 meet with Mariana. The darkness had scarcely come on,
 when, contrary to custom, he glided forth to her house.
 His plan was, to announce himself for the night; then to
 quit his mistress for a short time, leaving the letter with her
 ere he went away; and, returning at a late hour, to obtain


66





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


her reply, her consent, or to force it from her by the power
of his caresses. He flew into her arms, and pressed her in
rapture to his bosom. The vehemence of his emotions pre-
vented him at first from noticing, that, on this occasion, she
did not receive him with her wonted heartiness; yet she
could not long conceal her painful situation, but imputed it
to slight indisposition. She complained of a headache, and
would not by any means consent to his proposal of coming
back that night. Suspecting nothing wrong, he ceased to
urge her, but felt that this was not the moment for deliver-
ing his letter. He retained it, therefore; and, as several of
her movements and observations courteously compelled him
to take his leave, in the tumult of unsatiable love he snatched
up one of her neckerchiefs, squeezed it into his pocket, and
forced himself away from her lips and her door. He re-
turned home, but could not rest there: he again dressed
himself, and went out into the open air.
  After walking up and down several streets, he was ac-
costed by a stranger inquiring for a certain inn. Wilhelm
offered to conduct him to the house. In the way, his new
acquaintance asked about the names of the streets, the
owners of various extensive edifices, then about some police
regulations of the town; so that, by the time they reached
the door of the inn, they had fallen into quite an interesting
conversation. The stranger politely compelled his guide to
enter, and drink a glass of punch with him. Ere long he
had told his name and place of abode, as well as the busi-
ness that had brought him hither; and he seemed to expect
a like confidence from Wilhelm. Our friend, without any
hesitation, mentioned his name, and the place where he
lived.
   " Are you not a grandson of the old Meister, who pos-
sessed that beautiful collection of pictures and statues?"
inquired the stranger.
   " Yes, I am. I was ten years old when my grandfather
 died, and it grieved me very much to see these fine things
 sold."
   " Your father got a fine sum of money for them."
   ' You know of it, then ? "
   " Yes, indeed: I saw that treasure ere it left your house.
Your grandfather was not merely a collector, he had a
thorough knowledge of art. In his younger happy years he
had been in Italy, and had brought back with him such
treasures as could not now be got for any price. He pos-


67





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


sessed some exquisite pictures by the best masters. When
you looked through his drawings, you would scarcely have
believed your eyes. Among his marbles were some invalu-
able fragments; his series of bronzes was instructive and
well chosen; he had also collected medals, in considerable
quantity, relating to history and art; his few gems deserved
the greatest praise. In addition to all which, the whole was
tastefully arranged; although the rooms and hall of the old
house had not been symmetrically built."
  " You may conceive,' said Wilhelm, " what we young
ones lost, when all these articles were taken down and sent
away. It was the first mournful period of my life. I can-
not tell you how empty the chambers looked when we saw
those objects vanish one by one, which had amused us from
our earliest years, and which we considered as unalterable as
the house, or the town itself."
  " If I mistake not, your father put the capital produced
by the sale into some neighbor's stock, with whom he com-
menced a sort of partnership in trade."
  " Quite right; and their joint speculations have prospered
in their hands. Within the last twelve years, they have
greatly increased their fortunes, and are now the more vehe-
mently bent on gaining. Old Werner also has a son, who
suits that sort of occupation much better than I."
  " I am sorry the place should have lost such an ornament
as your grandfather's cabinet was to it. I saw it but a short
time prior to the sale; and I may say, I was myself the
cause of its being then disposed of. A rich nobleman, a
great amateur, but one who, in such important transactions,
does not trust to his own solitary judgment, had sent me
hither, and requested my advice. For six days I examined
the collection: on the seventh, I advised my friend to pay
down the required sum without delay. You were then a
lively boy, often running about me: you explained to me the
subjects of the pictures, and in general, I recollect, could
give a very good account of the whole cabinet."
  " I remember such a person, but I should not have recog-
nized him in you."
  " It is a good while ago, and we all change more or less.
You had, if I mistake not, a favorite piece among them, to
which you were ever calling my attention."
  " Oh, yes ! it represented the history of that king's son
dying of a secret love for his father's bride."
  " It was not, certainly, the best picture, - badly grouped,


68





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


of no superiority in coloring, and executed altogether with
great mannerism."
  " This I did not understand, and do not yet: it is the sub-
ject that charms me in a picture, not the art."
  "Your grandfather seemed to have thought otherwise.
The greater part of his collection consisted of excellent
pieces; in which, represent what they might, one constantly
admired the talent of the master. This picture of yours had
accordingly been hung in the outermost room, - a proof that
he valued it slightly."
  " It was in that room where we young ones used to play,
and where the piece you mention made on me a deep im-
pression; which not even your criticism, greatly as I honor
it, could obliterate, if we stood before the picture at this
moment. What a melancholy object is a youth that must
shut up within himself the sweet impulse, the fairest inher-
itance which nature has given us, and conceal in his own
bosom the fire which should warm and animate himself and
others, so that his vitals are wasted away by unutterable
pains ! I feel a pity for the ill-fated man that would conse-
crate himself to another, when the heart of that other has
already found a worthy object of true and pure affection."
  " Such feelings are, however, very foreign to the prin-
ciples by which a lover of art examines the works of great
painters; hnd most probably you, too, had the cabinet con-
tinued in your family, would have by and by acquired a
relish for the works themselves, and have learned to see in
the performances of art something more than yourself and
your individual inclinations."
   " In truth, the sale of that cabinet grieved me very much
at the time; and often since I have thought of it with regret :
but when I consider that it was a necessary means of awak-
ening a taste in me, of developing a talent, which will oper-
ate far more powerfully on my history than ever those lifeless
pictures could have done, I easily content myself, and honor
destiny, which knows how to bring about what is best for
me, and what is best for every one."
  "' It gives me pain to hear this word destiny in the mouth
of a young person, just at the age when men are commonly
accustomed to ascribe their own violent inclinations to the
will of higher natures."
   " You, then, do not believe in destiny? No power that
rules over us and directs all for our ultimate advantage ? "
   "' The question is not now of my belief, nor is this the


69





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


place to explain how I may have attempted to form for my-
self some not impossible conception of things which are
incomprehensible to all of us: the question here is, What
mode of viewing them will profit us the most? The fabric
of our life is formed of necessity and chance: the reason of
man takes its station between them, and may rule them both;
it treats the necessary as the groundwork of its being; the
accidental it can direct and guide, and employ for its own
purposes: and only while this principle of reason stands firm
and inexpugnable, does man deserve to be named the god of
this lower world. But woe to him who, from his youth, has
used himself to search in necessity for something of arbitrary
will; to ascribe to chance a sort of reason, which it is a
matter of religion to obey. Is conduct like this aught else
than to renounce one's understanding, and give unrestricted
scope to one's inclinations? We think it is a kind of piety
to move along without consideration; to let accidents that
please us determine our conduct; and, finally, to bestow on
the result of such a vacillating life the name of providential
guidance."
   " Was it never your case that some little circumstance in-
duced you to strike into a certain path, where some acci-
dental occurrence erelong met you, and a series of unexpected
incidents at length brought you to some point which you
yourself had scarcely once contemplated? Should not les-
sons of this kind teach us obedience to destiny, confidence in
some such guide? "
   " With opinions like these, no woman could maintain her
virtue, no man keep the money in his purse; for occasions
enough are occurring to get rid of both. He alone is worthy
of respect, who knows what is of use to himself and others,
and who labors to control his self-will. Each man has his
own fortune in his hands; as the artist has a piece of rude
matter, which he is to fashion to a certain shape. But the
art of living rightly is like all arts: the capacity alone is
born with us; it must be learned, and practised with inces-
sant care."
   These discussions our two speculators carried on between
them to considerable length: at last they parted without
seeming to have wrought any special conviction in each
other, but engaging to meet at an appointed place next day.
   Wilhelm walked up and down the streets for a time: he
 heard a sound of clarinets, hunting-horns, and bassoons;
 it swelled his bosom with delightful feelings. It wa* some


70





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


travelling showmen that produced this pleasant music. He
spoke with them: for a piece of coin they followed him to
Mariana's house.    The space in front of the door was
adorned with lofty trees; under them he placed his artists;
and, himself resting on a bench at some distance, he surren-
dered his mind without restraint to the hovering tones which
floated round him in the cool mellow night. Stretched out
beneath the kind stars, he felt his existence like a golden
dream. " She, too, hears these flutes," said lie within his
heart: " she feels whose remembrance, whose love of her, it
is that makes the night full of music. In distance, even, we
are united by these melodies, as in every separation, by the
ethereal accordance of love. Ah ! two hearts that love each
other are as two magnetic needles: whatever moves the one
must move the other with it; for it is one power that works
in both, one principle that pervades them. Can I in her
arms conceive the possibility of parting from her? And yet
I am soon to be far from her, to seek out a sanctuary for
our love, and then to have her ever with me.
  " How often, when absent from her, and lost in thoughts
about her, happening to touch a book, a piece of dress or
aught else, have I thought I felt her hand, so entirely was I
invested with her presence ! And to recollect those moments
which shunned the light of day and the eye of the cold spec-
tator; which, to enjoy, the gods might determine to forsake
the painless condition of their pure blessedness ! To recol-
lect them! As if by memory we could renew the tumultuous
thrilling of that cup of joy, which encircles our senses with
celestial bonds, and lifts them beyond all earthly hinderances.
And her form " -    He lost himself in thoughts of her; his
rest passed away into longing; he leaned against a tree, and
cooled his warm cheek on its bark; and the winds of the
night wafted speedily aside the breath, which proceeded in
sighs from his pure and impassioned bosom. He groped for
the neckerchief he had taken from her; but it was forgotten,
it lay in his other clothes. His frame quivered with emotion.
  The music ceased, and he felt as if fallen from the element
in which his thoughts had hitherto been soaring. His rest-
lessness increased, as his feelings were no longer nourished
and assuaged by the melody. He sat down upon her thresh-
old, and felt more peace. He kissed the brass knocker of
her door: he kissed the threshold over which her feet went
out and in, and warmed it by the fire of his breast. He
again sat still for a moment, and figured her behind her cur-


71





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


tains in the white night-gown, with the red ribbon round her
head, in sweet repose: he almost fancied that he was him-
self so near her, she must needs be dreaming of him. His
thoughts were beautiful, like the spirits of the twilight; rest
and desire alternated within him; love ran with a quivering
hand, in a thousand moods, over all the chords of his soul;
it was as if the spheres stood mute above him, suspending
their eternal song to watch the low melodies of his heart.
  Had he then had about him the master-key with which he
used to open Mariana's door, he could not have restrained
himself from penetrating into the sanctuary of love. Yet he
went away slowly; he slanted, half-dreaming, in beneath
the trees, set himself for home, and constantly turned round
again; at last, with an effort, he constrained himself, and
actually departed. At the corner of the street, looking back
yet once, he imagined that he saw Mariana's door open, and
a dark figure issue from it. He was too distant for seeing
clearly; and, before he could exert himself and look sharply,
the appearance was already lost in the night; yet afar off he
thought he saw it again gliding past a white house. He stood,
and strained his eyes; but, ere he could arouse himself and
follow the phantom, it had vanished.  Whither should he
pursue it? What street had the man taken, if it were a
man ?
  A nightly traveller, when at some turn of his path he has
seen the country for an instant illuminated by a flash of light-
ning, will, with dazzled eyes, next moment, seek in vain for
the preceding forms and the connection of his road; so was
it in the eyes and the heart of Wilhelm. And as a spirit of
midnight, which awakens unutterable terror, is, in the suc-
ceeding moments of composure, regarded as a child of imagi-
nation, and the fearful vision leaves doubts without end
behind it in the soul; so likewise was Wilhelm in extreme
disquietude, as, leaning on the corner-stone of the street,
he heeded not the clear gray of the morning, and the crowing
of the cocks; till the early trades began to stir, and drove
him home.
  On his way, he had almost effaced the unexpected delusion
from his mind by the most sufficient reasons ; yet the fine har-
monious feelings of the night, on which he now looked back
as if they too had been a vision, were also gone. To soothe
his heart, and put the last seal on his returning belief, he
took the neckerchief from the pocket of the dress he had
been last wearing. The rustling of a letter which fell out


72





             MVIEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.               73

of it took the kerchief away from his lips: he lifted and
read, -
    As I love thee, little fool, what ailed thee last night?
This evening I will come again. I can easily suppose that
thou art sick of staying here so long : but have patience; at
the fair I will return for thee. And observe, never more
put me on that abominable black-green-brown jacket: thou
lookest in it like the witch of Endor. Did I not send the
white night-gown, that I might have a snowy little lambkin
in my arms? Send thy letters always by the ancient sibyl:
the Devil himself has selected her as Iris."





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                      BOOK      II.


                      CHAPTER I.

  WHOEVER strives in our sight with vehement force to reach
an object, be it one that we praise or that we blame, may
count on exciting an interest in our minds; but, when once
the matter is decided, we turn our eyes away from him : what-
ever once lies finished and done, can no longer at all fix our
attention, especially if we at first prophesied an evil issue to
the undertaking.
  Therefore we shall not try to entertain our readers with
any circumstantial account of the grief and desperation into
which our ill-fated friend was cast, when he saw his hopes so
unexpectedly and instantaneously ruined. On the contrary,
we shall even pass over several years, and again take up our
friend, where we hope to find him in some sort of activity
and comfort. First, however, we must shortly set forth a
few matters necessary for maintaining the connection of our
narrative.
  The pestilence, or a malignant fever, rages with more
fierceness, and speedier effect, if the frame which it attacks
was before healthy and full of vigor; and in like manner,
when a luckless, unlooked-for fate overtook the wretched
Wilhelm, his whole being in a moment was laid waste. As
when by chance, in the preparation of some artificial fire-
work, any part of the composition kindles before its time;
and the skilfully bored and loaded barrels, which, arranged,
and burning after a settled plan, would have painted in the
air, a magnificently varying series of flaming images, now
hissing and roaring, promiscuously explode with a confused
and dangerous crash, - so, in our hero's case, did happiness
and hope, pleasure and joys, realities and dreams, clash to-
gether with destructive tumult, all at once in his bosom. In
such desolate moments, the friend that has hastened to de-
liverance stands fixed in astonishment; and for him who
suffers, it is a benefit that sense forsakes him.


74





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Days of pain, unmixed, ever-returning, and purposely re-
newed, succeeded next: still, even these are to be regarded
as a grace from nature. In such hours Wilhelm had not yet
quite lost his mistress: his pains were indefatigable strug-
gles, still to hold fast the happiness that was gliding from
his soul; again to luxuriate in thought on the possibility of
it; to procure a brief after-life for his joys that had departed
forever. Thus one may look upon a body as not utterly
dead while the putrefaction lasts; while the forces that in
vain seek to work by their old appointment, still labor in dis-
severing the particles of that frame which they once ani-
mated; and not till all is disunited and inert, till we see the
whole mouldered down into indifferent dust, - not till then
does there rise in us the mournful, vacant sentiment of death,
- death, not to be recalled, save by the breath of Him that
lives forever.
  In a temper so new,'so entire, so full of love, there was
much to tear asunder, to desolate, to kill; and even the
healing force of youth gave nourishment and violence to the
power of sorrow. The stroke had extended to the roots of
his whole existence. Werner, by necessity his confidant,
attacked the hated passion itself with fire and sword, reso-
lutely zealous to search into the monster's inmost life. The
opportunity was lucky, the evidence at hand, and many were
the histories and narratives with which he backed it out.
With such unrelenting vehemence did he make his advances,
leaving his friend not even the respite of the smallest mo-
mentary self-deception, but treading down every lurking-
place in which he might have saved himself from desperation,
that Nature, not inclined to let her darling perish utterly,
visited him with sickness, to make an outlet for him on the
other side.
  A violent fever, with its train of consequences, medicines,
overstraining, and exhaustion, besides the unwearied atten-
tions of his family, the love of his brothers and sisters,
which first becomes truly sensible in times of distress and
want, were so many fresh occupations to his mind, and thus
formed a kind of painful entertainment. It was not till he
grew better, in other words, till his strength was exhausted,
that Wilhelm first looked down with horror into the gloomy
abyss of a barren misery, as one looks down into the hollow
crater of an extinguished volcano.
   He now bitterly reproached himself, that, after so great a
loss, he could yet enjoy one painless, restful, indifferent mo-


75





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ment. He despised his own heart, and longed for the balm
of tears and lamentation.
  To awaken these again within him, he would recall to
memory the scenes of his by-gone happiness. He would
paint them to his fancy in the liveliest colors, transport him-
self again into the days when they were real; and when
standing on the highest elevation he could reach, when the
sunshine of past times again seemed to animate his limbs and
heave his bosom, he would look back into the fearful chasm,
would feast his eye on its dismembering depth, then plunge
down into its horrors, and thus force from nature the bitter-
est pains. With such repeated cruelty did he tear himself in
pieces; for youth, which is so rich in undeveloped force,
knows not what it squanders when, to the anguish which a
loss occasions, it adds so many- sorrows of its own production,
as if it meant then first to give the right value to what is
gone forever. He likewise felt so convinced that his present
loss was the sole, the first, the last, he ever could experience
in life, that he turned away from every consolation which
aimed at showing that his sorrows might be less than endless.





                     CHAPTER II.

  ACCUSTOMED in this way to torment himself, he now also
attacked what still remained to him; what next to love, and
along with it, had given him the highest joys and hopes, -
his talent as a poet and actor, with spiteful criticisms on
every side. In his labors he could see nothing but a shallow
imitation of prescribed forms, without intrinsic worth : he
looked on them as stiff school-exercises, destitute of any
spark of nature, truth, or inspiration. His poems now ap-
peared nothing more than a monotonous arrangement of syl-
lables, in which the most trite emotions and thoughts were
dragged along and kept together by a miserable rhyme.
And thus did he also deprive himself of every expectation,
every pleasure, which on this quarter at least might have
aided the recovery of his peace.
  With his theatric talent it fared no better. He blamed
himself for not having sooner detected the vanity on which
alone this pretension had been founded. His figure, his


76





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


gait, his movements, his mode of declamation, were sever-
ally taxed: he decisively renounced every species of advan-
tage or merit that might have raised him above the common
run of men, and 'so doing he increased his mute despair to
the highest pitch. For, if it is hard to give up a woman's
love, no less painful is the task to part from the fellowship
of the Muses, to declare ourselves forever undeserving to be
of their community, and to forego the fairest and most im-
mediate kind of approbation, what is openly bestowed on
our person, our voice, and our demeanor.
  Thus, then, our friend had long ago entirely resigned him-
self, and set about devoting his powers with the greatest zeal
to the business of trade. To the surprise of friends, and to
the great contentment of his father, no one was now more
diligent than Wilhelm, on the exchange or in the counting-
house, in the sale-room or the warehouses: correspondence
and calculations, all that was intrusted to his charge, he
attended to and managed with the greatest diligence and
zeal. Not, in truth, with that warm diligence which to the
busy man is its own reward, when he follows with constancy
and order the employment he was, born for, but with the
silent diligence of duty, which has the best principle for its
foundation; which is nourished by conviction, and rewarded
by conscience; yet which oft, even when the clearest testi-
mony of -our minds is crowning it with approbation, can
scarcely repress a struggling sigh.
  In this manner he lived for a time, assiduously busied,
and at last persuaded that his former hard trial had been
ordained by fate for the best. He felt glad at having thus
been timefully, though somewhat harshly, warned about the
proper path of life; while many are constrained to expiate
more heavily, and at a later age, the misconceptions into
which their youthful inexperience has betrayed them. For
each man commonly defends himself as long as possible from
casting out the idols which he worships in his soul, from
acknowledging a master error, and admitting any truth which
brings him to despair.
  Determined as he was to abandon his dearest projects,
some time was still necessary to convince him fully of his
misfortune. At last, however, he had so completely suc-
ceeded, by irrefragable reasons, in annihilating every hope
of love, or poetical performance, or stage representation,
that he took courage to obliterate entirely all the traces of
his folly, - all that could in any way remind him of it. For





78           MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.

this purpose he had lit a fire in his chamber, one cool even-
ing, and brought out a little chest of relics, among which
were multitudes of small articles, that, in memorable mo-
ments, he had begged or stolen from Mariana. Each with-
ered flower brought to his mind the time when it bloomed
fresh among her hair; each little note the happy hour to
which it had invited him ; each ribbon-knot the lovely resting-
place of his head, - her beautiful bosom. So occupied, was
it not to be expected that each emotion which he thought
long since quite dead, should again begin to move? Was it
not to be expected that the passion over which, when sepa-
rated from his mistress, he had gained the victory, should, in
the presence of these memorials, again gather strength? We
first observe how dreary and disagreeable an overclouded day
is when a single sunbeam pierces through, and offers to us
the exhilarating splendor of a serene hour.
  Accordingly, it was not without disturbance that he saw
these relics, long preserved as sacred, fade away from before
him in smoke and flame. Sometimes he shuddered and hesi-
tated in his task: he had still a pearl necklace and a flowered
neckerchief in his hands, when he resolved to quicken the
decaying fire with the poetical attempts of his youth.
  Till now he had carefully laid up whatever had proceeded
from his pen, since the earliest unfolding of his mind. His
papers yet lay tied up in a bundle at the bottom of the chest,
where he had packed them; purposing to take them with him
in his elopement. How altogdther different were his feelings
now in opening them, and his feelings then in tying them
together !
  If we happen, under certain circumstances, to have writ-
ten and sealed and despatched a letter to a friend, which,
however, does not find him, but is brought back to us, and
we open it at the distance of some considerable time, a
singular emotion is produced in us, on breaking up our own
seal, and conversing with our altered self as with a third
person. A similar and deep feeling seized our friend, as he
now opened this packet, and threw the scattered leaves into
the fire; which was flaming fiercely with its offerings, when
Werner entered, expressed his wonder at the blaze, and
asked what was the matter.
   " I am now giving proof," said Wilhelm, " that I am
serious in abandoning a trade for which I was not born."
And, with these words, he cast the second packet likewise
into the fire. Werner made a motion to prevent him,' but
the business was already done.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  "I cannot see how thou shouldst bring thyself to such
extremities," said Werner. " Why must these labors, be-
cause they are not excellent, be annihilated?"
  " Because either a poem is excellent, or it should not be
allowed to exist. Because each man who has no gift for
producing first-rate works, should entirely abstain from the
pursuit of art, and seriously guard himself against every
deception on that ubject. For it must be owned, that in all
men there is a certain vague desire to imitate whatever is
presented to them; and such desires do not prove at all
that we possess within us the force necessary for succeeding
in these enterprises. Look at boys, how, whenever any rope-
dancers have been visiting the town, they go scrambling up
and down, and balancing on all the planks and beams within
their reach, till some other charm calls them off to other
sports, for which perhaps they are as little suited. Hast
thou never marked it in the circle of our friends? No
sooner does a dilettante introduce himself to notice, than
numbers of them set themselves to learn playing on his
instrument. How many wander back and forward on this
bootless way!    Happy they who soon detect the chasm
that lies between their wishes and their powers ! "
  Werner contradicted this opinion: their discussion became
lively, and Wilhelm could not without emotion employ
against his friend the arguments with which he had already
so frequently tormented himself. Werner maintained that
it was not reasonable wholly to relinquish a pursuit for
which a man had some propensity and talent, merely because
he never could succeed in it to full perfection. There were
many vacant hours, he said, which might be filled up by it;
and then by and by some result might be produced which
would yield a certain satisfaction to himself and others.
  Wilhelm, who in this matter was of quite a different opin-
ion, here interrupted him, and said with great vivacity, -
  I How immensely, dear friend, do you err in believinig
that a work, the first presentation of which is to fill the
whole soul, can be produced in broken hours scraped to-
gether from other extraneous employment.     No: the poet
must live wholly for himself, wholly in the objects that
delight him.   Heaven has furnished him internally with
precious gifts; he carries in his bosom a treasure that is
ever of itself increasing; he must also live with this treas-
ure, undisturbed from without, in that still blessedness
which the rich seek in vain to purchase with their accumu-


79





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


lated stores. Look at men, how they struggle after happi-
ness and satisfaction! Their wishes, their toil, their gold,
are ever hunting restlessly, - and after what? After that
which the poet has received from nature, - the right enjoy-
ment of the world, the feeling of himself in others, the har-
monious conjunction of many things that will seldom exist
together.
  " What is it that keeps men in continual discontent and
agitation? It is, that they cannot make realities correspond
with their conceptions, that enjoyment steals away from
among their hands, that the wished-for comes too late, and
nothing reached and acquired produces on the heart the
effect which their longing for it at a distance led them to
anticipate. Now, fate has exalted the poet above all this,
as if he were a god. He views the conflicting tumult of the
passions; sees families and kingdoms raging in aimless com-
motion; sees those inexplicable enigmas of misunderstand-
ing, which frequently a single monosyllable would suffice to
explain, occasioning convulsions unutterably baleful.  He
has a fellow-feeling of the mournful and the joyful in the fate
of* all human beings. When the man of the world is devot-
ing his days to wasting melancholy, for some deep disap-
pointment, or, in the ebullience of joy, is going out to meet
his happy destiny, the lightly moved and all-conceiving
spirit of. the poet steps forth, like the sun from night to
day, and with soft transitions tunes his harp to joy or woe.
From his heart, its native soil, springs up the lovely flower
of wisdom; and if others, while waking, dream, and are
pained with fantastic delusions from their every sense, he
passes the dream of life like one awake; and the strangest
of incidents is to .him a part both of the past and of the
future. And thus the poet is at once a teacher, a prophet,
a friend of gods and men. What ! thou wouldst have him
descend from   his height to some paltry occupation! He
who is fashioned like the bird to hover round the world, to
nestle on the lofty summits, to feed on buds and fruits,
exchanging gayly one bough for another, he ought also to
work at the plough like an ox; like a dog to train himself
to the harness and draught; or perhaps, tied up in a chain,
to guard a farmyard by his barking ! "
  Werner, it may well be supposed, had listened with the
greatest surprise. " All true," he rejoined, " if men were
but made like birds, and, though they neither spun nor
weaved, could yet spend peaceful days in perpetual enjoy-


80





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ment; if, at the approach of winter, they could as easily
betake themselves to distant regions, could retire before
scarcity, and fortify themselves against frost."
   " Poets have lived so," exclaimed Wilhelm, " in times
when true nobleness was better reverenced; and so should
they ever live! Sufficiently provided for within, they had
need of little from without : the gift of communicating lofty
emotions and glorious images to men, in melodies and words
that charmed the ear, and fixed themselves inseparably on
whatever objects they referred to, of old enraptured the
world, and served the gifted as a rich inheritance. At the
courts of kings, at the tables of the great, beneath the win-
dows of the fair, the sound of them was heard; while the
ear and the soul were shut for all beside : and men felt as
we do when delight comes over us, and we stop with rapture
if, among the dingles we are crossing, the voice of the
nightingale starts out touching and strong. They found a
home in every habitation of the world, and the lowliness of
their condition but exalted them the more. The hero listened
to their songs, and the conqueror of the earth did reverence
to a poet; for he felt, that, without poets, his own wild and
vast existence would pass away like a whirlwind, and be for-
gotten forever. The lover wished that he could feel his long-
ings and his joys so variedly and so harmoniously as the poet's
inspired lips had skill to show them forth; and even the rich
man could not of himself discern such costliness in his idol
grandeurs, as when they were presented to him shining in the
splendor of the poet's spirit, sensible to all worth, and exalt-
ing all. Nay, if thou wilt have it, who but the poet was it
that first formed gods for us, that exalted us to them, and
brought them down to us? "
  " My friend," said Werner, after some reflection, " it has
often grieved me that thou shouldst strive by force to banish
from thy soul what thou feelest so vividly. I am greatly
mistaken, if it were not better for thee in some degree to
yield to these propensities, than to waste thyself by the con-
tradictions of so hard a piece of self-denial, and with the
enjoyment of this one guiltless pleasure to renounce the en-
joyment of all others."
  " Shall I confess it," said the other, " and wilt not thou
laugh at me if I acknowledge, that these ideas pursue me
constantly; that, let me flee from them as I will, when I ex-
plore my heart, I find all my early wishes yet rooted there,
firmly, - nay, more firmly than ever ? Yet what now remains


81





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


for me, wretched as I am? Ah ! whoever should have told
me that the arms of my spirit, with which I was grasping at
infinity, and hoping with certainty to- clasp something great
and glorious, would so soon be crushed and smote in pieces, -
whoever should have told me this, would have brought me to
despair. And yet now, when judgment has been passed
against me; now, when she, that was to be as my divinity to
guide me to my wishes, .is gone forever, - what remains but
that I yield up my soul to the bitterest woes? O my
brother ! I will not deceive you: in my secret purposes, she
was as the hook on which the ladder of my hopes was fixed.
See! With daring aim the mountain adventurer hovers in
the air: the iron breaks, and he lies broken and dismembered
on the earth. No, there is no hope, no comfort for me
more! I will not," he cried out, springing to his feet,
" leave a single fragment of these wretched papers from the
flames." He then seized one or two packets of them, tore
them up, and threw them into the fire. Werner endeavored
to restrain him, but in vain. "Let me alone ! " cried Wil-
helm: " what should these miserable leaves do here?  To
me they give neither pleasant recollections nor pleasant
hopes. Shall they remain behind to vex me to the end of
my life? Shall they perhaps one day serve the world for a
jest, instead of awakening sympathy and horror? Woe to
me ! ry doom is woe ! Now I comprehend the wailings of
the poets, of the wretched whom necessity has rendered
wise. How long did I look upon myself as invulnerable
and invincible; and, alas ! I am now made to see that a deep
and early sorrow can never heal, can never pass away: I
feel that I shall take it with me to my grave. No ! not a
day of my life shall escape this anguish, which at last must
crush me down; and her image too shall stay with me, shall
live and die with me, the image of the worthless, - O my
friend ! if I must speak the feeling of my heart, - the per-
haps not altogether worthless ! Her situation, the crooked-
ness of her destiny, have a thousand times excused her in
my mind. I have been too cruel; you steeled me in your
own cold unrelenting harshness; you held my wavering
senses captive, and hindered me from doing for myself and
her what I owed to both. Who knows to what a state I
may have brought her ! my conscience by degrees presents
to me, in all its heaviness, in what helplessness, in what
despair, I may have left her. Was it not possible that she
might clear herself? Was it not possible? How many mis-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


conceptions throw the world into perplexity ! how many cir-
cumstances may extort forgiveness for the greatest fault!
Often do I figure her as sitting by herself in silence, leaning
on her elbows. ' This,' she says, ' is the faith, the love, he
swore to me! With this hard stroke to end the delicious
life which made us one! ' "  He broke out into a stream of
tears; while he threw himself down with his face upon the
table, and wetted the remaining papers with his weeping.
  Werner stood beside him in the deepest perplexity. He
had not anticipated this fierce ebullition of feeling. More
than once he had tried to interrupt his friend, more than once
to lead the conversation elsewhere, but in vain: the current
was too strong for him. It remained that long-suffering
friendship should again take up her office. Werner allowed
the first shock of sorrow to pass over, while by his silent
presence he testified a pure and honest sympathy. And
thus they both remained that evening, - Wilhelm sunk in the
dull feeling of old sorrows; and the other terrified at this
new outbreaking of a passion which he thought his prudent
councils and keen persuasion had long since mastered and
destroyed.




                     CHAPTER III.

  AFTER such relapses, Wilhelm usually applied himself to
business and activity with augmented ardor; and he found
it the best means to escape the labyrinth into which he had
again been tempted to enter. His attractive way of treating
strangers, the ease with which he carried on a correspondence
in any living language, more and more increased the hopes
of his father and his trading-friends, and comforted them
in their sorrow for his sickness, - the origin of which had not
been known, - and for the pause which had thus interrupted
their plan. They determined a second time on Wilhelm's
setting out to travel; and we now find him on horseback,
with his saddle-bags behind him, exhilarated by the motion
and the free air, approaching the mountains, where he had
some affairs to settle.
  He winded slowly on his path, through dales and over
hills, with a feeling of the greatest satisfaction. Overhang-
ing cliffs, roaring brooks, moss-grown rocky walls, deep


83





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


precipices, he here saw for the first time; yet his earliest
dreams of youth had wandered among such regions. In
these scenes he felt his age renewed; all the sorrows he had
undergone were obliterated from his soul; with unbroken
cheerfulness he repeated to himself passages of various
poems, particularly of the " Pastor Fido," which, *in these
solitary places, flocked in crowds into his mind. He also
recollected many pieces of his own songs, and recited them
with a peculiar contentment. He peopled the world which
lay before him with all the forms of the past, and each step
into the future was to him full of augury of important opera-
tions and remarkable events.
  Several men, who came behind him in succession, and
saluted him as they passed by to continue their hasty way
into the mountains, by steep footpaths, sometimes interrupted
his thoughts without attracting his attention to themselves.
At last a communicative traveller joined him, and explained
the reason of this general pilgrimage.
   " At Hochdorf," he said, "there is a play to be acted
to-night; and the whole neighborhood is gathering to see it."
   " What ! " cried Wilhelm.  " In these solitary hills,
among these impenetrable forests, has theatric art sought
out a place, and built herself a temple'? And I am jour-
neying to her festivities ! "
  " Yo'u will wonder more," said the other, "when you
learn by whom the play is to be acted. There is in the
place a large manufactory, which employs many people.
The proprietor, who lives, so to speak, remote from  all
human society, can find no better means of entertaining his
workmen during winter, than allowing them to act plays.
He suffers no cards among them, and wishes also to withdraw
them from all coarse rustic practices. Thus they pass the
long evenings; and to-day, being the old gentleman's birth-
day, they are giving a particular festival in honor of him."
  Wilhelm came to Hochdorf, where he was to pass the
night, and alighted at the manufactory, the proprietor of
which stood as a debtor in his list.
  When he gave his name, the old man cried in a glad sur-
prise, "Aye, sir, are you the son of that worthy man to
whom I owe so many thanks, - so long have owed money?
Your good father has had so much patience with me, I should
be a knave if I did not pay you speedily and cheerfully.
You come at the proper time to see that I am fully in earnest
about it."


84





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  He then called out his wife, who seemed no less delighted
than himself to see the youth: she declared that he was very
like his father, and lamented, that, having such a multitude
of guests already in the house, she could not lodge him for
the night.
  The account was clear, and quickly settled: Wilhelm put
the roll of gold into his pocket, and wished that all his other
business might go on so smoothly. At last the play-hour
came: they now waited nothing but the coming of the head
forester, who at length also arrived, entered with a few
hunters, and was received with the greatest reverence.
  The company was then led into the playhouse, formed
out of a barn that lay close upon the garden. Without any
extraordinary taste, both seats and stage were yet decked
out in a cheerful and pretty way. One of the painters em-
ployed in the manufactory had formerly worked as an un-
derstrapper at the prince's theatre: he had now represented
woods and streets and chambers, somewhat rudely, it is
true, yet so as to be recognized for such. The play itself
they had borrowed from a strolling company, and shaped it
aright, according to their own ideas. As it was, it did not
fail to yield some entertainment. The plot of two lovers
wishing to carry off a girl from her guardian, and mutually
from one another, produced a great variety of interesting sit-
uations. 'Being the first play our friend had witnessed for so
long a time, it suggested several reflections to him. It was
full of action, but without any true delineation of character.
It pleased and delighted. Such are always the beginnings
of the scenic art. The rude man is contented if he see but
something going on; the man of more refinement must be
made to feel; the man entirely refined, desires to reflect.
  The players he would willingly have helped here and
there, for a very little would have made them      greatly
better.
  His silent meditations were somewhat broken in upon by
the tobacco-smoke, which now began to rise in great and
greater copiousness. Soon after the commencement of the
play, the head forester had lit his pipe: by and by others
took the same liberty. The large dogs, too, which followed
these gentlemen, introduced themselves in no pleasant style.
At first they had been bolted out ; but, soon finding the back-
door passage, they entered on the stage, ran against the
actors, and at last, jumping over the orchestra, joined their
masters, who had taken up the front seats in the pit.


85





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  For afterpiece an oblation was represented. A portrait of
the old gentleman in his bridegroom dress stood upon an
altar, hung with garlands. All the players paid their rever-
ence to it in the most submissive postures. The youngest
child came forward dressed in white, and made a speech in
verse; by which the whole family, and even the head forester
himself, whom it brought in mind of his own children, were
melted into tears. Thus ended the play; and Wilhelm could
not help stepping on the stage, to have a closer view of the
actresses, to praise them for their good performance, and
give them a little counsel for the future.
  The remaining business, which our friend in the following
days had to transact in various quarters of the hill-country,
was not all so pleasant, or so easy to conclude with satisfac-
tion. Many of his debtors entreated for delay, many were
uncourteous, many lied. In conformity with his instructions,
he had to sue some of them at law : he was thus obliged to
seek out advocates, and give instructions to them, to appear
before judges, and go through many other sorry duties of
the same sort.
  His case was hardly bettered when people chanced to in-
cline showing some attention to him. He found very few that
could any way instruct him, few with whom he could hope
to establish a useful commercial correspondence. Unhappily,
moreover, the weather now grew rainy; and travelling on
horseback in this district came to be attended with insuffera-
ble difficulties. He therefore thanked his stars on again get-
ting near the level country ; and at the foot of the mountains,
looking out into a fertile and beautiful plain, intersected by
a smooth-flowing river, and seeing a cheerful little town lying
on its banks, all glittering in the sunshine, he resolved, though
without any special business in the place, to pass a day or
two there, that he might refresh both himself and his horse,
which the bad roads had considerably injured.





                     CHAPTER IV.

  ON alighting at an inn, upon the market-place, he found
matters going on very joyously, - at least very stirringly.
A large company of rope-dancers, leapers, and jugglers, hay-


86





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ing a strong man along with them, had just arrived with their
wives and children, and, while preparing for a grand exhibi-
tion, kept up a perpetual racket. They first quarrelled with
the landlord, then with one another; and, if their contention
was intolerable, the expressions of their satisfaction were
infinitely more so. Undetermined whether he should go or
stay, he was standing in the door looking at some workmen,
who had just begun to erect a stage in the middle of the
square.
  A girl with roses and other flowers for sale, coming by,
held out her basket to him, and he purchased a beautiful
nosegay; which, like one that hid a taste for these things,
he tied up in a different fashion, and was looking at it with
a satisfied air, when the window of another inn on the oppo-
site side of the square flew open, and a handsome woman
looked out from it. Notwithstanding the distance, he ob-
served that her face was animated by a pleasant cheerfulness ;
her fair hair fell carelessly streaming about her neck; she
seemed to be looking at the stranger. In a short time after-
wards, a boy with a white jacket, and a barber's apron on,
came 6ut from the door of her house towards Wilhelm, saluted
him, and said, " The lady at the window bids me ask if you
will not favor her with a share of your beautiful flowers." -
" They are all at her service," answered Wilhelm, giving the
nosegay to this nimble messenger, and making a bow to the
fair one, who returned it with a friendly courtesy, and then
withdrew from the window.
  Amused with this small adventure, he was going up-stairs
to his chamber, when a young creature sprang against him,
and attracted his attention. A short silk waistcoat with
slashed Spanish sleeves, tight trousers with puffs, looked
very pretty on the child. Its long black hair was curled,
and wound in locks and plaits about the head. He looked
at the figure with astonishment, and could not determine
whether to take it for a boy or a girl. However, he decided
for the latter: and, as the child ran by, he took her up in
his arms, bade her good-day, and asked her to whom she
belonged; though he easily perceived that she must be a
member of the vaulting and dancing company lately arrived.
She viewed him with a dark, sharp side-look, as she pushed
herself out of his arms, and ran into the kitchen without
making any answer.
   On coming up-stairs, he found in the large parlor two men
practising the small sword, or seeming rather to make trial


87





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


which was the better fencer. One of them plainly enough
belonged to the vaulting company : the other had a somewhat
less savage aspect. Wilhelm looked at them, and had rea-
son to admire them both; and as the black-bearded, sturdy
contender soon afterwards forsook the place of action, the
other with extreme complaisance offered Wilhelm the rapier.
  " If you want to take a scholar under your inspection,"
said our friend, " I am well content to risk a few passes with
you.'
  Accordingly they fought together ; and, although the stran-
ger greatly overmatched his new competitor, he politely kept
declaring that it all depended upon practice : in fact, Wilhelm,
inferior as he was, had made it evident that he had got his
first instructions from a good, solid, thorough-paced German
fencing-master.
  Their entertainment was disturbed by the uproar with
which the party-colored brotherhood issued from the inn, to
make proclamation of the show, and awaken a desire to see
their art, throughout the town. Preceded by a drum, the
manager advanced on horseback: he was followed by a
female dancer mounted on a corresponding hack, and hold-
ing a child before her, all bedizened with ribbons and span-
gles. Next came the remainder of the troop on foot, some
of them carrying children on their shoulders in dangerous
postures; yet smoothly and lightly: among these the young,
dark, black-haired figure again attracted Wilhelm's notice.
   Pickleherring ran gayly up and down the crowded multi-
tude, distributing his handbills with much practical fun, - here
smacking the lips of a girl, there breeching a boy, and awak-
ening generally among the people an invincible desire to know
more of him.
   On the painted flags, the manifold science of the company
 was visibly delineated, particularly of the Monsieur Narciss
 and the Demoiselle Landrinette : both of whom, being main
 characters, had prudently kept back from the procession,
 thereby to acquire a more dignified consideration, and excite
 a greater curiosity.
   During the procession, Wilhelm's fair neighbor had again
 appeared at the window; and he did not fail to inquire about
 her of his new companion. This person, whom for. the pres-
 ent we shall call Laertes, offered to take Wilhelm over and
 introduce him. " I and the lady," said he laughing, " are
 two fragments of an acting company that made shipwreck
 here a short while ago. The pleasantness of the place has


88





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


induced us to stay in it, and consume our little stock of cash
in peace; while one of our friends is out seeking some situa-
tion for himself and us."
  Laertes immediately accompanied his new acquaintance to
Philina's door; where he left him for a moment, and ran to a
shop hard by for a few sweetmeats. " I am sure you will thank
me," said he, on returning, '" for procuring you so pleasant
an acquaintance."
  The lady came out from her room, in a pair of tight little
slippers with high heels, to give them welcome. She had
thrown a black mantle over her, above a white negligee, not
indeed superstitiously clean; which, however, for that very
reason, gave her a more frank and domestic air. Her short
dress did not hide a pair of the prettiest feet and ankles in
the world.
  " You are welcome,'.' she cried to Wilhelm, " and I thank
you for your charming flowers." She led him into her cham-
ber with the one hand, pressing the nosegay to her breast
with the other. Being all seated, and got into a pleasant
train of general talk, to which she had the art of giving a
delightful turn, Laertes threw a handful of gingerbread-nuts
into her lap; and she immediately began to eat them.
  " Look what a child this young gallant is ! " she said:
" he wants to persuade you that I am fond of such confec-
tionery, and it is himself that cannot live without licking
his lips over something of the kind."
  " Let us confess," replied Laertes, " that in this point,
as in others, you and I go hand in hand. "For example," he
continued, " the weather is delightful to-day: what if we
should take a drive into the country, and eat our dinner at
the Mill? "
  " With all my heart," said Philina : " we must give our
new acquaintance some diversion."
  Laertes sprang out, for he never walked: and Wilhelm
motioned to return for a minute to his lodgings, to have his
hair put in order; for at present it was all dishevelled with
riding. "You can do it here," she said, then called her
little servant, and constrained Wilhelm in the politest man-
ner to lay off his coat, to throw her powder-mantle over him,
and to have his head dressed in her presence. " We must
lose no time," said she: " who knows how short a while we
may all be together? "
  The boy, out of sulkiness and ill nature more than want of
skill, went on but indifferently with his task: he pulled the


89





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


hair with his implements, and seemed as if he would not
soon be done. Philina more than once reproved him for his
blunders, and at last sharply packed him off, and chased him
to the door.' She then undertook the business herself, and
frizzled Wilhelm's locks with great dexterity and grace;
though she, too, appeared to be in no exceeding haste, but
found always this and that to improve and put to rights;
while at the same time she could not help touching his knees
with hers, and holding her nosegay and bosom so near his
lips, that he was strongly tempted more than once to imprint
a kiss on it.
   When Wilhelm had cleaned his brow with a little powder-
knife, she said to him, " Put it in your pocket, and think
of me when you see it." It was a pretty knife: the haft, of
inlaid steel, had these friendly words wrought on it, " Think
of me." Wilhelm put it up, and thanked her, begging per-
mission at the same time to make her a little present in
return.
  At last they were in readiness. Laertes had brought
round the coach, and they commenced a very gay excursion.
To every beggar, Philina threw out money from the window;
giving along with it a merry and friendly word.
   Scarcely had they reached the Mill, and ordered dinner,
when a strain of music struck up before the house. It was
some miners singing various pretty songs, and accompany-
ing their clear and shrill voices with a cithern and triangle.
In a short while the gathering crowd had formed a ring
about them, and our company nodded approbation to them
from the windows. Observing this attention, they expanded
their circle, and seemed making preparation for their grand-
est piece. After some pause, a miner stepped forward with
a mattock in his hand; and, while the others played a serious
tune, he set himself to represent the action of digging.
   Ere long a peasant came from among the crowd, and, by
 pantomimic threats, let the former know that he must cease
 and remove. Our company were greatly surprised at this:
 they did not discover that the peasant was a miner in dis-
 guise, till he *opened his mouth, and, in a sort of recitative,
 rebuked the other for daring to meddle with his field. The
 latter did not lose his composure of mind, but began to
 inform the husbandman about his right to break ground
 there; giving him withal some primary conceptions of miner-
 alogy. The peasant, not being master of his foreign termin-
 ology, asked all manner of silly questions; whereat the


90





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


spectators, as themselves more knowing, set up many a
hearty laugh. The miner endeavored to instruct him, and
showed him the advantage, which, in the long-run, would
reach even him, if the deep-lying treasures of the land were
dug out from their secret beds. The peasant, who at first
had threatened his instructor with blows, was gradually
pacified; and they parted good friends at last, though it was
the miner chiefly that got out of this contention with honor.
  " In this little dialogue," said Wilhelm, when seated at
the table, " we have a lively proof how useful the theatre
might be to all ranks; what advantage even the state might
procure from it, if the occupations, trades, and undertakings
of men were brought upon the stage, and presented on their
praiseworthy side, in that point of view in which the state
itself should honor and protect them. As matters stand, we
exhibit only the ridiculous side of men: the comic poet is,
as it were, but a spiteful tax-gatherer, who keeps a watchful
eye over the errors of his fellow-subjects, and seems gratified
when he can fix any charge upon them. Might it not be a
worthy and pleasing task for a statesman to survey the natu-
ral and reciprocal influence of all classes on each other, and
to guide some poet, gifted with sufficient humor, in such
labors as these? In this way, I am persuaded, many very
entertaining, both agreeable and useful, pieces, might be
executed''
  " So far," said Laertes, " as I, in wandering about the
world, have been able to observe, statesmen are accustomed
merely to forbid, to hinder, to refuse, but very rarely to
invite, to further, to reward. They let all things go along,
till some mischief happens: then they get into a rage, and
lay about them."
  " A truce with state and statesmen ! " said Philina: " I
cannot form a notion of statesmen except in periwigs; and
a periwig, wear it who will, always gives my fingers a spas-
modic motion: I could like to pluck it off the venerable
gentleman, to skip up and down the room with it, and laugh
at the bald head."
  So, with a few lively songs, which she could sing very
beautifully, Philina cut short their conversation, and urged
them to a quick return homewards, that they might arrive in
time for seeing the performance of the rope-dancers in the
evening. On the road back she continued her lavish gener-
osity, in a style of gayety reaching to extravagance; for at
last, every coin belonging to herself or her companiPns bing


91





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


spent, she threw her straw hat from the window to a girl,
and her neckerchief to an old woman, who asked her foi
alms.
   Philina invited both of her attendants to her own apart-
 ments, because, she said, the spectacle could be seen more
 conveniently from her windows than.from theirs.
   On arriving, they found the stage set up, and the back-
ground decked with suspended carpets. The swing-boards
were already fastened, the slack-rope fixed to posts, the
tight-rope bound over trestles. The square was moderately
'filled with people, and the windows with spectators of some
quality.
   Pickleherring, with a few insipidities, at which the look-
ers-on are generally kind enough to laugh, first prepared
the meeting to attention and good-humor. Some children,
whose bodies were made to exhibit the strangest contortions,
awakened astonishment or horror; and Wilhelm could not,
without the deepest sympathy, see the child he had at the
first glance felt an interest in, go through her fantastic posi-
tions with considerable difficulty. But the merry tumblers
soon changed the feeling into that of lively satisfaction,
when they first singly, then in rows, and at last all together,
vaulted up into the air, making somersets backwards and
forwards. A loud clapping of hands and a strong huzza
echoed from the whole assembly.
   The general attention was next directed to quite a differ-
ent object. The children in succession had to mount the
rope, --the learners first, that by practising they might pro-
long the spectacle, and show the difficulties of the art more
clearly. Some men and full-grown women likewise exhibited
their skill to moderate advantage; but still there was no
Monsieur Narciss, no Demoiselle Landrinette.
   At last this worthy pair came forth: they issued from a
kind of tent with red spread curtains, and, by their agree-
able forms and glittering decorations, fulfilled the hitherto
increasing hopes of the spectators. He, a hearty knave, of
middle stature, with black eyes and a strong head of hair;
she, formed with not inferior symmetry, -exhibited theim-
selves successively upon the rope, with delicate movements,
leaping, and singular postures.  Her airy lightness, his
audacity; the exactitude with which they both performed
their feats of art, - raised the universal satisfaction higher at
every-step and spring. The stateliness with which they bore
themselves, the seeming attentions of the rest to them, gave


92





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


them the appearance of king and queen of the whole troop;
and all held them worthy of the rank.
  The animation of the people spread to the spectators at
the windows: the ladies looked incessantly at Narciss, the
gentlemen at Landrinette. The populace hurrahed, the more
cultivated public could not keep from clapping of the hands:
Pickleherring now could scarcely raise a laugh. A few, how-
ever, slunk away when some members of the troop began to
press through the crowd with their tin plates to collect
money.
  " They have made their purpose good, I imagine," said
Wilhelm to Philina, who was leaning over the window beside
him. 1" I admire the ingenuity with which they have turned
to advantage even the meanest parts of their performance:
out of the unskilfulness of their children, and exquisiteness
of their chief actors, they have made up a whole which at
first excited our attention, and then gave us very fine enter-
tainment."
  The people by degrees dispersed; and the square was
again become empty, while Philina and Laertes were disput-
ing about the forms and the skill of Narciss and Landri-
nette, and rallying each other on the subject at great length.
Wilhelm noticed the wonderful child standing on the street
near some other children at play : he showed her to Philina,
who, in hler lively way, immediately called and beckoned to
the little one, and, this not succeeding, tripped singing down
stairs, and led her up by the hand.
  " Here is the enigma," said she, as she brought her to
the door. The child stood upon the threshold, as if she
meant again to run off; laid her right hand on her breast,
the left on her brow, and bowed deeply. " Fear nothing,
my little dear," said Wilhelm, rising, and going towards her.
She viewed him with a doubting look, and came a few steps
nearer.
   " What is thy name?" he asked. " They call me Mig-
non."    " How old art thou ? " - '" No one has counted."--
' Who was thy father? " -" The Great Devil is dead."
   "Well! this is singular enough," said Philina. They
asked her a few more questions: she gave her answers in a
kind of broken German, and with a strangely solemn man-
ner; every time laying her hands on her breast and brow,
and bowing deeply.
   Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at her.
His eyes and his heart were irresistibly attracted by the


93





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mysterious condition of this being. He reckoned her about
twelve or thirteen years of age: her body was well formed,
only her limbs gave promise of a stronger growth, or else
announced a stunted one. Her countenance was not regu-
lar, but striking; her brow full of mystery; her nose ex-
tremely beautiful; her mouth, although it seemed too closely
shut for one of her age, and though she often threw it to
a side, had yet an air of frankness, and was very lovely.
Her brownish complexion could scarcely be discerned through
the paint. This form stamped itself deeply in Wilhelm's
soul: he kept looking at her earnestly, and forgot the pres-
ent scene in the multitude of his reflections. Philina waked
him from his half-dream, by holding out the remainder of
her sweetmeats to the child, and giving her a sign to go
away. She made her little bow as formerly, and darted
like lightning through the door.
  As the time drew'on when our new friends had to part for
the evening, they planned a fresh excursion for the morrow.
They purposed now to have their dinner at a neighboring
Jigerhaus. Before taking leave of Laertes, Wilhelm said
many things in Philina's praise, to which the other made
only brief and careless answers.
  Next morning, having once more exercised themselves in
fencing for an hour, they went over to Philina's lodging,
towards which they had seen their expected coach passing by.
But how surprised was Wilhelm, when the coach seemed
altogether to have vanished; and how much more so, when
Philina was not to be found at home 1 She had placed her-
self in the carriage, they were told, with a couple of stran-
gers who had come that morning, and was gone with them.
Wilhelm had been promising himself some pleasant enter-
tainment from her company, and could not hide his irritation.
Laertes, on the other hand, but laughed at it, and cried, " I
love her for this : it looks so like herself ! Let us, however,
go directly to the JAgerhaus: be Philina where she pleases,
we will not lose our promenade on her account."
  As Wilhelm, while they walked, continued censuring the
inconsistency of such conduct, Laertes said, " I cannot
reckon it inconsistent so long as one keeps faithful to his
character. If this Philina plans you any thing, or promises
you any thing, she does it under the tacit condition that it
shall be quite convenient for her to fulfil her plan, to keep
her promise. She gives willingly, but you must ever hold
yourself in readiness to return her gifts."


94





MEISTER'S APPRENTICEShIP.


95


  " That seems a singular character," said Wilhelm.
  " Any thing but singular : only she is not a hypocrite. I
like her on that account. Yes: I am her friend, because
she represents the sex so truly, which I have so much cause
to hate. To me she is another genuine Eve, the great
mother of womankind: so are they all, only they will not all
confess it."
  With abundance of such talk, in which Laertes very vehe-
mently exhibited his spleen against the fair sex, without,
however, giving any cause for it, they arrived at the forest;
into which Wilhelm entered in no joyful mood, the speeches
of Laertes having again revived in him the memory of his
relation to Mariana. Not far from a shady well, among
some old and noble trees, they found Philina sitting by her-
self at a stone table. Seeing them, she struck up a merry
song; and, when Laertes asked for her companions, she
cried out, "I have already cozened them: I have already
had my laugh at them, and sent them a-travelling, as they
deserved. By the way hither I had put to proof their liber-
ality; and, finding that they were a couple of your close-
fisted gentry, I immediately determined to have amends of
them. On arriving at the  inn, they asked the waiter what
was to be had. He, with his customary glibness of tongue,
reckoned over all that could be found in the house, and
more than could be found. I noticed their perplexity:
they looked at one another, stammered, and inquired about
the cost. "What is the use of all this studying ?" said I.
" The table is the lady's business: allow me to manage it."
I immediately began ordering a most unconscionable dinner,
for which many necessary articles would require to be sent
for from the neighborhood. The waiter, of whom, by a wry
mouth or two, I had made a confidant, at last helped me
out; and so, by the image of a sumptuous feast, we tor-
tured them to such a degree that they fairly determined
on having a walk in the forest, from which I imagine we
shall look with clear eyes if we see them come again. I
have laughed a quarter of an hour for my own behoof;
I shall laugh forever when I think of the looks they had."
At table, Laertes told of similar adventures: they got into
the track of recounting ludicrous stories, mistakes, and dex-
terous cheats.
  A young man of their acquaintance, from the town, came
gliding through the wood with a book in his hand: he sat
down by them, and began praising the beauty of the place.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


He directed their attention to the murmuring of the brook,
to the waving of the boughs, to the checkered lights and
shadows, and the music of the birds. Philina commenced a
little song of the cuckoo, which did not seem at all to exhila-
rate the man of taste: he very soon made his compliments,
and went on.
  " Oh that I might never hear more of nature, and scenes
of nature! " cried Philina, so soon as he was gone: " there
is nothing in the world more intolerable than to hear people
reckon up the pleasures you enjoy. When the day is bright
you go to walk, as to dance when you hear a tune played.
But who would think a moment on the music or the weather ?
It is the dancer that interests us, not the violin; and to
look upon a pair of bright black eyes is the life of a pair of
blue ones. But what on earth have we to do with .wells and
brooks, and old rotten lindens? " She was sitting opposite
to Wilhelm; and, while speaking so, she looked into his eyes
with a glance which he could not hinder from piercing at
least to the very door of his heart.
  " You are right," replied he, not without embarrassment:
" man is ever the most interesting object to man, and per-
haps should be the only one that interests. Whatever else
surrounds us is but the element in which we live, or else the
instrument which we employ. The more we devote our-
selves'to such things, the more we attend to and feel concern
in them, the weaker will our sense of our own dignity be-
come, the weaker our feelings for society. Men who put a
great value on gardens, buildings, clothes, ornaments, or any
other sort of property, grow less social and pleasant: they
lose sight of their brethren, whom very few can succeed in
collecting about them and entertaining. Have you not ob-
served it on the stage? A good actor makes us very soon
forget the awkwardness and meanness of paltry decorations,
but a splendid theatre is the very thing which first makes us
truly feel the want of proper actors.
  After dinner Philina sat down among the long, overshaded
grass, and commanded both her friends to fetch her flowers
in great quantities. She wreathed a complete garland, and
put it round her head: it made her look extremely charming.
The flowers were still sufficient for another: this, too, she
plaited, while both the young men sat beside her. When, at
last, amid infinite mirth and sportfulness, it was completed,
she pressed it on Wilhelm's head with the greatest dignity,
and shifted the posture of it more than once, till it seemed


96





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


to her properly adjusted. "And I, it appears, must go
empty," said Laertes.
  " Not by any means : you shall not have reason to com-
plain," replied Philina, taking off the gailand from her own
head, and putting it on his.
  " If we were rivals," said Laertes, " we might now dis-
pute very warmly which of us stood higher in thy favor."
  I And the more fools you," said she, while she bent her-
self towards him, and offered him her lips to kiss; and then
immediately turned round, threw her arm about Wilhelm,
and bestowed a kind salute on him also. " Which of them
tastes best? " said she archly.
  " Surprisingly ! " exclaimed Laertes: " it seems as if
nothing else had ever such a tang of wormwood in it."
  " As little wormwood," she replied, "' as any gift that a
man may enjoy without envy and without conceit. But
now," cried she, " I should like to have an hour's dancing;
and after that we must look to our vaulters."
  Accordingly, they went into the house, and there found
music in readiness. Philina was a beautiful dancer: she
animated both her companions. Nor was Wilhelm without
skill; but he wanted careful practice, a defect which his two
friends voluntarily took charge of remedying.
  In these amusements the time passed on insensibly. It
was already late when they returned. The rope-dancers
had commenced their operations. A multitude of people
had again assembled in the square; and our friends, on
alighting, were struck by the appearance of a tumult in the
crowd, occasioned by a throng of men rushing towards the
door of the inn, which Wilhelm had now turned his face
to. He sprang forward to see what it was; and, pressing
through the people, he was struck with horror to observe the
master of the rope-dancing company dragging poor Mignon
by the hair out of the house, and unmercifully beating her
little body with the handle of a whip.
  Wilhelm darted on the man like lightning, and -seized him
by the collar. I" Quit the child ! " he cried, in a furious tone,
' or one of us shall never leave this spot ! " and, so speak-
ing, he grasped the fellow by the throat with a force which
only rage could have lent him. The showman, on the point
of choking, let go the child, and endeavored to defend himself
against his new assailant. But some people, who had felt
compassion for Mignon, yet had not dared to begin a quar-
rel for her, now laid hold of the rope-dancer, wrenched his


97





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


whip away, and threatened him with great fierceness and
abuse. Being now reduced to the weapons of his mouth,
he began bullying, and cursing horribly. The lazy, worth-
less urchin, he said, would not do her duty; refused to per-
form the egg-dance, which he had promised to the public;
he would beat her to death, and no one should hinder him.
He tried to get loose, and seek the child, who had crept
away among the crowd. Wilhelm held him back, and said
sternly, " You shall neither see nor touch her, till you
have explained before a magistrate where you stole her. I
will pursue you to every extremity. You shall not escape
me."   These words, which Wilhelm uttered in heat, without
thought or purpose, out of some vague feeling, or, if you
will, out of inspiration, soon brought the raging showman to
composure. " What have I to do with the useless brat?"
cried he. " Pay me what her clothes cost, and make of her
what you please. We shall settle it to-night." And, being
liberated, he made haste to resume his interrupted opera-
tions, and to calm the irritation of the public by some strik-
ing displays of his craft.
  As soon as all was still again, Wilhelm commenced a
search for Mignon, whom, however, he could nowhere find.
Some said they had seen her on the street, others on the
roofs of the adjoining houses; but, after seeking unsuccess-
fully in all quarters, he was forced to content himself, and
wait to see if she would not again turn up of herself.
  In the mean time, Narciss had come into the house; and
Wilhelm set to question him about the birthplace and history
of the child. Monsieur Narciss knew nothing about these
things, for he had not long been in the company; but in
return he recited, with much volubility and levity, various
particulars of his own fortune. Upon Wilhelm's wishing
him joy of the great approbation he had gained, Narciss ex-
pressed himself as if exceedingly indifferent on that point.
" People laugh at us," he said, " and admire our feats of
skill; but their admiration does nothing for us. The master
has to pay us, and may raise the funds where he pleases."
He then took his leave, and was setting off in great haste.
  At the question, whither he was bent so fast, the dog
gave a smile, and admitted that his figure and talents had
acquired for him a more solid species of favor than the huz-
zaing of the multitude. He had been invited by some young
ladies, who desired much to become acquainted with him;
and he was afraid it would be midnight before he could get


98





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


all his visits over. He proceeded with the greatest candor
to detail his adventures. He would have given the names
of his patronesses, their streets and houses, had not Wil-
helm waived such indiscretion, and politely dismissed him.
  Laertes had meanwhile been entertaining Landrinette: he
declared that she was fully worthy to be and to remain a
woman.
  Our friend next proceeded to his bargain with the show-
man for Mignon. Thirty crowns was the price set upon her;
and for this sum the black-bearded, hot Italian entirely sur-
rendered all his claims: but of her history or parentage he
would discover nothing, only that she had fallen into his
hands at the death of his brother, who, by reason of his ad-
mirable skill, had usually been named the " Great Devil."
  Next morning was chiefly spent in searching for the child.
It was in vain that they rummaged every hole and corner of
the house and neighborhood: the child had vanished; and
Wilhelm was afraid she might have leaped into some pool of
water, or destroyed herself in some other way.
  Philina's charms could not divert his inquietude. He
passed a dreary, thoughtful day. Nor at evening could the
utmost efforts of the tumblers and dancers, exerting all
their powers to gratify the public, divert the current of his
thoughts, or clear away the clouds from his mind.
  By the concourse of people flocking from all places round,
the numbers had greatly increased on this occasion: the
general approbation was like a snowball rolling itself into
a monstrous size. The feat of leaping over swords, and
through the cask with paper ends, made a great sensation.
  The strong man, too, produced a universal feeling of min-
gled astonishment and horror, when he laid his head and
feet on a couple of separate stools, and then allowed some
sturdy smiths to place a stithy on the unsupported part of
his body, and hammer a horseshoe till it was completely
made by means of it.
  The Hercules' Strength, as they called it, was a no less
wonderful affair. A row of men stood up; then another
row, upon their shoulders; then women and young lads,
supported in like manner on the second row; so that finally
a living pyramid was formed; the peak being ornamented by
a child, placed on its head, and dressed out in the shape of
a ball and weather-vane. Such a sight, never witnessed in
those parts before, gave a worthy termination to the whole
performance. Narciss and Landrinette were then borne in


99





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


litters, on the shoulders of the rest, along the chief streets of
the town, amid the triumphant shouts of the people. Rib-
bons, nosegays, silks, were thrown upon them: all pressed
to get a sight of them. Each thought himself happy if he
could behold them, and be honored with a look of theirs.
  " What actor, what author, nay, what man of any class,
would not regard himself as on the summit of his wishes,
could he, by a noble saying or a worthy action, produce so
universal an impression? What a precious emotion would
it give, if one could disseminate generous, exalted, manly
feelings with electric force and speed, and rouse assembled
thousands into such rapture, as these people, by their bodily
alertness, have done ! If one could communicate to throng-
ing multitudes a fellow-feeling in all that belongs to man,
by the portraying of happiness and misery, of wisdom and
folly, nay, of absurdity and silliness; could kindle and thrill
their inmost souls, and set their stagnant nature into move-
ment, free, vehement, and pure!"     So said our friend;
and, as neither Laertes nor Philina showed any disposition
to take part in such a strain, he entertained himself with
these darling speculations, walking up and down the streets
till late at night, and again pursuing, with all the force and
vivacity of a liberated imagination, his old desire to have all
that was good and noble and great embodied and shown
forth by the theatric art.




                      CHAPTER V.

   NEXT morning, the rope-dancers, not without much parade
 and bustle, having gone away, Mignon immediately ap-
 peared, and came into the parlor as Wilhelm and Laertes
 were busy fencing. " Where hast thou been hid? " said
 Wilhelm, in a friendly tone. "1 Thou hast given us a great
 deal of anxiety. "The child looked at him, and answered
 nothing. " Thou art ours now," cried Laertes: " we have
 bought thee."-" For how much? " inquired the child quite
 coolly. " For a hundred ducats," said the other: " pay
 them again, and thou art free." - " Is that very much ? " she
 asked. ," Oh, yes! thou must now be a good child." - " I
 will try," she said.


100





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  From that moment she observed strictly what services the
waiter had to do for both her friends; and, after next day,
she would not any more let him enter the room. She per-
sisted in doing every thing herself, and accordingly went
through her duties, slowly, indeed, and sometimes awk-
wardly, yet completely, and with the greatest care.
  She was frequently observed going to a basin of water,
and washing her face with such diligence and violence, that
she almost wore the skin from her cheeks; till Laertes, by
dint of questions and reproofs, learned that she was striving
by all means to get the paint from her skin, and that, in
her zealous endeavors towards this object, she had mistaken
the redness produced by rubbing for the most obdurate dye.
They set her right on this point, and she ceased her efforts;
after which, having come again to her natural state, she ex-
hibited a fine brown complexion, beautiful, though sparingly
intermingled with red.
  The siren charms of Philina, the mysterious presence of
the child, produced more impression on our friend than he
liked to confess: he passed several days in that strange
society, endeavoring to elude self-reproaches by a diligent
practice of fencing and dancing, - accomplishments which
he believed might not again be put within his reach so con-
veniently.
  It was Wiith great surprise, and not without a certain satis-
faction, that he one day observed Herr Melina and his wife
alight at the inn. After the first glad salutation, they in-
quired about "the lady-manager and the other actors,"
and learned, with astonishment and terror, that the lady-
manager had long since gone away, and her actors, to a
very few, dispersed themselves about the country.
  This couple, subsequently to their marriage, in which, as
we know, our friend did his best to serve them, had been
travelling about in various quarters, seeking an engagement,
without finding any, and had at last been directed to this
little town by some persons who met them on their journey,
and said there was a good theatre in the place.
  Melina by no means pleased the lively Laertes, when in-
troduced to him, any more than his wife did Philina. Both
heartily wished to be rid of these new-comers; and Wilhelm
could inspire them with no favorable feelings on the subject,
though he more than once assured them that the Melinas
were very worthy people.
  Indeed, the previous merry life of our three adventurers


.101





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was interfered with by this extension of their society, in
more ways than one. Melina had taken up his quarters in
the inn where Philina staid, and he very soon began a
system of cheapening and higgling. He would have better
lodging, more sumptuous diet, and readier attendance, for a
smaller charge. In a short while, the landlord and waiter
showed very rueful looks; for whereas the others, to get
pleasantly along, had expressed no discontent with any thing,
and paid instantly, that they might avoid thinking longer of
payment, Melina now insisted on regulating every meal, and
investigating its contents beforehand,- a species of service
for which Philina named him, without scruple, a ruminating
animal.
  Yet more did the merry girl hate Melina's wife. Frau
Melina was a young woman not without culture, but wofully
defective in soul and spirit. She could declaim not badly,
and kept declaiming constantly; but it was easy to observe
that her performances were little more than recitations of
words. She labored a few detached passages, but never
could express the feeling of the whole. Withal, however,
she was seldom disagreeable to any one, especially to men.
On the contrary, people who enjoyed her acquaintance com-
monly ascribed to her a fine understanding; for she was
what might be called a kind of spiritual chameleon, or taker-
on. Any friend whose favor she had need of she could flatter
with peculiar adroitness, could give in to his ideas so long as
she could understand them, and, when they went beyond her
own horizon, could hail with ecstasy such new and brilliant
visions. She understood well when to speak and when to
keep silence; and, though her disposition was not spiteful,
she could spy out with great expertness where another's
weak side lay.




                     CHAPTER VI.

   MELINA, in the mean time, had been making strict inquiry
about the wrecks of the late theatrical establishment. The
wardrobe, as well as decorations, had been pawned with
some traders; and a notary had been empowered, under
certain conditions, to dispose of them by sale, should pur-


102





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


chasers occur. Melina wished to see this ware, and he took
Wilhelm with him. No sooner was the room opened, than
our friend felt towards its contents a kind of inclination,
which he would not confess to himself. Sad as was the state
of the blotched and tarnished decorations; little showy as
the Turkish and pagan garments, the old farce-coats for
men and women, the cowls for enchanters, priests, and Jews,
might be, - he was not able to exclude the feeling, that the
happiest moments of his life had been spent in a similar
magazine of frippery.   Could Melina have seen into his
heart, he would have urged him more pressingly to lay out
a sum of money in liberating these scattered fragments, in
furbishing them up, and again combining them into a beau-
tiful whole. " What a happy man could I be," cried Melina,
" had I but two hundred crowns, to get into my hands, for a
beginning, these fundamental necessaries of a theatre ! How
soon should I get up a little playhouse, that would draw con-
tributions from the town and neighborhood, and maintain us
all! "  Wilhelm was silent. They left these treasures of
the stage to be again locked up, and both went away in a
reflective mood.
  Thenceforth Melina talked of nothing else but projects
and plans for setting up a theatre, and gaining profit by it.
He tried to interest Philina and Laertes in his schemes; and
proposals' were made to Wilhelm about advancing money,
and taking them as his security. On this occasion, Wilhelm
first clearly perceived that he was lingering too long here:
he excused himself, and set about making preparations for
departure.
  In the mean time, Mignon's form, and manner of existence,
were growing more attractive to him every day. In her whole
system of proceedings there was something very singular.
She never walked up or down the stairs, but jumped. She
would spring along by the railing, and before you were aware
would be sitting quietly above upon the landing. Wilhelm
had observed, also, that she had a different sort of salutation
for each individual. For himself, it had of late been with
her arms crossed upon her breast. Often for the whole day
she was mute. At times she answered various questions
more freely, yet always strangely: so that you could not
determine whether it was caused by shrewd sense, or igno-
rance of the language; for she spoke in broken German in-
terlaced with French and Italian. In Wilhelm's service she
was indefatigable, and up before the sun. On the other


108





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


hand, she vanished early in the evening, went to sleep in a
little room upon the bare floor, and could not by any means
be induced to take a bed or even a paillasse. He often
found her washing herself.   Her clothes, too, were kept
scrupulously clean; though nearly all about her was quilted
two or three plies thick. Wilhelm was moreover told, that
she went every morning early to hear mass. He followed
her on one occasion, and saw her kneeling down with a ros-
ary in a corner of the church, and praying devoutly. She
did not observe him; and he returned home, forming many
a conjecture about this appearance, yet unable to arrive at
any probable conclusion.
  A new application from Melina for a sum of money to
redeem the often-mentioned stage apparatus caused Wil-
helm to think more seriously than ever about setting off. He
proposed writing to his people, who for a long time had
heard no tidings of him, by the very earliest post. He
accordingly commenced a letter to Werner, and had advanced
a considerable way with the history of his adventures, in
recounting which he had more than once unintentionally
swerved a little from the truth, when, to his vexation and
surprise, he observed, upon the back of his sheet, some verses
which he had been copying from his album for Madam
Melina. Out of humor at this mistake, he tore the paper in
pieces, and put off repeating his confession till the next post-
day..




                    CHAPTER VII.

  OuR party was now again collected; and Philina, who
always kept a sharp lookout on every horse or carriage that
passed by, exclaimed with great eagerness, " Our Pedant !
Here comes our dearest Pedant ! Who the deuce is it he has
with him? "   Speaking thus, she beckoned at the window;
and the vehicle drew up.
  A woful-looking genius, whom by his shabby coat of gray-
ish brown, and his ill-conditioned lower garments, you must
have taken for some unprosperous preceptor, of the sort that
moulder in our universities, now descended from the carriage,
and, taking off his hat to salute Philina, discovered an ill-
powdered, but yet very stiff, periwig; while Philina threw a
hundred kisses of the hand towards him.


104





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   As Philina's chief enjoyment lay in loving one class of
men, and being loved by them; so there was a second and
hardly inferior satisfaction, wherewith she entertained herself
as frequently as possible; and this consisted in hoodwinking
and passing jokes upon the other class, whom at such
moments she happened not to love, - all which she could
accomplish in a very sprightly style.
   Amid the flourish which she made in receiving this old
friend, no attention was bestowed upon the rest who followed
him. Yet among the party were an oldish man and two
young girls, whom Wilhelm thought he knew. Accordingly
it turned out, that he had often seen them all, some years
ago, in a company then playing in his native town. The
daughters had grown since that period: the old man was a
little altered. He commonly enacted those good-hearted,
boisterous old gentlemen, whom the German theatre is never
without, and whom, in common life, one also frequently
enough falls in with. For as it is the character of our coun-
trymen to do good, and cause it, without pomp or circum-
stance; so they seldom consider that there is likewise a
mode of doing what is right with grace and dignity: more
frequently, indeed, they yield to the spirit of contradiction,
and fall into the error of deforming their dearest virtue by
a surly mode of putting it in practice.
   Such parts our actor could play very well; and he played
them so often and exclusively, that he had himself taken up
the same turn of proceeding in his ordinary life.
  On recognizing him, Wilhelm was seized with a strong
commotion; for he recollected how often he had seen this
man on the stage with his beloved Mariana: he still heard
him scolding, still heard the small, soothing voice, with which
in many characters she had to meet his rugged temper.
  The first anxious question put to the strangers, -Whether
they had heard of any situation in their travels? - was an-
swered, alas, with No ! and, to complete the information, it
was further added, that all the companies they had fallen in
with were not only supplied with actors, but many of them
were afraid lest, on account of the approaching war, they
should be forced to separate. Old Boisterous, with his
daughters, moved by spleen and love of change, had given
up an advantageous engagement: then, meeting with the
Pedant by the way, they had hired a carriage to come hither;
where, as they found, good counsel was still dear, needful to
have, and difficult to get.


105





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  The time while the rest were talking very keenly of their
circumstances, Wilhelm spent in thought. He longed to
speak in private with the old man: he wished and feared
to hear of Mariana, and felt the greatest disquietude.
  The pretty looks of the stranger damsels could not call him
from his dream; but a war of words, which now arose,
awakened his attention. It was Friedrich, the fair-haired
boy who used to attend Philina, stubbornly refusing, on this
occasion, to cover the table and bring up dinner. " I en-
gaged to serve you," he cried, " but not to wait on every-
body."   They fell into a hot contest. Philina insisted that
he should do his duty; and, as he obstinately refused, she
told him plainly he might go about his business.
   " You think, perhaps, I cannot leave you ! " cried he
sturdily, then went to pack up his bundle, and soon hastily
quitted the house.
  " Go, Mignon," said Philina, " and get us what we want:
tell the waiter, and help him to attend us."
  Mignon came before Wilhelm, and asked in her laconic
way, " Shall I? May I?"      To which Wilhelm answered,
" Do all the lady bids thee, child."
   She accordingly took charge of every thing, and waited on
the guests the whole evening, with the utmost carefulness.
After dinner, Wilhelm proposed to have a walk with the old
man albne. Succeeding in this, after many questions about
his late wanderings, the conversation turned upon the former
company; and Wilhelm hazarded a question touching Mari-
ana.
   " Do not speak to me of that despicable creature ! " cried
the old man: "I have sworn to think of her no more."
Terrified at this speech, Wilhelm felt still more embarrassed,
as the old man proceeded to vituperate her fickleness and
wantonness. Most gladly would our friend have broken off
the conversation, but now it was impossible: he was obliged
to undergo the whole tumultuous effusions of this strange old
gentleman.
   " I am ashamed," continued he, " that I felt such a friend-
ship for her. Y -t, had you known the girl better, you would
excuse me. She was so pretty, so natural and good, so
pleasing, in every sense so tolerable, I could never have sup-
posed that ingratitude and impudence were to prove the chief
features of her character."
   Wilhelm had nerved himself to hear the worst of her;
 when all at once he observed, with astonishment, that the


106





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


old man's tones grew milder, his voice faltered, and he took
out his handkerchief to dry the tears, which at last began to
trickle down his cheeks.
  " What is the matter with you? "cried Wilhelm.' What
is it that suddenly so changes the current of your feelings?
Conceal it not from me. I take a deeper interest in the.fate
of this girl than you suppose. Only tell me all."
  " I have not much to say," replied the old man, again tak-
ing up his earnest, angry tone. " I have suffered more from
her than I shall ever forgive. She had always a kind of
trust in me. I loved her as my own .daughter; indeed, while
my wife lived, I had formed a resolution to take the creature
to my own house, and save her from the hands of that old
crone, from whose guidance I boded no good. But my wife
died, and the project went to nothing.
  " About the end of our stay in your native town, - it is
not quite three years ago, - I noticed a visible sadness about
her. I questioned her, but she evaded me. At last we set
out on our journey. She travelled in the same coach with
me; and I soon observed, what she herself did not long
deny, that she was with child, and suffering the greatest ter-
ror lest our manager might turn her off. In fact, in a short
while he did make the discovery; immediately threw up her
contract, which at any rate was only for six weeks; paid off
her arrears; and, in spite of all entreaties, left her behind,
in the miserable inn of a little village.
  "Devil take all wanton jilts ! " cried the old man, with a
splenetic tone, " and especially this one, that has spoiled me
so many hours of my life ! Why should I keep talking how
I myself took charge of her, what I did for her, what I spent
on her, how in absence I provided for her? I would rather
throw my purse into the ditch, and spend my time in nursing
mangy whelps, than ever more bestow the smallest care on
such a thing. Pshaw ! At first I got letters of thanks,
notice of places she was staying at; and, finally, no word at
all, - not even an acknowledgment for the money I had sent
to pay the expenses of her lying-in. Oh! the treachery and
the fickleness of women are rightly matched, to get a com-
fortable living for themselves, and to give an honest fellow
many heavy hours."


107





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER VIII.

  WILHELM'S feelings, on returning home after this conver-
sation, may be easily conceived. All his old wounds had
been torn up afresh, and the sentiment that Mariana was
not wholly unworthy of his love had again been brought to
life. The interest the old man had shown about her fate, the
praises he gave her against his will, displayed her again in
all her attractiveness. Nay, even the bitter accusations
brought against her contained nothing that could lower her in
Wilhelm's estimation; for he, as well as she, was guilty in
all her aberrations. Nor did even her final silence seem
greatly blamable: it rather inspired him   with mournful
thoughts. He saw her as a frail, ill-succored mother, wan-
dering helplessly about the world, - wandering, perhaps, with
his own child. What he knew, and what lie knew not,
awoke in him the painfullest emotions.
  Mignon had been waiting for him: she lighted him up
stairs. On setting down the light, she begged he would allow
her, that evening, to compliment him with a piece of her art.
He would rather have declined this, particularly as he knew
not what it was; but he had not the heart to refuse any thing
this kind creature wished. After a little while she again
came in. She carried below her arm a little carpet, which
she then spread out upon the floor. Wilhelm said she might
proceed. She thereupon brought four candles, and placed
one upon each corner of the carpet. A little basket of eggs,
which she next carried in, made her purpose clearer. Care-
fully measuring her steps, she then walked to and fro on the
carpet, spreading out the eggs in certain figures and posi-
tions; which done, she called in a man that was waiting in
the house, and could play on the violin. He retired with his
instrument into a corner: she tied a band about her. eyes,
gave a signal; and, like a piece of wheel-work set a-going, she
began moving the same instant as the music, accompanying
her beats and the notes of the tune with the strokes of a pair
of castanets.
   Lightly, nimbly, quickly, and with hair's-breadth accuracy,
she carried on the dance. She skipped so sharply and surely
along between the eggs, and trod so closely down beside
them, that you would have thought every instant she must
trample one of them in pieces, or kick the rest away in her
rapid turns. By no means ! She touched no one of them,


108





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


though winding herself through their mazes with all kinds of
steps, wide and narrow, nay, even with leaps, and at last
half kneeling.
  Constant as the movement of a clock, she ran her course;
and the strange music, at each repetition of the tune, gave a
new impulse to the dance, recommencing and again rushing
off as at first. Wilhelm was quite led away by this singular
spectacle; he forgot his cares; he followed every movement
of the dear little creature, and felt surprised to see how finely
her character unfolded itself as she proceeded in the dance.
  Rigid, sharp, cold, vehement, and in soft postures, stately
rather than attractive, - such was the light in which it showed
her. At this moment he experienced at once all the emo-
tions he had ever felt for Mignon. He longed to incorporate
this forsaken being with his own heart, to take her in his
arms, and with a father's love. to awaken in her the joy of
existence.
  The dance being ended, she rolled the eggs together softly
with her foot into a little heap, left none behind, harmed
none; then placed herself beside it, taking the bandage from
her eyes, and concluding her performance with a little bow.
  Wilhelm thanked her for having executed, so prettily and
unexpectedly, a dance he had long wished to see. He patted
her; was sorry she had tired herself so much. He promised
her a neW suit of clothes; to which she vehemently replied,
"Thy color !"   This, too, he promised her, though not well
knowing what she meant by it. She then lifted up the eggs,
took the carpet under her arm, asked if he wanted any thing
further, and skipped out of the room.
  The musician, being questioned, said, that for some time
she had taken much trouble in often singing over the tune of
this dance, the well-known fandango, to him, and training
him till he could play it accurately. For his labor she had
likewise offered him some money; which, however, he would
not accept.




                     CHAPTER IX.

  AFTER a restless night, which our friend spent, sometimes
waking, sometimes oppressed with unpleasant dreams, seeing
Mariana now in all her beauty, now in woful case, at one


109





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


time with a child on her arm, then soon bereaved of it, the
morning had scarcely dawned, when Mignon entered with a
tailor. She brought some gray cloth and blue taffeta; signi-
fying in her own way that she wished to have a new jacket
and sailor's trousers, such as she had seen the boys of the
town wear, with blue cuffs and tiers.
  Since the loss of Mariana, Wilhelm had laid aside all gay
colors. He had used himself to gray, - the garment of the
shades; and only perhaps a sky-blue lining, or little collar
of that dye, in some degree enlivened his sober garb. Mig-
non, eager to wear his colors, hurried on the tailor, who en-
gaged to have his work soon ready.
  The exercise in dancing and fencing, which our friend took
this day with Laertes, did not prosper in their hands. In-
deed, it was soon interrupted by Melina, who came to show
them circumstantially how a.little company was now of itself
collected, sufficient to exhibit plays in abundance. He re-
newed the proposal that Wilhelm should advance a little
money for setting them in motion; which, however, Wilhelm
still declined.
  Ere long Philina and the girls came in, racketing and
laughing as usual. They had now devised a fresh excursion,
for change of place and objects was a pleasure after which
they always longed. To eat daily in a different spot was
their highest wish. On this occasion they proposed a sail.
  The boat in which they were to fall down the pleasant
windings of the river had already been engaged by the Ped-
ant. Philina urged them on: the party did not linger, and
were soon on board.
   ' What shall we take to now ? " said Philina, when all had
placed themselves upon the benches.
   "The readiest thing," replied Laertes, " were for us to
extemporize a play. Let each take a part that suits his
character, and we shall see how we get along."
   " Excellent ! " said Wilhelm. " In a society where there
is no dissimulation, but where each without disguise pursues
the bent of his own humor, elegance and satisfaction cannot
long continue; and, where dissimulation always reigns, they
do not enter at all. It will not be amiss, then, that we take
up dissimulation to begin with, and then, behind our masks,
be as candid as we please."
   " Yes," said Laertes : " it is on this account that one goes
on so pleasantly with women; they never show themselves
in their natural form."


110





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " That is to say," replied Madam Melina, " they are not
so vain as men, who conceive themselves to be always amia-
ble enough, just as nature has produced them."
  In the mean time the river led them between pleasant
groves and hills, between gardens and vineyards; and the
young women, especially Madam Melina, expressed their
rapture at the landscape. The latter even began to recite,
in solemn style, a pretty poem of the descriptive sort, upon
a similar scene of nature; but Philina interrupted her with
the proposal of a law, that no one should presume to speak
of any inanimate object. On the other hand, she zealously
urged on their project of an extempore play. Old Boisterous
was to be a half-pay officer; Laertes a fencing-master, tak-
ing his vacation; the Pedant, a Jew; she herself would act
a Tyrolese ; leaving to the rest to choose characters according
to their several pleasures. They would suppose themselves
to be a party of total strangers to each other, who had just
met on board a merchant-ship.
  She immediately began to play her part with the Jew, and
a universal cheerfulness diffused itself among them.
  They had not sailed far, when the skipper stopped in his
course, asking permission of the company to take in a person
standing on the shore, who had made a sign to him.
   I That is just what we needed," cried Philina: " a chance
 passenger. was wanting to complete the travelling-party."
   A handsome man came on board; whom, by his dress and
 his dignified mien, you might have taken for a clergyman.
 He saluted the party, who thanked him in their own way,
 and soon made known to him the nature of their game. The
 stranger immediately engaged to act the part of a country
 parson; which, in fact, he accomplished in the adroitest
 manner, to the admiration of all, - now admonishing, now
 telling stories, showing some weak points, yet never losing
 their respect.
   In the mean time, every one who had made a false step in
 his part, or swerved from his character, had been obliged to
 forfeit a pledge: Philina had gathered them with the great-
 est care, and especially threatened the reverend gentleman
 with many kisses; though he himself had never been at fault.
 Melina, on the other hand, was completely fleeced: shirt-
 buttons, buckles, every movable about his person, was in
 Philina's hands. He was trying to enact an English travel-
 ler, and could not by any means get into the spirit of his
 part.


111





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Meanwhile the time had passed away very pleasantly.
Each had strained his fancy and his wit to the utmost, and
each had garnished his part with agreeable and entertaining
jests. Thus comfortably occupied, they reached the place
where they meant to pass the day; and Wilhelm, going out
to walk with the clergyman, as both from his appearance and
late character he persisted in naming him, soon fell into an
interesting conversation.
  " I think this practice," said the stranger, "very useful
among actors, and even in the company of friends and
acquaintances. It is the best mode of drawing men out of
themselves, and leading them, by a circuitous path, back
into themselves again. It should be a custom with every
troop of players to practice in this manner: and the public
would assuredly be no loser if every month an unwritten
piece were brought forward; in which, of course, the play-
ers had prepared themselves by several rehearsals."
  " One should not, then," replied our friend, " consider an
extempore piece as, strictly speaking, composed on the spur
of the moment, but as a piece, of which the plan, action,
and division of the scenes were given; the filling up of all
this being left to the player."
  " Quite right," said the stranger; " and, in regard to this
very filling up, such a piece, were the players once trained to
these performances, would profit greatly.   Not in regard
to the mere words, it is true; for, by a careful selection of
these, the studious writer may certainly adorn his work; but
in regard to the gestures, looks, exclamations, and every
thing of that nature; in short, to the mute and half-mute
play of the dialogue, which seems by degrees fading away
among us altogether. There are indeed some players in
Germany whose bodies figure what they think and feel;
vho by their silence, their delays, their looks, their slight,
graceful movements, can prepare the audience for a speech,
and, by a pleasant sort of pantomime, combine the pauses
of the dialogue with the general whole; but such a practice
as this, co-operating with a happy natural turn, and training
it to compete with the author, is far from being so habitual
as, for the comfort of play-going people, were to be de-
sired."
  " But will not a happy natural turn," said Wilhelm, " as
the first and last requisite, of itself conduct the player, like
every other artist, - nay, perhaps every other man, -to the
lofty mark he aims at? "


112





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " The first and the last, the beginning and the end, it may
well be; but, in the middle, many things will still be wanting
to an artist, if instruction, and early instruction too, have
not previously made that of him which he was meant to be:
and perhaps for the man of genius it is worse in this respect
than for the man possessed of only common capabilities;
the one may much more easily be misinstructed, and be driven
far more violently into false courses, than the other."
  "But," said Wilhelm, " will not genius save itself, not
heal the wounds which itself has inflicted ? "
  " Only to a very small extent, and with great difficulty,"
said the other, " or perhaps not at all. Let no one think
that he can conquer the first impressions of his youth. If
he has grown up in enviable freedom, surrounded with beau-
tiful and noble objects, in constant intercourse with worthy
men; if his masters have taught him what he needed first to
know, for comprehending more easily what followed; if he
has never learned any thing which he requires to unlearn; if
his first operations have been so guided, that, without alter-
ing any of his habits, he can more easily produce what is
excellent in future, - then -such a one will lead a purer, more
perfect and happier, life, than another man who has wasted
the force of his youth in opposition and error. A great deal
is said and written about education; yet I meet with very
few who dan comprehend, and transfer to practice, this sim-
ple yet vast idea, which includes within itself all others con-
nected with the subject."
  " That may well be true," said Wilhelm; " for the gener-
ality of men are limited enough in their conceptions to sup-
pose that every other should be fashioned by education,
according to the pattern of themselves. Happy, then, are
those whom Fate takes charge of, and educates according to
their several natures ! "
  " Fate," said the other, smiling, " is an excellent but
most expensive schoolmaster. In all cases, I would rather
trust to the reason of a human tutor. Fate, for whose wis-
dom I entertain all imaginable reverence, often finds in
Chance, by which it works, an instrument not over manage-
able. At least the latter very seldom seems to execute pre-
cisely and accurately what the former had determined."
   "' You seem to express a very singular opinion," said
Wilhelm.
   " Not at all," replied the other. " Most of what hap-
pens in the world confirms my opinion. Do not many inci-


113





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


dents at their commencement show some mighty purport,
and generally terminate in something paltry ? "
  "You mean to jest."
  "And as to what concerns the individual man," pursued
the other, " is it not so with this likewise? Suppose Fate
had appointed one to be a good player; and why should it
not provide us with good players as well as other good
things ? Chance would perhaps conduct the youth into some
puppet-show, where, at such an early age, he could not
help taking interest in what was tasteless and despicable,
reckoning insipidities endurable or even pleasing, and thus
corrupting and misdirecting his primary impressions,- im-
pressions which can never be effaced, and whose influence,
in spite of all our efforts, cling to us in some degree to the
very last."
  "What makes you think of puppet-shows ? " said Wilhelm,
not without some consternation.
   " It was an accidental instance: if it does not please you,
we shall take another. Suppose Fate had appointed any
one to be a great painter, and it pleased Chance that he
should pass his youth in sooty huts, in barns and stables:
do you think that such a man would ever be enabled to exalt
himself to purity, to nobleness, to freedom of soul? The
more keenly he may in his youth have seized on the impure,
and tried in his own manner to ennoble it, the more power-
fully in the remainder of his life will it be revenged on him;
because, while he was endeavoring to conquer it, his whole
being has become inseparably combined with it. Whoever
spends his early years in mean and pitiful society, though at
an after period he may have the choice of better, will yet
constantly look back with longing towards that which he
enjoyed of old, and which has left its impression blended
with the memory of all his young and unreturning pleas-
ures."
   From conversation of this sort, it is easy to imagine, the
 rest of the company had gradually withdrawn. Philina, in
 particular, had stepped aside at the very outset. Wilhelm
 and his comrade now rejoined them by a cross-path. Philina
 brought out her forfeits, and they had to be redeemed in
 many different ways. During which business, the stranger,
 by the most ingenious devices, and by his frank participation
 in their sports, recommended himself much to all the party,
 and particularly to the ladies ; and thus, amid joking, singing,
 kissing, and railleries of all sorts, the hours passed away in
 the most pleasant manner.


114





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER X.

  WHEN our friends began to think of going home, they
looked about them for their clergyman; but he had vanished,
and was nowhere to be found.
  " It is not polite in the man, who otherwise displayed good
breeding," said Madam Melina, " to desert a company that
welcomed him so kindly, without taking leave."
  " I have all the time been thinking," said Laertes, "where
I can have seen this singular man before. I fully intended
to ask him about it at parting."
  " I, too, had the same feeling," said Wilhelm; " and cer-
tainly I should not have let him go, till he had told us some-
thing more about his circumstances. I am much mistaken if
I have not ere now spoken with him somewhere."
  " And you may in truth," said Philina, " be mistaken there.
This person seems to have the air of an acquaintance, be-
cause he looks like a man, and not like Jack or Kit."
  "What is this ? " said Laertes. " Do not we, too, look like
men ? "
  " I know what I am saying," cried Philina; " and, if you
cannot understand me, never mind. In the end my words
will be found to require no commentary."
  Two coaches now drove up. All praised the attention of
Laertes, who had ordered them. Philina, with Madam Melina,
took her place opposite to Wilhelm: the rest bestowed them-
selves as they best could. Laertes rode back on Wilhelm's
horse, which had likewise been brought out.
  Philina was scarcely seated in the coach, when she began
to sing some pretty songs, and gradually led the conversation
to some stories, which she said might be successfully treated
in the form of dramas. By this cunning turn, she very soon
put her young friend into his finest humor: from the wealth
of his living imaginative store, he forthwith constructed a
complete play, with all its acts, scenes, characters, and plots.
It was thought proper to insert a few catches and songs ; they
composed them; and Philina, who entered into every part of
it, immediately fitted them with well-known tunes, and sang
them on the spot.
  It was one of her beautiful, most beautiful, days: she had
skill to enliven our friend with all manner of diverting wiles;
he felt in spirits such as he had not for many a month en-
joyed.


115





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Since that shocking discovery had torn him from the side
of Mariana, he had continued true to his vow to be on his
guard against the encircling arms of woman; to avoid the
faithless sex; to lock up his inclinations, his sweet wishes, in
his own bosom. The conscientiousness with which he had
observed this vow gave his whole nature a secret nourish-
ment; and, as his heart could not remain without affection,
some loving sympathy had now become a want with him. He
went along once more, as if environed by the first cloudy
glories of youth; his eye fixed joyfully on every charming
object, and never had his judgment of a lovely form been
more favorable. How dangerous, in such a situation, this
wild girl must have been to him, is but too easy to conceive.
  Arrived at home, they found Wilhelm's chamber all ready
to receive them; the chairs set right for a public reading; in
midst of them the table, on which the punch-bowl was in due
time to take its place.
  The German chivalry-plays were new at this period, and
had just excited the attention and the inclination of the pub-
lic. Old Boisterous had brought one of this sort with him:
the reading of it had already been determined on. They all
sat down: Wilhelm took possession of the pamphlet, and
began to read.
  The harnessed knights, the ancient keeps, the true-hearted-
ness, hbnesty, and downrightness, but especially the inde-
pendence of the acting characters, were received with the
greatest approbation. The reader did his utmost, and the
audience gradually mounted into rapture. Between the third
and fourth acts, the punch arrived in an ample bowl; and,
there being much fighting and drinking in the piece itself,
nothing was more natural than that, on every such occurrence,
the company should transport themselves into the situation
of the heroes, should flourish and strike along with them,
and drink long life to their favorites among the dramatis
personcs.
  Each individual of the party was inflamed with the noblest
fire of national spirit. How it gratified this German com-
pany to be poetically entertained, according to their own
character, on stuff of their own manufacture ! In particular,
the vaults and caverns, the ruined castles, the moss and hol-
low trees, but above all the nocturnal gypsy scenes, and the
Secret Tribunal, produced a quite incredible effect. Every
actor now figured to himself how, erelong, in helm and har-
ness, he; every actress how, with :a monstrous spreading ruff,


116





t1EISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP..


117


she, - would present their Germanship before the public.
Each would appropriate to himself without delay some name
taken from the piece or from German history; and Madam
Melina declared that the son or daughter she was then ex-
pecting should not be christened otherwise than by the name
of Adelbert or of Mathilde.
  Towards the fifth act, the approbation became more im-
petuous and louder; and at last, when the hero actually
trampled down his oppressor, and the tyrant met his doom,
the ecstasy increased to such a height, that all averred they
had never passed such happy moments. Melina, whom the
liquor had inspired, was the noisiest: and when the second
bowl was emptied, and midnight near, Laertes swore through
thick and thin, that no living mortal was worthy ever more
to put these glasses to his lips; and, so swearing, he pitched
his own right over his head, through a window-pane, out into
the street. The rest followed his example; and notwith-
standing the protestations of the landlord, who came run-
ning in at the noise, the punch-bowl itself, never after this
festivity to be polluted by unholy drink, was dashed into a
thousand shreds. Philina, whose exhilaration was the least
noticed, - the other two girls by that time having laid them-
selves upon the sofa in no very elegant positions, -mali-
ciously encouraged her companions in their tumult. Madam
Melina recited some spirit-stirring poems; and her husband,
not too amiable in the uproar, began to cavil at the insufficient
preparation of the punch, declaring that he could arrange
an entertainment altogether in a different style, and at last
becoming sulkier and louder as Laertes commanded silence,
till the latter, without much consideration, threw the frag-
ments of the punch-bowl about his head, and thereby not a
little deepened the confusion.
  Meanwhile the town-guard had arrived, and were demand-
ing admission to the house. Wilhelm, much heated by his
reading, though he had drunk but little, had enough to do,
with the landlord's help, to content these people by money
and good words, and afterwards to get the various members
of his party sent home in that unseemly case. On coming
back, overpowered with sleep and full of chagrin, he threw
himself upon his bed without undressing; and nothing could
exceed his disgust, when, opening his eyes next morning, he
looked out with dull sight upon the devastations of the by-
gone day, and saw the uncleanness, and the many bad effects,
of which that ingenious, lively, and well-intentioned poeti-
cal performance had been the cautSe.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER XI.

  AFTER a short consideration, he called the landlord, and
bade him mark to his account both the damage and the regu-
lar charge. At the same time he learned, not without.vexa-
tion, that his horse had been so hard ridden by Laertes last
night, that, in all probability, it was foundered, as they term
it; the farrier having little hope of its recovering.
  A salute from Philina, which she threw him from her win-
dow, restored him in some degree to a more cheerful humor:
he went forthwith into the nearest shop to buy her a little
present, which, in return for the powder-knife, he still owed
her; and it must be owned, that, in selecting his gift, he did
not keep himself within the limits of proportional value. He
not only purchased her a pair of earrings, but added likewise
a hat and neckerchief, and some other little articles, which
he had seen her lavishly throw from her on the first day of
their acquaintance.
  Madam Melina, happening to observe him as he was de-
livering his presents, took an opportunity before breakfast
to rate him very earnestly about his inclination for this girl;
at which he felt the more astonished, the less he thought it
merited. He swore solemnly, that he had never once enter-
tained the slightest notion of attaching himself to such a per-
son, whose whole manner of proceeding was well known to
him. He excused himself as well as possible for his friendly
and polite conduct towards her, yet did not by any means
content Madam Melina, whose spite grew ever more deter-
mined, as she could not but observe that the flatteries, by
which she had acquired for herself a sort of partial regard
from our friend, were not sufficient to defend this conquest
from the attacks of a lively, younger, and more gifted rival.
  As they sat down to table, her husband joined them, like-
wise in a very fretful humor; which he was beginning to
display on many little things, when the landlord entered to
announce a player on the harp. " You will certainly," he
said, " find pleasure in the music and the songs of this man :
no one who hears him can forbear to admire him, and bestow
something on him."
  "Let him go about his business," said Melina: " I am
any thing but in a trim for hearing fiddlers, and we have
singers constantly among ourselves disposed to gain a little
by their talent." He accompanied these words with a sar-


118





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


castic side-look at Philina: she understood his meaning,
and immediately prepared to punish him, by taking up the
cause of the harper. Turning towards Wilhelm, " Shall we
not hear the man? " said she : " shall we do nothing to save
ourselves from this miserable ennui ?"
  Melina was going to reply, and the strife would have grown
keener, had not the person it related to at that moment en-
tered. Wilhelm saluted him, and beckoned him to come near.
  The figure of this singular guest set the whole party in
astonishment: he had found a chair before any one took
heart to ask him a question, or make any observation. His
bald crown was encircled by a few gray hairs, and a pair of
large blue eyes looked out softly from beneath his long white
eyebrows. To a nose of beautiful proportions was subjoined
a flowing, hoary beard, which did not hide the fine shape and
position of his lips; and a long dark-brown garment wrapped
his thin body from the neck to the feet. He began to prelude
on the harp, which he had placed before him.
  The sweet tones which he drew from his instrument very
soon inspirited the company.
  " You can sing, too, my good old man," said Philina.
  " Give us something that shall entertain the spirit and the
heart as well as the senses," said Wilhelm. " The instrument
should but accompany the voice; for tunes and melodies
without words and meaning seem to me like butterflies or
finely variegated birds, which hover round us in the air,
which we could wish to catch and make our own: whereas
song is like a blessed genius that exalts us towards heaven,
and allures the better self in us to attend him."
  The old man looked at Wilhelm, then aloft, then gave
some trills upon his harp, and began his song. It contained
a eulogy on minstrelsy, - described the happiness of min-
strels, and reminded men to honor them. He produced his
song with so much life and truth, that it seemed as if he had
composed it at the moment, for this special occasion. Wil-
helm could scarcely refrain from clasping him in his arms:
but the fear of awakening a peal of laughter detained him
in his chair; for the rest were already in half-whispers mak-
ing sundry very shallow observations, and debating if the
harper was a Papist or a Jew.
  When asked about the author of the song, the man gave
no distinct reply; declaring only that he was rich in songs,
and anxious that they should please. Most of the party were
now merry and joyful; even Melina was grown frank in his


119





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


way; and, whilst they talked and joked together, the old man
began to sing the praise of social life in the most sprightly
style. He described the loveliness of unity and courtesy, in
soft, soothing tones. Suddenly his music became cold, harsh,
and jarring, as he turned to deplore repulsive selfishness,
short-sighted enmity, and baleful division; and every heart
willingly threw off those galling fetters, while, borne on the
wings of a piercing melody, he launched forth in praise of
peacemakers, and sang the happiness of souls, that, having
parted, meet again in love.
  Scarcely had he ended, when Wilhelm cried to him, ' Who-
ever thou art, that as a helping spirit comest to us with a
voice which blesses and revives, accept my reverence and my
thanks ! Feel that we all admire thee, and confide in us if
thou wantest any thing."
  The old man spoke not: he threw his fingers softly across
the strings, then struck more sharply, and sang, -

           " ' What notes are those without the wall,
                Across the portal sounding ?
             Let's have the music in our hall,
                Back from its roof rebounding.'
             So spoke the king, the henchman flies:
             His answer heard, the monarch cries,
               ' Bring in that ancient minstrel.'

             ' Hail, gracious king! each noble knight,
                Each lovely dame, I greet you!
             What glittering stars salute my sight!
                What heart unmoved may meet you!
             Such lordly pomp is not for me,
             Far other scenes my eyes must see:
                Yet deign to list my harping.'

             The singer turns him to his art,
                A thrilling strain he raises:
             Each warrior hears with glowing heart,
                And on his loved one gazes.
             The king, who liked his playing well,
             Commands, for such a kindly spell,
                A golden chain be given him.

             ' The golden chain give not to me;
                Thy boldest knight may wear it,
             Who, 'cross the battle's purple sea,
                On lion breast may bear it:
             Or let it be thy chancellor's prize,
             Amid his heaps to feast his eyes;
                Its yellow glance will please him.'


120





             MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.                 121

           " I sing but as the linnet sings,
               That on the green bough dwelleth;
            A rich reward his music brings,
               As from his throat it swelleth:
            Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine
            One sparkling draught of purest wine,
               To drink it here before you.'
            He viewed the wine: he quaffed it up.
              ' O draught of sweetest savor !
            O happy house, where such a cup
               Is thought a little favor!
            If well you fare, remember me,
            And thank kind Heaven, from envy free,
               As now for this I thank you.' "

  When the harper, on finishing his song, took up a glass
of wine that stood poured out for him, and, turning with a
friendly mien to his entertainers, drank it off, a buzz of joy-
ful approbation rose from all the party. They clapped hands,
and wished him health from that glass, and strength to his
aged limbs. He sang a few other ballads, exciting more and
more hilarity among the company.
  "Old man," said Philina, " dost thou know the tune,
'The shepherd decked him for the dance'? " 1
  " Oh, yes ! " said he : " if you will sing the words, I shall
not fail for my part of it."
  Philina then stood up, and held herself in readiness. The
old man commenced the tune; and she sang a song, which
we cannot impart to our readers, lest they might think it in-
sipid, or perhaps undignified.
  Meanwhile the company were growing merrier and merrier :
they had already emptied several flasks of wine, and were
now beginning to get very loud. But our friend, having
fresh in his remembrance the bad consequences of their late
exhilaration, determined to break up the sitting; he slipped
into the old man's hand a liberal remuneration for his
trouble, the rest did something likewise; they gave him
leave to go and take repose, promising themselves another
entertainment from his skill in the evening.
  When he had retired, our friend said to Philina, " In this
favorite song of yours I certainly find no merit, either moral
or poetical; yet if you were to bring forward any proper
composition on the stage, with the same arch simplicity, the
same propriety and gracefulness, I should engage that strong
and universal approbation would be the result."
       1 Der Schafer putzte sich zum Tanz,-a song of Goethe's. -ED.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  ' Yes," said Philina : "it would be a charming thing in-
deed to warm one's self at ice."
  " After all," said Wilhelm, "this old man might put
many a player to the blush. Did you notice how correctly
the dramatic part of his ballads was expressed? I maintain
there was more living true representation in his singing than
in many of our starched characters upon the stage. You
would take the acting of many plays for a narrative, and you
might ascribe to these musical narratives a sensible pres-
ence."
  "You are hardly just," replied Laertes. " I pretend to
no greaf skill, either as a player or as a singer; yet I know
well enough, that when music guides the movements of the
body, at once affording to them animation and a scale to
measure it; when declamation and expression are furnished
me by the composer, - I feel quite a different man from what
I do when, in prose dramas, I have all this to create for my-
self, - have both gesture and declamation to invent, and am,
perhaps, disturbed in it, too, by the awkwardness of some
partner in'the dialogue."
   " Thus much I know," said Melina: " the man certainly
puts us to the blush in one point, and that a main point.
The strength of his talent is shown by the profit he derives
from it. Even us, who perhaps erelong shall be embarrassed
where 'to get a meal, he persuades to share our pittance with
him. He has skill enough to wile the money from our
pockets with an old song, - the money that we should have
used to find ourselves employment. So pleasant an affair is
it to squander the means which might procure subsistence to
one's self and others."
   This remark gave the conversation not the most delightful
turn. Wilhelm, for whom the reproach was peculiarly in-
tended, replied with some heat; and Melina, at no time over
studious of delicacy and politeness, explained his grievances
at last in words more plain than courteous. " It is now a
fortnight," said he, " since we looked at the theatrical ma-
chinery and wardrobe which is lying pawned here: the whole
might be redeemed for a very tolerable sum. You then gave
me hopes that you would lend me so much; and hitherto I
do not see that you have thought more of the matter, or
come any nearer a determination. Had you then consented,
we should ere now have been under way. Nor has your
intention to leave the place been executed, nor has your
money in the mean time been spared: at least there are


122





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


people who have always skill to create opportunities for scat-
tering it faster and faster away."
  Such upbraidings, not altogether undeserved, touched Wil-
helm to the quick. He replied with keenness, nay, with
anger; and, as the company rose to part, he took hold of the
door, and gave them not obscurely to understand that he
would no longer continue with such unfriendly and ungrate-
ful people. He hastened down, in no kindly humor, and
seated himself upon the stone bench without the door of his
inn; not observing, that, first out of mirth, then out of-
spleen, he had drunk more wine than usual.





                    CHAPTER XII.

  AFTER a short time, which he passed sitting looking out
before him, disquieted by many thoughts, Philina came sing-
ing and skipping along through the front door. She sat
down by him, nay, we might almost say, on him, so close did
she press herself towards him: she leaned upon his shoulders,
began playing with his hair, patted him, and gave him the
best words in the world. She begged of him to stay with
them, and not leave her alone in that company, or she must
die of tedium: she could not live any longer in the same
house with Melina, and had come over to lodge in the other
inn for that reason.
   He tried in vain to satisfy her with denials, - to make her
understand that he neither could nor would remain any
longer. She did not cease with her entreaties; nay, sud-
denly she threw her arm round his neck, and kissed him with
the liveliest expression of fondness.
   " Are you mad, Philina? " cried Wilhelm, endeavoring to
disengage himself; I to make the open street the scene of
such caresses, which I nowise merit ! Let me go ! I can not
and I will not stay."
   " And I will hold thee fast," said she, " and kiss thee
 here on the open street, anll kiss thee till thou promise what
 I want. I shall die of laughing," she continued: "' by this
 familiarity the good people here must take me for thy wife of
 four weeks' standing; and husbands, who witness this touch-
 ing scene, will commend me to their wives as a pattern of
 childlike, simple tenderness."


123





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Some persons were just then going by: she caressed him
in the most graceful way; and he, to avoid giving scandal,
was constrained to play the part of the patient husband.
Then she made faces at the people, when their backs were
turned, and, in the wildest humor, continued to commit all
sorts of improprieties, till at last he was obliged to promise
that he would not go that day, or the morrow, or the next
day.
  " You are a true clod ! " said she, quitting him; " and I
am but a fool to spend so much kindness on you."  She
arose with some vexation, and walked a few steps, then
turned round laughing, and cried, " I believe it is just that,
after all, that makes me so crazy about thee. I will but go
and seek my knitting-needles and my stocking, that I may
have something to do. Stay there, and let me find the stone
man still upon the stone bench when I come back."
  She cast a sparkling glance on him, and went into the
house. He had no call to follow her; on the contrary, her
conduct had excited fresh aversion in him; yet he rose from
the bench to go after her, not well knowing why.
  He was just entering the door, when Melina passed by, and
spoke to him in a respectful tone, asking his pardon for the
somewhat too harsh expressions he had used in their late dis-
cussion. " You will not take it ill of me," continued he, " if
I appear perhaps too fretful in my present circumstances.
The charge of providing for a wife, perhaps soon for a child,
forbids me from day to day to live at peace, or spend my time
as you may do, in the enjoyment of pleasant feelings. Con-
sider, I pray you, and, if possible, do put me in possession
of that stage machinery that is lying here. I shall not be
your debtor long, aid I shall be obliged to you while I live."
  Our friend, unwilling to be kept upon the threshold, over
which an irresistible impulse was drawing him at that mo-
ment to Philina, answered, with an absent mind, eager to be
gone, and surprised into a transient feeling of good will, 1" If
I can make you happy and contented by doing this, I will
hesitate no longer. Go you and put every thing to rights. I
shall be prepared this evening, or to-morrow morning, to pay
the money."   He then gave his hand to Melina in confirma-
tion of his promise, and was very3 glad to see him hastily
proceed along the street; but, alas ! his entrance, which he
now thought sure, was a second time prohibited, and more
disagreeably than at first.
  A young man, with a bundle on his back, came walking


124





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


fast along the street, and advanced to Wilhelm, who at once
recognized him for Friedrich.
  " Here am I again ! " cried he, looking with his large blue
eyes joyfully up and down, over all the windows of the house.
" Where is Mamsell ? Devil take me, if I can stroll about
the world any longer without seeing her ! "
  The landlord, joining them at this instant, replied that she
was above.; Friedrich, with a few bounds, was up stairs; and
Wilhelm continued standing, as if rooted to the threshold.
At the first instant he was tempted to pluck the younker
back, and drag him down by the hair; then all at once the
spasm of a sharp jealousy stopped the current of his spirits
and ideas; and, as he gradually recovered from this stupe-
faction, there came over him a splenetic fit of restlessness, a
general discomfort, such as he had never felt in his life
before.
  He went up to his room, and found Mignon busy writing.
For some time the creature had been laboring with great
diligence in writing every thing she knew by heart, giving
always to her master and friend the papers to correct. She
was indefatigable, and of good comprehension; but still, her
letters were irregular, and her lines crooked. IIere, too,
the body seemed to contradict the mind. In his usual
moods, Wilhelm took no small pleasure in the child's atten-
tion; but, at the present moment, he regarded little what
she showed him,- a piece of neglect which she felt the
more acutely, as on this occasion she conceived her work
had been accomplished with peculiar success.
  Wilhelm's unrest drove him up and down the passages of
the house, and finally again to the street-door. A rider was
just prancing towards it, - a man of good appearance, of
middle age, and a brisk, contented look. The landlord ran
to meet him, holding out his hand as to an old acquaintance.
"Ay, Herr Stallmeister," cried he, " have we the pleasure
to see you again ? "
   " I am only just going to bait with you," replied the
stranger, " and then along to the estate, to get matters put
in order as soon as possible. The count is coming over to-
morrow with his lady; they mean to stay a while to entertain
the Prince von ~     in their best style: he intends to fix
his headquarters in this neighborhood for some time."
   " It is pity," said the landlord, "that you cannot stop
with us: we have good company in the house."   The hostler
came running out, and took the horse from the Stallmeister,


125





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


who continued talking in the door with the landlord, and now
and then giving a look at Wilhelm.
  Our friend, observing that he formed the topic of their
conversation, went away, and walked up and down the
streets.




                    CHAPTER XIII.

  IN the restless vexation of his present humor, it came into
his head to go and see the old harper; hoping by his music to
scare away the evil spirits that tormented him. On asking
for the man, he was directed to a mean public house, in a
remote corner of the little town; and, having mounted up-
stairs there to the very garret, his ear caught the fine twang-
ing of the harp coming from a little room before him. They
were heart-moving, mournful tones, accompanied by a sad
and dreary singing. Wilhelm glided to the door: and as the
good old man was performing a sort of voluntary, the few
stanzas of which, sometimes chanted, sometimes in recita-
tive, were repeated more than once, our friend succeeded,
after listening for a while, in gathering nearly this: -

       " Who never ate his bread with tears,
           Through nights of grief who, weeping, never
         Sat on his bed, midst pangs and fears,
           Can, heavenly powers, not know you ever.
         Ye lead us forth into this life,
           Where comfort soon by guilt is banished,
         Abandon us to tortures, strife;
           For on this earth all guilt is punished."
                                         - Editor's Version.

   The heart-sick, plaintive sound of this lament pierced deep
into the soul of the hearer. It seemed to him as if the old
man were often stopped from proceeding by his tears: his
harp would alone be heard for a time, till his voice again
joined it in low, broken tones. Wilhelm stood by the door;
he was much moved; the mourning of this stranger had
again opened the avenues of his heart; he could not resist
the claim of sympathy, or restrain the tears which this woe-
begone complaint at last called forth. All the pains that
pressed upon his soul seemed now at once to loosen from


126





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


their hold: he abandoned himself without reserve to the
feelings of the moment. Pushing up the door, he stood
before the harper. The old man was sitting on a mean bed,
the only seat, or article of furniture, which his miserable
room afforded.
  " What feelings thou hast awakened in me, good old
man! " exclaimed he. " All that was lying frozen at my
heart thou hast melted, and put in motion. Let me not dis-
turb thee, but continue, in solacing thy own sorrows, to
confer happiness upon a friend." The harper was about
to rise, and say something; but Wilhelm hindered him, for
he had noticed in the morning that the old man did not like
to speak. He sat down by him on the straw bed.
  The old man wiped his eyes, and asked, with a friendly
smile, " How came you hither?  I meant to wait upon you
in the evening again."
  " We are more quiet here," said Wilhelm. " Sing to me
what thou pleasest, what accords with thy own mood of
mind, only proceed as if I were not by. It seems to me,
that to-day thou canst not fail to suit me. I think thee very
happy, that, in solitude, thou canst employ and entertain thy-
self so pleasantly; that, being everywhere a stranger, thou
findest in thy own heart the most agreeable society."
  The old man looked upon his strings; and after touching
them softly, by way of prelude, he commenced and sang, -
            " Who longs in solitude to live,
                A.h! soon his wish will gain:
              Men hope and love, men get and give,
                And leave him to his pain.
              Yes, leave me to my moan!
                When from my bed
                You all are fled,
              I still am not alone.
              The lover glides with footstep light:
                His love, is she not waiting there ?
              So glides to meet me, day and night,
                In solitude my care,
                In solitude my woe:
              True solitude I then shall know
                When lying in my grave,
                When lying in my grave,
              And grief has let me go."

  We might describe with great prolixity, and yet fail to ex-
press the charms of, the singular conversation which Wilhelm
carried on with this wayfaring stranger. To every obser-


127





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ovation our friend addressed to him, the old man, with the
nicest accordance, answered in some melody, which awak-
ened all the cognate emotions, and opened a wide field to the
imagination.
  Whoever has happened to be present at a meeting of
certain devout people, who conceive, that, in a state of sepa-
ration from the Church, they can edify each other in a purer,
more affecting, and more spiritual manner, may form to him-
self some conception of the present scene. He will recollect
how the leader of the meeting would append to his words
some verse of a song, that raised the soul till, as lie wished,
she took wing; how another of the flock would erelong sub-
join, in a different tune, some verse of a different song; and
to this again a third would link some verse of a third song, -
by which means the kindred ideas of the songs to which the
verses belonged were indeed suggested, yet each passage by
its new combination became new and individualized, as if it
had been first composed that moment; and thus from a well-
known circle of ideas, from well-known songs and sayings,
there was formed for that particular society, in that particu-
lar time, an original whole, by means of which their minds
were animated, strengthened, and refreshed. So, likewise,
did the old man edify his guest: by known and unknown
songs and passages, he brought feelings near and distant,
emoiohs sleeping and awake, pleasant and painful, into a
circulation, from which, in Wilhelm's actual state, the best
effects might be anticipated.





                    CHAPTER XIV.

  ACCORDINGLY, in walking back, he began to think with
greater earnestness than ever on his present situation: he
had reached home with the firm purpose of altering it, when
the landlord disclosed to him, by way of secret, that Made-
moiselle Philina had made a conquest of the count's Stall-
meister, who, after executing his commission at his master's
estate, had returned in the greatest haste, and was even now
partaking of a good supper with her up in her chamber.
  At this very moment Melina came in with a notary: they
went into Wilhelm's chamber together, where the latter,


128





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


though with some hesitation, made his promise good ; gave a
draft of three hundred crowns to Melina, who, handing it to
the lawyer, received in return a note acknowledging the sale
of the whole theatrical apparatus, and engaging to deliver it
next morning.
  Scarcely had they parted, when Wilhelm heard a cry of
horror rising from some quarter of the house. He caught
the sound of a young voice, uttering menacing and furious
tones, which were ever and anon choked by immoderate
weeping and howling. He observed this frantic noise move
hastily from above, go past his door, and down to the lower
part of the house.
  Curiosity enticing our friend to follow it, he found Fried-
rich in a species of delirium. The boy was weeping, grind-
ing his teeth, stamping with his feet, threatening with
clenched fists: he appeared beside himself from fury and
vexation. Mignon was standing opposite him, looking on
with astonishment. The landlord, in some degree, explained
this phenomenon.
  The boy, he said, being well received at his return by
Philina, seemed quite merry and contented: he had kept
singing and jumping about, till the time when Philina grew
acquainted with the Stallmeister. Then, however, this half-
grown younker had begun to show his indignation, to slam
the doors, and run up and down in the highest dudgeon.
Philina had ordered him to wait at table that evening, upon
whieh he had grown still sulkier and more indignant; till at
last, carrying up a plate with a ragout, instead of setting it
upon the table, he had thrown the whole between Mademoi-
selle and her guest, who were sitting moderately close to-
gether at the time: and the Stallmeister, after two or three
hearty cuffs, had then kicked him out of the room. He, the
landlord, had himself helped to clean both of them; and cer-
tainly their clothes had suffered much.
  On hearing of the good effect of his revenge, the boy began
to laugh aloud, whilst the tears were still running down his
cheeks. He heartily rejoiced for a time, till the disgrace
which he had suffered from the stronger party once more
came into his head, and he began afresh to howl and threaten.
  Wilhelm stood meditating, and ashamed at this spectacle.
It reflected back to him his own feelings, in coarser and
exaggerated features: he, too, was inflamed with a fierce
jealousy; and, had not decency restrained him, he would
willingly have satisfied his wild humor; with malicious spleen


129





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


would have abused the object of his passion, and called out
his rival; he could have crushed in pieces all the people
round him; they seemed as if standing there but to vex
him.
  Laertes also had come in, and heard the story: he roguishly
spurred on the irritated boy, who was now asserting with
oaths that he would make the Stallmeister give him satisfac-
tion; that he had never yet let any injury abide with him;
that, should the man refuse, there were other ways of taking
vengeance.
  This was the very business for Laertes. He went up
stairs, with a solemn countenance, to call out the Stall-
meister in the boy's name.
   " This is a pleasant thing," said the Stallmeister: " such
a joke as this I had scarcely promised myself to-night."
They went down, and Philina followed them. " My son,"
said the Stallmeister to Friedrich, " thou art a brave lad,
and I do not hesitate to fight thee. Only as our years and
strength are unequal, and the attempt a little dangerous on
that account, I propose a pair of foils in preference to other
weapons. We can rub the buttons of them with a piece of
chalk; and whoever marks upon the other's coat the first or
the most thrusts, shall be held the victor, and be treated by
the other with the best wine that can be had in town."
  Laertes decided that the proposition might be listened to:
Friedrich obeyed him, as his tutor. The foils were produced :
Philina took a seat, went on with her knitting, and looked at
the contending parties with the greatest peace of mind.
  The Stallmeister, who could fence very prettily, was com-
plaisant enough to spare his adversary, and to let a few
chalk scores be marked upon his coat; after which the two
embraced, and wine was ordered. The Stallmeister took the
liberty of asking Friedrich's parentage and history; and
Friedrich told him a long story, which had often been re-
peated already, and which, at some other opportunity, we
purpose communicating to our readers.
   To Wilhelm, in the mean time, this contest completed the
representation of his own state of mind. He could not but
perceive that he would willingly have taken up a foil against
the Stallmeister, - a sword still more willingly, though evi-
dently much his inferior in the science of defence. Yet he
deigned not to cast one look on Philina; he was on his guard
against any word or movement that could possibly betray his
feelings: and, after having once or twice done justice to the


130





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


health of the duellists, he hastened to his own room, where a
thousand painful thoughts came pressing round him.
  He called to memory the time when his spirit, rich in hope,
and full of boundless aims, was raised aloft, and encircled
with the liveliest enjoyments of every kind as with its proper
element. He now clearly saw, that of late he had fallen into
a broken, wandering path, where, if he tasted, it was but
in drops what he once quaffed in unrestricted measure.
But he could not clearly see what insatiable want it was that
nature had made the law of his being, and how this want
had been only set on edge, half satisfied, and misdirected by
the circumstances of his life.
  It will not surprise us, therefore, that, in considering his
situation, and laboring to extricate himself, he fell into the
greatest perplexity. It was not enough, that by his friend-
ship for Laertes, his attachment to Philina, his concern for
Mignon, he had been detained longer than was proper in a
place and a society where he could cherish his darling incli-
nation, content his wishes as it were by stealth, and, without
proposing any object, again pursue his early dreams. These
ties he believed himself possessed of force enough to break
asunder: had there been nothing more to hold him, he could
have gone at once. But, only a few moments ago, he had
entered into money transactions with Melina: he had seen
that mysterious old man, the enigma of whose history he
longed with unspeakable desire to clear. Yet of this too,
after much balancing of reasons, he at length determined, or
thought he had determined, that it should not keep him back.
"'I must go."    He threw himself into a chair: he felt
greatly moved. Mignon came in, and asked whether she
might help to undress him. Her manner was still and shy;
it had grieved her to the quick to be so abruptly dismissed
by him before.
  Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a
love which has been nursed in silence, of a faith grown
strong in secret, and which at last comes forth in the hour of
need, and reveals itself to him who formerly has reckoned it
of small account. The bud, which had been closed so long
and firmly, was now ripe to burst its swathings; and Wil-
helm's heart could never have been readier to welcome the
impressions of affection.
  She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. " Mas-
ter ! " she cried, " if thou art unhappy, what will become of
Mignon?"- "    Dear little creature," said he, taking her


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


hands, " thou, too, art part of my anxieties. I must go
hence." She looked at his eyes, glistening with restrained
tears, and knelt down with vehemence before him. He kept
her hands : she laid her head upon his knees, and remained
quite still. He played with her hair, patted her, and spoke
kindly to her. She continued motionless for a considerable
time. At last he felt a sort of palpitating movement in her,
which began very softly, and then by degrees, with increas-
ing violence, diffused itself over all her frame. " What ails
thee, Mignon? " cried he: " What ails thee? "  She raised
her little head, looked at him, and all at once laid her hand
upon her heart, with the countenance of one repressing the
utterance of pain. He raised her up, and she fell upon his
breast: he pressed her towards him, and kissed her. She re-
plied not by any pressure of the hand, by any motion what-
ever. She held firmly against her heart, and all at once gave
a cry, which was accompanied by spasmodic movements of
the body. She started up, and immediately fell down before
him, as if broken in every joint. It was an excruciating
moment. " My child! " cried he, raising her up, and clasp-
ing her fast, "my child, what ails thee? "   The palpita-
tions continued, spreading from the heart over all the lax
and powerless limbs: she was merely hanging in his arms.
All at pnce she again became quite stiff, like one enduring
the sharpest corporeal agony; and soon with a new vehe-
mence all her frame once more became alive; and she threw
herself about his neck, like a bent spring that is closing;
while in her soul, as it were, a strong rent took place, and
at the same moment a stream of tears flowed from her shut
eyes into his bosom. He held her fast. She wept, and no
tongue can express the force of these tears. Her long hair
had loosened, and was hanging down before her: it seemed
as if her whole being was melting incessantly into a brook
of tears. Her rigid limbs were again become relaxed; her
inmost soul was pouring itself forth; in the wild confusion
of the moment Wilhelm was afraid she would dissolve in his
arms, and leave nothing there for him to grasp. He held
her faster and faster. "My child! " cried he, " my child !
thou art indeed mine, if that word can comfort thee. Thou
art mine! I will keep thee, I will never forsake thee! "
Her tears continued flowing. At last she raised herself: a
faint gladness shone upon her face. " My father " cried
she, " thou wilt not forsake me? .Wilt be my father? I
am thy child ! "


132





               MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.             133

  Softly, at this moment, the harp began to sound before
the door: the old man brought his most affecting songs as
an evening offering to our friend, who, holding his child ever
faster in his arms, enjoyed the most pure and undesaribable
felicity.





134


MEISTER'S AI'PP ENTICESHIP.


                      BOOK III.



                      CHAPTER I.

    " Dost know the land where citrons, lemons, grow,
    Gold oranges 'neath dusky foliage glow,
    From azure sky are blowing breezes soft,
    The myrtles still, the laurel stands aloft ?
                           'Tis there ! 'tis there !
     I would with thee, O my beloved one, go !
     Dost know the house, its roofs do columns bear,
     The hall with splendor bright, the chambers glare ?
     Therein stand marble forms, and look at me:
     What is't, poor child, that they have done to thee ?.
     Dost know that house ?
                           'Tis there ! 'tis there !
     I would with thee, O my protector, go !
     Dost know the mount, whose path with clouds is fraught,
     Where by the mule through mist the way is sought,
     Where dwell in caves the dragon's ancient brood,
     Where falls the rock, and over it the flood, -
     Dost know that mount ?
                           'Tis there ! 'tis there !
     Does lead our road : O father, let us go! "
                                        - Editor's Version.
  NEXT morning, on looking for Mignon about the house,
Wilhelm did not find her, but was informed that she had
gone out early with Melina, who had risen betimes to receive
the wardrobe and other apparatus of his theatre.
  After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound
of music before his door. At first he thought it was the
harper come again to visit him; but he soon distinguished
the tones of a cithern, and the voice which began to sing
was Mignon's. Wilhelm opened the door: the child came
in, and sang him the song we have just given above.
  The music and general expression of it pleased our friend
extremely, though he could not understand all the words.
He made her once more repeat the stanzas, and explain
them: he wrote them    down, and translated them into his





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


native language. But the originality of its turns he could
imitate only from afar: its childlike innocence of expression
vanished from it in the process of reducing its broken phrase-
ology to uniformity, and combining its disjointed parts.
The charm of the tune, moreover, was entirely incomparable.
  She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as
if she wished to draw attention towards something wonder-
ful, as if she had something weighty to communicate. In
the third line, her tones became deeper and gloomier; the
words, " Dost know ? " were uttered with a show of mystery
and eager circumspectness ; in " ' Tis there! 'tis there!"
lay an irresistible longing; and her " Let us go!" she modi-
fied at each repetition, so that now it appeared to entreat
and implore, now to impel and persuade.
  On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent
for a moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him,
" Know'st thou the land? "--" It must mean Italy," said
Wilhelm : " where didst thou get the little song ? " - " Italy ! "
said Mignon, with an earnest air. " If thou go to Italy,
take me along with thee; for I am too cold here." - - Hast
thou been there already, little dear?" said Wilhelm. But
the child was silent, and nothing more could be got out of
her.
  Melina entered now: he looked at the cithern,- was glad
that she had rigged it up again so prettily. The instrument
had been among Melina's stage-gear: Mignon had begged it
of him in the morning, and then gone to the old harper.
On this occasion she had shown a talent she was not before
suspected of possessing.
  Melina had already got possession of his wardrobe, with
all that pertained to it: some members of the town magis-
tracy had promised him permission to act, for a time, in the
place. He was now returning with a merry heart and a
cheerful look. His nature seemed altogether changed: he
was soft, courteous to every one, -nay, fond of obliging, and
almost attractive. He was happy, he said, at now being
able to afford employment to his friends, who had hitherto
lain idle and embarrassed; sorry, however, that at first he
could not have it in his power to remunerate the excellent
actors whom fortune had offered him, in a style correspond-
ing to their talents and capacities; being under the neces-
sity, before all other things, of discharging his debt to so
generous a friend as Wilhelm had proved himself to be.
  " I cannot describe," said he to Wilhelm, " the friendli-


135





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ness which you have shown, in helping me forward to the
management of a theatre. When I found you here, I was
in a very curious predicament. You recollect how strongly
I displayed to you, on our first acquaintance, my aversion to
the stage; and yet, on being married, I was forced to look
about for a place in some theatre, out of love to my wife,
who promised to herself much joy and great applause if so
engaged. I could find none, at least no constant one; but
in return I luckily fell in with some commercial men, who,
in extraordinary cases, were enabled to employ a person
that could handle his pen, that understood French, and was
not without a little skill in ciphering. I managed pretty
well in this way for a time; I was tolerably paid; got about
me many things which I had need of, and did not feel
ashamed of my work. But these commissions of my patrons
came to an end; they could afford me no permanent estab-
lishment: and, ever since, my wife has continued urging me
still more to go upon the stage again; though, at present,
alas ! her own situation is none of the favorablest for exhib-
iting herself with honor in the eyes of the public. But
now, I hope, the establishment which by your kind help I
have the means of setting up, will prove a good beginning
for me and mine: you I shall thank for all my future happi-
ness, let matters turn out as they will."
  Wilhelm listened to him with contentment: the whole
fraternity of players were likewise moderately satisfied with
the declarations of the new manager; they secretly rejoiced
that an offer of employment had occurred so soon, and were
disposed to put up at first with a smaller salary, the rather,
that most of them regarded the present one, so unexpectedly
placed within their reach, as a kind of supplement, on which
a short while ago they could not count. Melina made haste
to profit by this favorable temper: he endeavored in a sly
way to get a little talk with each in private, and erelong
had, by various methods, so cockered them all, that they did
not hesitate to strike a bargain with him without loss of
time; scarcely thinking of this new engagement, or reckon-
ing themselves secure at worst of getting free again after
six-weeks' warning.
  The terms were now to be reduced to proper form; and
Melina was considering with what pieces he would first en-
tice the public, when a courier riding up informed the Stall-
meister that, his lord and lady were at hand; on which the
latter ordered out his horses.


136





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  In a short time after this, the coach with its masses of
luggage rolled in; two servants sprang down from the coach..
box before the inn; and Philina, according to her custom,
foremost in the way of novelties, placed herself within the
door.
  " Who are you? " said the countess, entering the house.
  " An actress, at your Excellency's service," was the an-
swer; while the cheat, with a most innocent air, and looks
of great humility, courtesied, and kissed the lady's gown.
  The count, on seeing some other persons standing round,
who also signified that they were players, inquired about the
strength of their company, their last place of residence,
their manager. "' Had they but been Frenchmen," said he
to his lady, I we might have treated the prince with an un-
expected enjoyment, and entertained him with his favorite
pastime at our house."
  ' And could we not," said the countess, " get these peo-
ple, though unluckily they are but Germans, to exhibit with
us at the castle while the prince stays there? Without
doubt they have some degree of skill. A large party can
never be so well amused with any thing as with a theatre:
besides, the baron would assist them."
  So speaking, they went up-stairs; and Melina presented
himself above, as manager. " Call your folk together,"
said the count, "' and place them before me, that I may see
what is in them. I must also have the list of pieces you
profess to act."
  Melina, with a low bow, hastened from the room, and
soon returned with his actors. They advanced in promis-
cuous succession: some, out of too great anxiety to please,
introduced themselves in a rather sorry style; the others,
not much better, by assuming an air of unconcern. Philina
showed the deepest reverence to the countess, who behaved
with extreme graciousness and condescension: the count,
in the mean time, was mustering the rest. He questioned
each about his special province of acting, and signified to
Melina that he must rigorously keep them to their several
provinces, - a precept which the manager received with the
greatest devotion.
  The count then stated to each in particular what he ought
especially to study, what about his figure or his postures
ought to be amended; showed them luminously in what
points the Germans always fail; and displayed such extraor-
dinary knowledge, that all stood in the deepest humility,


187





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


scarcely daring to draw their breath before so enlightened
a critic and so right honorable a patron.
   "What fellow is that in the corner?" said the count,
 looking at a subject who had not yet been presented to him,
 and who now approached, - a lean, shambling figure, with
 a rusty coat, patched at the elbows, and a woful periwig
 covering his submissive head.
   This person, whom, from the last Book, we know already
 as Philina's darling, had been want to enact pedants, tutors,
 and poets, - generally undertaking parts in which any cud-
 gelling or ducking was to be endured. He had trained him-
 self to certain crouching, ludicrous, timid bows; and his
 faltering, stammering speech befitted the characters he
 played, and created laughter in the audience; so that he was
 always looked on as a useful member of the company, being
 moreover very serviceable and obliging. He approached
 the count in his own peculiar way, bent himself before him,
 and answered every question with the grimaces and gestures
 he was used to on the stage. The count looked at him for
 some time with an air of attentive satisfaction and studious
 observation; then, turning to the countess, " Child," said
 he, " consider this man well: I will engage for it he is a
 great actor, or may become so." The creature here, in the
 fulness of his heart, made an idiotic bow: the count burst
 into laughing, and exclaimed, " He does it excellently well !
-I bet this fellow can act any thing he likes: it is pity that
he has not been already used to something better."
   So singular a prepossession was extremely galling to the
 rest: Melina alone felt no vexation, but completely coincided
 with the count, and answered, with a prostrate look, " Alas !
 it is too true: both he and others of us have long stood in
 need of such encouragement, and such a judge, as we now
 find in your Excellency."
    " Is this the whole company ? " inquired the count.
    " Some of them are absent," said the crafty Melina;
 " and at any rate, if we should meet with support, we
 could soon collect abundant numbers from the neighbor-
 hood."
   Philina in the mean while was saying to the countess,
 "There is a very pretty young man above, who without doubt
 would shortly become a first-rate amateur."
   "Why does he not appear?" said the countess.
   " I will bring him," cried Philina, hastening to the door.
   She found our friend still occupied with Mignon: she per-


138





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


suaded him to come down. He followed her with some re-
luctance: yet curiosity impelled him; for, hearing that the
family were people of rank, he longed much to know more
of them. On entering the room, his eyes met those of the
countess, which were directed towards him. Philina led him
to the lady, while the count was busied with the rest. Wil-
helm made his bow, and replied to several questions from
the fair dame, not without confusion of mind. Her beauty
and youth, her graceful dignity and refined manner, made
the most delightful impression on him; and the more so, as
her words and looks were accompanied with a certain bash-
fulness, one might almost say embarrassment.  He was
likewise introduced to the count, who, however, took no
special notice of him, but went to the window with his lady,
and seemed to ask her about something. It was easy to ob-
serve that her opinion accorded strongly with his own; that
she even tried to persuade him, and strengthen him in his
intentions.
  In a short while he turned round to the company, and
said, " I must not stay at present, but I will send a friend
to youi; and if you make reasonable proposals, and will
take very great pains, I am not disinclined to let you play at
the castle."
  All testified their joy at this: Philina in particular kissed
the hands of the countess with the greatest vivacity.
  " Look you, little thing," said the lady, patting the cheeks
of the light-minded girl, " look you, child, you shall come
to me again: I will keep my promise; only you must dress
better." Philina stated in excuse that she had little to lay
out upon her wardrobe; and the countess immediately or-
dered her waiting-maids to bring from the carriage a silk
neckerchief and an English hat, the articles easiest to come
at, and give them to her new favorite. The countess her-
self then decked Philina, who continued very neatly to sup-
port, by her looks and conduct, that saintlike, guiltless
character she had assumed at first.
  The count took his lady's hand, and led her down. She
bowed to the whole company with a friendly air, in passing
by them: she turned round again towards Wilhelm, and said
to him, with the most gracious mien, " We shall soon meet
again."
  These happy prospects enlivened the whole party: every
one of them gave free course to his hopes, his wishes, his
imaginations; spoke of the parts he would play, and the ap-


139





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


plause' he would acquire. Melina was considering how he
might still, by a few speedy exhibitions, gain a little money
from the people of the town before he left it; while others
went into the kitchen, to order a better dinner than of late
they had been used to.





                     CHAPTER II.

  AFTER a few days the baron came, and it was not with-
out fear that Melina received him. The count had spoken
of him as a critic: and it might be dreaded, he would speed-
ily detect the weakness of the little party, and see that it
formed no efficient troop; there being scarcely a play which
they could act in a suitable manner. But the manager, as
well as all the members, were soon delivered from their
cares, on finding that the baron was a man who viewed the
German stage with a most patriotic enthusiasm, to whom
every player, and every company of players, was welcome
and agreeable. He saluted them all with great solemnity;
was happy to come upon a German theatre so unexpectedly,
to get connected with it, and to introduce their native Muses
to the mansion of his relative. He then pulled out from his
pocket a bundle of stitched papers, in which Melina hoped to
find the terms of their contract specified; but it proved some-
thing very different. It was a drama, which the baron him-
self had composed, and wished to have played by them: he
requested their attention while he read it. Willingly they
formed a circle round him, charmed at being able with so
little trouble to secure the favor of a man so important;
though, judging by the thickness of the manuscript, it was
clear that a very long rehearsal might be dreaded. Their
apprehensions were not groundless: the piece was written in
five acts, and that sort of acts which never have an end.
  The hero was an excellent, virtuous, magnanimous, and
at the same time misunderstood and persecuted, man : this
worthy person, after many trials, gained the victory at last
over all his enemies; on whom, in consequence, the most
rigorous poetic justice would have been exercised, had he
not pardoned them on the spot.
  While this piece was rehearsing, each of the auditors had


140





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


leisure enough to think of himself, and to mount up quite
softly from the humble prostration of mind, to which, a little
while ago, he had felt disposed, into a comfortable state of
contentment with his own gifts and advantages, and, from
this elevation, to discover the most pleasing prospects in the
future. Such of them as found in the play no parts adapted
for their own acting, internally pronounced it bad, and viewed
the baron as a miserable author; while the others, every
time they noticed any passage which they hoped might pro-
cure them a little clapping of the hands, exalted it with the
greatest praise, to the immeasurable satisfaction of the
author.
  The commercial part of their affair was soon completed.
Melina made an advantageous bargain with the baron, and
contrived to keep it secret from the rest.
  Of our friend, Melina took occasion to declare in passing,
that he seemed to be successfully qualifying himself for be-
coming a dramatic poet, and even to have some capacities
for being an actor. The baron introduced himself to Wil-
helm as a colleague; and the latter by and by produced some
short pieces, which, with a few other relics, had escaped by
chance, on the day when he threw the greater part of his
works into the flames. The baron lauded both his pieces and
delivery: he spoke of it as a settled thing, that Wilhelm
should come over to the castle with the rest. For all, at his
departure, he engaged to find the best reception, comfortable
quarters, a good table, applauses, and presents; and Melina
further gave the promise of a certain modicum of pocket-
money to each.
  It is easy to conceive how this visit raised the spirits of the
party : instead of a low and harassing situation, they now at
once saw honors and enjoyment before them. On the score
of these great hopes they already made merry, and each
thought it needless and stingy to retain a single groschen of
money in his purse.
  Meanwhile our friend was taking counsel with himself
about accompanying the troop to the castle; and he found
it, in more than one sense, advisable to do so. Melina was
in hopes of paying off his debt, at least in part, by this
engagement; and Wilhelm, who had come from home to
study men, was unwilling to let slip this opportunity of ex-
amining the great world, where he expected to obtain much
insight into life, into himself, and the dramatic art. With
all this, he durst not confess how greatly he wished again to


141





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


be near the beautiful countess. He rather sought to per-
suade himself in general of the mighty advantages which a
more intimate acquaintance with the world of rank and wealth
would procure for him. He pursued his reflections on the
count, the countess, the baron; on the security, the grace,
and propriety of their demeanor: he exclaimed with rapture
when alone, -
  �" Thrice happy are they to be esteemed, whom their birth
of itself exalts above the lower stages of mankind; who do
not need to traverse those perplexities, not even to skirt them,
in which many worthy men so painfully consume the whole
period of life. Far-extending and unerring must their vision
be, on that higher station; easy each step of their progress
in the world. From their very birth, they are placed, as it
were, in a ship, which, in this voyage we have all to make,
enables them to profit by the favorable winds, and to ride out
the cross ones; while others, bare of help, must wear their
strength away in swimming, can derive little profit from the
favorable breeze, and in the storm must soon become ex-
hausted, and sink to the bottom. What convenience, what
ease of movement, does a fortune we are born to confer upon
us ! How securely does a traffic flourish, which is founded on a
solid capital, where the failure of one or of many enterprises
does not of necessity reduce us to inaction! Who can better
know the worth and worthlessness of earthly things, than he
that has had within his choice the enjoyment of them from
youth upwards? and who can earlier guide his mind to the
useful, the necessary, the true, than he that may convince
himself of so many errors in an age when his strength is yet
fresh to begin a new career ? "
   Thus did our friend cry joy to all inhabitants of the upper
regions, and, not to them only, but to all that were permitted
to approach their circle, and draw water from their wells. So
he thanked his own happy stars, that seemed preparing to
grant this mighty blessing to himself.
   Melina, in the mean time, was torturing his brains to get
the company arranged according to their several provinces,
and each of them appointed to produce his own peculiar
effect. In compliance with the count's injunctions and his
own persuasions, he made many efforts; but at last, when it
came to the point of execution, he was forced to be content,
if, in so small a troop, he found his people willing to adjust
themselves to this or that part as they best were able. When
matters would admit of it, Laertes played the lover; Philina


142





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the lady's maid; the two young girls took up between them
the characters of the artless and tender loved ones; the bois-
terous old gentleman of the piece was sure to be the best
acted. Melina himself thought he might come forth as cheva-
lier; Madam Melina, to her no small sorrow, was obliged to
satisfy herself with personating young wives, or even affec-
tionate mothers; and as in the newer plays, a poet or pedant
is rarely introduced, and still more rarely for the purpose of
being laughed at, the well-known favorite of the count was
now usually transformed into president or minister, - these
being commonly set forth as knaves, and severely handled in
the fifth act. Melina, too, in the part of chamberlain or the
like, introduced, with great satisfaction, the ineptitudes put
into his hands by various honest Germans, according to use
and wont, in many well-accepted plays: he delighted in these
characters, because he had an opportunity of decking himself
out in a fashionable style, and was called upon to assume the
airs of a courtier, which he conceived himself to possess in
great perfection.
   It was not long till they were joined by several actors from
 different quarters; who, being received without very strict
 examination, were also retained without very burdensome
 conditions.
   Wilhelm had been more than once assailed with persua-
 sions from Melina to undertake an amateur part. This he
 declined; 'yet he interested and occupied himself about the
 general cause with great alacrity, without our new manager's
 acknowledging his labors in the smallest. On the contrary,
 it seemed to be Melina's opinion, that with his office he had
 at the same time picked up all the necessary skill for carrying
 it on. In particular, the task of curtailment formed one of
 his most pleasing occupations: he would succeed in reducing
 any given piece down to the regular measure of time, with-
 out the slightest respect to proprieties or proportions, or
 any thing whatever, but his watch. He met with great en-
 couragement; the public was very much delighted; the
Smost knowing inhabitants of the burgh maintained, that the
prince's theatre itself was not so well conducted as theirs.


143





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER III.

   AT last the time arrived when the company had to prepare
for travelling, and to expect the coaches and other vehicles
that were to carry them to the count's mansion. Much alter-
cation now took place about the mode of travelling, and who
should sit with whom. The ordering and distribution of the
whole was at length settled and concluded, with great labor,
and, alas! without effect. At the appointed hour, fewer
coaches came than were expected: they had to accommodate
themselves as the case would admit. The baron, who followed
shortly afterwards on horseback, assigned, as the reason,
that all was in motion at the castle, not only because the
prince was to arrive a few days earlier than had been looked
for, but also because an unexpected party of visitors were
already come: the place, he said, was in great confusion;
on this account perhaps they would not lodge so comfort-
ably as had been intended, - a change which grieved him
very much.
  Our travellers packed themselves into the carriages the
best way they could; and the weather being tolerable, and
the castle but a few leagues distant, the heartiest of the troop
preferred setting out on foot to waiting the return of the
coaches. The caravan got under way with great jubilee, for
the first' time without caring how the landlord's bill was to
be paid. The count's mansion rose on their souls like a
palace of the fairies: they were the happiest and merriest
mortals in the world. Each throughout the journey, in his
own peculiar mode, kept fastening a continued chain of
fortune, honor, and prosperity to that auspicious day.
   A heavy rain, which fell unexpectedly, did not banish these
delightful contemplations ; though, as it incessantly continued
with more and more violence, many of the party began to
show traces of uneasiness. The night came on ; and no sight
could be more welcome than the palace of the count, which
shone upon them from a hill at some distance, glancing
with light in all its stories, so that they could reckon every
window.
   On approaching nearer, they found all the windows in the
wings illuminated also. Each of the party thought within
himself what chamber would be his; and most of them pru-
dently determined to be satisfied with a room in the attic, or
some of the side buildings.


144





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  They were now proceeding through the village, past the
inn. Wilhelm stopped the coach, in the mind to alight there ;
but the landlord protested that it was not in his power to
afford the least accommodation: his lordship the count, he
said, being visited by some unexpected guests, had imme-
diately engaged the whole inn; every chamber in the house
had been marked with chalk last night, specifying who was
to lodge there. Our friend was accordingly obliged, against
his will, to travel forward to the castle with the rest of the
company.
  In one of the side buildings, round the kitchen fire, they
noticed several cooks running busily about, - a sight which
refreshed them not a little. Servants came jumping hastily
with lights to the staircase of the main door, and the hearts
of the worthy pilgrims overflowed at the aspect of such
honors. But how great was their surprise, when this cordial
reception changed into a storm of curses. The servants
scouted the coachman for driving in hither; they must wheel
out again, it was bawled, and take their loading round to the
old castle; there was no room here for such guests! To this
unfriendly and unexpected dismissal, they joined all manner
of jeering, and laughed aloud at each other for leaping out
in the rain on so false an errand. It was still pouring; no
star was visible in the sky; while our company were dragged
along a rough, jolting road, between two walls, into the old
mansion, which stood behind, inhabited by none since the
present count's father had built the new residence in front of
it. The carriages drew up, partly in the court-yard, partly
in a long, arched gateway; and the postilions, people hired
from the village, unyoked their horses, and rode off.
  As nobody came forward to receive the travellers, they
alighted from their places, they shouted, and searched. In
vain !  All continued dark and still.  The wind swept
thro,'h the lofty gate: the court and the old towers were
lying gray and dreary, and so dim that their forms could
scarcely be distinguished in the gloom. The people were all
shuddering and freezing; the women were becoming fright-
ened; the children began to cry; the general impatience was
increasing every minute; so quick a revolution of fortune,
for which no one of them had been at all prepared, entirely
destroyed their equanimity.
  Expecting every minute that some person would appear
and unbolt the doors, mistaking at one time the p)attering
of rain, at another the rocking of the wind, for the much-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP,


desired footstep of the castle bailiff, they continued down.
cast and inactive: it occurred to none of them to go into the
new mansion, and there solicit help from charitable souls.
They could not understand where their friend the baron was
lingering: they were in the most disconsolate condition.
  At last some people actually arrived : by their voices, they
were recognized as the pedestrians who had fallen behind
the others on the journey. They intimated that the baron
had tumbled with his horse, and hurt his leg severely; and
that, on calling at the castle, they, too, had been roughly di-
rected hither.
  The whole company were in extreme perplexity: they
guessed and speculated as to what should now be done, but
they could fix on nothing. At length they noticed from afar
a lantern advancing, and took fresh breath at sight of it;
but their hopes of quick deliverance again evaporated, when
the object approached, and came to be distinctly seen. A
groom was lighting the well-known Stallmeister of the castle
towards them: this gentleman, on coming nearer, very
anxiously inquired for Mademoiselle Philina. No sooner
had she stepped forth from the crowd, than he very press-
ingly offered to conduct her to the new mansion, where a
little place had been provided for her with the countess's
maids. She did not hesitate long about accepting his pro-
posal; she caught his arm, and, recommending her trunk to
the care of the rest, was going to hasten off with him directly :
but the others intercepted them, asking, entreating, conjur-
ing the Stallmeister; till at last, to get away with his fair one,
he promised every thing, assuring them, that, in a little while,
the castle should be opened, and they lodged in the most
comfortable manner. In a few moments they saw the glim-
mer of his lantern vanish: they long looked in vain for
another gleam of light. At last, after much watching, scold-
ing, and reviling, it actually appeared, and revived them with
a touch of hope and consolation.
  An ancient footman opened the door of the old edifice, into
which they rushed with violence. Each of them now strove
to have his trunk unfastened, and brought in beside him.
Most of this luggage, like the persons of its owners, was
thoroughly wetted. Having but a single light, the process
of unpacking went on very slowly. In the dark passages
they pushed against each other, they stumbled, they fell.
They begged to have more lights, they begged to have some
fuel. The monosyllabic footman, with much ado, consented


146





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


to put down his own lantern; then went his way, and came
not again.
  They now began to investigate the edifice. The doors of
all the rooms were open: large stoves, tapestry hangings,
inlid floors, yet bore witness to its former pomp; but of
other house-gear there was none to be seen, - no table, chair,
or mirror, nothing but a few monstrous, empty bedsteads,
stripped of every ornament and every necessary. The wet
trunks and knapsacks were adopted as seats: a part of the
tired wanderers placed themselves upon the floor. Wilhelm
had sat down upon some steps: Mignon lay upon his knees.
The child was        ,        en he asked what ailed her,
she answered,                .   He himself had nothing
that could still the craving-of the child: the rest of the party
had consumed their whole provision, so he was obliged to
leave the little traveller without refreshment. Through the
whole adventure he had been inactive, silently immersed in
thought. He was very sullen, and full of indignant regret
that he had not kept by his first determination, and remained
at the inn, though he should have slept in the garret.
  The rest demeaned themselves in various ways. Some of
them had got a heap of old wood collected within a vast, gap-
ing chimney in the hall: they set fire to the pile with great
huzzaing,. Unhappily, however, their hopes of warming
and drying themselves by means of it were mocked in the
most frightful manner. The chimney, it appeared, was there
for ornament alone, and was walled up above; so the smoke
rushed quickly back, and at once filled the whole chamber.
The dry wood rose crackling into flames; the flame was also
driven back; the draught sweeping through the .broken win-
dows gave it a wavering direction. Terrified lest the castle
should catch fire, the unhappy guests had to tear the burning
sticks asunder, to smother and trample them under their feet;
the smoke increased; their case was rendered more intolera-
ble than before; they were driven to the brink of despera-
tion.
  Wilhelm had retreated from the smoke into a distant
chamber, to which Mignon soon followed him, leading in a
well-dressed servant, with a high, clear, double-lighted lan-
tern in his hand. He turned to Wilhelm, and, holding out
to him some fruits and confectionery on a beautiful porce-
lain plate, " The young lady up-stairs," said he, " sends
you this, with the request that you would join her party:
she bids me tell you," added the lackey, with a sort of grin,


147





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


" that she is very well off yonder, and wishes to divide her
enjoyments with her friends."
   Wilhelm had not at all expected such a message; for,
 ever since the adventure on the stone bench, he had treated
 Philina with the most decided contempt. He was still so
 resolute to have no more concern with her that he thought
 of sending back her dainty gifts untasted, when a suppli-
 cating look of Mignon's induced him to accept them. He
 returned his thanks in the name of the child. The invita-
 tion he entirely rejected. He desired the servant to exert
.himself a little for the stranger company, and made inquiry
for the baron. The latter, he was told, had gone to bed,
but had already, as the lackey understood, given orders to
some other person to take charge of these unfortunate and
ill-lodged gentlemen.
   The servant went away, leaving one of his lights, which
Wilhelm, in the absence of a candlestick, contrived to fix
upon the window-casement; and now, at least in his medi-
tations, he could see the four walls of his chamber. Nor
was it long till preparations were commenced for conducting
our travellers to rest. Candles arrived by degrees, though
without snuffers; then a few chairs; an hour afterwards
came bed-clothes; then pillows, all well steeped in rain. It
was far past midnight when straw beds and mattresses were
produced, which, if sent at first, would have been extremely
welcome.
   In the interim, also, somewhat to eat and drink had been
brought in: it was enjoyed without much criticism; though
it looked like a most disorderly collection of remains, and
offered no very singular proof of the esteem in which our
guests were held.




                     CHAPTER IV.

   THE disorders and mischievous tricks of some frolicsome
companions still further augmented the disquietudes and dis-
tresses of the night: these gay people woke each other; each
played a thousand giddy pranks to plague his fellow. The
next morning dawned amid loud complaints against their
friend the baron, for having so deceived them, for having
given so very false a notion of the order and comfort that


148





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


awaited their arrival. However, to their great surprise and
consolation, at an early hour the count himself, attended by
a few servants, made his entrance, and inquired about their
circumstances. He appeared much vexed on discovering
how badly they had fared; and the baron, who came limping
along, supported on the arm of a servant, bitterly accused
the steward for neglecting his commands on this occasion, -
showing great anxiety to have that person punished for his
disobedience.
  The count gave immediate orders that every thing should
be arranged, in his presence, to the utmost possible conven-
ience of the guests. While this was going on, some officers
arrived, who forthwith scraped acquaintance with the ac-
tresses. The count assembled all the company before him,
spoke to each by name, introduced a few jokes among his
observations; so that every one was charmed at the gracious
condescension of his lordship. At last it came to Wilhelm's
turn. He appeared with Mignon holding by his hand. Our
friend excused himself, in the best terms he could, for the
freedom he had taken. The count, on the other hand, spoke
as if the visit had been looked for.
  A gentleman, who stood beside the count, and who, al-
though he wore no uniform, appeared to be an officer, con-
versed wih Wilhelm : he was evidently not a common man.
His large, keen blue eyes, looking out from beneath a high
brow; his light-colored hair, thrown carelessly back; his
middle stature; every thing about him, - showed an active,
firm, and decisive mode of being. His questions were lively.
He seemed to be at home in all that he inquired about.
  Wilhelm asked the baron what this person was, but found
that he had little good to say of him. 1" He held the rank
of major, was the special favorite of the prince; managed
his most secret affairs; was, in short, regarded as his right
arm, -nay, there was reason to believe him the prince's
natural son. He had been on embassies in France, Eng-
land, Italy. In all those places he had greatly distinguished
himself, by which means he was grown conceited; imagin-
ing, among other pretensions, that he thoroughly understood
the literature of Germany, and allowing himself to vent all
kinds of sorry jests upon it. He, the baron, was in the habit
of avoiding all intercourse with him; and Wilhelm would
do well to imitate that conduct, for it somehow happened
that no one could be near him without being punished for it.
He was called Jarno, though nobody knew rightly what to
make of such a name."


149





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Wilhelm had nothing to urge against all this: he had felt
a sort of inclination for the stranger, though he noticed in
him something cold and repulsive.
  The company being arranged and distributed throughout
the castle, Melina issued the strictest orders that they should
behave themselves with decency, the women live in a sepa-
rate quarter, and each direct his whole attention to the study
of dramatic art, and of the characters he had to play. He
posted up written ordinances, consisting of many articles,
upon all the doors. He settled the amount of fine which
should be levied upon each transgressor, and put into a com-
mon box.
  This edict was but little heeded. Young officers went out
and in; they jested, not in the most modest fashion, with
the actresses; made game of the actors, and annihilated the
whole system of police before it had the smallest time to
take root in the community. The people ran chasing one
another through the rooms; they changed clothes; they dis-
guised themselves. Melina, attempting to be rigorous with
a few at first, was exasperated by every sort of insolence;
and, when the count soon after sent for him to come and
view the place where his theatre was to be erected, mat-
ters grew worse. and worse. The young gentry devised a
thousand broad jokes : by the help of some actors, they be-
came yet coarser. It seemed as if the old castle had been
altogether given up to an infuriate host, and the racket did
not end till dinner.
   Meanwhile, the count had led Melina over to a large hall,
which, though belonging to the old castle, communicated by
a gallery with the new one: it seemed very well adapted for
being changed into a little theatre. Here the sagacious lord
of the mansion pointed out in person how he wanted every
thing to be.
   The labor now commenced in the greatest haste; the stage
apparatus was erected and furbished up; what decorations
they had brought along with them and could employ were
set in order, and what was wanting was prepared by some
skilful workmen of the count's. Wilhelm likewise put his
hand to the business; he assisted in settling the perspec-
tive, in laying off the outlines of the scenery: he was very
anxious that nothing should be executed clumsily. The
count, who frequently came in to inspect their progress,
was highly satisfied : he showed particularly how they should
proceed in every case, displaying an uncommon knowledge
of all the arts they were concerned with.


150





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Next began the business of rehearsing, in good earnest;
and there would have been enough of space and leisure for
this undeirtaking, had the actors not continually been inter-
rupted by the presence of visitors. Some new guests were
daily arriving, and each insisted on viewing the operations
of the company.




                      CHAPTER V.

  THE baron had, for several days, been cheering Wilhelm
with the hope of being formally presented to the countess.
" I have told this excellent lady," said he, " so much about
the talent and fine sentiment displayed in your compositions,
that she feels quite impatient to see you, and hear one or two
of them read. Be prepared, therefore, to come over at a
moment's notice; for, the first morning she is at leisure, you
will certainly be called on." He then pointed out to him
the afterpiece it would be proper to produce on that occa-
sion; adding, that doubtless it would recommend him to no
usual degree of favor. The lady, he declared, was ex-
tremely sorry that a guest like him had happened to arrive
at a time of such confusion, when they could not entertain
him in a style more suitable to his merits and their own
wishes.
  In consequence of this information, Wilhelm, with the
most sedulous attention, set about preparing the piece,
which was to usher him into the great world. / '' Hitherto,"
said he, " thou hast labored in silence for thyself, applauded
only by a small circle of friends. Thou hast for a time
despaired of thy abilities, and are yet full of anxious doubts
whether even thy present path is the right one, and whether
thy talent for the stage at all corresponds with thy inclina-
tion for it. In the hearing of such practised judges, in the
closet where no illusion can take place, the attempt is far
more hazardous than elsewhere; and yet I would not will-
ingly recoil from  the experiment: I could wish to add
this pleasure to my former enjoyments, and, if it might
be, to give extension and stability to my hopes from the
future."
  He accordingly went through some pieces; read them with
the keenest critical eye; made corrections here and there;


151





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


recited them aloud, that he might be perfect in his tones and
expression : and finally selected the work which he was best
acquainted with, and hoped to gain most honor by. He put
it in his pocket, one morning, on being summoned to attend
the countess.
  The baron had assured him that there would be no one
present but the lady herself and a worthy female friend of
hers. On entering the chamber, the Baroness von C
advanced with great friendliness to meet him, expressed
her happiness at gaining his acquaintance, and introduced
him to the countess, who was then under the hands of her
hair-dresser.. The countess received him with kind words
and looks. But it vexed him to see Philina kneeling at her
chair, and playing a thousand fooleries. 11 The poor child,"
said the baroness, " has just been singing to us. Finish
the song you were in the midst of: we should not like to
lose it."
  Wilhelm listened to her quavering with great patience,
being anxious for the friseur's departure before he should
begin to read. They offered him a cup of chocolate, the
baroness herself handing him the biscuit. Yet, in spite of
these civilities, he relished not his breakfast: he was long-
ing too eagerly to lay before the lovely countess some per-
formance that might interest and gratify her. Philina, too,
stood .somewhat in his way: on former occasions, while
listening to him, she had more than once been troublesome.
He looked at the friseur with a painful feeling, hoping
every moment that the tower of curls would be complete.
   Meanwhile the count came in, and began to talk of the
fresh visitors he was expecting, of the day's occupations or
amusements, and of various domestic matters that were
started. On his retiring, some officers sent to ask permis-
sion of the countess to pay their respects to her, as they had
to leave the castle before dinner. The footman having come
to his post at the door, she permitted him to usher in the
gentlemen.
   The baroness, amid these interruptions, took pains to
entertain our friend, and showed him much consideration;
all which he accepted with becoming reverence, though not
without a little absence of mind. Hie often felt for the
manuscript in his pocket, and hoped for his deliverance
every instant. He was almost losing patience, when a man-
milliner was introduced, and immediately began without
mercy to open his papers, bags, and bandboxes; pressing


152





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


all his various wares upon the ladies, with an importunity
peculiar to that species of creature.
  The company increased. The baroness cast a look at
Wilhelm, and then whispered with the countess: he noticed
this, but did not understand the purpose of it. The whole,
however, became clear enough, when, after an hour of pain-
ful and fruitless endurance, he went away. He then found
a beautiful pocket-book, of English manufacture, in his
pocket. The baroness had dexterously put it there without
his notice; and soon afterwards the countess's little black
came out, and handed him an elegantly flowered waistcoat,
without very clearly saying whence it came.





                     CHAPTER VI.

  THIS mingled feeling of vexation and gratitude spoiled the
remainder of his day; till, towards evening, he once more
found employment. Melina informed him that the count
had been speaking of a little prelude, which he wished to
have produced in honor of the prince, on the day of his
Highness's arrival. He meant to have the great qualities of
this noble hero and philanthropist personified in the piece.
These Virtues were to advance together, to recite his praises,
and finally to encircle his bust with garlands of flowers and
laurels; behind which a transparency might be inserted,
representing the princely Hat, and his name illuminated on
it. The count, Melina said, had ordered him to take charge
of getting ready the verses and other arrangements; and
Wilhelm, he hoped, to whom it must be an easy matter,
would stand by him on this occasion.
  "What ! " exclaimed our friend, in a splenetic tone,
"have we nothing but portraits, illuminated names, and
allegorical figures, to show in honor of a prince, who, in my
opinion, merits quite a different eulogy ? How can it flatter
any reasonable man to see himself set up in effigy, and his
name glimmering on oiled paper? I am very much afraid
that your allegories, particularly in the present state of the
wardrobe, will furnish occasion for many ambiguities and
jestings. If you mean, however, to compose the play, or
have it composed, I can have nothing to object; only I
desire to have no part or lot in 6u matter."


153





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Melina excused himself; alleging this to be only a casual
hint of his lordship the count, who for the rest had left
the arrangement of the piece entirely in their own hands.
" With all my heart," replied our friend, " will I contribute
something to the pleasure of this noble family: my Muse
has never had so pleasant an employment as to sing, though
in broken numbers, the praises of a prince who merits so
much veneration.    I will think of the matter: perhaps I
may be able to contrive some way of bringing out our little
troop, so as at least to produce some effect."
  From   this moment Wilhelm     eagerly reflected on his
undertaking. Before going to sleep he had got it all re-
duced to some degree of order; early next morning his plan
was ready, the scenes laid out; a few of the most striking
passages and songs were even versified and written down.
  As soon as he was dressed, our friend made haste to wait
upon the baron, to submit the plan to his inspection, and
take his advice upon certain points connected with it. The
baron testified his approbation of it, but not without con-
siderable surprise. For, on the previous evening, he had
heard his lordship talk of having ordered some quite differ-
ent piece to be prepared and versified.
   " To me it seems improbable," replied our friend, 1" that
it could be his lordship's wish to have the piece got ready,
exactly as he gave it to Melina. If I am not mistaken, he
intended mer-ely to point out to us from a distance the path
we were to follow. The amateur and critic shows the artist
what is wanted, and then leaves to him the care of produ-
cing it by his own means."
   " Not at all," replied the baron : " his lordship under-
stands that the piece shall be composed according to that and
no other plan which he has himself prescribed. Yours has,
indeed, a remote similarity with his idea; but if we mean to
accomplish our purpose, and get the count diverted from his
first thought, we shall need to employ the ladies in the mat-
ter.  The baroness especially contrives to execute such
operations in the most masterly manner: the question is
now, whether your plan shall so please her, that she will
undertake the business; in that case it will certainly suc-
ceed."
   " We need the assistance of the ladies," said our friend,
" at any rate; for neither our company nor our wardrobe
would suffice without them. I have counted on some pretty
children, that are running up and down the house, and belong
to certain of the servants."


154





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  He then desired the baron to communicate his plan to the
ladies. The baron soon returned with intelligence that they
wished to speak with Wilhelm personally. That same even-
ing, when the gentlemen sat down to play, which, owing to
the arrival of a certain general, was expected to be deeper
and keener than usual, the countess and her friend, under
pretext of some indisposition, would retire to their chamber,
where Wilhelm, being introduced by a secret staircase, might
submit his project without interruption. This sort of mys-
tery, the baron said, would give the adventure a peculiar
charm; in particular the baroness was rejoicing like a child
in the prospect of their rendezvous, and the more so, be-
cause it was to be accomplished secretly, and against the in-
clination of the count.
  Towards evening, at the appointed time, Wilhelm was sent
for, and led in with caution. As the baroness advanced to
meet him in a small cabinet, the manner of their interview
brought former happy scenes for a moment to his mind. She
conducted him along to the countess's chamber, and they
now proceeded earnestly to question and investigate. He
exhibited his plan with the utmost warmth and vivacity, so
that his fair audience were quite decided in its favor. Our
readers also will permit us to present a brief sketch of it
here.
  The play, was to open with a dance of children in some
rural scene, - their dance representing that particular game
wherein each has to wheel round, and gain the other's place.
This was to be followed by several variations of their play;
till at last, in performing a dance of the repeating kind, they
were all to sing a merry song.
  Here the old harper with Mignon was to enter, and, by the
curiosity which they excited, gather several country-people
round them; the harper would sing various songs in praise
of peace, repose, and joy; and Mignon would then dance
the egg-dance.
  In these innocent delights, they are disturbed by the sound
of martial music; and the party are surprised by a troop of
soldiers. The men stand on the defensive, and are over-
come: the girls flee, and are overtaken. In the tumult all
seems going to destruction, when a person (about whose
form and qualities the poet was not yet determined) enters,
and, by signifying that the general is near, restores compos-
ure. Whereupon the hero's character is painted in the finest
colors; security is promised in the midst of axms; violence


1.55





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


and lawless disorder are now to be restrained. A universal
festival is held in honor of the noble-minded captain.
  The countess and her friend expressed great satisfaction
with the plan; only they maintained that there must of
necessity be something of allegory introduced, to make it
palatable to his lordship. The baron prbposed that the
leader of the soldiers should be represented as the Genius of
Dissension and Violence; that Minerva should then advance
to bind fetters on him, to give notice of the hero's approach,
and celebrate his praise. The baroness undertook the task
of persuading the count that this plan was the one proposed
by himself, with a few alterations; at the same time ex-
pressly stipulating, that without fail, at the conclusion of
the piece, the bust, the illuminated name, and the princely
Hat should be exhibited in due order; since otherwise, her
attempt was vain.
  Wilhelm had already figured in his mind how delicately and
how nobly he would have the praises of his hero celebrated in
the mouth of Minerva, and it was not without a long
struggle that he yielded in this point. Yet he felt himself
delightfully constrained to yield. The beautiful eyes of the
countess, and her lovely demeanor, would easily have moved
him to sin against his conscience as a poet; to abandon the
finest and most interesting invention, the keenly wished-for
unity of his composition, and all its most suitable details.
His conscience as a burgher had a trial no less hard to un-
dergo, when the ladies, in distributing the characters, point-
edly insisted that he must undertake one himself.
  Laertes had received for his allotment the part of that
violent war-god; Wilhelm was to represent the leader of the
peasants, who had some very pretty and tender verses to
recite. After long resistance he was forced to comply: he
could find no excuse, when the baroness protested that their
stage was in all respects to be regarded as a private one,
and that she herself would very gladly play on it, if they
could find her a fit occasion. On receiving his consent, they
parted with our friend on the kindest terms. The baroness
assured him that he was an incomparable man: she accom-
panied him to the little stairs, and wished him good-night
with a squeeze of the hand.


156





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER VII.

  THE interest in his undertakings, which the countess and
her friend expressed and felt so warmly, quickened Wil-
helm's faculties and zeal: the plan of his piece, which the
process of describing it had rendered more distinct, was now
present in the most brilliant vividness before his mind. He
spent the greater part of that night, and the whole of next
morning, in the sedulous versification of the dialogue and
songs.
  He had proceeded a considerable way, when a message
came, requiring his attendance in the castle: the noble com-
pany, who were then at breakfast, wished to speak with him.
As he entered the parlor, the baroness advanced to meet
him, and, under pretext of wishing him   good-morning,
whispered cunningly, " Say nothing of your piece but what
you shall be asked."
  "' I hear," cried the count to him, " that you are very
busy working at my prelude, which I mean to present in
honor of the prince. I consent that you introduce a Mi-
nerva into it; and we are just thinking beforehand how the
goddess shall be dressed, that we may not blunder in cos-
tume. For this purpose I am causing them to fetch from
the library all the books that contain any figures of her."
  At the same instant, one or two servants entered the
parlor, with a huge basket full of books of every shape and
appearance.
  Montfaucon, the collections of antique statues, gems, and
coins, all sorts of mythological writings, were turned up,
and their plates compared. But this was not enough. The
count's faithful memory recalled to him all the Minervas to
be found in frontispieces, vignettes, or anywhere else; and
book after book was, in consequence, carried from the library,
till finally the count was sitting in a chaos of volumes. Un-
able at last to recollect any other figure of Minerva, he ob-
served with a smile, " I durst bet, that now there is not a
single Minerva in all the library; and perhaps it is the first
time that a collection of books has been so totally deprived
of the presence of its patron goddess."
  The whole company were merry at this thought: Jarno
particularly, who had all along been spurring on the count to
call for more and more books, laughed quite immoderately.
  " Now," said the count, turning to Wilhelm, " one chief


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


point is, - which goddess do you mean ? Minerva, or Pallas ?
The goddess of war, or of the arts ? "
  " Would it not be best, your Excellency," said Wilhelm,
"if we were not clearly to express ourselves on this head; if,
since the goddess plays a double part in the ancient mythol-
ogy, we also exhibited her here in a double quality? She
announces a warrior, but only to calm the tumults of the
people; she celebrates a hero by exalting his humanity; she
conquers violence, and restores peace and security."
  The baroness, afraid lest Wilhelm might betray himself,
hastily pushed forward the countess's tailor, to give his
opinion how such an antique robe could best be got ready.
This man, being frequently employed in making masquerade
dresses, very easily contrived the business: and as Madam
Melina, notwithstanding her advanced state of pregnancy,
had undertaken to enact the celestial virgin, the tailor was
directed to take her measure; and the countess, though with
some reluctance, selected from the wardrobe the clothes he
was to cut up for that purpose.
  The baroness, in her dexterous way, again contrived to
lead Wilhelm aside, and let him know that she had been pro-
viding all the other necessaries.  Shortly afterwards she
sent him the musician, who had charge of the count's private
band; and this professor set about composing what airs were
wanted, or choosing from his actual stock such tunes as
appeared suitable. From this time all went on according to
the wishes of our friend: the count made no more inquiries
about the piece; being altogether occupied with the trans-
parent decoration, destined to surprise the spectators at the
conclusion of the play. His inventive genius, aided by the
skill of his confectioner, produced, in fact, a very pretty
article. In the course of his travels, the count had witnessed
the most splendid exhibitions of this sort: he had also
brought-home with him a number of copper-plates and draw-
ings, and could sketch such things with considerable taste.
  Meanwhile Wilhelm finished the play, gave every one his
part, and began the study of his own. The musician also,
having great skill in dancing, prepared the ballet; so that
every thing proceeded as it ought.
   Yet one unexpected obstacle occurred, which threatened
to occasion an unpleasant gap in the performance. He had
promised to himself a striking effect from Mignon's egg-
dance, and was much surprised when the child, with her
customary dryness of manner, refused to dance; saying she


158





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was now his, and would no more go upon the stage. He
sought to move her by every sort of persuasion, and did not
discontinue his attempt till she began weeping bitterly, fell
at his feet, and cried out, " Dearest father ! stay thou from
the boards thyself ! " Little heeding this caution, he studied
how to give the scene some other turn that might be equally
interesting.
  Philina, whose appointment was to act one of the peasant
girls, and in the concluding dance to give the single-voice
part of the song, and lead the chorus, felt exceedingly de-
lighted that it had been so ordered. In other respects, too,
her present life was altogether to her mind: she had her
separate chamber; was constantly beside the countess, enter-
taining her with fooleries, and daily received some present
for her pains. Among other things, a dress had been ex-
pressly made for her wearing in this prelude. And being of
a light, imitative nature, she quickly marked in the procedure
of the ladies whatever would befit herself: she had of late
grown all politeness and decorum. The attentions of the
Stallmeister augmented rather than diminished; and as the
officers also paid zealous court to her, living in so genial an
element, it came into her head for once in her life to play
the prude, and, in a quiet, gradual way, to take upon her-
self a certain dignity of manner to which she had not before
aspired. Cool and sharp-sighted as she was, eight days had
not elapsed till she knew the weak side of every person in
the house; so that, had she possessed the power of acting
from any constant motive, she might very easily have made
her fortune. But on this occasion, as on all others, she
employed her advantages merely to divert herself, - to pro-
cure a bright to-day, and be impertinent, wherever she ob-
served that impertinence was not attended with danger.
   The parts were now committed to memory: a rehearsal of
the piece was ordered; the count purposed to be present at
it, and his lady began to feel anxious how he might receive
it. The baroness called Wilhelm to her privately. The nearer
the hour approached, they all displayed the more perplexity ;
for the truth was, that, of the count's original idea, nothing
whatever had been introduced. Jarno, who joined them while
consulting together, was admitted to the secret. He felt
amused at the contrivance, and was heartily disposed to offer
the ladies his good services in carrying it through. " It will
go hard," said he, " if you cannot extricate yourselves with-
out help from this affair; but, at all events, I will wait, as a


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body of reserve."   The baroness then told them how she
had on various occasions recited the whole piece to the count,
but only in fragments and without order; that consequently
he was prepared for each individual passage, yet certainly
possessed with the idea that the whole would coincide with
his original conception. " I will sit by him," said she, " to-
night at the rehearsal, and study to divert his attention.
The confectioner I have engaged already to make the decora-
tion as beautiful as possible, but as yet he has not quite
completed it."
  " I know of a court," said Jarno, "where I wish we had
a few such active and prudent friends as you. If your skill
to-night will not suffice, give me a signal: I will take out
the count, and not let him in again till Minerva enter; and
you have speedy aid to expect from the illumination. For a
day or two I have had something to report to him about his
cousin, which for various reasons I have hitherto postponed.
It will give his thoughts another turn, and that none of the
pleasantest."
  Business hindered the count from being present when the
play began; the baroness amused him after his arrival:
Jarno's help was not required. For as the count had abun-
dance of employment in pointing out improvements, rectifying
and arranging the detached parts, he entirely forgot the pur-
port o f the whole; and, as at last Madam Melina advanced,
and spoke according to his heart, and the transparency did
well, he seemed completely satisfied. It was not till the
whole was finished, and his guests were sitting down to cards,
that the difference appeared to strike him; and he began to
think whether after all this piece was actually of his inven-
tion. At a signal from the baroness, Jarno then came for-
ward into action; the evening passed away; the intelligence
of the prince's approach was confirmed; the people rode out
more than once to see his vanguard encamping in the neigh-
borhood; the house was full of noise and tumult; and our
actors, not always served in the handsomest manner by un-
willing servants, had to pass their time in practisings and
expectations at their quarters in the old mansion, without
any one particularly taking thought about them.


1.60





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER VIII.

  AT length the prince arrived, with all his generals, staff-
officers, and suite accompanying him. These, and the multi-
tude of people coming to visit or do business with him, made
the castle like a beehive on the point of swarming. All
pressed forward to behold a man no less distinguished by his
rank than by his great qualities, and all admired his urbanity
and condescension : all were astonished at finding the hero
and the leader of armies also the most accomplished and
attractive courtier.
  By the count's orders, the inmates of the castle were re-
quired to be all at their posts when the prince arrived: not
a player was allowed to show himself, that his Highness might
have no anticipation of the spectacle prepared to welcome
him. Accordingly, when at evening he was led into the lofty
hall, glowing with light, and adorned with tapestries of the
previous century, he seemed not at all prepared to expect a
play, and still less a prelude in honor of himself. Every
thing went off as it should have done : at the conclusion of
the show, the whole troop were called and presented indi-
vidually to the prince, who contrived, with the most pleasing
and friendly air, to put some question, or make some remark,
to every due of them. Wilhelm, as author of the piece, was
particularly noticed, and had his tribute of applause liberally
paid him.
  The prelude being fairly over, no one asked another word
about it: in a few days, it was as if it never had existed;
except that occasionally Jarno spoke of it to Wilhelm, judi-
ciously praised it, adding, however, " It is pity you should
play with hollow nuts, for a stake of hollow nuts."  This
expression stuck in Wilhelm's mind for several days: he
knew not how to explain it, or what to infer from it.
  Meanwhile the company kept acting every night, as well
as their capacities permitted ; each doing his utmost to attract
the attention of spectators. Undeserved applauses cheered
them on : in their old castle they fully believed, that the great
assemblage was crowding thither solely on their account ; that
the multitude of strangers was allured by their exhibitions;
that they were the centre round which, and by means of which,
the whole was moving and revolving.
   Wilhelm alone discovered, to his sorrow, that directly the
reverse was true. For although the prince had waited out


161





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the first exhibitions, sitting on his chair, with the greatest
conscientiousness, yet by degrees he grew remiss in his at-
tendance, and seized every plausible occasion of withdrawing.
And those very people whom Wilhelm, in conversation, had
found to be the best informed and most sensible, with Jarno
at their head, were wont to spend but a few transitory mo-
ments in the hall of the theatre; sitting for the rest of their
time in the ante-chamber, gaming, or seeming to employ them-
selves in business.
  Amid all his persevering efforts, to want the wished and
hoped for approbation grieved Wilhelm very deeply. In the
choice of plays, in transcribing the parts, in numerous re-
hearsals, and whatever further could be done, he zealously
co-operated with Melina, who, being in secret conscious
of his own insufficiency, at length acknowledged and pur-
sued these counsels.  His own parts Wilhelm    diligently
studied, and executed with vivacity and feeling, and with
all the propriety the little training he had yet received would
allow.
  At the same time, the unwearied interest the baron took
in their performances obliterated every doubt from the
minds of the rest of the company : he assured them that
their exhibitions were producing the deepest effect, especially
while -one of his own pieces had been representing; only
he was grieved to say, the prince showed an exclusive in-
clination for the French theatre; while a part of his people,
among whom Jarno was especially distinguished, gave a
passionate preference to the monstrous productions of the
English stage.
   If in this way the art of our players was not adequately
noticed and admired, their persons on the other hand grew
not entirely indifferent to all the gentlemen and all the
ladies of the audience. We observed above, that, from the
very first, our actresses had drawn upon them the attention
of the young officers: in the sequel they were luckier, and
made more important conquests.     But, omitting these, we
shall merely observe, that Wilhelm every day appeared more
interesting to the countess; while in him, too, a silent inclina-
tion towards her was beginning to take root. Whenever he
was on the stage, she could not turn her eyes from him; and,
erelong, he seemed to play and to recite with his face towards
her alone. To look upon each other, was to them the sweet-
est satisfaction; to which their harmless souls yielded with-
out reserve, without cherishing a bolder wish, or thinking
about any consequence.


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  As two hostile outposts will sometimes peacefully and
pleasantly converse together across the river,which divides
them, not thinking of the war in which both their countries
are engaged: so did the countess exchange looks full of
meaning with our friend, across the vast chasm of birth and
rank; both believing for themselves that they might safely
cherish their several emotions.
  The baroness, in the mean time, had selected Laertes,
who, being a spirited and lively young man, pleased her very
much; and who, woman-hater as he was, felt unwilling to
refuse a passing adventure. He would actually on this occa-
sion have been fettered, against his will, by the courteous
and attractive nature of the baroness, had not the baron
done him accidentally a piece of good, or, if you will, of
bad, service, by instructing him a little in the habits and
temper of this lady.
  Laertes, happening once to celebrate her praises, and give
her the preference to every other of her sex, the baron, with
a grin, replied, ' I see how matters stand: our fair friend
has got a fresh inmate for her stalls." This luckless com-
parison, which pointed too clearly to the dangerous caresses
of the Circe, grieved poor Laertes to the heart: he could not
listen to the baron without spite and anger, as the latter
continued without mercy, -
  " Every stranger thinks he is the first whom this delightful
manner of proceeding has concerned, but he is grievously
mistaken; for we have all, at one time or another, been
trotted round this course. Man, youth, or boy, be who he
like, each must devote himself to her service for a season,
must hang about her, and toil and long to gain her favor."
  To the happy man just entering the garden of an enchant-
ress, and welcomed by all the pleasures of an artificial
spring, nothing can form a more unpleasant surprise, than
if, while his ear is watching and drinking in the music of the
nightingales, some transformed predecessor on a sudden
grunts at his feet.
  After this discovery, Laertes felt heartily ashamed that
vanity should have again misled him to think well, even in
the smallest degree, of any woman whatsoever. He now
entirely forsook the baroness; kept by the Stallmeister, with
whom he diligently fenced and hunted; conducting him-
self at rehearsals and representations as if these were but
secondary matters.
  The count and his lady would often in the mornings send


163





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


for some of the company to attend them, and all had con-
tinual cause to envy the undeserved good fortune of Philina.
The count kept his favorite, the Pedant, frequently for hours
together, at his toilet. This genius had been dressed out
by degrees: he was now equipped and furnished, even to
watch and snuff-box.
  Many times, too, particularly after dinner, the whole
company were called out before the noble guests, - an honor
which the artists regarded as the most flattering in the
world; not observing, that on these very occasions the ser-
vants and huntsmen were ordered to bring in a multitude of
hounds, and to lead strings of horses about the court of the
castle.
  Wilhelm had been counselled to praise Racine, the prince's
favorite, and thereby to attract some portion of his High-
ness's favor to himself. On one of these afternoons, being
summoned with the rest, he found an opportunity to intro-
duce this topic. The prince asked him if he diligently read
the great French dramatic writers, to which Wilhelm an-
swered with a very eager " Yes."  He did not observe that
his Highness, without waiting for the answer, was already on
the point of turning round to some one else: he fixed upon
him, on the contrary, almost stepping in his way, and pro-
ceeded.to declare that he valued the French theatre very
highly, and read the works of their great masters with de-
light; particularly he had learned with true joy that his
Highness did complete justice to the great talents of Racine.
" I can easily conceive," continued he, " how people of
high breeding and exalted rank must value a poet who has
painted so excellently and so truly the circumstances of their
lofty station. Corneille, if I may say so, has delineated
great men; Racine, men of eminent rank. In reading his
plays, I can always figure to myself the poet as living at a
splendid court, with a great king before his eyes, in con-
stant intercourse with the most distinguished persons, and
penetrating into the secrets of human nature, as it works
concealed behind the gorgeous tapestry of palaces. When
I study his " Britannicus," his " Berenice," it seems as if I
were transported in person to the court, were initiated into the
great and the little, in the habitations of these earthly gods :
through the fine and delicate organs of my author, I see
kings whom a nation adores, courtiers whom thousands envy,
in their natural forms, with their failings and their pains.
The anecdote of Racine's dying of a broken heart, because


164





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Louis Fourteenth would no longer attend to him, and had
shown him his dissatisfaction, is to me the key to all his
works. It was impossible that a poet of his talents, whose
life and death depended on the looks of a king, should not
write such works as a king and a prince might applaud."
  Jarno had stepped near, and was listening with astonish-
ment. The prince, who had made no answer, and had only
shown his approbation by an assenting look, now turned
aside; though Wilhelm, who did not know that it was con-
trary to etiquette to continue a discussion under such circum-
stances, and exhaust a subject, would gladly have spoken
more, and convinced the prince that he had not read his
favorite poet without sensibility and profit.
  " Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, " read
one of Shakspeare's plays?"
  S"No," replied Wilhelm: " since the time when they be-
came more known in Germany, I have myself grown unac-
quainted with the theatre; and I know not whether I should
now rejoice that an old taste, and occupation of my youth,
has been by chance renewed.     In. the mean time, all I
have heard of these plays has excited no wish to become
acquainted with such extraordinary monsters, which appear
to set probability and dignity alike at defiance."
   " I would advise you," said the other, " to make a trial,
notwithstahding : it can do one no harm to look at what is
extraordinary with one's own eyes. I will lend you a volume
or two; and you cannot better spend your time, than by
casting every thing aside, and retiring to the solitude of
your old habitation, to look into the magic-lantern, of that
unknown world. It is sinful of you to waste your hours
in dressing out these apes to look more human, and teaching
dogs to dance. One thing only I require, - you must not
cavil at the form: the rest I can leave to your own good
sense and feeling."
  The horses were standing at the door; and Jarno mounted
with some other cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked
after him with sadness. He would fain have spoken much
with this man, who, though in a harsh, unfriendly way, gave
him new ideas,.- ideas he had need of.
   Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development
of his powers, capacities, and conceptions, gets into a per-
plexity, from which a prudent friend might easily deliver
him. He resembles a traveller who, at but a short distance
from the inn he is to rest at, falls into the water : were any


165





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


one to catch him then, and pull him to the bank, with one
good wetting it were over; whereas, though he struggles out
himself, it is often at the side where he tumbled in; and he
has to make a wide and dreary circuit before reaching his
appointed object.
  Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went
forward in the world differently from what he had supposed.
He now viewed close at hand the solemn and imposing life
of the great and distinguished, and wondered at the easy
dignity which they contrived to give it. An army on its
march, a princely hero at the head of it, such a multitude of
co-operating warriors, such a multitude of crowding wor-
shippers, exalted his imagination. In this mood he received
the promised books; and erelong, as may be easily sup-
posed, the stream of that mighty genius laid hold of him, and
led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he soon com-
pletely forgot and lost himself.





                     CHAPTER IX.

  THE connection between the baron and the actors had suf-
fered various changes since the arrival of the latter. At the
commencement it had been productive of great satisfaction
to both parties. As the baron for the first time in his life
now saw one of those plays, with which he had already
graced a private theatre, put into the hands of real actors,
and in the fair way for a decent exhibition, he showed the
benignest humor in the world. He was liberal in gifts: he
bought little presents for the actresses from every millinery
hawker, and contrived to send over many an odd bottle of
champagne to the actors. In return for all this, our com-
pany took every sort of trouble with his play; and Wilhelm
spared no diligence in learning, with extreme correctness,
the sublime speeches of that very eminent hero, whose part
had fallen to his share.
  But, in spite of all these kind reciprocities, some clouds by
degrees arose between the players and their patron. The
baron's preference for certain actors became daily more ob-
servable: this of necessity chagrined the rest. He exalted
his favorites quite exclusively, and thus, of course, intro-


166





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


duced disunion and jealousy among the company. Melina,
without skill to help himself in dubious junctures, felt his
situation very vexing. The persons eulogized accepted of
their praise, without being singularly thankful for it; while
the neglected gentlemen showed traces of their spleen by a
thousand methods, and constantly found means to make it
very disagreeable for their once much-honored patron to ap-
pear among them. Their spite received no little nourish-
ment from a certain poem, by an unknown author, which
made a great sensation in the castle. Previously to this the
baron's intercourse with the company had given rise to many
little strokes of merriment; several stories had been raised
about him; certain little incidents, adorned with suitable ad-
ditions, and presented in the proper light, had been talked
of, and made the subject of much bantering and laughter.
At last it began to be said that a certain rivalry of trade was
arising between him and some of the actors, who also looked
upon themselves as writers. The poem we spoke of was
founded upon this report: it ran as follows: -

           "Lord Baron, I, poor devil, own
              With envy, you your rank and state;
              Your station, too, so near the throne;
              Of heirs your possessions great;
              Your father's seat, with walls and mounds,
              His game-preserves, and hunting-grounds.
              While me, poor devil, it appears,
              Lord Baron, you with envy view,
              Since Nature, from my early years,
              Has held me like a mother true,
              With heart and head both light, I poor,
              But no poor wight grew, to be sure.
              My dear Lord Baron, now to me
              It seems, we well alone should let,
              That you your father's son still be,
              And I remain my mother's pet:
              Let's free from envy live, and hate;
              Nor let's desire each other's title:
              No place you on Parnassus great,
              No noble rank I in requital."
                                        -Editor's Version.

  Upon this poem, which various persons were possessed of,
in copies scarcely legible, opinions were exceedingly divided.
But who the author was, no one could guess; and, as some
began to draw a spiteful mirth fromin it, our friend expressed
himiiself against it very keenly.


167





168          MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.

  "We Germans," he exclaimed, " deserve to have our
Muses still continue in the low contempt wherein they have
languished so long; since we cannot value men of rank who
take a share in our literature, no matter how ! Birth, rank,
and fortune are no wise incompatible with genius and taste;
as foreign nations, reckoning among their best minds a great
number of noblemen, can fully testify. Hitherto, indeed, it
has been rare in Germany for men of high station to devote
themselves to science; hitherto few famous names have be-
come more famous by their love of art and learning ; while
many, on the other hand, have mounted out of darkness to
distinction, and risen like unknown stars on the horizon.
Yet such will not always be the case; and I greatly err, if
the first classes of the nation are not even now in the way of
also employing their advantages to earn the fairest laurels
of the Muses, at no distant date. Nothing, therefore, grieves
me more than to see the burgher jeering at the noble who
can value literature; nay, even men of rank themselves, with
inconsiderate caprice, maliciously scaring off their equal from
a path where honor and contentment wait on all."
  Apparently this latter observation pointed at the count, of
whom Wilhelm had heard that he liked the poem very much.
In truth, this nobleman, accustomed to rally the baron in his
own peculiar way, was extremely glad of such an opportunity
to plague his kinsman more effectually. As to who the
writer of the squib might be, each formed his own hypoth-
esis; and the count, never willing that another should sur-
pass him in acuteness, fell upon a thought, which, in a short
time, he would have sworn to the truth of. The verses
could be written, he believed, by no one but his Pedant, who
was a very shrewd knave, and in whom, for a long while, he
had noticed some touches of poetic genius. By way of
proper treat,-he therefore caused the Pedant one morning to
be sent for, and made him read the poem, in his own man-
ner, in presence of the countess, the baroness, and Jarno, - a
service he was paid for by applauses, praises, and a present;
and, on the count's inquiring if he had not still some other
poems of an earlier time, he cunningly contrived to evade
the question. Thus did the Pedant get invested with the
reputation of a poet and a wit, and, in the eyes of the baron's
friends, of. a pasquinader and a bad-hearted man. From
that period, play as he might, the count applauded him
with greater zeal than ever; so that the poor wight grew at
last inflated till he nearly lost his senses, and begani to medi-
tate having a chamber in thme castle, like Philina.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Had this project been fulfilled at once, a great mishap might
have been spared him. As he was returning late one even-
ing from the castle, groping about in the dark, narrow way,
he was suddenly laid hold of, and kept on the spot by some
persons, while some others rained a shower of blows upon
him, and battered him so stoutly, that in a few seconds he
was lying almost dead upon the place, and could not without
difficulty crawl in to his companions. These, indignant as
they seemed to be at such an outrage, felt their secret joy in
the adventure : they could hardly keep from laughing, at see-
ing him so thoroughly curried, and his new brown coat be-
dusted through and through, and bedaubed with white, as if
he had had to do with millers.
  The count, who soon got notice of the business, broke into
a boundless rage. He treated this act as the most heinous
crime, called it an infringement of the Bucrgfried, or peace
of the castle, and caused his judge to make the strictest
inquisition touching it. The whited coat, it was imagined,
would afford a leading proof. Every creature that possibly
could have the smallest trade with flour or powder in the
castle was submitted to investigation, but in vain.
  The baron solemnly protested on his honor, that although
this sort of jesting had considerably displeased him, and the
conduct of his lordship the count had not been the friend-
liest, yet he had got over the affair; and with respect to the
misfortune which had come upon the poet, or pasquinader,
or whatsoever his title might be, he knew absolutely nothing,
and had not the most remote concern in it.
  The operation's of the strangers, and the general commo-
tion of the house, soon effaced all recollection of the matter;
and so, without redress, the unlucky favorite had to pay
dear for the satisfaction of pluming himself, a short while, in
feathers not his own.
   Our troop, regularly acting every night, and on the whole
very decently treated, now began to make more clamorous
demands, the better they were dealt with. Erelong their
victuals, drink, attendance, lodging, grew inadequate; and
they called upon the baron, their protector, to provide more
liberally for them, and at last make good those promises of
comfortable entertainment, which he had been giving them so
long. Their complaints grew louder, and the efforts of our
friend to still them more and more abortive.
   Meanwhile, excepting in rehearsals and hours of acting,
Wilhelm scarcely ever came abroad. Shut up in one of the \


169





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


remotest chambers, to which Mignon and 'the harper alone
had free access, he lived and moved in the Shakspearian
world, feeling or knowing nothing but the movements of his
own mind.
  We have heard of some enchanter summoning, by magic
formulas, a vast multitude of spiritual shapes into his cell.
The conjurations are so powerful that the whole space of the
apartment is quickly full; and the spirits, crowding on to the
verge of the little circle which they must not pass, around
this, and above the master's head, keep increasing in number,
and ever whirling in perpetual transformation. Every corner
is crammed, every crevice is possessed. Embryos expand
themselves, and giant-forms contract into the size of nuts.
Unhappily the black-artist has forgot the counterword, with
which he might command this flood of sprites again to ebb.
  So sat Wilhelm in his privacy: with unknown movements,
a thousand feelings and capacities awoke in him, of which
he formerly had neither notion nor anticipation. Nothing
could allure him from this state: he was vexed and restless
if any one presumed to come to him, and talk of news or
what was passing in the world.
  Accordingly, he scarce took notice of the circumstance,
when told that a judicial sentence was about being executed
in the castle-yard, - the flogging of a boy, who had incurred
suspicions of nocturnal housebreaking, and who, as he wore
a peruke-maker's coat, had most probably been one of the
assaulters of the Pedant. The boy indeed, it seemed, denied
most obstinately; so that they could not inflict a formal pun-
ishment, but meant to give him a slight memorial as a vaga-
bond, and send him about his business; he having prowled
about the neighborhood for several days, lain at night in the
mills, and at last clapped a ladder to the garden-wall, and
mounted over by it.
  Our friend saw nothing very strange in the transaction, and
was dismissing it altogether, when Mignon came running in,
and assured him that the criminal was Friedrich, who, since
the rencounter with the Stallmeister, had vanished from the
company, and not again been heard of.
  Feeling an interest in the boy, Wilhelm hastily arose: he
found, in the court-yard of the castle, the preparations almost
finished. The count loved solemnity on these occasions. The
boy being now led out, our friend stepped forward, and en-
treated for delay, as he knew the boy, and had various things
to say which might, perhaps, throw light on the affair. He


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


had difficulty in succeeding, notwithstanding all his state-
ments: at length, however, he did get permission to speak
with the culprit in private. Friedrich averred, that, concern-
ing the assault in which the Pedant had been used so harshly,
he knew nothing whatever. He had merely been lurking
about, and had come in at night to see Philina, whose room
he had discovered, and would certainly have reached, had he
not been taken by the way.
  For the credit of the company, Wilhelm felt desirous not
to have the truth of his adventure published. He hastened to
the Stallmeister: he begged him to show favor, and, with
his intimate knowledge of men and things about the castle,
to find some means of quashing the affair, and dismissing the
boy.
  This whimsical gentleman, by Wilhelm's help, invented a
little story,-how the boy had belonged to the troop, had run
away from it, but soon wished to get back, and be received
again into his place; how he had accordingly been trying in
the night to come at certain of his well-wishers, and solicit
their assistance. It was testified by others that his former
behavior had been good: the ladies put their hands to the
work, and Friedrich was let go.
  Wilhelm took him in, - a third person in that strange fam-
ily, which for some time he had looked on as his own. The
old mani and little Mignon received the returning wanderer
kindly; and all the three combined to serve their friend and
guardian with attention, and procure him all the pleasure in
their power.




                     CHAPTER X.

  PHILINA now succeeded in insinuating farther every day
into the favor of the ladies. Whenever they were by them-
selves, she was wont to lead the conversation on the men
whom they saw about the castle; and our friend was not ths
last or least important that engaged them. The cunning girl
was well aware that he had made a deep impression on the
countess: she therefore talked about him often, telling much
that she knew or did not know, only taking care to speak of
nothing that might be interpreted against him ; eulogizing, on
the contrary, his nobleness of mind, his generosity, and, more


171





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


than all, his modest and respectful conduct to the fair sex.
To all inquiries made about him she replied with equal pru-
dence; and the baroness, when she observed the growing
inclination of her amiable friend, was likewise very glad at
the discovery. Her own intrigues with several men, espe-
cially of late with Jarno, had not remained hidden from the
countess, whose pure soul could not look upon such levities
without disapprobation, and meek, though earnest, cen-
sures.
   In this way both Philina and the baroness were personally
 interested in establishing a closer intercourse between the
 countess and our friend. Philina hoped, moreover, that there
would occur some opportunity when she might once more
labor for herself, and, if possible, get back the favor of the
young man she had lost.
   One day his lordship, with his guests, had ridden out to
 hunt; and their return was not expected till the morrow.
 On this the baroness devised a frolic, which was altogether
 in her way, for she loved disguises, and, in order to surprise
 her friends, would suddenly appear among them as a peasant-
 girl at one time, at another as a page, at another as a hun-
 ter's boy. By which means she almost gave herself the air
 of a little fairy, that is present everywhere, and exactly in
 the place where it is least expected. Nothing could exceed
 this lady's joy, if, without being recognized, she could con-
 trive to wait upon the company for some time as a servant,
 or mix among them anyhow, and then at last in some sport-
 ful way disclose herself.
   Towards night she sent for Wilhelm to her chamber, and,
happening to have something else to do just then, left Phi-
lina to receive and prepare him.
   He arrived, and found to his surprise, not the honorable
lady, but the giddy girl, in the room. She received him with
a certain dignified openness of manner, which she had of
late been practising, and so constrained him likewise to be
courteous.
   At first she rallied him in general on the good fortune
 which pursued him everywhere, and which, as she could not
 but see, had led him hither in the present case. Then she
 delicately set before him the treatment with which of late he
 had afflicted her; she blamed and upbraided herself; con-
 fessed that she had but too well deserved such punishment;
 described with the greatest candor what she called her former
 situation ; adding, that she would despise herself, if she were


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


not capable of altering, and making herself worthy of his
frienship.
   Wilhelm was struck with this oration. He had too little
 knowledge of the world to understand that persons quite
 unstable, and incapable of all improvement, frequently accuse
 themselves in the bitterest manner, confessing and deploring
 their faults with extreme ingenuousness, though they possess
 not the smallest power within them to retire from that course,
 along which the irresistible tendency of their nature is drag-
 ging them forward. Accordingly, he could not find in his
 heart to behave inexorably to the graceful sinner : he entered
 into conversation, and learned from her the project of a
 singular disguisement, wherewith it was intended to surprise
 the countess.
   He found some room for hesitation here, nor did he hide
his scruples from Philina : but the baroness, entering at this
moment, left him not an instant for reflection; she hurried
him away with her, declaring it was just the proper hour.
   It was now grown dark. She took him to the count's
wardrobe, made him change his own coat with his lordship's
silk night-gown, and put the cap with red trimmings on his
head. She then led him forward to the cabinet; and bidding
him sit down upon the large chair, and take a book, she lit
the Argand lamp which stood before him, and showed him
what he was to do, and what kind of part he had to
play.
  They would inform the countess, she said, of her husband's
unexpected arrival, and that he was in very bad humor. The
countess would come in, walk up. and down the room once
or twice, then place herself beside the back of his chair, lay
her arm upon his shoulder, and speak a few words. He was
to play the cross husband as long and as well as possible;
and, when obliged to disclose himself, he must behave politely,
handsomely, and gallantly.
  Wilhelm was left sitting, restlessly enough, in this singular
mask. The proposal had come upon him by surprise: the
execution of it got the start of the deliberation. The bar-
oness had vanished from the room, before he saw how dan-
gerous the post was which he had engaged to fill. He could
not deny that the beauty, the youth, the gracefulness, of the
countess had made some impression on him: but his nature
was entirely averse to all empty gallantry, and his principles
forbade any thought of more serious enterprises; so that his
perplexity at this moment was in truth extreme. The fear


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


of displeasing the countess, and that of pleasing her too
well, were equally busy in his mind.
  Every female charm that had ever acted on him, now
showed itself again to his imagination. Mariana rose before
him in her white morning-gown, and entreated his remem-
brance. Philina's loveliness, her beautiful hair, her insinuat-
ing blandishments, had again become attractive by her late
presence. Yet all this retired as if behind the veil of distance,
when he figured to himself the noble, blooming countess,
whose arm in a few minutes he would feel upon his neck,
wvhose innocent caresses he was there to answer.
  The strange mode in which he was to be delivered out of
this perplexity he certainly did not anticipate. We may
judge of his astonishment, nay, his terror, when the door
opened behind him ; and, at the first stolen look in the mirror,
he quite clearly discerned the count coming in with a light in
his hand. His doubt what he should do, whether he should
sit still or rise, should flee, confess, deny, or beg forgiveness,
lasted but a few instants. The count, who had remained
motionless standing in the door, retired, and shut it softly.
At the same moment, the baroness sprang forward by the
side-door, extinguished the lamp, tore Wilhelm from his chair,
and hurried him with her into the closet. Instantly he threw
off the night-gown, and put it in its former place. The
baroness took his coat under her arm, and hastened with him
through several rooms, passages, and partitions into her
chamber, where Wilhelm, so soon as she recovered breath,
was informed, that on her going to the countess, and deliver-
ing the fictitious intelligence about her husband's arrival, the
countess had answered, " I know it already: what can have
happened? I saw him riding in, at the postern, even now."
On which the baroness, in an excessive panic, had run to the
count's chamber to give warning.
  " Unhappily you came too late ! " said Wilhelm. " The
count was in the room before you, and saw me sitting."
  " And recognized you? "
  " That I know not. He was looking at me in the glass,
as I at him; and, before I could well determine whether it
was he or a spirit, he drew back, and closed the door behind
him."
  The anxiety of the baroness increased, when a servant
came to call her, signifying that the count was with his lady.
She went with no light heart, and found the count silent
and thoughtful, indeed, but milder and kinder in his words


174





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


than usual. She knew not what to think of it. They spoke
about the incidents of the chase, and the causes of his quick
return. The conversation soon ran out. The count became
taciturn; and it struck the baroness particularly, when he
asked for Wilhelm, and expressed a wish that he were sent
for, to come and read something.
  Wilhelm, who had now dressed himself in the baroness's
chamber, and in some degree recovered his composure,
obeyed the order, not without anxiety. The count gave him
a book, out of which he read an adventurous tale, very little
at his ease. His voice had a certain inconstancy and quiver-
ing in it, which fortunately corresponded with the import of
the story. The count more than once gave kindly tokens
of approval, and at last dismissed our friend, with praises
of his exquisite manner of reading.





                    CHAPTER XI.

  WILHELM had scarcely read one or two of Shakspeare's
plays, till their effect on him became so strong that he could
go no farther. His whole soul was in commotion. He
sought ah opportunity to speak with Jarno; to whom, on
meeting with him, he expressed his boundless gratitude for
such delicious entertainment.
  " I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, " that you would
not remain insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary
and most admirable of all writers."
  " Yes ! " exclaimed our friend : " I cannot recollect that
any book, any man, any incident of my life, has produced such
important effects on me, as the precious works to which by
your kindness I have been directed. They seem as if they
Were performances of some celestial genius, descending
among men, to make them, by the mildest instructions, ac-
quainted with themselves.   They are no fictions! You
would think, while reading them, you stood before the un-
closed awful Books of Fate, while the whirlwind of most
impassioned life was howling through the leaves, and tossing
them fiercely to and fro. The strength and .tenderness, the
power and peacefulness, of this man, have so astonished and
transported me, that I long vehemently for the time when I
shall have it in my power to read farther."


175





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " Bravo ! " said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeez-
ing our friend's. " This is as it should be ! And the con-
sequences, which I hope for, will likewise surely follow."
  " I wish," said Wilhelm, " I could but disclose to you all
that is going on within me even now. All the anticipations I
have ever had regarding man and his destiny, which have
accompanied me from youth upwards, often unobserved by
myself, I find developed and fulfilled in Shakspeare's writ-
ings. It seems as if he cleared up every one of our enigmas
to us, though we cannot say, Here or there is the word of
solution. His men appear like natural men, and yet they
are not. These, the most mysterious and complex produc-
tions of creation, here act before us as if they were watches,
whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal, which pointed
out, according to their use, the course of the hours and
minutes; while, at the same time, you could discern the
combination of wheels and springs that turned them. The
few glances I have cast over Shakspeare's world incite me,
more than any thing beside, to quicken my footsteps forward
into the actual world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that
is suspended over it, and at length, if I shall prosper, to
draw a few cups from the great ocean of true nature, and
to distribute them from off the stage among the thirsting
people of my native land."
  " I feel delighted with the temper of mind in which I now
behold you," answered Jarno, laying his hand upon the
shoulder of the excited youth: " renounce not the purpose
of embarking in active life. Make haste to employ with
alacrity the years that are granted you. If I can serve you,
I will with all my heart. As yet I have not asked you how
you came into this troop, for which you certainly were
neither born nor bred. So much I hope and see, - you long
to be out of it. I know nothing of your parentage, of your
domestic circumstances: consider what you' shall confide to
me. Thus much only I can say : the times of war we live in
may produce quick turns of fortune; did you incline devot-
ing your strength and talents to our service, not fearing
labor, and, if need were, danger, I might even now have an
opportunity to put you in a situation, which you would not
afterwards be sorry to have filled for a time."  Wilhelm
could not sufficiently express his gratitude: he was ready
to impart to his friend and patron the whole history of his
life.
  In the course of this conversation, they had wandered far


176





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


into the park, and at last came upon the highway that
crossed it. Jarno stood silent for a moment, and then said,
" Deliberate on my proposal, determine, give me your an-
swer in a few days, and then let me have the narrative you
mean to trust me with. I assure you, it has all along to me
seemed quite incomprehensible how you ever could have any
thing to do with such a class of people. I have often thought
with spleen and disgust, how, in order to gain a paltry living,
you must fix your heart on a wandering ballad-monger, and
a silly mongrel, neither male nor female."
  He had not yet concluded, when an officer on horseback
came hastily along ; a groom following him with a led horse.
Jarno shouted a warm salutation to him. The officer sprang
from his horse; Jarno and he embraced and talked together;
while Wilhelm, confounded at the last expressions of his war-
like friend, stood thoughtfully at a side. Jarno turned over
some papers which the stranger had delivered to him; while
the latter came to Wilhelm, held out his hand, and said with
emphasis, " I find you in worthy company: fellow the coun-
sel of your friend, and, by doing so, accomplish likewise the
desire of an unknown man, who takes a genuine interest in
you."   So saying, he embraced Wilhelm, and pressed him
cordially to his breast. At the same instant Jarno advanced,
and said to the stranger, " It is best that I ride on with you :
by this means you may get the necessary orders, and set out
again before night."  Both then leaped into their saddles,
and left our astonished friend to his own reflections.
  Jarno's last words were still ringing in his ears. It galled
him to see the two human beings that had most innocently
won his affections so grievously disparaged by a man whom
he honored so much. The strange embracing of the officer,
whom he knew not, made but a slight impression on him; it
occupied his curiosity and his imagination for a moment: but
Jarno's speech had cut him to the heart; he was deeply hurt
by it : and now, in his way homewards, he broke out into re-
proaches against himself, that he should for a single instant
have mistaken or forgotten the unfeeling coldness of Jarno,
which looked out from his very eyes, and spoke in all his
gestures. " No ! " exclaimed he, " thou conceivest, dead-
hearted worldling, that thou canst be a friend ! All that thou
hast power to offer me is not worth the sentiment which binds
me to these forlorn beings.   How fortunate that I have
discovered in time what I had to expect from thee ! "
  Mignon came to meet him as lihe entered: lie clasped her


177





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


in his arms, exclaiming, "Nothing, nothing, shall part us,
thou good little creature! The seeming prudence of the
world shall never cause me to forsake thee, or forget what I
owe thee! "
  The child, whose warm caresses he had been accustomed
to avoid, rejoiced with all her heart at this unlooked-for
show of tenderness, and clung so fast to him that he had
some difficulty to get loose from her.
  From this period he kept a stricter eye on Jarno's con-
duct : many parts of it he did not think quite praiseworthy;
nay, several things came out which totally displeased him.
He had strong suspicions, for example, that the verses on
the baron, which the poor Pedant had so dearly paid for,
were composed by Jarno. And as the latter, in Wilhelm's
presence, had made sport of the adventure, our friend
thought here was certainly a symptom of a most corrupted
heart; for what could be more depraved than to treat a
guiltless person, whose griefs one's self had occasioned,
with jeering and mockery, instead of trying to satisfy or to
indemnify him?    In this matter Wilhelm    would himself
willingly have brought about reparation; and erelong a very
curious accident led him to obtain some traces of the persons
concerned in that nocturnal outrage.
  Hitherto his friends had contrived to keep him    un-
acquainted with the fact, that some of the young officers
were in the habit of passing whole nights in merriment and
jollity, with certain actors and actresses, in the lower hall
of the old castle. One morning, having risen early, accord-
ing to his custom, he happened to visit this chamber, and
found the gallant gentlemen just in the act of performing
rather a singular operation. They had mixed a bowl of
water with a quantity of chalk, and were plastering this
gruel with a brush upon their waistcoats and pantaloons,
without stripping; thus very expeditiously restoring the
spotlessness of their apparel. On witnessing this piece of
ingenuity, our friend was at once struck with the recollection
of the poor Pedant's whited and bedusted coat: his suspi-
cions gathered strength when he learned that some relations
of the baron were among the party.
  To throw some light on his doubts, he engaged the youths
to breakfast with him. They were very lively, and told a
multitude of pleasant stories. One of them especially, who
for a time had been on the recruiting-service, was loud in
praising the craft and activity of his captain; who, it ap-


178





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


179


peared, understood the art of alluring men of all kinds
towards him, and overreaching every one by the deception
proper for him. He circumstantially described how several
young people of good families and careful education had
been cozened, by playing off to them a thousand promises
of honor and preferment; and he heartily laughed at the
simpletons, who felt so gratified, when first enlisted, at the
thought of being esteemed and introduced to notice by so
reputable, prudent, bold, and munificent an officer.
  Wilhelm blessed his better genius for having drawn him
back in time from the abyss to whose brink he had ap-
proached so near. Jarno he now looked upon as nothing
better than a crimp: the embrace of the stranger officer was
easily explained. He viewed the feelings and opinions of
these men with contempt and disgust; from that moment he
carefully avoided coming into contact with any one that wore
a uniform; and, when he heard that the army was about to
move its quarters, the news would have been extremely wel-
come to him, if he had not feared, that, immediately on its
departure, he himself must be banished from the neighbor-
hood of his lovely friend, perhaps forever.





                     CHAPTER XII.

  MEANWHILE the baroness had spent several days disqui-
eted by anxious fears and unsatisfied curiosity. Since the
late adventure, the count's demeanor had been altogether an
enigma to her. His manner was changed: none of his cus-
tomary jokes were to be heard. His demands on the com-
pany and the servants had very much abated. Little pedantry
or imperiousness was now to be discerned in him; he was
silent and thoughtful, yet withal he seemed composed and
placid; in short, he was quite another man. In choosing
the books, which now and then he caused to be read to him,
those of a serious, often a religious, cast, were pitched
upon; and the baroness lived in perpetual fright lest,
beneath this apparent serenity, a secret rancor might be
lurking, - a silent purpose to revenge the offence he had so
accidentally discovered. She determined, therefore, to make
Jarno her confidant; and this the more freely, as that gen-





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


tleman and she already stood in a relation to each other
where it is not usual to be very cautious in keeping secrets.
For some time Jarno had been her dearest friend, yet they
had been dexterous enough to conceal their attachment and
joys from the noisy world in which they moved. To the
countess alone this new romance had not remained unknown ;
and very possibly the baroness might wish to get her fair
friend occupied with some similar engagement, and thus to
escape the silent reproaches she had often to endure from
that noble-minded woman.
  Scarcely had the baroness related the occurrence to her
lover, when he cried out laughing, " To a certainty the old
fool believes that he has seen his ghost! He dreads that
the vision may betQken some misfortune, perhaps death, to
him; and so he is become quite tame, as all half-men do, in
thinking of that consummation which no one has escaped
or will escape. Softly a little ! As I hope he will live long
enough, we may now train him at least, so that he shall not
again give disturbance to his wife and household."
  They accordingly, as soon as any opportunity occurred,
began talking, in the presence of the count, about warnings,
visions, apparitions, and the like. Jarno played the sceptic,
the baroness likewise; and they carried it so far, that his
lordship at last took Jarno aside, reproved him for his free-
thinkirrg, and produced his own experience to prove the pos-
sibility, nay, actual occurrence, of such preternatural events.
Jarno affected to be struck, to be in doubt, and finally to
be convinced; but, in private with his friend, he made him-
self so much the merrier at the credulous weakling, who had
thus been cured of his evil habits by a bugbear, but who,
they admitted, still deserved some praise for expecting dire
calamity, or death itself, with such composure.
   "The natural result which the present apparition might
have had, would possibly have ruffled him!" exclaimed
the baroness, with her wonted vivacity; to which, when
anxiety was taken from her heart, she had instantly re-
turned. Jarno was richly rewarded; and the two con-
trived fresh projects for frightening the count still further,
and still further exciting and confirming the affection of the
countess for Wilhelm.
   With this intention, the whole story was related to the
countess. She, indeed, expressed her displeasure at such
conduct; but from that time she became more thoughtful,
and in peaceful moments seemed to be considering, pursuing,


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


and painting out that scene which had been prepared for
her.
  The preparations now going forward on every side left no
room for doubt that the armies were soon to move in ad-
vance, and the prince at the same time to change his head-
quarters. It was even said that the count intended leaving
his castle, and returning to the city. Our players could
therefore, without difficulty, calculate the aspect of their
stars ; yet none of them, except Melina, took any measures in
consequence : the rest strove only to catch as much enjoyment
as they could from the moment that was passing over them.
  Wilhelm, in the mean time, was engaged with a peculiar
task. The countess had required from him a copy of his
writings, and he looked on this request as the noblest recom-
pense for his labors.
  A young author, who has not yet seen himself in print,
will, in such a case, apply no ordinary care to provide a
clear and beautiful transcript of his works. It is like the
golden age of authorship: he feels transported into those
centuries when the press had not inundated the world with
so many useless writings, when none but excellent perform-
ances were copied, and kept by the noblest men; and he
easily admits the illusion, that his own accurately ruled and
measured manuscript may itself prove an excellent perform-
ance, wor'thy to be kept and valued by some future critic.
  The prince being shortly to depart, a great entertainment
had been appointed in honor of him. Many ladies of the
neighborhood were invited, and the countess had dressed
betimes. On this occasion she had taken a costlier suit
than usual. Her head-dress, and the decorations of her
hair, were more exquisite and studied: she wore all her
jewels. The baroness, too, had done her utmost to appear
with becoming taste and splendor.
  Philina, observing that both ladies, in expectation of their
guests, felt the time rather tedious, proposed to send for
Wilhelm, who was wishing to present his manuscript, now
completed, and to read them some other little pieces. He
came, and on his entrance was astonished at the form and
the graces of the countess, which her decorations had but
made more visible and striking. Being ordered by the la-
dies, he began to read; but with so much absence of mind,
and so badly, that, had not his audience been excessively
indulgent, they would very soon have dismissed him.
  Every time he looked at the countess, it seemed to him as


181





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


if a spark of electric fire were glancing before his eyes. In
the end he knew not where to find the breath he wanted for
his reading. The countess had always pleased him, but
now it appeared as if he never had beheld a being so perfect
and so lovely. A thousand thoughts flitted up and down
his soul: what follows might be nearly their substance.
  " How foolish is it in so many poets, and men of senti-
ment as they are called, to make war on pomp and decora-
tion; requiring that women of all ranks should wear no
dress but what is simple, and conformable to nature ! They
rail at decoration, without once considering, that, when we
see a plain or positively ugly person clothed in a costly and
gorgeous fashion, it is not the poor decoration that dis-
pleases us. I would assemble all the judges in the world,
and ask them here if they wished to see one of these folds,
of these ribbons and laces, these braids, ringlets, and glan-
cing stones, removed? Would they not dread disturbing the
delightful impression that so naturally and spontaneously
meets us here? Yes, naturally I will say! As Minerva
sprang in complete armor from the head of Jove; so does
this goddess seem to have stepped forth with a light foot, in
all her ornaments, from the bosom of some flower."
  While reading, he turned his eyes upon her frequently, as
if he wished to stamp this image on his soul forever: he
more'than once read wrong, yet without falling into confus-
ion of mind; though, at other times, he used to feel the mis-
taking of a word or a letter as a painful deformity, which
spoiled a whole recitation.
  A false alarm of the arrival of the guests put an end to
the reading; the baroness went out; and the countess,
while about to shut her writing-desk, which was standing
open, took up her casket, and put some other rings upon her
finger. " We are soon to part," said she, keeping her eyes
upon the casket: " accept a memorial of a true friend, who
wishes nothing more earnestly than that you may always
prosper." She then took out a ring, which, underneath a
crystal, bore a little plait of woven hair beautifully set with
diamonds. She held it out to Wilhelm, who, on taking it,
knew neither what to say nor do, but stood as if rooted to
the ground. The countess shut her desk, and sat down
upon the sofa.
  "And I must go empty ? " said Philina, kneeling down at
the countess's right hand. " Do but look at the man: he
carries such a store of words in his mouth, when no one


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


wants to hear them; and now he cannot stammer out the
poorest syllable of thanks. Quick, sir ! Express your ser-
vices by way of pantomime at least; and if to-day you can
invent nothing, then, for Heaven's sake, be my imitator."
  Philina seized the right hand of the countess, and kissed
it warmly. Wilhelm sank upon his knee, laid hold of the
left, and pressed it to his lips. The countess seemed em-
barrassed, yet without displeasure.
  "Ah! " cried Philina, " so much splendor of attire, I
may have seen before, but never one so fit to wear it. What
bracelets, but also what a hand! What a neckdress, but
also what a bosom."
  " Peace, little cozener ! " said the countess.
  "Is this his lordship, then? " said Philina, pointing to a
rich medallion, which the countess wore on her left side, by
a particular chain.
  "He is painted in his bridegroom-dress," replied the
countess.
  " Was he, then, so young ?" inquired Philina : "I know it
is but a year or two since you were married."
  " His youth must be placed to the artist's account," re-
plied the lady.
  " He is a handsome man," observed Philina. "But was
there never," she continued, placing her hand on the count-
ess's heart, " never any other image that found its way in
secret hither ? "
  " Thou art very bold, Philina," cried she : " I have spoiled
thee. Let me never hear the like again."
  " If you are angry, then am I unhappy," said Philina,
springing up, and hastening from the room.
  Wilhelm still held that lovely hand in both of his. His
eyes were fixed on the bracelet-clasp: he noticed, with ex-
treme surprise, that his initials were traced on it, in lines
of brilliants.
  " Have I, then," he modestly inquired, "your own hair
in this precious ring ?"
  "Yes," replied she in a faint voice: then, suddenly col-
lecting herself, she said, and pressed his hand, "Arise, and
fare you well ! "
  "Here is my name," cried he, "by the most curious
chance ! " He pointed to the bracelet-clasp.
  " How ? " cried the countess : " it is the cipher of a female
friend ! "
  "They are the initials of my name. Forget me not.


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Your image is engraven on my heart, and will never be
effaced. Farewell! I must be gone."
  He kissed her hand, and meant to rise; but, as in dreams,
some strange thing fades and changes into something stran-
ger, and the succeeding wonder takes us by surprise; so,
without knowing how it happened, he found the countess in
his arms: her lips were resting upon his, and their warm
mutual kisses were yielding them that blessedness which
mortals sip from the topmost sparkling foam on the freshly
poured cup of love.
  Her head lay on his shoulder: the disordered ringlets and
ruffles were forgotten. She had thrown her arm round him:
he clasped her with vivacity, and pressed her again and
again to his breast. Oh that such a moment could but last
forever ! And woe to envious Fate that shortened even this
brief moment to our friends!
   How terrified was Wilhelm, how astounded did he start
from his happy dream, when the countess, with a shriek, on
a sudden tore herself away, and hastily pressed her hand
against her heart.
   He stood confounded before her: she held the other hand
 upon her eyes, and, after a moment's pause, exclaimed,
 "Away ! leave me ! delay not! "
   He continued standing.
   "Leave me ! " she cried; and, taking off her hand from
 her eyes, she looked at him with an indescribable expression
 of countenance, and added, in the most tender and affecting
 voice, " Flee, if you love me."
   Wilhelm was out of the chamber, and again in his room,
 before he knew what he was doing.
   Unhappy creatures ! What singular warning of chance or
 of destiny tore them asunder ?


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                      BOOK IV.



                      CHAPTER I.

  LAERTES was standing at the window in a thoughtful
mood, resting on his arm, and looking out into the fields.
Philina came gliding towards him, across the large hall: she
leaned upon him, and began to mock him for his serious
looks.
  I" Do not laugh," replied he: " it is frightful to think how
time goes on, how all things change and have an end. See
here ! A little while ago there was a stately camp: how
pleasantly the tents looked ! what restless life and motion
was within them! how carefully they watched the whole
enclosure ! And, behold, it is all vanished in a day! For a
short while, that trampled straw, those holes which the cooks
have dug, will show a trace of what was here; and soon the
whole will'be ploughed and reaped as formerly, and the pres-
ence of so many thousand gallant fellows in this quarter will
but glimmer in the memories of one or two old men."
  Philina began to sing, and dragged forth her friend to
dance with her in the hall. " Since Time is not a person we
can overtake when he is past," cried she, " let us honor him
with mirth and cheerfulness of heart while he is passing."
  They had scarcely made a step or two, when Frau Melina
came walking through the hall. Philina was wicked enough
to invite her to join them in the dance, and thus to bring her
in mind of the shape to which her pregnancy had reduced
her.
   " That I might never more see a woman in an interesting
situation! " said Philina, when her back was turned.
   " Yet she feels an interest in it," said Laertes.
   " But she manages so shockingly. Didst thou notice that
wabbling fold of her shortened petticoat, which always
travels out before her when she moves? She has not the
smallest knack or skill to trim herself a little, and, conceal
her state."


185





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " Let her be," said Laertes. " Time will soon come to
her aid."
  " It were prettier, however," cried Philina, " if we could
shake children from the trees."
  The baron entered, and spoke some kind words to them,
adding a few presents, in the name of the count and the count-
ess, who had left the place very early in the morning. He
then went to Wilhelm, who was busy in the side-chamber with
Mignon. She had been extremely affectionate and taking;
had asked minutely about Wilhelm's parents, brothers, sis-
ters, and relations; and so brought to his mind the duty
he owed his people, to send them some tidings of himself.
  With the farewell compliments of the family, the baron
delivered him an assurance from the count, that his lordship
had been exceedingly obliged by his acting, his poetical
labors, and theatrical exertions. For proof of this state-
ment, the baron then drew forth a purse, through whose
beautiful texture the bright glance of new gold coin was
sparkling out. Wilhelm drew back, refusing to accept of it.
   " Look upon this gift," said the baron, " as a compensa-
tion for your time, as an acknowledgment of your trouble,
not as the reward of your talents. If genius procures us a
good name and good will from men, it is fair likewise, that,
by oVr diligence and efforts, we should earn the means to
satisfy our wants; since, after all, we are not wholly spirit.
Had we been in town, where every thing is to be got, we
should have changed this little sum into a watch, a ring, or
something of that sort; but, as it is, I must place the magic
rod in your own hands; procure a trinket with it, such as
may please you best and be of greatest use, and keep it for
our sakes. At the same time, you must not forget to hold
the purse in honor. It was knit by the fingers of our ladies:
they meant that the cover should give to its contents the
most pleasing form."
   "Forgive my embarrassment," said Wilhelm, " and my
doubts about accepting this present. It, as it were, anni-
hilates the little I have done, and hinders the free play of
happy recollection. Money is a fine thing, when any matter
is to be completely settled and abolished: I feel unwilling to
be so entirely abolished from the recollection of your house."
   " That is'not the case," replied the baron; " but, feeling
 so tenderly yourself, you could not wish that the count
 should be obliged to consider himself wholly your debtor,
 especially when I assure you that his lordship's highest


186





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ambition has always consisted in being punctual and just.
He is not uninformed of the labor you have undergone, or
of the zeal with which you have devoted all your time to
execute his views; nay, he is aware, that, to quicken certain
operations, you have even expended money of your own.
With what face shall I appear before him, then, if I cannot
say that his acknowledgment has given you satisfaction? "
  " If I thought only of myself," said Wilhelm, " if I might
follow merely the dictates of my own feelings, I should cer-
tainly, in spite of all these reasons, steadfastly refuse this
gift, generous and honorable as it is; but I will not deny,
that, at the very moment when it brings me into one per-
plexity, it frees me from another, into which I have lately
fallen with regard to my relations, and which has in secret
caused me much uneasiness. My management, not only of
the time, but also of the money, for which I have to give
account, has not been the best; and now, by the kindness
of his lordship, I shall be enabled, with confidence, to give
my people news of the good fortune to which this curious
by-path has led me. I therefore sacrifice those feelings of
delicacy, which, like a tender conscience, admonish us on
such occasions, to a higher duty; and, that I may appear
courageously before my father, I must consent to stand
ashamed before you."
  " It is singular," replied the baron, " to see what a world
of hesitation people feel about accepting money from their
friends and patrons, though ready to receive any other gift
with joy and thankfulness. Human nature manifests some
other such peculiarities, by which many scruples of a similar
kind are produced and carefully cherished."
  " Is it not the same with all points of honor? " said our
friend.
  " It is so," replied the baron, " and with several other
prejudices. We must not root them out, lest in doing so we
tear up noble plants along with them. Yet I am always
glad when I meet with men that feel superior to such objec-
tions, when the case requires it; and I recall with pleasure
the story of that ingenious poet who had written several
plays for the court-theatre, which met with the monarch's
warmest approbation. ' I must give him a distinguished
recompense,' said the generous prince: ' ask him whether
he would choose to have some jewel given him, or if he
would disdain to accept a sum of money.' In his humor-
ous way, the poet answered the inquiring courtier, 'I am


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


thankful, with all my heart, for these gracious purposes;
and, as the emperor is daily taking money from us, I see
not wherefore I should feel ashamed of taking some from
him.' "
  Scarcely had the baron left the room, when Wilhelm
eagerly began to count the cash, which had come to him
so unexpectedly, and, as he thought, so undeservedly. It
seemed as if the worth and dignity of gold, not usually felt
till later years, had now, by anticipation, twinkled in his
eyes for the first time, as the fine, glancing coins rolled out
from the beautiful purse. He reckoned up, and found, that,
particularly as Melina had engaged immediately to pay the
loan, he had now as much or more on the right side of his
account as on that day when Philina first asked him for the
nosegay. With a little secret satisfaction, he looked upon
his talents; with a little pride, upon the fortune which had
led and attended him. He now seized the pen, with an as-
sured mind, to write a letter which might free his family
from their anxieties, and set his late proceedings in the most
favorable light. He abstained from any special narrative,
and only by significant and mysterious hints left them room
for guessing at what had befallen him. The good condition
of his cash-book, the advantage he had earned by his tal-
ents, the favor of the great and of the fair, acquaintance
with a Wvider circle, the improvement of his bodily and men-
tal gifts, his hopes from the future, altogether formed such
a fair cloud-picture, that Fata Morgana itself could scarcely
have thrown together a stranger or a better.
   In this happy exaltation, the letter being folded up, he
 went on to maintain a conversation with himself, recapitu-
 lating what he had been writing, and pointing out for him-
 self an active and glorious future. The example of so many
 gallant warriors had fired him; the poetry of Shakspeare
 had opened a new world to him; from the lips of the beau-
 tiful countess he had inhaled an inexpressible inspiration.
 All this could not and would not be without effect.
   The Stallmeister came to inquire whether they were ready
 with their packing. Alas ! with the single exception of Me-
 lina,Vno one of them had thought of it. Now, however, they
 were speedily to be in motion. The count had engaged to
 have the whole party conveyed forward a few days' journey
 on their way: the horses were now in readiness, and could
 not long be wanted. Wilhelm asked for his trunk : Frau
 Melina had taken it to put her own things in. He asked for


188





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


money: Herr Melina had stowed it all far down at the bot-
tom of his box. Philina said she had still some room in
hers: she took Wilhelm's clothes, and bade Mignon bring
the rest. Wilhelm, not without reluctance, was obliged to
let it be so.
  While they were loading, and getting all things ready, Me-
lina said, " I am sorry we should travel like mountebanks and
rope-dancers. I could wish that Mignon would put on girl's
clothes, and that the harper would let his beard be shorn."
Mignon clung firmly to Wilhelm, and cried, with great vi-
vacity, " I am a boy -I willbe no girl !"  The old man
held his peace; and Philina, on this suggestion, made some
merry observations on the singularity of their protector, the
count. " If the harper should cut off his beard," said she,
" let him sew it carefully upon a ribbon, and keep it by him,
that he may put it on again whenever his lordship the count
falls in with him in any quarter of the world. It was this
beard alone that procured him   the favor of his lord-
ship."
  On being pressed to give an explanation of this singular
speech, Philina said to them, " The count thinks it con-
tributes very much to the completeness of theatrical illusion
if the actor continues to play his part, and to sustain his
character, even in common life. It was for this reason that
he showed such favor to the Pedant : and he judged it, in
like manner, very fitting that the harper not only wore his
false beard at nights on the stage, but also constantly by
day; and he used to be delighted at the natural appearance
of the mask."
  While the rest were laughing at this error, and the other
strange opinions of the count, the harper led our friend
aside, took leave of him, and begged, with tears, that he
would even now let him go. Wilhelm spoke to him, declar-
ing that he would protect him against all the world; that no
one should touch a hair of his head, much less send him off
against his will.
  The old man seemed affected deeply: an unwonted fire
was glowing in his eyes. " It is not that," cried he, " which
drives me away. I have long been reproaching myself in
secret for staying with you. I ought to linger nowhere; for
misfortune flies to overtake me, and injures all that are con-
nected with me. Dread every thing, unless you dismiss me;
but ask me no questions. I belong not to myself. I cannot
stay."


189





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  "To whom dost thou belong? Who can exert such a
power on thee ?"
  " Leave me my horrid secret, and let me go ! The ven-
geance which pursues me is not of the earthly judge. I
belong to an inexorable destiny. I cannot stay, and I dare
not."
  " In the situation I see thee in, I shall certainly not let
thee go."
  " It were high treason against you, my benefactor, if I
should delay. I am secure while with you, but you are in
peril. You know not whom you keep beside you. I am
guilty, but more wretched than guilty. My preience scares
happiness away, and good deeds grow powerless when I
become concerned in them. Fugitive, unresting I should
be, that my evil genius might not seize me, which pursues
but at a distance, and only appears when I have found a
place, and am laying down my head to seek repose. More
grateful I cannot show myself than by forsaking you."
   " Strange man ! Thou canst neither take away the confi-
dence I place in thee, nor the hope I feel to see thee happy.
I wish not to penetrate the secrets of thy superstition; but
if thou livest in belief of wonderful forebodings, and entan-
glements of fate, then, to cheer and hearten thee, I say,
unite thyself to my good fortune, and let us see which gen-
ius is the stronger, thy dark or my bright one."
  Wilhelm seized this opportunity of suggesting to him many
other comfortable things; for of late our friend had begun
to imagine that this singular attendant of his must be a man,
who, by chance or destiny, had been led into some weighty
crime, the remembrance of which he was ever bearing on his
conscience.
   A few days ago Wilhelm, listening to his singing, had ob-
served attentively the following lines:-
       " For him the light of ruddy morn
            But paints the horizon red with flame;
         And voices, from the depths of nature borne,
            Woe! woe! upon his guilty head proclaim."
   But, let the old man urge what arguments he pleased, ou
 friend had constantly a stronger argument at hand. He
 turned every thing on its fairest side; spoke so bravely,
 heartily, and cheerily, that even the old man seemed again
 to gather spirits, and to throw aside his whims.


190





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER II.

  MELINA was in hopes to get established, with his company,
in a small but thriving town at some distance. They had
already reached the place where the count's horses were to
turn, and now they looked about for other carriages and
cattle to transport them onward. Melina had engaged to
provide them a conveyance : he showed himself but niggardly,
according to his custom. Wilhelm, on the contrary, had the
shining ducats of the countess in his pocket, and thought he
had the fullest right to spend them merrily; forgetting very
soon how ostentatiously he had produced them in the stately
balance transmitted to his father.
  His friend Shakspeare, whom with the greatest joy he
acknowledged as his godfather, and rejoiced the more that
his name was Wilhelm, had introduced him to a prince, who
frolicked for a time among mean, nay, vicious companions,
and who, notwithstanding his nobleness of nature, found
pleasure in the rudeness, indecency, and coarse intemperance
of these altogether sensual knaves. This ideal likeness,
which he figured as the type and the excuse of his own
actual condition, was most welcome to our friend; and the
process of self-deception, to which already he displayed an
almost invincible tendency, was thereby very much facili-
tated.
  He now began to think about his dress. It struck him that
a waistcoat, over which, in case of need, one could throw a
little short mantle, was a very fit thing for a traveller. Long
knit pantaloons, and a pair of lacing-boots, seemed the true
garb of a pedestrian. He next procured a fine silk sash,
which he tied about him, under the pretence at first of secur-
ing warmth for his person. On the other hand, he freed
his neck from the tyranny of stocks, and got a few stripes
of muslin sewed upon his shirt; making the pieces of con-
siderable breadth, so that they presented the complete ap-
pearance of an ancient ruff. The beautiful silk neckerchief,
the'memorial of Mariana, which had once been saved from
burning,- now lay slackly tied beneath this muslin collar. A
round hat, with a party-colored band, and a large feather,
perfected the mask.
  The women all asserted that this garb became him very
well. Philina in particular appeared enchanted with it.
She solicited his hair for herself, - beautiful locks, which,


191





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the closer to approach the natural ideal, he had unmercifully
clipped. By so doing she recommended herself not amiss to
his favor; and our friend, who by his open-handedness had
acquired the right of treating his companions somewhat in
Prince Harry's manner, erelong fell into the humor of him-
self contriving a few wild tricks, and presiding in the execu-
tion of them. The people fenced, they danced, they devised
all kinds of sports, and, in their gayety of heart, partook of
what tolerable wine they could fall in with in copious pro-
portions; while, amid the disorder of this tumultuous life,
Philina lay in wait for the coy hero, - over whom let his
better genius keep watch!
  One chief diversion, which yielded the company a frequent
and very pleasing entertainment, consisted in producing an
extempore play, in which their late benefactors and patrons
were mimicked, and turned into ridicule. Some of our actors
had seized very neatly whatever was peculiar in the outward
manner of several distinguished people in the count's estab-
lishment; their imitation of these was received by the rest of
the party with the greatest approbation: and when Philina
produced, from the secret archives of her experience, certain
peculiar declarations of love that had been made to her, the
audience were like to die with laughing and malicious joy.
  Wilhelm censured their ingratitude; but they told him in
reply that these gentry well deserved what they were getting,
their general conduct toward such deserving people, a sour
friends believed themselves, not having been by any means
the best imaginable. The little consideration, the neglect
they had experienced, were now described with many aggra-
vations. The jesting, bantering, and mimicry proceeded as
before: our party were growing bitterer and more unjust
every minute.
  " I wish," observed Wilhelm, " there were no envy or
selfishness lurking under what you say, but that you would
regard those persons and their station in the proper point of
view. It is a peculiar thing to be placed, by one's very
birth, in an elevated situation in society. The man for whom
inherited wealth has secured a perfect freedom of existence;
who finds himself from his youth upwards abundantly en-
compassed with all the secondary essentials, so to speak, of
human life, - will generally become accustomed to consider
these qualifications as the first and greatest of all; while the
worth of that mode of human life, which nature from her
own stores equips and furnishes, will strike him much more


192





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


faintly. The behavior of noblemen to their inferiors, and
likewise to each other, is regulated by external preferences.
They give each credit for his title, his rank, his clothes, and
equipage; but his individual merits come not into play."
   This speech was honored with the company's unbounded
applause. They declared it to be shameful, that men of
merit should constantly be pushed into the background; and
thait, in the great world, there should not be a trace of
natural and hearty intercourse. On this latter point particu-
larly they overshot all bounds.
   " Blame them not for it," said Wilhelm, " rather pity
them ! They have seldom an exalted feeling of that happi-
ness which we admit to be the highest that can flow from
the inward abundance of nature. Only to us poor creatures
is it granted to enjoy the happiness of friendship in its
richest fulness. Those dear to us we cannot elevate by our
countenance, or advance by our favor, or make happy by
our presents. We have nothing but ourselves. This whole
self we must give away; and, if it is to be of any value, we
must make our friend secure of it forever. What an enjoy-
ment, what a happiness, for giver and receiver ! With what
blessedness does truth of affection invest our situation ! It
gives to the transitory life of man a heavenly certainty: it
forms the crown and capital of all that we possess."
  While he spoke thus, Mignon had come near him: she
threw her little arms" round him, and stood with her cheek
resting on his breast. He laid his hand on the child's head,
and proceeded, " It is easy for a great man to win our
minds to him, easy to make our hearts his own. A mild
and pleasant manner, a manner only not inhuman, will of it-
self do wonders, - and how many means does he possess of
holding fast the affections he has once conquered? To us,
all this occurs less frequently; to us it is all more difficult;
and we naturally, therefore, put a greater value on whatever,
in the way of mutual kindness, we acquire and accomplish.
What touching examples of faithful servants giving them-
selves up to danger and death for their masters? How finely
has Shakspeare painted out such things to us! Fidelity, in
this case, is the effort of a noble soul, struggling to become
equal with one exalted above it. By steadfast attachment
and love, the servant is made equal to his lord, who, but for
this, is justified in looking on him as a hired slave. Yes,
these virtues belong to the lower class of men alone: that
class cannot do without them, and with them it has a beauty


193





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


of its own. Whoever is enabled to requite all favors easily
will likewise easily be tempted to raise himself above the
habit of acknowledgment. Nay, in this sense, I am of opin-
ion it might almost be maintained, that a great man may
possess friends, but canniot be one."
  Mignon clung more and more closely to him.
  " It may be so," replied one of the party: "I we do not
need their friendship, and do not ask it. But it were well if
they understood a little more about the arts, which they affect
to patronize. When we played in the best style, there was
none to mind us: it was all sheer partiality. Any one they
chose to favor, pleased; and they did not choose to favor
those that merited to please. It was intolerable to observe
how often silliness and mere stupidity attracted notice and
applause."
   " When I abate from this," said Wilhelm, " what seemed
to spring from irony and malice, I think we may nearly say,
that one fares in art as he does in love. And, after all, how
shall a fashionable man of the world, with his dissipated
habits, attain that intimate presence with a special object,
which an artist must long continue in, if he would produce
any thing approaching to perfection, - a state of feeling
without which it is impossible for any one to take such an in,
terest, ,as the artist hopes and wishes, in his work?
   "' Believe me, my friends, it is with talents as with virtue 1
one must love them for their own sake, or entirely renounce
them. And neither of them is acknowledged and rewarded,
except when their possessor can practise them unseen, like a
dangerous secret."
   " Meanwhile, until some proper judge discovers us, we
may all die of hunger," cried a fellow in the corner.
   " Not quite inevitably," answered Wilhelm. " I have
 observed, that, so long as one stirs and lives, one always finds
 food and raiment, though they be not of the richest sort.
 And why should we repine? Were we not, altogether unex-
 pectedly, and when our prospects were the very worst, taken
 kindly by the hand, and substantially entertained? And
 now, when we are in want of nothing, does it once occur to
 us to attempt any thing for our improvement, or to strive,
 though never so faintly, towards advancement in our art?
 We are busied about indifferent matters; and, like school-
 boys, we are casting all aside that might bring our lesson to
 our thoughts."
   " In sad truth," said Philina, " it is even so! Let us


194





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


choose a play : we will go through it on the spot. Each of us
must do his best, as if he stood before the largest audience."
  They did not long deliberate : a play was fixed on. It was
one of those which at that time were meeting great applause
in Germany, and have now passed away. Some of the party
whistled a symphony; each speedily bethought him of his
part; they commenced, and acted the entire play with the
greatest attention, and really well beyond expectation. Mu-
tual applauses circulated: our friends had seldom been so
pleasantly diverted.
  On finishing, they all felt exceedingly contented, partly on
account of their time being spent so well, partly because
each of them experienced some degree of satisfaction with
his own performance. Wilhelm expressed himself copiously
in their praise: the conversation grew cheerful and merry.
  " You would see," cried our friend, " what advances we
should make, if we continued this sort of training, and ceased
to confine our attention to mere learning by heart, rehears-
ing and playing mechanically, as if it were a barren duty, or
some handicraft employment. How different a character do
our musical professors merit! What interest they take in
their art ! how correct are they in the practisings they un-
dertake in common ! What pains they are at in tuning their
instruments; how exactly they observe time; how delicately
they express the strength and the weakness of their tones !
No one there thinks of gaining credit to himself by a loud
accompaniment of the solo of another. Each tries to play
in the spirit of the composer, each to express well whatever
is committed to him, be it much or little.
  " Should not we, too, go as strictly and as ingeniously to
work, seeing we practise an art far more delicate than that
of music, - seeing we are called on to express the commonest
and the strangest emotions of human nature, with elegance,
and so as to delight? Can any thing be more shocking than
to slur over our rehearsal, and in our acting to depend on
good luck, or the capricious choice of the moment? We
ought to place our highest happiness and satisfaction in mu-
tually desiring to gain each other's approbation: we should
even value the applauses of the public only in so far as we
have previously sanctioned them among ourselves. Why is
the master of the band more secure about his music than the
manager about his play? Because, in the orchestra, each
individual would feel ashamed of his mistakes, which offend
thn outward ear; but, how seldom have I found an actor dis-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


posed to acknowledge or feel ashamed of mistakes, pardonable
or the contrary, by which the inward ear is so outrageously
offended ! I could wish, for my part, that our theatre were
as narrow as the wire of a rope-dancer, that so no inept fel-
low might dare to venture on it, instead of being, as it is, a
place where every one discovers in himself capacity enough
to flourish and parade."
  The company gave this apostrophe a kind reception; each
being convinced that the censure conveyed in it could not
apply to him, after acting a little while ago so excellently
with the rest. On the other hand, it was agreed, that during
this journey, and for the future if they remained together,
they would regularly proceed with their training in the man-
ner just adopted. Only it was thought, that, as this was a
thing of good humor and free will, no formal manager must
be allowed to have a hand in it. Taking it for an estab-
lished fact, that, among good men, the republican form of
government is the best, they declared that the post of manager
should go round among them: he must be chosen by uni-
versal suffrage, and every time have a sort of little senate
joined in authority along with him. So delighted did they
feel with this idea, that they longed to put it instantly in
practice.
  " I have no objection," said Melina, " if you incline mak-
ing such an experiment while we are travelling: I shall
willingly suspend my own directorship until we reach some
settled place." He was in hopes of saving cash by this
arrangement, and of casting many small expenses on the
shoulders of the little senate or of the interim manager.
This fixed, they went very earnestly to counsel how the form
of the new commonwealth might best be adjusted.
  " 'Tis an itinerating kingdom," said Laertes: " we shall
at least have no quarrels about frontiers."
  They directly proceeded to the business, and elected Wil-
helm as their first manager. The senate also was appointed,
the women having seat and vote in it : laws were propounded,
were rejected, were agreed to. In such playing, the time
passed on unnoticed; and, as our friends had spent it pleas-
antly, they also conceived that they had really been effecting
something useful, and, by their new constitution, had been
opening a new prospect for the stage of their native country.


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER III.

  SEEING the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now
hoped he might further have it in his power to converse with
them on the poetic merit of the plays which might come
before them. " It is not enough," said he next day, when
they were all again assembled, "-for the actor merely to
glance over a dramatic work, to judge of it by his first im-
pression, and thus, without investigation, to declare his sat-
isfaction or dissatisfaction with it. Such things may be
allowed in a spectator, whose purpose it is rather to be
entertained and moved than formally to criticise. But the
actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give a reason
for his praise or censure; and how shall he do this, if he
have not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views,
and feelings of his author? A common error is, to form a
judgment of a drama from a single part in it, and to look
upon this part itself in an isolated point of view, not in its
connection with the whole. I have noticed this within a few
days, so clearly in my own conduct, that I will give you the
account as an example, if you please to hear me patiently.
  " You all know Shakspeare's incomparable ' Hamlet: ' our
public reading of it at the castle yielded every one of us the
greatest 'satisfaction. On that occasion we proposed to act
the play; and I, not knowing what I undertook, engaged to
play the prince's part. This I conceived that I was study-
ing, while I began to get by heart the strongest passages,
the soliloquies, and those scenes in which force of soul, ve-
hemence and elevation of feeling, have the freest scope;
where the agitated heart is allowed to display itself with
touching expressiveness.
  " I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the
spirit of the character, while I endeavored, as it were, to take
upon myself the load of deep melancholy under which my
prototype was laboring, and in this humor to pursue him
through the strange labyrinths of his caprices and his singu-
larities. Thus learning, thus practising, I doubted not but I
should by and by become one person with my hero.
   " But, the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it be-
come for me to form any image of the whole, in its general
bearings; till at last it seemed as if impossible. I next
went through the entire piece, without interruption; but here,
too, I found much that I could not away with. At one time


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the characters, at another time the manner of displaying
them, seemed inconsistent; and I almost despaired of find-
ing any general tint, in which I might present my whole
part with all its shadings and variations. In such devious
paths I toiled, and wandered long in vain; till at length a
hope arose that I might reach my aim in quite a new way.
  " I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's char-
acter, as it had shown itself before his father's death: I en-
deavored to distinguish what in it was independent of this
mournful event, independent of the terrible events that fol-
lowed; and what most probably the young man would have
been, had no such thing occurred.
  " Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had
sprung up under the immediate influences of majesty: the
idea of moral rectitude with that of princely elevation, the
feeling of the good and dignified with the consciousness of
high birth, had in him been unfolded simultaneously. He
was a prince, by birth a prince; and he wished to reign, only
that good men might be good without obstruction. Pleasing
in form, polished by nature, courteous from the heart, he
was meant to be the pattern of youth and the joy of the
world.
  " Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was
a still presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly
accomplishments was not entirely his own: it needed to
be quickened and inflamed by praise bestowed on others for
excelling in them. Pure in sentiment, he knew the honor-
able-minded, and could prize the rest which an upright spirit
tastes on the bosom of a friend. To a certain degree, he
had learned to discern and value the good and the beautiful
in arts and sciences; the mean, the vulgar, was offensive to
him ; and, if hatred could take root in his tender soul, it was
only so far as to make him properly despise the false and
changeful insects of a court, and play with them in easy
scorn. He was calm in his temper, artless in his conduct,
neither pleased with idleness, nor too violently eager for em-
ployment. The routine of a university he seemed to con-
tinue when at court. He possessed more mirth of humor
than of heart: he was a good companion, pliant, courteous,
discreet, and able to forget and forgive an injury, yet never
able to unite himself with those who overstepped the limits
of the right, the good, and the becoming.
  " When we read the piece again, you shall judge whether
I am yet on the proper track. I hope at least to bring for-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ward passages that shall support my opinion in its main
points."
  This delineation was received with warm approval; the
company imagined they foresaw that Hamlet's manner of
proceeding might now be very satisfactorily explained; they
applauded this method of penetrating into the spirit of a
writer. Each of them proposed to himself to take up some
piece, and study it on these principles, and so unfold the
author's meaning.





                     CHAPTER IV.

  Oun friends had to continue in the place for a day or two,
and it was not long ere sundry of them got engaged in ad-
ventures of a rather pleasant kind. Laertes in particular
was challenged by a lady of the neighborhood, a person of
some property; but he received her blandishments with ex-
treme, nay, unhandsome, coldness, and had in consequence
to undergo a multitude of jibes from Philina. She took this
opportunity of detailing to our friend the hapless love-story
which haa made the youth so bitter a foe to womankind.
"' Who can take it ill of him," she cried, " that he hates a
sex which has played him so foul, and given him to swallow,
in one stoutly concentrated potion, all the miseries that man
can fear from woman ? Do but conceive it: within four and
twenty hours, he was lover, bridegroom, husband, cuckbld,
patient, and widower ! I wot not how you could use a man
worse."
  Laertes hastened from the room half vexed, half laughing;
and Philina in her sprightliest style began to relate the story:
how Laertes, a young man of eighteen, on joining a company
of actors, found in it a girl of fourteen on the point of
departing with her father, who had quarrelled with the man-
ager. How, on the instant, he had fallen mortally in love;
had conjured the father by all possible considerations to re-
main, promising at length to marry the young woman. How,
after a few pleasing hours of groomship, he had accordingly
been wedded, and been happy as he ought; whereupon,
next day, while he was occupied at the rehearsal, llis wife,
according to professional rule, had lonored himl with a pair


199





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


of horns; and how as he, out of excessive tenderness,
hastening home far too soon, had, alas ! found a former
lover in his place, he had struck into the affair with thought-
less indignation, had called out both father and lover, and
sustained a grievous wound in the duel. How father and
daughter had thereupon set off by night, leaving him be-
hind to labor with a double hurt. How the leech he applied
to was unhappily the worst in nature, and the poor fellow
had got out of the adventure with blackened teeth and
watering eyes. That he was greatly to be pitied, being
otherwise the bravest young man on the surface of the earth.
" Especially," said she, " it grieves me that the poor soul
now hates women; for, hating women, how can one keep
living?"
  Melina interrupted them with news, that, all things being
now 'ready for the journey, they would set out to-morrow
morning. He handed them a plan, arranging how they were
to travel.
  " If any good friend take me on his lap," said Philina,
" I shall be content, though we sit crammed together never
so close and sorrily: 'tis all one to me."
  "It does not signify," observed Laertes, who now en-
tered.
  " It is pitiful," said Wilhelm, hastening away. By the aid
of monby, he secured another very comfortable coach ; though
Melina had pretended that there were no more. A new dis-
tribution then took place; and our friends were rejoicing in
the thought that they should now travel pleasantly, when in-
telligence arrived that a party of military volunteers had
been seen upon the road, from whom little good could be
expected.
  In the town these tidings were received with great atten-
tion, though they were but variable and ambiguous. As the
contending armies were at that time placed, it seemed im-
possible that any hostile corps could have advanced, or any
friendly one hung a-rear, so far. Yet every man was eager
to exhibit to our travellers the danger that awaited them as
truly dangerous: every man was eager to suggest that some
other route might be adopted.
   By these means, most of our friends had been seized with
 anxiety and fear; and when, according to the new repub-
 lican constitution, the whole members of the state had been
 called together to take counsel on this extraordinary case,
 they we- almost unanimously of opinion that it would be


200





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


proper either to keep back the mischief by abiding where
they were, or to evade it by choosing another road.
  Wilhelm alone, not participating in the panic, regarded it
as mean to abandon, for the sake of mere rumors, a plan
they had not entered on without much thought. He en-
deavored to put heart into them: his reasons were manly
and convincing.
  " It is but a rumor," he observed; " and how many such
arise in time of war ! Well-informed people say that the
occurrence is exceedingly improbable, nay, almost impos-
sible. Shall we, in so important a matter, allow a vague
report to determine our proceedings? The route pointed out
to us by the count, and to which our passport was adapted,
is the shortest and in the best condition. It leads us to the
town, where you see acquaintances, friends, before you, and
may hope for a good reception. The other way will also
bring us thither; but by what a circuit, and along what
miserable roads ! Have we any right to hope, that, in this
late season of the year, we shall get on at all? and what
time and money shall we squander in the mean while ! " He
added many more considerations, presenting the matter on
so many advantageous sides, that their fear began to dis-
sipate, and their courage to increase. He talked to them so
much about the discipline of regular troops, he painted the
marauders and wandering rabble so contemptuously, and
represented the danger itself as so pleasant and inspiring,
that the spirits of the party were altogether cheered.
  Laertes from the first had been of his opinion: he now
declared that he would not flinch or fail. Old Boisterous
found a consenting phrase or two to utter, in his own vein;
Philina laughed at them all; and Madam Melina, who, not-
withstanding her advanced state of pregnancy, had lost
nothing of her natural stout-heartedness, regarded the pro-
posal as heroic. Herr Melina, moved by this harmonious
feeling, hoping also to save somewhat by travelling the short
road which had been first contemplated, did not withstand
the general consent; and the project was agreed to with
universal alacrity.
  They next began to make some preparations for defence
at' all hazards. They bought large hangers, and slung them
in well-quilted straps over their shoulders. Wilhelm further
stuck a pair of pistols in his girdle. Laertes, independently
of this occurrence, had a good gun. They all took the road
in the highest glee.


201





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  On the second day of their journey, the drivers, who knew
the country well, proposed to take their noon's rest in a
certain woody spot of the hills; since the town was far off,
and in good weather the hill-road was generally preferred.
  The day being beautiful, all easily agreed to the proposal.
Wilhelm, on foot, went on before them through the hills;
making every one that met him stare with astonishment at
his singular figure. He hastened with quick and contented
steps across the forest; Laertes walked whistling after him;
none but the women continued to be dragged along in the
carriages. Mignon, too, ran forward by his side, proud of
the hanger, which, when the party were all arming, she would
not go without. Around her hat she had bound the pearl
necklace, one of Mariana's relics, which Wilhelm still pos-
sessed. Friedrich, the fair-haired boy, carried Laertes's gun.
The harper had the most pacific look; his long cloak was
tucked up within his girdle, to let him walk more freely; he
leaned upon a knotty staff; his harp had been left behind him
in the carriage.
  Immediately on reaching the summit of the height, a task
not without its difficulties, our party recognized the appointed
spot, by the fine beech-trees which encircled and screened it.
A spacious green, sloping softly in the middle of the forest,
invited one to tarry; a trimly bordered well offered the most
grateful refreshment; and on the farther side, through
chasms in the mountains, and over the tops of the woods,
appeared a landscape distant, lovely, full of hope. Hamlets
and mills were lying in the bottoms, villages upon the plain :
and a new chain of mountains, visible in the distance, made
the prospect still more significant of hope; for they entered
only like a soft limitation.
  The first comers took possession of the place, rested a while
in-the shade, lighted a fire, and so awaited, singing as they
worked, the remainder of the party, who by degrees arrived,
and with one accord saluted the place, the lovely weather,
and still lovelier scene.


202





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER V.

  IF our friends had frequently enjoyed a good and merry
hour together while within four walls, they were naturally
much gayer here, where the freedom of the sky and the beauty
of the place seemed, as it were, to purify the feelings of every
one. All felt nearer to each other: all wished that they
might pass their whole lives in so pleasant an abode. They
envied hunters, charcoal-men, and wood-cutters, - people
whom their calling constantly retains in such happy places, -
but prized, above all, the delicious economy of a band of
gypsies. They envied these wonderful companions, entitled
to enjoy in blissful idleness all the adventurous charms of
nature: they rejoiced at being in some degree like them.
  Meanwhile the women had begun to boil potatoes, and to
unwrap and get ready the victuals brought along with them.
Some pots were standing by the fire. The party had placed
themselves in groups, under the trees and bushes. Their
singular apparel, their various weapons, gave them a foreign
aspect. The horses were eating their provender at a side.
Could one have concealed the coaches, the look of this little
horde would have been romantic, even to complete illusion.
  Wilhelm enjoyed a pleasure he had never felt before. He
could now imagine his present company to be a wandering
colony, and himself the leader of it. In this character he
talked with those around him, and figured out the fantasy of
the moment as poetically as he could. The feelings of the
party rose in cheerfulness: they ate and drank and made
merry, and repeatedly declared that they had never passed
more pleasant moments.
  Their contentment had not long gone on increasing, till
activity awoke among the younger part of them. Wilhelm
and Laertes seized their rapiers, and began to practise on
this occasion with theatrical intentions. They undertook to
represent the duel in which Hamlet and his adversary find
so tragical an end. Both were persuaded, that, in this power-
ful scene, it was not enough merely to keep pushing awkwardly
hither and thither, as it is generally exhibited in theatres:
they were in hopes to show by example how, in presenting
it, a worthy spectacle might also be afforded to the critic in
the art of fencing.  The rest made a circle round them.
Both fought with skill and ardor. The interest of the spec-
tators rose higher every pass.


203





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  But all at once, in the nearest bush, a shot went off, and
immediately another; and the party flew asunder in terror.
Next moment armed men were to be seen pressing forward
to the spot where the horses were eating their fodder, not far
from the coaches that were packed with luggage.
  A universal scream proceeded from the women : our heroes
threw away their rapiers, seized their pistols, and ran towards
the robbers; demanding, with violent threats, the meaning
of such conduct.
  This question being answered laconically, with a couple of
musket-shots, Wilhelm fired his pistol at a crisp-headed knave,
who had got upon the top of the coach, and was cutting the
cords of the package. Rightly hit, this artist instantly came
tumbling down; nor had Laertes missed. a Both, encouraged
by success, drew their side-arms; when a number of the
plundering party rushed out upon them, with curses and loud
bellowing, fired a few shots at them, and fronted their im-
petuosity with glittering sabres. Our young heroes made a
bold resistance. They called upon their other comrades, and
endeavored to excite them to a general resistance. But,
erelong, Wilhelm lost the sight of day, and the consciousness
of what was passing. Stupefied by a shot that wounded him
between the breast and the left arm, by a stroke that split
his hat in two, and almost penetrated to his brain, he sank
down, adid only by the narratives of others came afterwards
to understand the luckless end of this adventure.
  On again opening his eyes, he found himself in the strangest
posture. The first thing that pierced the dimness, which yet
swam before his vision, was Philina's face bent down over
his. He felt weak, and, making a movement to rise, dis-
covered that he was in Philina's lap; into which, indeed, he
again sank down. She was sitting on the sward. She had
softly pressed towards her the head of the fallen young man,
and made for him an easy couch, as far as in her power.
Mignon was kneeling with dishevelled and bloody hair at his
feet, which she embraced with many tears.
  On noticing his bloody clothes, Wilhelm asked, in a broken
voice, where he was, and what had happened to him and the
rest. Philina begged him to be quiet: the others, she said,
were all in safety, and none but he and Laertes wounded.
Further she would tell him nothing, but earnestly entreated
him to keep still, as his wounds had been but slightly and
hastily bound. He stretched out his hand to Mignon, and
inquired about the bloody locks of the child, who he sup.
posed was also wounded.


204





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  For the sake of quietness, Philina let him know that this
true-hearted creature, seeing her friend wounded, and in the
hurry of the instant being able to think of nothing which
would stanch the blood, had taken her own hair, that was
flowing round her head, and tried to stop the wounds with
it, but had soon been obliged to give up the vain attempt;
that afterwards they had bound him with moss and dry mush-
rooms, Philina giving up her neckerchief for that purpose.
  Wilhelm noticed that Philina was sitting with her back
against her own trunk, which still looked firmly locked and
quite uninjured. He inquired if the rest also had been so
lucky as to save their goods. She answered with a shrug of
the shoulders, and a look over the green, where broken
chests, and coffers beaten into fragments, and knapsacks
ripped up, and a multitude of little wares, lay scattered all
round. No person was to be seen in the place, this strange
group thus being alone in the solitude.
  Inquiring further, our friend learned more and more par-
ticulars. * The rest of the men, it appeared, who, at all events,
might still have made resistance, were struck with terror,
and soon overpowered. Some fled, some looked with hor-
ror at the accident. The drivers, for the sake of their cat-
tle, had held out more obstinately ; but they, too, were at last
thrown down and tied; after which, in a few minutes, every
thing wfts thoroughly ransacked, and the booty carried off.
The hapless travellers, their fear of death being over, had
begun to mourn their loss; had hastened with the greatest
speed to the neighboring village, taking with them Laertes,
whose wounds were slight, and carrying off but a very few
fragments of their property. The harper, having placed his
damaged instrument against a tree, had proceeded in their
company to the place, to seek a surgeon, and return with his
utmost rapidity to help his benefactor, whom he had left ap-
parently upon the brink of death.





                     CHAPTER VI.

  MEANWHILE our three adventurers continued yet a space
in their strange position, no one returning to their aid.
Evening was advancing: the darkness threatened to come on.


205





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Philina's indifference was changing to anxiety; Mignon ran
to and fro, her impatience increasing every moment; and at
last, when their prayer was granted, and human creatures
did approach, a new alarm fell upon them. They distinctly
heard a troop of horses coming up the road they had lately
travelled: they dreaded lest a second time some company
of unbidden guests might be purposing to visit this scene of
battle, and gather up the gleanings.
  The more agreeable was their surprise, when, after a few
moments, a lady issued from the thickets, riding on a gray
courser, and accompanied by an elderly gentleman and some
cavaliers, followed by grooms, servants, and a troop of
hussars.
  Philina started at this phenomenon, and was about to call,
and entreat the fair Amazon for help, when the latter turned
her astonished eyes on the group, instantly checked her horse,
rode up to them, and halted. She inquired eagerly about the
wounded man, whose posture in the lap of this light-minded
Samaritan seemed to strike her as peculiarly strange.
   " Is he your husband? " she inquired of Philina. " Only
a friend," replied the other, with a tone Wilhelm liked not
at all. He had fixed his eyes upon the soft, elevated, calm,
sympathizing features of the stranger: he thought he had
never seen aught nobler or more lovely. Her shape he could
not see :' it was hid by a man's white great-coat, which she
seemed to have borrowed from some of her attendants, to
screen her from the chill evening air.
  By this the horsemen also had come near. Some of them
dismounted: the lady did so likewise. She asked, with
humane sympathy, concerning every circumstance of the
mishap which had befallen the travellers, but especially con-
cerning the wounds of the poor youth who lay before her.
Thereupon she turned quickly round, and went aside with
the old gentleman to some carriages, which were slowly com-
ing up the hill, and which at length stopped upon the scene
of action.
   The young lady having stood with her conductor a short
time at the door of one of the coaches, and talked with the
people in it, a man of a squat figure stepped out, and came
along with them to our wounded hero. By the little box
which he held in his hand, and the leathern pouch with in-
struments in it, you soon recognized him for a surgeon. His
manners were rude rather than attractive; but his hand was
light, and his help welcome.


206





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Having examined strictly, he declared that none of the
wounds were dangerous. He would dress them, he said, on
the spot; after which the patient might be carried to the
nearest village.
  The young lady's anxiety seemed to augment. " Do but
look," she said, after going to and fro once or twice, and
again bringing the old gentleman to the place: " look how
they have treated him ! And is it not on our account that
he is suffering?"  Wilhelm heard these words, but did not
understand them. She went restlessly up and down: it
seemed as if she could not tear herself away from the pres-
ence of the wounded man ; while at the same time she feared
to violate decorum by remaining, when they had begun,
though not without difficulty, to remove some part of his ap-
parel. The surgeon was just cutting off the left sleeve of
his patient's coat, when the old gentleman came near, and
represented to the lady, in a serious tone, the necessity of
proceeding on their journey. Wilhelm kept his eyes bent on
her, and was so enchanted with her looks, that he scarcely
felt what he was suffering or doing.
  Philina, in the mean time, had risen to kiss the lady's
hand. While they stood beside each other, Wilhelm thought
he had never seen such a contrast. Philina had never till
now appeared in so unfavorable a light. She had no right,
as it seemed to him, to come near that noble creature, still
less to touch her.
  The lady asked Philina various things, but in an under-
tone. At length she turned to the old gentleman, and said,
" Dear uncle, may I be generous at your expense? "  She
took off the great-coat, with the visible intention to give it to
the stripped and wounded youth.
  Wilhelm, whom the healing look of her eyes had hitherto
held fixed, was now, as the surtout fell away, astonished at
her lovely figure. She came near, and softly laid the coat
above him. At this moment, as he tried to open his mouth
and stammer out some words of gratitude, the lively impres-
sion of her presence worked so strongly on his senses, al-
ready caught and bewildered, that all at once it appeared to
him as if her head were encircled with rays; and a glancing
light seemed by degrees to spread itself over all her form.
At this moment the surgeon, making preparations to extract
the ball from his wound, gave him a sharper twinge; the
angel faded away from the eyes of the fainting patient; he
lost all consciousness; and, on returning to himself, the


207





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


horsemen and coaches, the fair one with her attendants, had
vanished like a dream.





                    CHAPTER VII.

  WILHELM'S wounds once dressed, and his clothes put on,
the surgeon hastened off, just as the harper with a number
of peasants arrived. Out of some cut boughs, which they
speedily wattled with twigs, a kind of litter was constructed,
upon which they placed the wounded youth, and under the
conduct of a mounted huntsman, whom the noble company
had left behind them, carried him softly down the mountain.
The harper, silent, and shrouded in his own thoughts, b,re
with him his broken instrument. Some men brought on
Philina's box, herself following with a bundle. Mignon
skipped along through copse and thicket, now before the
party, now beside them, and looked up with longing eyes at
her hurt protector.
  He, meanwhile, wrapped in his warm surtout, was lying
peacefully upon the litter. An electric warmth seemed to
flow from the fine wool into his body: in short, he felt in the
most delightful frame of mind. The lovely being, whom this
garment lately covered, had affected him to the very heart.
He still saw the coat falling down from her shoulders; saw
that noble form, begirt with radiance, stand beside him; and
his soul hied over rocks and forests on the footsteps of his
vanished benefactress.
  It was nightfall when the party reached the village, and
halted at the door of the inn where the rest of the company,
in the gloom of despondency, were bewailing their irrepara-
ble loss. The one little chamber of the house was crammed
with people. Some of them were lying upon straw, some
were occupying benches, some had squeezed themselves be-
hind the stove. Frau Melina, in a neighboring room, was
painfully expecting her delivery. Fright had accelerated
this event. With the sole assistance of the landlady, a
young, inexperienced woman, nothing good could be ex-
pected.
  As the party just arrived required admission, there arose
a universal murmur. All now maintained, that by Wilhelm's


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


advice alone, and under his especial guidance, they had en-
tered on this dangerous road, and exposed themselves to
such misfortunes. They threw the blame of the disaster
wholly on him : they stuck themselves in the door, to oppose
his entrance; declaring that he must go elsewhere and seek
quarters. Philina they received with still greater indigna-
tion, nor did Mignon and the harper escape their share.
  The huntsman, to whom the care of the forsaken party
had been earnestly and strictly recommended by his beauti-
ful mistress, soon grew tired of this discussion: he rushed
upon the company with oaths and menaces; commanding
them to fall to the right and left, and make way for this new
arrival. They now began to pacify themselves. He made
a place for Wilhelm on a table, which he shoved into a cor-
ner: Philina had her box put there, and then sat down upon
it. All packed themselves as they best could, and the
huntsman went away to see if he could not find for " the
young couple '" a more convenient lodging.
   Scarcely was he gone, when spite again grew noisy, and
one reproach began to follow close upon another. Each de-
scribed and magnified his loss, censuring the foolhardiness
they had so keenly smarted for. They did not even hide the
malicious satisfaction they felt at Wilhelm's wounds: they
jeered Philina, and imputed to her as a crime the means by
which she'had saved her trunk. From a multitude of jibes
and bitter innuendoes, you were required to conclude, that,
during the plundering and discomfiture, she had endeavored
to work herself into favor with the captain of the band, and
had persuaded him, Heaven knew by what arts and complais-
ance, to give her back the chest unhurt. To all this she
answered nothing, only clanked with the large padlocks of
her box, to impress her censurers completely with its pres-
ence, and by her own good fortune to augment their des-
peration.




                    CHAPTER VIII.

   THOUGH our friend was weak from loss of blood, and
 though, ever since the appearance of that helpful angel, his
 feelings had been soft and mild, yet at last he could not
 help getting vexed at the harsh and unjust speeches which, as


209





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


he continued silent, the discontented company went on utter-
ing against him. Feeling himself strong enough to sit up,
and expostulate on the annoyance they were causing to their
friend and leader, he raised his bandaged head, and prop-
ping himself with some difficulty, and leaning against the
wall, he began to speak as follows :-
   " Considering the pain your losses occasion, I forgive you
for assailing me with injuries at a moment when you should
condole with me; for opposing and casting me from you
the first time I have needed to look to you for help. The
services I did you, the complaisance I showed you, I re-
garded as sufficiently repaid by your thanks, by your friendly
conduct: do not warp my thoughts, do not force my heart to
go back and calculate what I have done for you; the calcu-
lation would be painful to me. Chance brought me near
you, circumstances and a secret inclination kept me with you.
I participated in your labors and your pleasures: my slender
abilities were ever at your service. If you now blame me
with bitterness for the mishap that has befallen us, you do
not recollect that the first project of taking this road came to
us from stranger people, was weighed by all of you, and sanc-
tioned by every one as well as by me.
   " Had our journey ended happily, each would have taken
credit to himself for the happy thought of suggesting this
plan, and preferring it to others; each would joyfully have
put us in mind of our deliberations, and of the vote he gave:
but now you make me alone responsible; you force a piece
of blame upon me, which I would willingly submit to, if my
conscience, with a clear voice, did not pronounce me inno-
cent, nay, if I might not appeal with safety even to your-
selves. If you have aught to say against me, bring it
forward in order, and I shall defend myself; if you have
nothing reasonable to allege, then be silent, and do not tor-
ment me now, when I have such pressing need of rest."
  By way of answer, the-girls once more began whimpering
and whining, and describing their losses circumstantially.
Melina was quite beside himself; for he had suffered more
in purse than any of them, - more, indeed, than we can
rightly estimate. He stamped like a madman up and down
the little room, he knocked his head against the wall, he
swore and scolded in the most unseemly manner; and the
landlady entering at this very time with news that his wife
had been delivered of a dead child, he yielded to the most
furious ebullitions; while, in accordance with him, all howled


210





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


and shrieked, and bellowed and uproared, with double
vigor.
  Wilhelm, touched to the heart at the same time with sym-
pathy for their sorrows and with vexation at their mean way
of thinking, felt all the vigor of his soul awakened, notwith-
standing the weakness of his body. " Deplorable as your
case may be," exclaimed he, " I shall almost be compelled
to despise you ! No misfortune gives us right to load an in-
nocent man with reproaches. If I had share in this false
step, am not I suffering my share? I lie wounded here;
and, if the company has come to loss, I myself have come to
most. The wardrobe of which we have been robbed, the
decorations that are gone, were mine; for you, Herr Melina,
have not yet paid me; and I here fully acquit you of all
obligation in that matter."
  " It is well to give what none of us will ever see again,"
replied Melina. " Your money was lying in my wife's coffer,
and it is your own blame that you have lost it. But, ah ! if
that were all! " And thereupon he began anew to stamp
and scold and squeal. Every one recalled to memory the
superb clothes from the dount's wardrobe; the buckles,
watches, snuff-boxes, hats, for which Melina had so happily
transacted with the head valet. Each, then, thought also of
his own, though far inferior, treasures. They looked with
spleen at Philina's box, and gave Wilhelm to understand
that he had indeed done wisely to connect himself with that
fair personage, and to save his own goods also, under the
shadow of her fortune.
  " Do you think," he exclaimed at last, " that I shall keep
any thing apart while you are starving? And is this the first
time I have honestly shared with you in a season of need?
Open the trunk: all that is mine shall go to supply the
common wants."
  I It is my trunk," observed Philina, " and I will not open
it till I please. Your rag or two of clothes, which I have
saved for you, could amount to little, though they were sold
to the most conscientious of Jews. Think of yourself, -
what your cure will cost, what may befall you in a strange
country."
  " You, Philina," answered Wilhelm, " will keep back from
me nothing that is mine; and that little will help us out of
the first perplexity. But a man possesses many things besides
coined money to assist his friends with. All that is in me
shall be devoted to these hapless persons, who, doubtless,


211





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


on returning to their senses, will repent their present conduct.
Yes," continued he, " I feel that you have need of help ; and,
what is mine to do, I will perform. Give me your confidence
again ; compose yourselves for a moment, and accept of what
I promise. Who will receive the engagement of me in the
name of all? "
  Here he stretched out his hand, and cried, "I promise not
to flinch from you, never to forsake you till each shall see
his losses doubly and trebly repaired; till the situation you
are fallen into, by whose blame soever, shall be totally for-
gotten by all of you, and changed with a better."
  He kept his hand still stretched out, but no one would
take hold of it. " I promise it again," cried he, sinking back
upon his pillow. All continued silent : they felt ashamed, but
nothing comforted: and Philina, sitting on her chest, kept
cracking nuts, a stock of which she had discovered in her
pocket.




                     CHAPTER IX.

  THE huntsman now came back with several people, and
made preparations for carrying away the wounded youth.
He had persuaded the parson of the place to receive the
" young couple " into his house; Philina's trunk was taken
out; she followed with a natural air of dignity. Mignon ran
before; and, when the patient reached the parsonage, a wide
couch, which had long been standing ready as guest's bed
and bed of honor, was assigned him. Here it was first dis-
covered that his wound had opened, and bled profusely. A
new bandage was required for it. He fell into a feverish
state: Philina waited on him faithfully; and, when fatigue
overpowered her, she was relieved by the harper. Mignon,
with the firmest purpose to watch, had fallen asleep in a
corner.
   Next morning Wilhelm, who felt himself in some degree
refreshed, learned, by inquiring of the huntsman, that the
honorable persons who last night assisted him so nobly, had
shortly before left their estates, in order to avoid the move-
ments of the contending armies, and remain, till the time of
peace, in some more quiet district. He named the elderly
nobleman, as well as his niece, mentioned the place they


212





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


were first going to, and told how the young lady had charged
him to take care of Wilhelm.
   The entrance of the surgeon interrupted the warm expres-
 sions of gratitude our friend was giving vent to. He made
 a circumstantial description of the wounds, and certified that
 they would soon heal, if the patient took care of them, and
 kept himself at peace.
   When the huntsman was gone, Philina signified that he had
left with her a purse of twenty louis-d'or; that he had given
the parson a remuneration for their lodging, and left with him
money to defray.the surgeon's bill when the cure should be
completed. She added, that she herself passed everywhere
for Wilhelm's wife; that she now begged leave to introduce
herself once for all to him in this capacity, and would not
allow him to look out for any other sick-nurse.
   " Philina," said Wilhelm, "' in this disaster that has over-
taken us, I am already deeply in your debt, for kindness
shown me; and I should not wish to see my obligations in-
creased. I am uneasy so long as you are about me, for I
know of nothing by which I can repay your labor. Give me
what things of mine you have saved in your trunk; join the
rest of the company; seek another lodging ; take my thanks,
and the gold watch as a small acknowledgment: only leave
me; your presence disturbs me more than you can fancy."
   She laughed in his face when he had ended. " Thou art
a fool," she said: " thou wilt not gather wisdom. I know
better what is good for thee: I will stay, I will not budge
from the spot. I have never counted on the gratitude of
men, and therefore not on thine; and, if I have a touch
of kindness for thee, what hast thou to do with it? "
   She staid accordingly, and soon wormed herself into
favor with the parson and his household ; being always cheer-
ful, having the knack of giving little presents, and of talking
to each in his own vein; at the same time always contriving
to do exactly what she pleased. Wilhelm's state was not
uncomfortable: the surgeon, an ignorant but not unskilful
man, let nature have sway ; and the patient was soon on the
road to recovery. For such a consummation he vehemently
longed, being eager to pursue his plans and wishes.
   Incessantly he kept recalling that event, which had made
an ineffaceable impression on his heart. He saw the beautiful
Amazon again come riding out of the thickets: she ap-
proached him, dismounted, went to and fro, and strove to
serve him. He saw the garment she was wrapped in fall


213





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


down from her shoulders : he saw her countenance, her figure,
vanish in their radiance. All the dreams of his youth now
fastened on this image. Here he conceived he had at length
beheld the noble, the heroic, Clorinda with his own eyes ; and
again he bethought him of that royal youth, to whose sick-
bed the lovely, sympathizing princess came in her modest
meekness.
  " May it not be,' said he often to himself in secret, "that,
in youth as in sleep, the images of coming things hover
round us, and mysteriously become visible to our unobstructed
eyes? May not the seeds of what is to betide us be already
scattered by the hand of Fate ? may not a foretaste of the
fruits we yet hope to gather possibly be given us ?"
  His sick-bed gave him leisure to repeat those scenes in every
mood. A thousand times he called back the tone of that
sweet voice: a thousand times he envied Philina, who had
kissed that helpful hand. Often the whole incident appeared
before him as a dream; and he would have reckoned it a
fiction, if the white surtout had not been left behind to con-
vince him that the vision had a real existence.
  With the greatest care for this piece of apparel, he com-
bined the most ardent wish to wear it. The first time he
arose, he put it on, and was kept in fear all day lest it might
be hurt by some stain or other injury.





                     CHAPTER X.

  LAERTES visited his friend.   He had not been present
during that lively scene at the inn, being then confined to
bed in an upper chamber. For his loss he was already in a
great degree consoled : he helped himself with his customary,
" What does it signify? " He detailed various laughable
particulars about the company; particularly charging Frau
Melina with lamenting the loss of her stillborn daughter,
solely because she herself could not on that account enjoy the
Old-German satisfaction of having a Mechthilde christened.
As for her husband, it now appeared that he had been pos-
sessed of abundant cash, and even at first had by no means
needed the advances which he had cajoled from Wilhelm.
Melina's present plan was, to set off by the next post-wagon,


214





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


and he meant to require of Wilhelm an introductory letter
to his friend, Manager Serlo, in whose company, the present
undertaking having gone to wreck, he now wished to establish
himself.
  For some days Mignon had been singularly quiet: when
pressed with questions, she at length admitted that her right
arm was out of joint. " Thou hast thy own folly to thank
for that," observed Philina, and then told how the child had
drawn her sword in the battle, and, seeing her friend in peril,
had struck fiercely at the freebooters, one of whom had at
length seized her by the arm, and pitched her to a side.
They chid her for not sooner speaking of her ailment; but
they easily saw that she was apprehensive of the surgeon,
who had hitherto looked on her as a boy. With a view to
remove the mischief, she was made to keep her arm in a sling,
which arrangement, too, displeased her; for now she was
obliged to surrender most part of her share in the manage-
ment and nursing of our friend to Philina. That pleasing
sinner but showed herself the more active and attentive on
this account.
  One morning, on awakening, Wilhelm found himself
strangely near to her. In the movements of sleep, he had
hitched himself quite to the back of the spacious bed.
Philina was lying across from the front part of it: she
seemed to have fallen asleep on the bed while sitting there
and reading. A book had dropped from her hand: she had
sunk back; and her head was lying near his breast, over
which her fair and now loosened hair was spread in streams.
The disorder of sleep enlivened her charms more than art or
purpose could have done: a childlike smiling rest hovered
on her countenance. He looked at her for a time, and
seemed to blame himself for the pleasure this gave him.
He had viewed her attentively for some moments, when she
began to awake. He softly closed his eyes, but could not
help glimmering at her through his eyelashes, as she trimmed
herself again, and went away to see about breakfast.
  All the actors had at length successively announced them-
selves to Wilhelm; asking introductory letters, requiring
money for their journey with more or less impatience and ill-
breeding, and constantly receiving it, against Philina's will.
It was in vain for her to tell our friend that the huntsman
had already left a handsome sum with these people, and that
accordingly they did but cozen him. To these remonstrances
he gave no heed: on the contrary, the two had a sharp quar-


215





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


rel about it; which ended by Wilhelm signifying, once for
all, that Philina must now join the rest of the company, and
seek her fortune with Serlo.
  For an instant or two she lost temper; but, speedily recov-
ering her composure, she cried, " If I had but my fair-haired
boy again, I should not care a fig for any of you." She
meant Friedrich, who had vanished from the scene of battle,
and never since appeared.
  Next morning Mignon brought news to the bedside, that
Philina had gone off by night; leaving all that belonged to
Wilhelm very neatly laid out in the next room. He felt her
absence; he had lost in her a faithful nurse, a cheerful com-
panion; he was no longer used to be alone. But Mignon
soon filled up the blank.
  Ever since that light-minded beauty had been near the
patient with her friendly cares, the little creature had by
degrees drawn back, and remained silent and secluded in
herself; but, the field being clear once more, she again
came forth with her attentions and her love, again was eager
in serving, and lively in entertaining, him.





                     CHAPTER XI.

  WILHELM was rapidly approaching complete recovery: he
now hoped to be upon his journey in a few days. He pro-
posed no more to lead an aimless routine of existence: the
steps of his career were henceforth to be calculated for an
end. In the first place, he purposed to seek out that benefi-
cent lady, and express the gratitude he felt to her; then to
proceed without delay to his friend the manager, that he
might do his utmost to assist the luckless company; intend-
ing, at the same time, to visit the commercial friends whom
he had letters for, and to transact the business which had
been intrusted to him. He was not without hope that for-
tune, as formerly, would favor him, and give him opportu-
nity, by some lucky speculation, to repair his losses, and fill
up the vacuity of his coffer.
   The desire of again beholding his beautiful deliverer aug-
mented every day. To settle his route, he took counsel
with the clergyman,- a person well skilled in statistics and


216





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


geography, and possessing a fine collection of charts and
books. They two searched for the place which this noble
family had chosen as their residence while the war contin-
ued : they searched for information respecting the family
itself. But their place was to be found in no geography
or map, and the heraldic manuals made no mention of their
name.
  Wilhelm grew uneasy ; and, having mentioned the cause of
his anxiety, the harper told him he had reason to believe
that the huntsman, from whatever motive, had concealed the
real designations.
  Conceiving himself now to be in the immediate neighbor-
hood of his lovely benefactress, Wilhelm hoped he might
obtain some tidings of her if he sent out the harper; but in
this, too, he was deceived. Diligently as the old man kept
inquiring, he could find no trace of her. Of late days a
number of quick movements and unforeseen marches had
taken place in that quarter; no one had particularly noticed
the travelling party; and the ancient messenger, to avoid
being taken for a Jewish spy, was obliged to return, and
appear without any olive-leaf before his master and friend.
He gave a strict account of his conduct in this commission,
striving to keep far from him all suspicions of remissness.
He endeavored by every means to mitigate the trouble of
our friend 1 bethought him of every thing that he had learned
from the huntsman, and advanced a number of conjectures;
out of all which, one circumstance at length came to light,
whereby Wilhelm could explain some enigmatic words of his
vanished benefactress.
  The freebooters, it appeared, had lain in wait, not for the
wandering troop, but for that noble company, whom they
rightly guessed to be provided with store of gold and valua-
bles, and of whose movements they must have had precise
intelligence. Whether the attack should be imputed to some
free corps, to marauders, or to robbers, was uncertain. It
was clear, however, that, by good fortune for the high and
rich company, the poor and low had first arrived upon the
place, and undergone the fate which was provided for the
others. It was to this that the lady's words referred, which
Wilhelm yet well recollected. If he might now be happy and
contented, ,that a prescient Genius had selected him for the
sacrifice, which saved a perfect mortal, he was, on the other
hand, nigh desperate, when he thought that all hope of find-
ing her and seeing her again was, at least for the present,
completely gone.


217





1MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  What increased this singular emotion still further, was the
likeness which he thought he had observed between the
countess and the beautiful unknown. They resembled one
another as two sisters may, of whom neither can be called
the younger or the elder, for they seem to be twins.
  The recollection of the amiable countess was to Wilhelm
infinitely sweet. He recalled her image but too willingly into
his memory. But anon the figure of the noble Amazon
would step between: one vision melted and changed into the
other, and the form of neither would abide with him.
  A new resemblance - the similarity of their handwritings
- naturally struck him with still greater wonder. He had a
charming song in the countess's hand laid up in his port-
folio; and in the surtout he had found a little note, inquiring
with much tender care about the health of an uncle.
  Wilhelm was convinced that his benefactress must have
penned this billet; that it must have been sent from one
chamber to another, at some inn during their journey, and
put into the coat-pocket by the uncle. He held both papers
together; and, if the regular and graceful letters of the
countess had already pleased him much, he found in the sim-
ilar but freer lines of the stranger a flowing harmony which
could not be described. The note contained nothing; yet
the strokes of it seemed to affect him, as the presence of
their fancied writer once had done.
  He fell into a dreamy longing; and well accordant with
his feelings was the song which at that instant Mignon and
the harper began to sing, with a touching expression, in the
form of an irregular duet.
                "'Tis but who longing knows,
                My grief can measure.
                Alone, reft of repose,
                All joy, all pleasure,
                I thither look to those
                Soft lines of azure.
                Ah! far is he who knows
                Me, and doth treasure.
                I faint, my bosom glows
                'Neath pain's sore pressure.
                'Tis but who longing knows,
                My grief can measure."
                                         --Editor's Version.


218





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XII.

  THE soft allurements of his dear presiding angel, far from
leading our friend to any one determined path, did but
nourish and increase the unrest he had. previously expe-
rienced. A secret fire was gliding through his veins: objects
distinct and indistinct alternated within his soul, and awoke
unspeakable desire. At one time he wished for a horse, at
another for wings; and not till it seemed impossible that he
could stay, did he look round him to discover whither he was
wanting to go.
  The threads of his destiny had become so strangely entan-
gled, he wished to see its curious knots unravelled, or cut in
two. Often when he heard the tramp of a horse, or the roll-
ing of a carriage, he would run to the window, and look out,
in hopes it might be some one seeking him, - some one, even
though it were by chance, bringing him intelligence and cer-
tainty and joy. He told stories to himself, how his friend
Werner might visit these parts, and come upon him; how,
perhaps, Mariana might appear. The sound of every post's
horn threw him into agitation. It would be Melina sending
news to him of his adventures: above all, it would be the
huntsman coming back to carry him to the beauty he wor-
shipped. .
  Of all these possibilities, unhappily no one occurred: he
was forced at last to return to the company of himself ; and,
in again looking through the past, there was one circum-
stance which, the more he viewed and weighed it, grew the
more offensive and intolerable to him. It was his unpros-
perous generalship, of which he never thought without
vexation. For although, on the evening of that luckless
day, he had produced a pretty fair defence of his conduct
when accused by the company, yet he could not hide from
himself that he was guilty. On the contrary, in hypochon-
driac moments, he took the blame of the whole misfortune.
  Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues.
Wilhelm though the had awakened confidence in himself, had
guided the will of the rest; that, led by inexperience and
rashness, they had ventured on, till a danger seized them,
for which they were no match.     Loud as well as silent
reproaches had then assailed him; and if, in their sorrowful
condition, he had promised the company, misguided by him,
never to forsake them till their loss had been repaid with


219





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


usury, this was but another folly for which he had to blame
himself, - the folly of presuming to take upon his single
shoulders a misfortune that was spread over many. One
instant he accused himself of uttering this promise, under
the excitement and the pressure of the moment; the next, he
again felt that this generous presentation of his hand, which
no one deigned to accept, was but a light formality compared
with the vow his heart had taken. He meditated means of
being kind and useful to them: he found every cause con-
spire to quicken his visit to Serlo. Accordingly he packed
his things together; and without waiting his complete re-
covery, without listening to the counsel of the parson or of
the surgeon, he hastened, in the strange society of Mignon
and the harper, to escape the inactivity in which his fate had
once more too long detained him.





                    CHAPTER XIII.

  SERLO received him with open arms, crying as he met him,
"Is it you? Do I see you again? You have scarcely
changed at all. Is your love for that noblest of arts still as
lively and strong? So glad am I at your arrival, that I even
feel no longer the mistrust your last letters had excited in
me."
  Wilhelm asked with surprise for a clearer explanation.
  " You have treated me," said Serlo, " not like an old
friend, but as if I were a great lord, to whom with a safe
conscience you might recommend useless people. Our des-
tiny depends on the opinion of the public; and I fear Herr
Melina and his suite can hardly be received among us."
   Wilhelm tried to say something in their favor; but Serlo
began to draw so merciless a picture of them, that our friend
was happy when a lady came into the room, and put a stop
to the discussion. She was introduced to him as Aurelia,
the sister of his friend: she received him with extreme kind-
ness; and her conversation was so pleasing, that he did not
even remark a shade of sorrow visible on her expressive
countenance, to which it lent peculiar interest.
   For the first time during many months, Wilhelm felt once
more in his proper element. Of late in talking, he had


220





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


merely found submissive listerers, and even these not always ;
but now he had the happiness to speak with critics and
artists, who not only fully understood him, but repaid his
observations by others equally instructive. With wonderful
vivacity they travelled through the latest plays, with won-
derful correctness judged them. The decisions of the public
they could try and estimate: they speedily threw light on
each other's thoughts.
  Loving Shakspeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead
round the conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Ex-
pressing, as he entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new
epoch which these exquisite productions must form in Ger-
many, he erelong introduced his " Hamlet," which play had
busied him so much of late.
  Serlo declared that he would long ago have represented the
play, had it at all been possible, and that he himself would
willingly engage to act Polonius. He added, with a smile,
" An Ophelia, too, will certainly turn up, if we had but a
Prince."
  Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at
her brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein,
becoming copious and didactic, expounding how he would
have " Hamlet " played. He circumstantially delivered to
his hearers the opinions we before saw him busied with; tak-
ing all the trouble possible to make his notion of the matter
acceptable, sceptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it.
"Well, then," said the latter finally, " suppose we grant
you all this, what will you explain by it? "
  " Much, every thing," said Wilhelm. " Conceive a prince
such as I have painted him, and that his father suddenly
dies. Ambition and the love of rule are not the passions
that inspire him. As a king's son, he would have been con-
tented; but now he is first constrained to consider the differ-
ence which separates a sovereign from a subject. The crown
was not hereditary; yet his father's longer possession of it
would have strengthened the pretensions of an only son,
and secured his hopes of succession. In place of this, he
now beholds himself excluded by his uncle, in spite of spe-
cious promises, most probably forever. He is now poor in
goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene which from
youth he had looked upon as his inheritance. His temper
here assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now he
is not more, that he is less, than a private nobleman; he
offers himself as the servant of every one; he is not cour-
teous and condescending, he is needy and degraded.


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   " His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream.
It is in vain that his uncle strives to cheer him, to present
his situation in another point of view. The feeling of his
nothingness will not leave him.
  " The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper,
bowed still more. It was the marriage of his mother. The
faithful, tender son had yet a mother, when his father passed
away. He hoped, in the company of his surviving noble-
minded parent, to reverence the heroic form of the departed:
but his mother, too, he loses ; and it is something worse than
death that robs him of her. The trustful image, which a
good chilk loves to form of its parents, is gone. With the
dead there is no help, on the living no hold. Moreover, she
is a woman; and her name is Frailty, like that of all her
sex.
   ' Now only does he feel completely bowed down, now only
orphaned; and no happiness of life can repay what he has
lost. Not reflective or sorrowful by nature, reflection and
sorrow have become for him a heavy obligation. It is thus
that we see him first enter on the scene. I do not think that
I have mixed aught foreign with the play, or overcharged a
single feature of it."
   Serlo looked at his sister, and said, "Did I give thee a
false picture of our friend? He begins well: he has still
many things to tell us, many to persuade us of." Wilhelm
asseverated loudly, that he meant not to persuade, but to
convince: he begged for another moment's patience.
   " Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, " this son of
princes; conceive him vividly, bring his state before your
eyes, and then observe him when he learns that his father's
spirit walks; stand by him in the terrors of the night, when
even the venerable ghost appears before him. He is seized
with boundless horror; he speaks to the mysterious form;
he sees it beckon him; he follows and hears. The fearful
accusation of his uncle rings in his ears, the summons to
revenge, and the piercing, oft-repeated prayer, Remember
me!
   " And, when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands
before us? A young hero panting for vengeance? A prince
by birth, rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of his
crown?    No! trouble and astonishment take hold of the
solitary young man: he grows bitter against smiling villains,
swears that he will not forget the spirit, and concludes with
the significant ejaculation, -


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          "' The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
             That ever I was born to set it right!'

  "In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to
Hamlet's whole procedure.    To me it is clear that Shak-
speare meant, in the present case, to represent the effects of
a great action laid upon a soul unfit for the performance
of it. In this view the whole play seems to me to be com-
posed. There is an oak-tree planted in a costly jar, which
should have borne only pleasant flowers in its bosom: the
roots expand, the jar is shivered.
  " A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without
the strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a
burden it cannot bear and must not cast away. All duties
are holy for him: the present is too hard. Impossibilities
have been required of him, - not in themselves impossibili-
ties, but such for him. He winds and turns, and torments
himself ; he advances and recoils; is ever put in mind, ever
puts himself in mind; at last does all but lose his purpose
from his thoughts, yet still without recovering his peace of
mind."




                    CHAPTER XIV.

  SEVERAL people entering interrupted the discussion. They
were musical dilettanti, who commonly assembled at Serlo's
once a week, and formed a little concert. Serlo himself loved
music much: he used to maintain, that a player without taste
for it never could attain a distinct conception and feeling of
the scenic art. " As a man performs," he would observe,
6" with far more ease and dignity when his gestures are ac-
companied and guided by a tune; so the player ought, in
idea as it were, to set to music even his prose parts, that he
may not monotonously slight them over in his individual style,
but treat them in suitable alternaion by time and measure."
  Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing :
at last she conducted Wilhelm to another room; and going
to the window, and looking out at the starry sky, she said to
him, " You have more to tell us about Hamlet: I will not
hurry you, - my brother must hear it as well as I ; but let me
beg to know your thoughts about Ophelia."


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  ' Of her there cannot much be said," he answered; " for
a few master-strokes complete her character. The whole
being of Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kind-
ness for the prince, to whose hand she may aspire, flows so
spontaneously, her tender heart obeys its impulses so unre-
sistingly, that both father and brother are afraid: both give
her warning harshly and directly. Decorum, like the thin
lawn upon her bosom, cannot hide the soft, still movements
of her heart: it, on the contrary, betrays them. Her fancy
is smit; her silent modesty breathes amiable desire; and, if
the friendly goddess Opportunity should shake the tree, its
fruit would fall."
  "And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself
forsaken, cast away, despised; when all is inverted in the
soul of her crazed lover, and the highest changes to the
lowest, and, instead of the sweet cup of love, he offers her
the bitter cup of woe" --
   " Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; ' the whole struc-
ture of her being is loosened from its joinings; her father's
death strikes fiercely against it, and the fair edifice alto-
gether crumbles into fragments."
  Our friend had not observed with what expressiveness
Aurelia pronounced those words. Looking only at this work
of art, at its connection and completeness, he dreamed not
that his auditress was feeling quite a different influence;
that a deep sorrow of her own was vividly awakened in her
breast by these dramatic shadows.
  Aurelia's head was still resting on her arms ; and her eyes,
now full of tears, were turned to the sky. At last, no longer
able to conceal her secret grief, she seized both hands of her
friend, and exclaimed, while he stood surprised before her,
" Forgive, forgive a heavy heart! I am girt and pressed
together by these people; from my hard-hearted brother
I must seek to hide myself ; your presence has untied these
bonds. My friend ! " continued she, " it is but a few min-
utes since we saw each other first, and already you are going
to become my confidant."   She could scarcely end the words,
and sank upon his shoulder. " Think not worse of me,"
she said, with sobs, " that I disclose myself to you so hastily,
that I am so weak before you. Be my friend, remain my
friend: I shall deserve it." He spoke to her in his kindest
manner, but in vain: her tears still flowed, and choked her
words.
   At this moment Serlo entered, most unwelcomely, and,


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


most unexpectedly, Philina, with her hand in his. " Here is
your friend," said he to her: "' he will be glad to welcome
you."
  " What ! " cried Wilhelm in astonishment : " are you
here? "  With a modest, settled mien, she went up to him;
bade him welcome; praised Serlo's goodness, who, she said,
without merit on her part, but purely in the hope of her im-
provement, had agreed to admit her into his accomplished
troop. She behaved, all the while, in a friendly manner
towards Wilhelm, yet with a dignified distance.
  But this dissimulation lasted only till the other two were
gone. Aurelia having left them, that she might conceal her
trouble, and Serlo being called away, Philina first looked very
sharply at the doors, to see that both were really out; then
began skipping to and fro about the room, as if she had been
mad; at last dropped down upon the floor, like to die of
giggling and laughing. She then sprang up, patted and flat-
tered our friend; rejoicing above measure that she had been
clever enough to go before, and spy the land, and get herself
nestled in.
  " Pretty things are going on here," she said; " just of
the sort I like. Aurelia has had a hapless love-affair with
some nobleman, who seems to be a very stately person, one
whom I myself could like to see some day. He has left her
a memorial, or I much mistake. There is a boy running
about the house, of three years old or so: the papa must be
a very pretty fellow. Commonly I cannot suffer children,
but this brat quite delights me. I have calculated Aurelia's
business. The death of her husband, the new acquaintance,
the child's age, - all things agree.
   " But now her spark has gone his ways: for a year she
has not seen a glimpse of him. She is beside herself and in-
consolable on this account. The more fool she ! Her brother
has a dancing-girl in his troop, with whom he stands on pretty
terms; an actress with whom he is intimate; in the town,
some other women whom he courts; I, too, am on his list.
The more fool he ! Of the rest thou shalt hear to-morrow.
And now one word about Philina, whom thou knowest : the
arch-fool is fallen in love with thee." She swore it was
true and prime sport. She earnestly requested Wilhelm to
fall in love with Aurelia, for then the chase would be worth
beholding. "' She pursues her faithless swain, thou her, I
thee, her brother me. If that will not divert us for a quarter
of a year, I engage to die at the first episode which occurs


225





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


in this four times complicated tale."  She begged of him
not to spoil her trade, and to show her such respect as her
external conduct should deserve.





                     CHAPTER XV.

  NEXT morning Wilhelm went to visit Frau lVelina, but
found her not at home. On inquiring here for the other
members of the wandering community, he learned that Phi-
lina had invited them to breakfast. Out of curiosity, he
hastened thither, and found them all in very good spirits
and of good comfort., The cunning creature had collected
them, was treating them with chocolate, and giving them to
understand that some prospects still remained for them;
that, by her influence, she hoped to convince the manager
how advantageous it would be for him to introduce so many
clever hands among his company. They listened to her with
attention; swallowed cup after cup of her chocolate; thought
the girl was not so bad, after all, and went away proposing
to themselves to speak whatever good of her they could.
  " Do you think, then," said our friend, who staid behind,
" that Serlo will determine to retain our comrades ? '' -  Not
at all," replied Philina; "' nor do I care a fig for it. The
sooner they are gone, the better! Laertes alone I could
wish to keep: the rest we shall by and by pack off."
  Next she signified to Wilhelm her firm persuasion that he
should no longer hide his talent, but, under the direction of
a Serlo, go upon the boards. She was lavish in her praises
of the order, the taste, the spirit, which prevailed in this
establishment: she spoke so flatteringly to Wilhelm, with
such admiration of his gifts, that his heart and his imagina-
tion were advancing towards this proposal as fast as his
understanding and his reason were retreating from it. He
concealed his inclination from himself and from Philina, and
passed a restless day, unable to resolve on visiting his trad-
ing correspondents, to receive the letters which might there
be lying for him. The anxieties of his people during all
this time he easily conceived; yet he shrank from the pre-
cise account of them, particularly at the present time, as he
promised to himself a great and pure enjoyment from the
exhibition of a new play that evening.


226





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Serlo had refused to let him witness the rehearsal. " You
must see us on the best side," he observed, " before we can
allow you to look into our cards."
  The performance, however, where our friend did not fail
to be present, yielded him a high satisfaction. It was the
first time he had ever seen a theatre in such perfection. The
actors were evidently all possessed of excellent gifts, supe-
rior capacities, and a high, clear notion of their art; they
were not equal, but they mutually restrained and supported
one another; each breathed ardor into those around him;
throughout all their acting, they showed themselves decided
and correct. You soon felt that Serlo was the soul of the
whole: as an individual, he appeared to much advantage.
A merry humor, a measured vivacity, a settled feeling of
propriety, combined with a great gift of imitation, were to
be observed in him the moment he appeared upon the stage.
The inward contentment of his being seemed to spread itself
over all that looked on him; and the intellectual style in
which he could so easily and gracefully express the finest
shadings of his part, excited more delight, as he could con-
ceal the art which, by long-continued practice, he had made
his own.
  Aurelia, his sister, was not inferior: she obtained still
greater approbation; for she touched the souls of the audi-
ence, which he had it in his power to exhilarate and amuse.
  After a few days had passed pleasantly enough, Aurelia
sent to inquire for our friend. He hastened to her: she was
lying on a sofa; she seemed to be suffering from headache;
her whole frame had visibly a feverish movement. Her eye
lighted up as she noticed Wilhelm. " Pardon me!" she
cried, as he entered: " the trust you have inspired me with
has made me weak. Till now I have contrived to bear up
against my woes in secret; nay, they gave me strength and
consolation: but now, I know not how it is, you have loos-
ened the bands of silence. You will now, even against your
will, take part in the battle I am fighting with myself ! "
   Wilhelm answered her in kind and obliging terms. He
declared that her image and her sorrows had not ceased to
hover in his thoughts; that he longed for her confidence, and
devoted himself to be her friend.
   While he spoke, his eyes were attracted to the boy, who
sat before her on the floor, and was busy rattling a multitude
of playthings. This child, as Philina had observed, might
be about three years of age; and Wilhelm now conceived


227





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


how that giddy creature, seldom elevated in her phraseology,
had likened it to the sun. For its cheerful eyes and full
countenance were shaded by the finest golden locks, which
flowed round in copious curls; dark, slender, softly bending
eyebrows showed themselves upon a brow of dazzling white-
ness; and the living tinge of health was glancing on its
cheeks. " Sit by me," said Aurelia: "I you are looking at
the happy child with admiration; in truth, I took it into my
arms with joy; I keep it carefully; yet, by it, too, I can
measure the extent of my sufferings; for they seldom let
me feel the worth of such a gift.
  " Allow me," she continued, 1' to speak to you about my-
self and my destiny; for I have it much at heart that you
should not misunderstand me. I thought I should have a
few calm instants; and, accordingly, I sent for you. You
are now here, and the thread of my narrative is lost.
  " 'One more forsaken woman in the world!' you will
say. You are a man. You are thinking, ' What a noise she
makes, the fool, about a necessary evil; which, certainly as
death, awaits a woman, when such is the fidelity of men ! '
O my friend ! if my fate were common, I would gladly un-
dergo a common evil; but it is so singular ! why cannot I
present it to you in a mirror, - why not command some one
to tell it you? Oh ! had I, had I been seduced, surprised,
and afterwards forsaken, there would then still be comfort in
despair; but I am far more miserable. I have been my own
deceiver; I have wittingly betrayed myself; and this, this,
is what shall never be forgiven me."
  "With noble feelings, such as yours," said Wilhelm,
"you cannot be entirely unhappy."
  " And do you know to what I am indebted for my feel-
ings ? " asked Aurelia. I" To the worst education that ever
threatened to contaminate a girl; to the vilest examples for
misleading the senses and inclinations.
  " My mother dying early, the fairest years of my youth
were spent with an aunt, whose principle it was to despise
the laws of decency. She resigned herself headlong to
every impulse, careless whether the object of it proved her
tyrant or her slave, so she might forget herself in wild enjoy-
ment.
  " By children, with the pure, clear vision of innocence,
what ideas of men were necessarily formed in such a scene !
How stolid, brutally bold, importunate, unmannerly, was
every one she allured! How sated, empty, insolent, and


228





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


insipid, as soon as he had had his wishes gratified ! I have
seen this woman live, for years, humbled under the control of
the meanest creatures. What incidents she had to undergo !
With what a front she contrived to accommodate herself to
her destiny; nay, with how much skill, to wear these shame-
ful fetters !
  " It was thus, my friend, that I became acquainted with
your sex; and deeply did I hate it, when, as I imagined, I
observed that even tolerable men, in their conduct to ours,
appeared to renounce every honest feeling, of which nature
might otherwise have made them capable.
  " Unhappily, moreover, on such occasions, a multitude of
painful discoveries about my own sex were forced upon me;
and, in truth, I was then wiser, as a girl of sixteen, than I
now am, now that I scarcely understand myself. Why are
we so wise when young, - so wise, and ever growing less
so? "
  The boy began to make a noise: Aurelia became impa-
tient, and rang. An old woman came to take him out.
"Hast thou toothache still?" said Aurelia to the crone,
whose face was wrapped in cloth. ' Unsufferable," said the
other, with a muffled voice, then lifted the boy, who seemed
to like going with her, and carried him away.
  Scarcely was he gone, when Aurelia began bitterly to weep.
"I am good for nothing," cried she, "but lamenting and
complaining; and I feel ashamed to lie before you like a
miserable worm. My recollection is already fled: I can re-
late no more."   She faltered, and was silent. Her friend,
unwilling to reply with a commonplace, and unable to reply
with any thing particularly applicable, pressed her hand, and
looked at her for some time without speaking. Thus embar-
rassed, he at length took up a book, which he noticed lying
on the table before him: it was Shakspeare's works, and
open at " Hamlet."
  Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister,
and, looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried,
" So you are again at ' Hamlet' ? Very good ! Many doubts
have arisen in me, which seem not a little to impair the ca-
nonical aspect of the play as you would have it viewed. The
English themselves have admitted that its chief interest con-
cludes with the third act; the last two lagging sorrily on, and
scarcely uniting with the rest: and certainly about the end
it seems to stand stock-still."
   ' It is very possible," said Wilhelm, " that some individ-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


uals of a nation, which has so many masterpieces to feel
proud of, may be led by prejudice and narrowness of mind
to form false judgments; but this cannot hinder us from
looking with our own eyes, and doing justice where we see it
due. I am very far from censuring the plan of ' Hamlet' : on
the other hand, I believe there never was a grander one in-
vented; nay, it is not invented, it is real."
  ' How do you demonstrate that? " inquired Serlo.
  "I will not demonstrate any thing," said Wilhelm: "I
will merely show you what my own conceptions of it are."
  Aurelia raised herself from her cushion, leaned upon her
hand, and looked at Wilhelm, who, with the firmest assur-
ance that he was in the right, went on as follows : " It pleases
us, it flatters us, to see a hero acting on his own strength, lov-
ing and hating at the bidding of his heart, undertaking and
completing, casting every obstacle aside, and attaining some
great end. Poets and historians would willingly persuade us
that so proud a lot may fall to man. In ' Hamlet' we are
taught another lesson : the hero is without a plan, but the play
is full of plan. Here we have no villain punished on some
self-conceived and rigidly accomplished scheme of vengeance :
a horrid deed is done ; it rolls along with all its consequences,
dragging with it even the guiltless: the guilty perpetrator
would, as it seems, evade the abyss made ready for him; yet
he plunges in, at the very point by which he thinks he shall
escape, and happily complete his course.
   "For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief
over innocence, as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over
many that deserve them not; while frequently the author of
the one or of the other is not punished or rewarded at all.
Here in this play of ours, how strange ! The Pit of darkness
sends its spirit and demands revenge: in vain ! All circum-
stances tend one way, and hurry to revenge: in vain ! Nei-
ther earthly nor infernal thing may bring about what is
reserved for Fate alone. The hour of judgment comes; the
wicked falls with the good; one race is mowed away, that
another may spring up."
   After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo
 said, " You pay no great compliment to Providence, in thus
 exalting Shakspeare; and besides, it appears to me, that
 for the honor of your poet, as others for the honor of Provi-
 dence, you ascribe to him an object and a plan such as he
 himself had never thought of,"


230





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XVI.

  " LET me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have
looked at Ophelia's part again: I am contented with it, and
confident, that, under certain circumstances, I could play it.
But tell me, should not the poet have furnished the insane
maiden with another sort of songs? Could not some frag-
ments out of melancholy ballads be selected for this purpose I
Why put double meanings and lascivious insipidities in the
mouth of this noble-minded girl ? "
  " Dear friend," said Wilhelm, "'even here I cannot yield
you one iota. In these singularities, in this apparent impro-
priety, a deep sense is hid. Do we not understand from the
very first what the mind of the good, soft-hearted ,girl was
busied with? Silently she lived within herself, yet she scarce
concealed her wishes, her longing : the tones of desire were in
secret ringing through her soul; and how often may she have
attempted, like an unskilful nurse, to lull her senses to repose
with songs which only kept them more awake? But at last,
when her self-command is altogether gone, when the secrets
of her heart are hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays
her; and in the innocence of insanity she solaces herself, un-
mindful of king or queen, with the echo of her loose and
well-beloved songs, -' To-morrow is Saint Valentine's Day,'
and ' By Gis and by Saint Charity.' "
  He had not finished speaking, when all at once an extraordi-
nary scene took place before him, which he could not in any
way explain.
  Serlo had walked once or twice up and down the room,
without evincing any special object. On a sudden, he stepped
forward to Aurelia's dressing-table, caught hastily at some-
thing that was lying there, and hastened to the door with his
booty. No sooner did Aurelia notice this, than, springing up,
she threw herself in his way, laid hold of him with boundless
vehemence, and had dexterity enough to clutch an end of the
article he was carrying off. They struggled and wrestled
with great obstinacy, twisted and threw each other sharply
round; he laughed; she exerted all her strength; and as
Wilhelm hastened towards them, to separate and soothe them,
Aurelia sprang aside with a naked dagger in her hand; while
Serlo cast the scabbard, which had staid with him, angrily
upon the floor. Wilhelm started back astonished; and his
dumb wonder seemed to ask the cause why so violent a strife,


231





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


about so strange an implement, had taken place between
them.
  " You shall judge betwixt us," said the brother. " What
business she with sharp steel? Do but look at it. That
dagger is unfit for any actress, - point like a needle's, edge
like a razor's ! What good's the farce? Passionate as she
is, she will one day chance to do herself a mischief. I have
a heart's hatred at such singularities: a serious thought of
that sort is insane, and so dangerous a plaything is not in
taste."
  " I have it back ! " exclaimed Aurelia, and held the pol-
ished blade aloft : " I will now keep my faithful friend more
carefully. Pardon me," she cried, and kissed the steel,
" that I have so neglected thee."
  Serlo was like to grow seriously angry. " Take it as thou
wilt, brother," she continued : " how knowest thou but, under
this form, a precious talisman may have been given me, so
that, in extreme need, I may find help and counsel in it?
Must all be hurtful that looks dangerous? "
  " Such talk without a meaning might drive onq mad," said
Serlo, and left the room with suppressed indignation. Aurelia
put the dagger carefully into its sheath, and placed it in her
bosom. " Let us now resume the conversation which our
foolish* brother has disturbed," said she, as Wilhelm was
beginning to put questions on the subject of this quarrel.
  " I must admit your picture of Ophelia to be just," con-
tinued she; " I cannot now misunderstand the object of the
poet: I must pity ; though, as you paint her, I shall rather pity
her than sympathize with her. But allow me here to offer a
remark, which in these few days you have frequently sug-
gested to me. I observe with admiration the correct, keen,
penetrating glance with which you judge of poetry, especially
dramatic poetry: the deepest abysses of invention are not
hidden from you, the finest touches of representation cannot
escape you. Without ever having viewed the objects in
nature, you recognize the truth of their images: there seems,
as it were, a presentiment of all the universe to lie in you,
which by the harmonious touch of poetry is awakened and
unfolded. For in truth," continued she, " from without, you
receive not much : I have scarcely seen a person that so little
knew, so totally misknew, the people he lived with, as you
do. Allow me to say it: in hearing you expound the mys-
teries of Shakspeare, one would think you had just descended
from a synod of the gods, and had listened there while they


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


were taking counsel how to form men; in seeing you transact
with your fellows, I could imagine you to be the first large-
born child of the Creation, standing agape, and gazing with
strange wonderment and edifying good nature at lions and
apes and sheep and elephants, and true-heartedly addressing
them as your equals, simply because they were there, and
in motion like yourself."
   " The feeling of my ignorance in this -respect," said Wil-
helm, " often gives me pain ; and I should thank you, worthy
friend, if you would help me to get a little better insight
into life. From youth, I have been accustomed to direct the
eyes of my spirit inwards rather than outwards; and hence
it is very natural, that, to a certain extent, I should be ac-
quainted with man, while of men I have not the smallest
knowledge."
   " In truth," said Aurelia, "I at first suspected, that, in
 giving such accounts of the people whom you sent to my
 brother, you meant to make sport of us: when I compared
 your letters with the merits of these persons, it seemed very
 strange."
   Aurelia's remarks, well founded as they might be, and
 willing as our friend was to confess himself deficient in this
 matter, carried with them something painful, nay, offensive,
 to him; sb that he grew silent, and retired within himself,
.partly to avoid showing any irritated feeling, partly* to
search his mind for the truth or error of the charge.
   " Let not this alarm you," said Aurelia: " the light of
 the understanding it is always in our power to reach, but
 this fulness of the heart no one can give us. If you are
 destined for an artist, you cannot long enough retain the
 dim-sightedness and innocence of which I speak; it is the
 beautiful hull upon the young bud ; woe to us if we are forced
 too soon to burst it ! Surely it were well, if we never knew
 what the people are for whom we work and study.
   " Oh ! I, too, was in that happy case, when I first betrod
 the stage, with the loftiest opinion of myself and of my
 nation. What a people, in my fancy, were the Germans !
 what a people might they yet become! I addressed this
 people, raised above them by a little joinery, separated from
 them by a row of lamps, whose glancing and vapor threw an
 indistinctness over every thing before me. How welcome
 was the tumult of applause which sounded to me from the
 crowd ! how gratefully did I accept the present offered me
 unanimously by so many hands ! For a time I rocked my-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


self in these ideas: I affected the multitude, and was agait
affected by them. With my public I was on the fairest foot-
ing: I imagined that I felt a perfect harmony betwixt us,
and that on each occasion I beheld before me the best and
noblest of the land.
  " Unhappily it was not the actress alone that inspired
these friends of the stage with interest: they likewise made
pretensions to the young and lively girl. They gave me to
understand, in terms distinct enough, that my duty was, not
only to excite emotion in them, but to share it with them
personally. This, unluckily, was not my business :I wished
to elevate their minds; but, to what they called their hearts,
I had not the slightest claim. Yet now men of all ranks,
ages, and characters, by turns afflicted me with their ad-
dresses; and it did seem hard that I could not, like an hon-
est young woman, shut my door, and spare myself such a
quantity of labor.
  "The men appeared, for most part, much the same as
I had been accustomed to about my aunt; and here again I
should have felt disgusted with them, had not their peculiari-
ties and insipidities amused me. As I was compelled to see
them, in the theatre, in open places, in my house, I formed
the project of spying out their follies; and my brother helped
me with alacrity to execute it. And if you reflect, that up
from the whisking shopman and the conceited merchant's
son, to the polished, calculating man of the world, the bold
soldier, and the impetuous prince, all in succession passed in
review before me, each in his way endeavoring to found his
small romance, you will pardon me if I conceived that I
had gained some acquaintance with my nation.
  " The fantastically dizened student; the awkward, humbly
proud man of letters; the sleek-fed, gouty canon; the sol-
emn, heedful man of office; the heavy country-baron; the
smirking, vapid courtier; the young, erring parson; the cool
as well as the quick and sharply speculating merchant, - all
these I have seen in motion; and I swear to you, that there
were few among them fitted to inspire me even with a senti-
ment of toleration: on the contrary, I felt it altogether irk-
some to collect, with tedium and annoyance, the suffrages of
fools; to pocket those applauses in detail, which in their ac-
cumulated state had so delighted me, which in the gross I had
appropriated with such pleasure.
  "If I expected a rational compliment upon my acting, if
I hoped that they would praise an author whom I valued,


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


they were sure to make one empty observation on the back
of another, and to name some vapid play in which they
wished to see me act. If I listened in their company, to
hear if some noble, brilliant, witty thought had met with a
response among them, and would re-appear from some of
them in proper season, it was rare that I could catch an echo
of it. An error that had happened, a mispronunciation, a
provincialism of some actor, such were the weighty points
by which they held fast, beyond which they could not pass.
I knew not, in the end, to what hand I should turn: them-
selves they thought too clever to be entertained; and me they
imagined they were well entertaining, if they romped and
made noise enough about me. I began very cordially to de-
spise them all: I felt as if the whole nation had, on purpose,
deputed these people to debase it in my eyes. They
appeared to me so clownish, so ill-bred, so wretchedly
instructed, so void of pleasing qualities, so tasteless, I fre-
quently exclaimed, " No German can buckle his shoes, till
he has learned to do it of some foreign nation! "
  " You perceive how blind, how unjust and splenetic, I was;
and, the longer it lasted, my spleen increased. I might have
killed myself with these things, but I fell into the contrary
extreme: I married, or, rather, let myself be married. My
brother, who had undertaken to conduct the theatre, wished
much to have a helper. His choice lighted on a young man,
who was not offensive to me, who wanted all that my brother
had, - genius, vivacity, spirit, and impetuosity of mind; but
who also in return had all that my brother wanted, -love of
order, diligence, and precious gifts in housekeeping, and the
management of money.
  " He became my husband, I know not how: we lived to-
gether, I do not well know why. Suffice it to say, our affairs
went prosperously forward. We drew a large income: of
this my brother's activity was the cause. We lived with a
moderate expenditure, and that was the merit of my hus-
band. I thought no more about world or nation. With the
world I had nothing to participate: my idea of the nation
had faded away. When I entered on the scene, I did so
that I might subsist: I opened my lips because I durst not
continue silent, because I had come out to speak.
   " Yet let me do the matter justice. I had altogether given
myself up to the disposal of my brothel. His objects were,
applause and money; for, between ourselves, he has no dis-
like to hear his own praises; and his outlay is always great.


235





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


I no longer played according to my own feeling, to my own
conviction, but as he directed me; and, if I did it to his sat-
isfaction, I was content. He steered entirely by the caprices
of the public. Money flowed upon us: he could live ac-
cording to his humor, and so we had good times with him.
  " Thus had I fallen into a dull, handicraft routine. I spun
out my days without joy or sympathy. My marriage was
childless, and not of long continuance. My husband grew
sick; his strength was visibly decaying; anxiety for him in-
terrupted my general indifference. It was at this time that
I formed an acquaintance which opened a new life for me,
a new and quicker one, for it will soon be done."
  She kept silence for a time, and then continued, "All at
once my prattling humor falters: I have not the courage to
go on. Let me rest a little. You shall not go, till you have
learned the whole extent of my misfortune. Meanwhile,
call in Mignon, and ask her what she wants."
  The child had more than once been in the room, while Au-
relia and our friend were talking. As they spoke lower on
her entrance, she had glided out again, and was now sitting
quietly in the hall, and waiting. Being bid return, she
brought a book with her, which its form and binding showed
to be a small geographical atlas. She had seen some maps,
for the first time, at the parson's house, with great astonish-
ment; had asked him many questions, and informed herself
so far as possible about them. Her desire to learn seemed
much excited by this new branch of knowledge. She now
earnestly requested Wilhelm to purchase her the book; say-
ing she had pawned her large silver buckle with the print-
seller for it, and wished to have back the pledge to-morrow
morning, as this evening it was late. Her request was
granted; and she then began repeating several things she
had already learned; at the same time, in her own way, mak-
ing many very strange inquiries. Here again one might ob-
serve, that, with a mighty effort, she could comprehend but
little and laboriously. So likewise was it with her writing, at
which she still kept busied. She yet spoke very broken Ger-
man: it was only when she opened her mouth to sing, when
she touched her cithern, that she seemed to be employing an
organ by which, in some degree, the workings of her mind
could be disclosed and communicated.
  Since we are at present on the subject, we may also men-
tion the perplexity which Wilhelm had of late experienced
from certain parts of her procedure: When she came or


236





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


went, wished him good-morning or good-night, she clasped
him so firmly in her arms, and kissed him with such ardor,
that often the violence of this expanding nature gave him
serious fears.  The spasmodic vivacity of her demeanor
seemed daily to increase: her whole being moved in a rest-
less stillness. She would never be without some piece of
packthread to twist in her hands, some napkin to tie in
knots, some paper or wood to chew. All her sports seemed
but the channels which drained off some inward violent com-
motion. The only thing that seemed to cause her any cheer-
fulness was being near the boy Felix, with whom she could
go on in a very dainty manner.
  Aurelia, after a little rest, being now ready to explain to
her friend a matter which lay very near her heart, grew im-
patient at the little girl's delay, and signified that she must
go, - a hint, however, which the latter did not take; and at
last, when nothing else would do, they sent her off expressly
and against her will.
  " Now or never," said Aurelia, " must I tell you the re-
mainder of my story. Were my tenderly beloved and un-
just friend but a few miles distant, I would say to you,
' Mount on horseback, seek by some means to get acquainted
with him: on returning, you will certainly forgive me, and
pity me with all your heart.' As it is, I can only tell you
with words how amiable he was, and how much I loved him.
   " It was at the critical season, when care for the illness of
my husband had depressed my spirits, that I first became
acquainted with this stranger. He had just returned from
America, where, in company with some Frenchmen, he had
served with much distinction under the colors of the United
States.
   " He addressed me with an easy dignity, a frank kindli-
ness: he spoke about myself, my state, my acting, like an
old acquaintance, so affectionately and distinctly, that now
for the first time I enjoyed the pleasure of perceiving my
existence reflected in the being of another. His judgments
viere just, though not severe; penetrating, yet not void of
love. He showed no harshness: his pleasantry was cour-
teous, with all his humor. He seemed accustomed to success
with women; this excited my attention: he was never in the
least importunate or flattering; this put me off my guard.
   " In the town, he had intercourse with few : he was often
on horseback, visiting his many friends in the neighborhood,
and managing the business of his house. On returning, he


237





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


would frequently alight at my apartments; he treated my
ever-ailing husband with warm attention; he procured him
mitigation of his sickness by a good physician. And, taking
part in all that interested me, he allowed me to take part in
all that interested him. He told me the history of his cam,
paigns : he spoke of his invincible attachment to military life,
of his family relations, of his present business. He kept no
secret from me; he displayed to me his inmost thoughts,
allowed me to behold the most secret corners of his soul: I
became acquainted with his passions and his capabilities. It
was the first time in my life that I enjoyed a cordial, intel-
lectual intercourse with any living creature. I was attracted
by him, borne along by him, before I thought about inquir-
ing how it stood with me.
  '.' Meanwhile I lost my husband, nearly just as I had taken
him. The burden of theatrical affairs now fell entirely on
me. My brother, not to be surpassed upon the stage, was
never good for any thing in economical concerns: I took the
charge of all, at the same time studying my parts with
greater diligence than ever. I again played as of old, -nay,
with new life, with quite another force. It was by reason
of my friend, it was on his account, that I did so; yet my
success was not always best when I knew him to be present.
Once or. twice he listened to me unobserved, and how pleas-
antly his unexpected applauses surprised me you may con-
ceive.
  " Certainly I am a strange creature. In every part I
played, it seemed as if I had been speaking it in praise of
him; for that was the temper of my heart, the words might
be any thing they pleased. Did I understand him to be
present in the audience, I durst not venture to speak out
with all my force; just as I would not press my love or praise
on him to his face: was he absent, I had then free scope; I
did my best, with a certain peacefulness, with a contentment
not to be described. Applause once more delighted me;
and, when I charmed the people, I longed to call down
among them, 'This you owe to him ! '
  " Yes: my relation to the public, to the nation, had been
altered by a wonder. On a sudden they again appeared to
me in the most favorable light: I felt astonished at my
former blindness.
  "' How foolish,' said I often to myself, 'was it to revile
a nation, - foolish, simply because it was a nation. Is it
necessary, is it possible, that individual men should generally


238





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


interest us much? Not at all ! The only question is, whether
in the great mass there exists a sufficient quantity of talent,
force, and capability, which lucky circumstances may de-
velop, which men of lofty minds may direct upon a common
object.' I now rejoiced in discovering so little prominent
originality among my countrymen; I rejoiced that they dis-
dained not to accept of guidance from without; I rejoiced
that they had found a leader.
  " Lothario, - allow me to designate my friend by this, his
first name, which I loved, - Lothario had always presented
the Germans to my mind on the side of valor, and shown
me, that, when well commanded, there was no braver nation
on the face of the earth; and I felt ashamed that I had
never thought of this, the first quality of a people. History
was known to him: he was in connection and correspond-
ence with the most distinguished persons of the age. Young
as he was, his eye was open to the budding youthhood of his
native country, to the silent labors of active and busy men in
so many provinces of art. He afforded me a glimpse of Ger-
many,- what it was and what it might be; and I blushed at
having formed my judgment of a nation from the motley
crowd that squeeze into the wardrobe of a theatre.  He
made me look upon it as a duty that I too, in my own
departm,ent, should be true, spirited, enlivening. I now felt
as if inspired every time I stepped upon the boards. Medi-
ocre passages grew golden in my mouth: had any poet been
at hand to support me adequately, I might have produced
the most astonishing effects.
   " So lived the young widow for a series of months. He
could not do without me, and I felt exceedingly unhappy
when he staid away. He showed me the letters he received
from his relations, from his amiable sister. He took an
interest in the smallest circumstance that concerned me:
more complete, more intimate, no union ever was than ours.
The name of love was not mentioned. He went and came,
came and went. And now, my friend, it is high time that
you, too, should go."


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XVII.

  WILHELM could put off no longer the visiting of his com-
mercial friends. HIe proceeded to their place with some
anxiety, knowing he should there find letters from his people.
He dreaded the reproofs which these would of course con-
tain : it seemed likely also that notice had been given to his
trading correspondents, concerning the perplexities and fears
which his late silence had occasioned. After such a series
of knightly adventures, he recoiled from the school-boy
aspect in which he must appear: he proposed within his mind
to act with an air of sternness and defiance, and thus hide
his embarrassment.
  To his great wonder and contentment, however, all went
off very easily and well. In the vast, stirring, busy counting-
room, the men had scarcely time to seek him out his packet:
his delay was but alluded to in passing. And on opening
the letters of his father, and his friend Werner, he found
them all of very innocent contents. His father, in hopes of
an extensive journal, the keeping of which he had strongly
recommended to his son at parting, giving him also a tabulary
scheme for that 'purpose, seemed pretty well pacified about
the silence of the first period; complaining only of a certain
enigmatical obscurity in the last and only letter despatched,
as we have seen, from the castle of the count. Werner
joked in his way; told merry anecdotes, facetious burgh-
news; and requested intelligence of friends and acquaint-
ances, whom Wilhelm, in the large trading-city, would now
meet with in great numbers. Our friend, extremely pleased
at getting off so well, answered without loss of a moment, 'in
some- very cheerful letters; promising his father a copious
journal of his travels, with all the required geographical,
statistical, and mercantile remarks. He had seen much on
his journey, he said, and hoped to make a tolerably large
manuscript out of these materials. He did not observe that
he was almost in the same case as he had once experienced
before, when he assembled an audience and lit 'his lamps
to represent a play which was not written, still less got by
heart. Accordingly, so soon as he commenced the actual
work of composition, he became aware that he had much to
say about emotions and thoughts, and many experiences of
the heart and spirit, but not a word concerning outward
objects, on which, as he now discovered, he had not bestowed
the least attention.


240





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  In this embarrassment, the acquisitions of his friend
Laertes came very seasonably to his aid. Custom had
united these young people, unlike one another as they
were; and Laertes, with all his failings and singularities,
was actually an interesting man. Endowed with warm and
pleasurable senses, he might have reached old age without
reflecting for a moment on his situation. But his ill-fortune
and his sickness had robbed him of the pure feelings of
youth, and opened for him instead of it a view into the
transitoriness, the discontinuity, of man's existence. Hence
had arisen a humorous, flighty, rhapsodical way of thinking
about all things, or, rather, of uttering the immediate impres-
sions they produced on him. He did not like to be alone;
he strolled about all the coffee-houses and tables-d'h6te; and,
when he did stay at home, books of travels were his favorite,
nay, his only, kind of reading. Having lately found a large
circulating library, he had been enabled to content his taste
in this respect to the full; and erelong half the world was
figuring in his faithful memory.
  It was easy for him, therefore, to speak comfort to his
friend, when the latter had disclosed his utter lack of matter
for the narrative so solemnly promised by him. " Now is the
time for a stroke of art," said Laertes, " that shall have no
fellow!
  " Has not Germany been travelled over, cruised over,
walked, crept, and flown over, repeatedly from end to end?
And has not every German traveller the royal privilege of
drawing from the public a repayment of the great or small
expenses he may have incurred while travelling? Give me
your route previous to our meeting : the rest I know already.
I will find you helps and sources of information: of miles
that were never measured, populations that were never
counted, we shall give them    plenty.   The revenues of
provinces we will take from almanacs and tables, which, as
all men know, are the most authentic documents. On these
we will ground our political discussions: we shall not fail in
side-glances at the ruling powers. One or two princes we
will paint as true fathers of their country, that we may
gain more ready credence in our allegations against others.
If we do not travel through the residence of any noted man,
we shall take care to meet such persons at the inn, and make
them utter the most foolish stuff to us. Particularly, let us
not forget to insert, with all its graces and sentiments, some
love-story with a pastoral bar-maid. I tell you, it shall be a


241





MEISTER'S A1rRENTICESHIP.


composition which will not only fill father and mother with
delight, but which booksellers themselves shall gladly pay
you current money for."
  They went accordingly to work, and both of them found
pleasure in their labor. Wilhelm, in the mean time, frequent-
ing the play at night, and conversing with Serlo and Aurelia
by day, experienced the greatest satisfaction, and was daily
more and more expanding his ideas, which had been too long
revolving in the same narrow circle.





                   CHAPTER XVIII.

  IT was not without deep interest that he became acquainted
with the history of Serlo's career. Piecemeal he learned it;
for it was not the fashion of that extraordinary man to be
confidential, or to speak of any thing connectively. He had
been, one may say, born and suckled in the theatre. While
yet literally an infant, he had been produced upon the stage
to move spectators, merely by his presence; for authors even
then were acquainted with this natural and very guiltless
mode of doing so. Thus his first " Father ! " or " Mother ! "
in favorite pieces, procured him approbation, "before he un-
derstood what was meant by that clapping of the hands. In
the character of Cupid, he more than once descended, with
terror, in his flying-gear; as harlequin, he used to issue from
the egg; and, as a little chimney-sweep, to play the sharpest
tricks.
  Unhappily, the plaudits of these glancing nights were too
bitterly repaid by sufferings in the intervening seasons. His
father was persuaded that the minds of children could be
kept awake and steadfast by no other means than blows:
hence, in the studying of any part, he used to thrash him at
stated periods, not because the boy was awkward, but that
he might become more certainly and constantly expert. It
was thus that in former times, while putting down a land-
mark, people were accustomed to bestow a hearty drubbing
on the children who had followed them; and these, it was
supposed, would recollect the place exactly to the latest day
of their lives.  Serlo waxed in stature, and showed the
finest capabilities of spirit and of body, - in particular, an


242





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


admirable pliancy at once in his thoughts, looks, movements,
and gestures. His gift of imitation was beyond belief.
When still a boy, he could mimic persons, so that you would
think you saw them; though in form, age, and disposition,
they might be entirely unlike him, and unlike each other.
Nor with all this, did he want the knack of suiting himself
to his circunistances, and picking out his way in life. Ac-
cordingly, so soon as he had grown in some degree acquainted
with his strength, he very naturally eloped from his father,
who, as the boy's understanding and dexterity increased,
still thought it needful to forward their perfection by the
harshest treatment.
  Happy was the wild boy, now roaming free about the world,
where his feats of waggery never failed to secure him a good
reception. His lucky star first led him in the Christmas season
to a cloister, where the friar, whose business it had been to
arrange processions, and to entertain the Christian community
by spiritual masquerades, having just died, Serlo was wel-
comed as a helping angel. On the instant he took up the
part of Gabriel in the Annunication, and did not by any
means displease the pretty girl, who, acting the Virgin, very
gracefully received his most obliging kiss, with external
humility and inward pride. In their Mysteries, he continued
to perform the most important parts, and thought himself
no slender personage, when at last, in the character of Mar-
tyr, he was mocked of the world, and beaten, and fixed upon
the cross.
  Some pagan soldiers had, on this occasion, played their
parts a little too naturally. To be avenged on these heathen
in the proper style, he took care at the Day of Judgment to
have them decked out in gaudy clothes as emperors and kings ;
and at that moment when they, exceedingly contented with
their situation, were about to take precedence of the rest in
heaven, as they had done on earth, he, on a sudden, rushed
upon them in the shape of the Devil; and to the cordial edi-
fication of all the beggars and spectators, having thoroughly
curried them with his oven-fork, he pushed them without
mercy back into the chasm, where, in the midst of waving
flame, they met with the sorriest welcome.
   He was acute enough, however, to perceive that these
 crowned heads might feel offended at such bold procedure,
 and perhaps forget the reverence due to his privileged office
 or Accuser and Turnkey.     So in all silence, before the
 Millennium commenced, he withdrew, and betook him to a


243





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


neighboring town. Here a society of persons, denominated
Children of Joy, received him with open arms. They were
a set of clever, strong-headed, lively geniuses, who saw well
enough that the sum of our existence, divided by reason,
never gives an integer number, but that a surprising fraction
is always left behind. At stated times, to get rid of this
fraction, which impedes, and, if it is diffused over all the
mass of our conduct, endangers us, was the object of the
Children of Joy. For one day a week each of them in suc-
cession was a fool on purpose; and, during this, he in his
turn exhibited to ridicule, in allegorical representations, what-
ever folly he had noticed in himself, or the rest, throughout
the other six. This practice might be somewhat ruder than
that constant training, in the course of which a man of ordi-
nary morals is accustomed to observe, to warn, to punish,
himself daily; but it was also merrier and surer. For as no
Child of Joy concealed his bosom-folly, so he and those
about him held it for simply what it was ; whereas, on the other
plan, by the help of self-deception, this same bosom-folly
often gains the head authority within, and binds down reason
to a secret servitude, at the very time when reason fondly
hopes that she has long since chased it out of doors. The
mask of folly circulated round in this society; and each
member was allowed, in his particular day, to decorate and
characterize it with his own attributes or those of others.
At the time of Carnival, they assumed the greatest freedom,
vying with the clergy in attempts to instruct and entertain
the multitude. Their solemn figurative processions of Virtues
and Vices, Arts and Sciences, Quarters of the World, and
Seasons of the Year, bodied forth a number of conceptions,
and gave images of many distant objects to the people, and
hence were not without their use; while, on the other hand,
the mummeries of the priesthood tended but to strengthen a
tasteless superstition, already strong enough.
  Here again young Serlo was altogether in his element. In-
vention in its strictest sense, it is true, he had not; but, on
the other hand, he had the most consummate skill in employ-
ing what he found before him, in ordering it, and shadowing
it forth. His roguish turns, his gift of mimicry; his biting
wit, which at least one day weekly he might use with entire
freedom, even against his benefactors, - made him precious,
or rather indispensable, to the whole society.
  Yet his restless mind soon drove him from this favorable
scene to other quarters of his country, where other means


244





MEISTEW'S APPRENTICESHIP.


245


of instruction awaited him. He came into the polished, but
also barren, part of Germany, where, in worshipping the
good and the beautiful, there is indeed no want of truth, but
frequently a grievous want of spirit. His masks would here
do nothing for him: he had now to aim at working .on the
heart and mind. For short periods, he attached himself to
small or to extensive companies of actors, and marked, on
these occasions, what were the distinctive properties, both
of the pieces and the players. The monotony which then
reigned on the German theatre, the mawkish sound and
cadence of their Alexandrines, the flat and yet distorted
dialogue, the shallowness and commonness of these undis-
guised preachers of morality, he was not long in compre-
hending, or in seizing, at the same time, what little there
was that moved and pleased.
  Not only single parts in the current pieces, but the pieces
themselves, remained easily and wholly in his memory, and,
along with them, the special tone of any player who had rep-
resented them with approbation. At length, in the course
of his rambles, his money being altogether done, the project
struck him of acting entire pieces by himself, especially in
villages and noblemen's houses, and thus in all places mak-
ing sure at least of entertainment and lodging. In any tavern,
any room, or any garden, he would accordingly at once set
up his theatre: with a roguish seriousness and a show of
enthusiasm, he would contrive to gain the imaginations of his
audience, to deceive their senses, and before their eyes to
make an old press into a tower, or a fan into a dagger. His
youthful warmth supplied the place of deep feeling: his
vehemence seemed strength, and his flattery tenderness.
Such of the spectators as already knew a theatre, he put in
mind of all that they had seen and heard: in the rest he
awakened a presentiment of something wonderful, and a
wish to be more acquainted with it. What produced an effect
in one place he did not fail to repeat in others ; and his mind
overflowed with a wicked pleasure when, by the same means,
on the spur of the moment, he could make gulls of all the
world.
   His spirit was lively, brisk, and unimpeded: by frequently
repeating parts and pieces, he improved very fast. Erelong
he could recite and play with more conformity to the sense
than the models whom he had at first imitated. Proceeding
thus, he arrived by degrees at playing naturally; though he
did not cease to feign. He seemed transported, yet he lay





246


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


in wait for the effect; and his greatest pride was in moving,
by successive touches, the passions of men. The mad trade
he drove did itself soon force him to proceed with a certain
moderation; and thus, partly by constraint, partly by in-
stinct, he learned the art of which so few players seemed to
have a notion, - the art of being frugal in the use of voice
and gestures.
  Thus did he contrive to tame, and to inspire with interest
for him, even rude and unfriendly men. Being always con-
tented with food and shelter; thankfully accepting presents of
any kind as readily as money, which latter, when he reckoned
that he had enough of it, he frequently declined, - he be-
came a general favorite, was sent about from one to another
with recommendatory letters; and thus he wandered many
a day from castle to castle, exciting much festivity, enjoying
much, and meeting in his travels with the most agreeable and
curious adventures.
  With such inward coldness of temper, he could not prop-
erly be said to love any one; with such clearness of vision,
he could respect no one; in fact, he never looked beyond the
external peculiarities of men; and he merely carried their
characters in his mimical collection. Yet withal, his selfish-
ness was keenly wounded if he did not please every one and
call forth universal applause. How this might be attained,
he had'studied in the course of time so accurately, and so
sharpened his sense of the matter, that not only on the stage,
but also in common life, he no longer could do otherwise
than flatter and deceive. And thus did his disposition, his
talent, -and his way of life, work reciprocally on each other,
till by this means he had imperceptibly been formed into a
perfect actor. Nay, by a mode of action and re-action, which
is quite natural, though it seems paradoxical, his recitation,
declamation, and gesture improved, by critical discernment
and practice, to a high degree of truth, ease, and frankness;
while, in his life and intercourse with men, he seemed to grow
continually more secret, artful, or even hypocritical and con-
strained.
  Of his fortunes and adventures we perhaps shall speak
in another place: it is enough to remark at present, that in
later times, when he had become a man of circumstance, in
possession of a distinct reputation, and of a very good, though
not entirely secure, employment and rank, he was wont, in
conversation, partly in the way of irony, partly of mockery,
in a delicate style, to act the sophist, and thus to destroy





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


almost all serious discussion. This kind of speech he seemed
peculiarly fond of using towards Wilhelm, particularly when
the latter took a fancy, as often happened, for introducing
any of his general and theoretical disquisitions. Yet still
they liked well to be together: with such different modes of
thinking, the conversation could not fail to be lively. Wil-
helm always wished to deduce every thing from abstract ideas
which he had arrived at: he wanted to have art viewed in
all its connections as a whole. He wanted to promulgate and
fix down universal laws; to settle what was right, beautiful,
and good : in short, he treated all things in a serious manner.
Serlo, on the other hand, took up the matter very lightly:
never answering directly to any question, he would contrive,
by some anecdote or laughable turn, to give the finest and
most satisfactory illustrations, and thus to instruct his audi-
ence while he made them merry.





                    CHAPTER XIX.

  WHILE our friend was in this way living very happily, Me-
lina and the rest were in quite a different case. Wilhelm they
haunted like evil spirits; and not only by their presence, but
frequently by rueful faces and bitter words, they caused him
many a sorry moment. Serlo had not admitted them to the
most trifling part, far less held out to them any hope of a per-
manent engagement; and yet he had contrived, by degrees,
to get acquainted with the capabilities of every one of them.
Whenever any actors were assembled in leisure hours about
him, he was wont to make them read, and frequently to read
along with them. On such occasions he took plays which
were by and by to be acted, which for a long time had re-
mained unacted ; and generally by portions. In like manner,
after any first representation, he caused such passages to, be
repeated as he had any thing to say upon: by which means
he sharpened the discernment of his actors, and strengthened
their certainty of hitting the proper point. And as a person
of slender but correct understanding may produce more
agreeable effect on others than a perplexed and unpurified"
genius, he would frequently exalt men of mediocre talents,
by the clear views which he imperceptibly afforded them, to a


247





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


wonderful extent of power. Nor was it an unimportant item
in his scheme, that he likewise had poems read before him in
their meetings; for by these he nourished in his people the
feeling of that charm which a well-pronounced rhythm is al-
culated to awaken in the soul: whereas, in other companies,
those prose compositions were already getting introduced for
which any tyro was adequate.
  On occasions such as these, he had contrived to make him-
self acquainted with the new-come players: he had decided
what they were, and what they might be, and silently made
up his mind to take advantage of their talents, in a revolu-
tion which was now threatening his own company. For a
while he let the matter rest; declined every one of Wilhelm's
intercessions for his comrades, with a shrug of the shoulders;
till at last he saw his time, and altogether unexpectedly made
the proposal to our friend, " that he himself should come
upon the stage; that, on this condition, the others, too, might
be admitted."
   " These people must not be so useless as you formerly de-
scribed them," answered Wilhelm, " if they can now be all
received at once; and I suppose their talents would remain
the same without me as with me."
  Under seal of secrecy, Serlo hereupon explained his situa-
tion, -,how his first actor was giving hints about a rise of
salary at the renewal of their contract; how he himself did
not incline conceding this, the rather as the individual in ques-
tion was no longer in such favor with the public; how, if he
dismissed him, a whole train would follow; whereby, it was
true, his company would lose some good, but likewise some
indifferent, actors. He then showed Wilhelm what he hoped
to gain in him, in Laertes, Old Boisterous, and even Frau
Melina. Nay, he promised to procure for the silly Pedant
himself, in the character of Jew, minister, but chiefly of
villain, a decided approbation.
   Wilhelm faltered; the proposal fluttered him; he knew not
 what to say. That he might say something, he rejoined,
 with a deep-drawn breath, "You speak very graciously
 about the good you find and hope to find in us; but how is it
 with our weak points, which certainly have not escaped your
 penetration ?"
   " These," said Serlo, "by diligence, practice, and reflec-
tion, we shall soon make strong points. Though you are yet
but freshmen and bunglers, there is not one among you that
does not warrant expectation more or less: for, so far as I


248





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


can judge, no stick, properly so called, is to be met with in
the company; and. your stick is the only person that can
never be improved, never bent or guided, whether it be self-
conceit, stupidity, or hypochondria, that renders him  un-
pliant."
  The manager next stated, in a few words, the terms he
meant to offer; requested Wilhelm to determine soon, and
left him in no small perplexity.
  In the marvellous composition of those travels, which he
had at first engaged with, as it were, in jest, and was now
carrying on in conjunction with Laertes, his mind had by
degrees grown more attentive to the circumstances and the
every-day life of the actual world than it was wont. He
now first understood the object of his father in so earnestly
recommending him to keep a journal. He now, for the first
time, felt how pleasant and how useful it might be tobecome
pa'rticipator in so many trades and requisitions, and to take
a hand in diffusing activity and life into the deepest nooks
of the mountains and forests of Europe. The busy trading-
town in which he was; the unrest of Laertes, who dragged
him about to examine every thing, - afforded him the most
impressive image of a mighty centre, from which every thing
was flowing out, to which every thing was coming back; and
it was the' first time that his spirit, in contemplating this
species of activity, had really felt delight. At such a junc-
ture Serlo's offer had been made him; had again awakened
his desires, his tendencies, his faith in a natural talent, and
again brought into mind his solemn obligation to his helpless
comrades.
   " Here standest thou once more," said he within himself,
" at the Parting of the Ways, between the two women who
appeared before thee in thy youth. The one no longer looks
so pitiful as then, nor does the other look so glorious. To
obey the one, or to obey the other, thou art not without a
kind of inward calling: outward reasons are on both sides
strong enough, and to decide appears to thee impossible.
Thou wishest some preponderancy from without would fix
thy choice; and yet, if thou consider well, it is external cir-
cumstances only that inspire thee with a wish to trade, to
gather, to possess; whilst it is thy inmost want that has
,created, that has nourished, the desire still further to unfold
and perfect what endowments soever for the beautiful and
good, be they mental or bodily, may lie within thee. And
ought I not to honor Fate, which, without furtherance of


249





250


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mine, has led me hither to the goal of all my wishes ? Has
not all that I, in old times, meditated and forecast, now hap-
pened accidentally, and without my co-operation? Singular
enough ! We seem to be so intimate with nothing as we are
with our own, wishes and hopes, which have long been kept
and cherished in our hearts; yet when they meet us, when
they, as it were, press forward to us, then we know them not,
then we recoil from them. All that, since the hapless night
which severed me from Mariana, I have but allowed myself
to dream, now stands before me, entreating my acceptance.
Hither I intended to escape by flight; hither I am softly
guided: with Serlo I meant to seek a place; he now seeks
me, and offers me conditions, which, as a beginner, I could
not have looked for. Was it, then, mere love to Mariana
that bound me to the stage? Or love to art that bound me to
her? Was that prospect, that outlet, which the theatre pre-
sented me, nothing but the project of a restless, disorderly,
and disobedient boy, wishing to lead a life which the customs
of the civic world would not admit of ? Or was all this differ-
ent, worthier, purer? If so, what moved thee to alter the
persuasions of that period? Hast thou not hitherto, even
without knowing it, pursued thy plan ? Is not the concluding
step still further to be justified, now that no side-purposes
combine with it; now that in making it thou mayest' fulfil a
solemn promise, and nobly free thyself from a heavy debt? "
  All that could affect his heart and his imagination was
now moving, and conflicting in the liveliest strife within him.
The thought that he might retain Mignon, that he should not
need to put away the harper, was not an inconsiderable item
in the balance, which, however, had not ceased to waver to
the one and to the other side, when he went, as he was wont,
to see his friend Aurelia.





                     CHAPTER XX.

   SHE was lying on the sofa: she seemed quiet. " Do you
 think you will be fit to act to-morrow ? " he inquired. "Oh,
 yes ! " cried she with vivacity : "you know there is nothing
 to prevent me. If I but knew a way," continued she, " to
 rid myself of those applauses! The people mean it well,





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


but they will kill me. Last night I thought my very heart
would break ! Once, when I used to please myself, I could
endure this gladly: when I had studied long, and well pre-
pared myself, it gave me joy to hear the sound, ' It has
succeeded !' pealing back to me from every corner. But
now I speak not what I like, nor as I like; I am swept
along, I get confused, I scarce know what I do; and the im-
pression I make is far deeper. The applause grows louder;
and I think, Did you but know what charms you! These
dark, vague, vehement tones of passion move you, force you
to admire; and you feel not that they are the cries of agony,
wrung from the miserable being whom you praise.
   " I learned my part this morning: just now I have been
repeating it and trying it. I am tired, broken down; and
to-morrow I must do the same. To-morrow evening is the
play. Thus do I drag myself to and fro: it is wearisome to
rise, it is wearisome to go to bed. All moves within me in
an everlasting circle. Then come their dreary consolations,
and present themselves before me; and I cast them out, and
execrate them. I will not surrender, not surrender to neces-
sity: why should that be necessary which crushes me to the
dust? Might it not be otherwise? I am paying the penalty
of beihg born a German: it is the nature of the Germans,
that they bear heavily on every thing, that every thing bears
heavily on them."
    O my friend!" cried Wilhelm, " could you cease to whet
the dagger wherewith you are ever wounding me! Does
nothing, then, remain for you? Are your youth, your form,
your health, your talents, nothing? Having lost one bless-
ing, without blame of yours, must you throw all the others
after it? Is that also necessary?"
  She was silent for a few moments, and then burst forth,
" I know well, it is a waste of time, nothing but a waste of
time, this love! What might not, should not, I have done !
And now it is all vanished into air. I am a poor, wretched,
lovelorn creature,- lovelorn, that is all ! Oh, have compas-
sion on me! God knows I am poor and wretched ! "
  She sank in thought: then, after a brief pause, she ex-
claimed with violence, " You are accustomed to have all
things fly into your arms. No: you cannot feel, no man
is qualified to feel, the worth of a woman that can reverence
herself. By all the holy angels, by all the images of bless-
edness, which a pure and kindly heart creates, there is not
any thing more heavenly than the soul of a woman giving
herself to the man she loves!


251





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  "We are cold, proud, high, clear-sighted, wise, while we
deserve the name of women; and all these qualities we lay
down at your feet, the instant that we love, that we hope to
excite a return of love. Oh, how have I cast away my whole
existence wittingly and willingly ! But now will I despair,
purposely despair. There is no drop of blood within me but
shall suffer, no fibre that I will not punish. Smile, I pray
you; laugh at this theatrical display of passion."
  Wilhelm was far enough from any tendency to laugh.
This horrible, half-natural, half-factitious condition of his
friend afflicted him but too deeply. He sympathized in the
tortures of that racking misery: his thoughts were wan-
dering in painful perplexities, his blood was in a feverish
tumult.
  She had risen, and was walking up and down the room.
" I see before me," she exclaimed, " all manner of reasons
why I should not love him. I know he is not worthy of it;
I turn my mind aside, this way and that; I seize upon what-
ever business I can find. At one time I take up a part,
though I have not to play it; at another, I begin to practise
old ones, though I know them through and through; I prac-
tise them more diligently, more minutely, -I toil and soil at
them. My friend, my confidant, what a horrid task is it to
tear away one's thoughts from one's self! My reason suf-
fers, my brain is racked and strained.: to save myself from
madness, I again admit the feeling that I love him. Yes, I
love him, I love him! " cried she, with a shower of tears:
  I love him, I shall die loving him ! "
  He took her by the hand, and entreated her in the most
earnest manner not to waste herself in such self-torments.
" Oh ! it seems hard," said he, " that not only so much that
is impossible should be denied us, but so much also that is
possible! It was not your lot to meet with a faithful heart
that would have formed your perfect happiness. It was
mine to fix the welfare of my life upon a hapless creature,
whom, by the weight of my fidelity, I drew to the bottom
like a reed, perhaps even broke in pieces !"
  He had told Aurelia of his intercourse with Mariana, and
could therefore now refer to it. She looked him intently in
the face, and asked, " Can you say that you never yet be-
trayed a woman, that you never tried with thoughtless gal-
lantry, with false asseverations, with cajoling oaths, to
wheedle favor from her?"
   "I can," said Wilhelm, " and indeed without much van-


252





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ity: my life has been so simple and sequestered, I have had
but few enticements to attempt such things. And what a
warning, my beautiful, my noble, friend, is this melancholy
state in which I see you! Accept of me a vow, which is
suited to my heart; which, under the emotion you have
caused me, has settled into words and shape, and will be
hallowed by the hour in which .I utter it. Each transitory
inclination I will study to withstand, and even the most ear-
nest I will keep within my bosom: no woman shall receive
an acknowledgment of love from my lips to whom I cannot
consecrate my life !" "
  She looked at him with a wild indifference, and drew
back some steps as he offered her his hand. " 'Tis of no
moment ! " cried she : " so many women's tears, more or
fewer; the ocean will not swell by reason of them. And
yet," continued she, " among thousands, one woman saved;
that still is something: among thousands, one honest man
discovered; this is not to be refused. Do you know, then,
what you promise ?"
   " I know it;" answered Wilhelm, with a smile, and hold-
ing out his hand.
   " I accept it, then," said she, and made a movement with
her right hand, as if meaning to take hold of his'; but in-
stantly she darted it into her pocket, pulled out her dagger
quick as lightning, and scored with the edge and point of it
across his hand. He hastily drew it back, but the blood was
already running down.
   ' One must mark you men rather sharply, if one would
have you take heed," cried she, with a wild mirth, which
soon passed into a quick assiduity. She took her handker-
chief, and bound his hand with it to stanch the fast-flowing
blood.   " Forgive a half-crazed being," cried she, " and
regret not these few drops of blood. I am appeased. I am
again myself. On my knees will I crave your pardon: leave
me the comfort of healing you."
   She ran to her drawer, brought lint, with other apparatus,
stanched the blood, and viewed the wound attentively. It
went across the palm, close under the thumb, dividing the
life-line, and running towards the little finger. She bound
it up in silence, with a significant, reflective look. He asked,
once or twice, " Aurelia, how could you hurt your friend?"
   "Hush !" replied she. laying her finger on her mouth:
 " Hush! "


253





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                       BOOK V.


                       CHAPTER I.

  THus Wilhelm, to his pair of former wounds, which were
yet scarcely healed, had now got the accession of a third,
which was fresh and not a little disagreeable. Aurelia would
not suffer him to call a surgeon: she dressed the hand with
all manner of strange speeches, saws, and ceremonies, and
so placed him in a very painful situation. Yet not he alone,
but all persons who came near her, suffered by her restless-
ness and singularity, and no one more than little Felix.
This stirring child was exceedingly impatient under such
oppression, and showed himself still naughtier the more she
censured and instructed him.
  He delighted in some practices which commonly are thought
bad habits, and in which she would not by any means indulge
him. He would drink, for example, rather from the bottle
than the glass; and his food seemed visibly to have a better
relish when eaten from the bowl than from the plate. 'Such
ill-breeding was not overlooked: if he left the door standing
open, or slammed it to; if, when bid do any thing, he stood
stock-still, or ran off violently, - he was sure to have a long
lecture inflicted on him for the fault. Yet he showed no
symptoms of improvement from this training : on the other
hand, his affection for Aurelia seemed daily to diminish;
there was nothing tender in his tone when he called her
mother; whereas he passionately clung to the old nurse,
who let him have his will in every thing.
  But she likewise had of late become so sick, that they had
at last been obliged to take her from the house into a quiet
lodging; and Felix would have been entirely alone if Mig-
non had not, like a kindly guardian spirit, come to help him.
The two children talked together, and amused each other in
the prettiest style. She taught him little songs; and he,
having an excellent memory, frequently recited them, to the
surprise of those about him. She attempted also to explain


254





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


her maps to him. With these she was still very busy, though
she did not seem to take the fittest method. For, in study-
ing countries, she appeared to care little about any other
point than whether they were cold or warm. Of the north
and south poles, of the horrid ice which reigns there, and of
the increasing heat the farther one retires from them, she
could give a very clear account. When any one was travel-
ling, she merely asked whether he was going northward or
southward, and strove to find his route in her little charts.
Especially when Wilhelm spoke of travelling, she was all
attention, and seemed vexed when any thing occurred to
change the subject. Though she could not be prevailed
upon to undertake a part, or even to enter the theatre when
any play was acting, yet she willingly and zealously commit-
ted many odes and songs to memory; and by unexpectedly,
and, as it were, on the spur of the moment, reciting some
such poem, generally of the earnest and solemn kind, she
would often cause astonishment in every one.
   Serlo, accustomed to regard with favor every trace of
.opening talent, encouraged her in such performances; but
what pleased him most in Mignon was her sprightly, various,
and often even mirthful, singing. By means of a similar
gift, the harper likewise had acquired his favor.
  Without himself possessing genius for music, or playing
on any instrument, Serlo could rightly prize the value of the
art: he failed not, as often as he could, to enjoy this pleas-
ure, which cannot be compared with any other. He held a
concert once a week; and now, with Mignon, the harper,
and Laertes, who was not unskilful on the violin, he had
formed a very curious domestic band.
   He was wont to say, " Men are so inclined to content
themselves with what is commonest; the spirit and the
senses so easily grow dead to the impressions of the beauti-
ful and perfect, - that every one should study, by all meth-
ods, to nourish in his mind the faculty of feeling these
things. For no man can bear to be entirely deprived of
such enjoyments: it is only because they are not used to
taste of what is excellent that the generality of people take
delight in silly and insipid things, provided they be new.
For this reason," he would add, " one ought, every day at
least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine
picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable
words."   With such a turn of thought in Serlo, which in
-some degree was natural to him, the persons who frequented


255





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


his society could scarcely be in want of pleasant conversa-
tion.
  It was in the midst of these instructive entertainments,
that Wilhelm one day received a letter sealed in black.
Werner's hand betokened mournful news; and our friend
was not a little shocked when, opening the sheet, he found it
to contain the tidings of his father's death, conveyed in a
very few words. After a short and sudden illness, he had
parted from the world, leaving his domestic affairs in the
best possible order.
  This unlooked-for intelligence struck Wilhelm to the heart.
He deeply felt how careless and negligent we often are of
friends and relations while they inhabit with us this terres-
trial sojourn; and how we first repent of our insensibility
when the fair union, at least for this side of time, is finally
cut asunder. His grief for the early death of this honest
parent was mitigated only by the feeling that he had loved
but little in the world, and the conviction that he had enjoyed
but little.
  Wilhelm's thoughts soon turned to his own predicamrent,
and he felt himself extremely discomposed. A person can
scarcely be put into a more dangerous position, than when
external circumstances have produced some striking change
in his condition, without his manner of feeling and of think-
ing having undergone any preparation for it. There is, then,
an epdch without epoch; and the contradiction which arises
is the greater the less the person feels that he is not trained
for this new manner of existence.
  Wilhelm saw himself in freedom, at a moment when he
could not yet be at one with himself. His thoughts were
noble, his motives pure, his purposes were not to be despised.
All this he could, with some degree of confidence, acknowl-
edge to himself: but he had of late been frequently enough
compelled to notice, that experience was sadly wanting to
him; and hence, on the experience of others, and on the
results which they deduced from it, he put a value far beyond
its real one, and thus led himself still deeper into error.
What he wanted, he conceived he might most readily acquire
if he undertook to collect and retain whatever memorable
thought he should meet with in reading or in conversation.
He accordingly' recorded his own or other men's opinions,
nay, wrote whole dialogues, when they chanced to interest
him. But unhappily by this means he held fast the false
no less firmly than the true; he dwelt far too long on one


256





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


idea, particularly when it was of an aphoristic shape; and
thus he left his natural mode of thought and action, and fre-
quently took foreign lights for his loadstars. Aurelia's bit-
terness, and Laertes's cold contempt for men, warped his
judgment oftener than they should have done: but no one,
in his present case, would have been so dangerous as Jarno,
a man whose clear intellect could form a just and rigorous
decision about present things, but who erred, withal, in
enunciating these particular decisions with a kind of univer-
sal application; whereas, in truth, the judgments of the
understanding are properly of force but once, and that in
the strictest cases, and become inaccurate in some degree
when applied to any other.
  Thus Wilhelm, striving to become consistent with himself,
was deviating farther and farther from wholesome consist-
ency; and this confusion made it easier for his passions to
employ their whole artillery against him, and thus still farther
to perplex his views of duty.
  Serlo did not fail to take advantage of the late tidings;
and in truth he daily had more reason to be anxious about
some fresh arrangement of his people. Either he must soon
renew his old contracts, - a measure he was not specially fond'
of; for several of his actors, who reckoned themselves indis-
pensable, were growing more and more arrogant, - or else he
must entitely new-model and re-form his company; which
plan he looked upon as preferable.
  Though he did not personally importune our friend, he set
Aurelia and Philina on him; and the other wanderers, long-
ing for some kind of settlement, on their side, gave Wilhelm
not a moment's rest; so that he stood hesitating in his
choice, in no slight embarrassment till he should decide.
Who would have thought that a letter of Werner's, written
with quite different views, should have forced him on resolv-
ing? We shall omit the introduction, and give the rest of it
with little alteration.




                      CHAPTER II.

   " IT was, therefore, and it always must be, right for every
one, on any opportunity, to follow his vocation and exhibit


257





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


his activity. Scarcely had the good old man been gone a
quarter of an hour, when every thing in the house began
moving by a different plan than his. Friends, acquaintances,
relations, crowded forward, especially all sorts of people
who on such occasions use to gain any thing. They fetched
and carried, they counted, wrote, and reckoned; some
brought wine and meat, others ate and drank; and none
seemed busier than the women getting out the mourn-
ings.
  " Such being the case, thou wilt not blame me, that, in this
emergency, I likewise thought of my advantage. I made
myself as active, and as helpful to thy sister, as I could, and,
so soon as it was any way decorous, signified to her that it
had now become our business to accelerate a union which
our parents, in their too great circumspection, had hitherto
postponed.
   "Do not suppose, however, that it came into our heads to
take possession of that monstrous empty house. We are
more modest and more rational. Thou shalt hear our plan:
thy sister, so soon as we are married, comes to our house;
and thy mother comes along with her. ' How can that be?'
thou wilt say: 'you have scarcely room for yourselves in
that hampered nest.' There lies the art of it, my friend.
Good packing renders all things possible: thou wouldst not
believe 'Ghat space one finds when one desires to occupy but
little. The large house we shall sell, -an opportunity occurs
for this; and the money we shall draw for it will produce a
hundred-fold.
  �' I hope this meets thy views: I hope also thou hast not
inherited the smallest particle of those unprofitable tastes for
which thy father and thy grandfather were noted. The latter
placed his greatest happiness in having about him a multitude
of dull-looking works of art, which no one, I may well say
no one, could enjoy with him: the former lived in a stately
pomp, which he suffered no one to. enjoy with him. We
mean to manage otherwise, and we expect thy approbation.
   ' It is true, I myself in all the house have no place what-
 ever but the stool before my writing-desk; and I see not
 clearly where they will be able to put a cradle down : but, in
 return, the room we shall have out of doors will be the more
 abundant. Coffee-houses and clubs for the husband, ywalks
 and drives for the wife, and pleasant country jaunts for
 both. But the chief advantage in our plan is, that, the round
 table being now completely filled, our father cannot ask his


258 ,





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


friends to dinner, who, the more he strove to entertain them,
used to laugh at him the more.
  " Now no superfluity for us ! Not too much furniture- and
apparatus; no coach, no horses ! Nothing but money, and
the liberty, day after day, to do what you like in reason.
No wardrobe; still the best and newest on your back: the
man may wear his coat till it is done; the wife may truck her
gown, the moment it is going out of fashion. There is noth-
ing so unsufferable to me as an old huckster's shop of prop-
erty. If you would offer me a jewel, on condition of my
wearing it daily on my finger, I would not accept it; for how
can one conceive any pleasure in a dead capital? This, then,
is my confession of faith: To transact your business, to
make money, to be merry with your household; and about
the rest of the earth to trouble yourself no farther than
where you can be of service to it.
  " But ere now thou art saying, ' And, pray, what is to be
done with me in this sage plan of yours ? Where shall I find
shelter when you have sold my own house, and not the
smallest room remains in yours?'
  " This is, in truth, the main point, brother; and in this,
too, I shall have it in my power to serve thee. But first I
must present the just tribute of my praise for time so spent
as thine has been.
  " Tell'me, how hast thou within a few weeks become so
skilled in every useful, interesting object? Highly as I
thought of thy powers, I did not reckon such attention and
such, diligence among the number. Thy journal shows us
with what profit thou art travelling. The description of the
iron and the copper forges is exquisite : it evinces a complete
knowledge of the subject. I myself was once there; but
my relation, compared with this, has but a very bungled look.
The whole letter on the linen-trade is full of information:
the remarks on commercial competition are at once just and
striking. In one or two places, there are errors in addition,
which indeed are very pardonable.
  "But what most delights my father and myself, is thy
thorough knowledge of husbandry, and the improvement of
landed property. We have thoughts of purchasing a large
estate, at present under sequestration, in a very fruitful dis-
trinct. For paying it, we mean to use the money realized by
the sale of the house; another portion we shall borrow; a
portion may remain unpaid. And we count on thee for going
thither, and superintending the improvement of it; by which


259





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


means, before many years are passed, the land, to speak in
moderation, will have risen above a third in value. We shall
then bring it to the market again, seek out a larger piece,
improve and trade as formerly. For all this thou art the man.
Our pens, meanwhile, will not lie idle here; and so by and
by we shall rise to be enviable people.
  " For the present, fare thee well ! Enjoy life on thy jour-
ney, and turn thy face wherever thou canst find contentment
and advantage. For the next half-year we shall not need
thee; thou canst look about thee in the world as thou pleas-
est: a judicious person finds his best instruction in his trav-
els. Farewell! I rejoice at being connected with thee so
closely by relation, and now united with thee in the spirit
of activity."

  Well as this letter might be penned, and full of economical
truths as it was, Wilhelm felt displeased with it for more than
one reason. The praise bestowed on him for his pretended
statistical, technological, and rural knowledge was a silent
reprimand. The ideal of the happiness of civic life, which
his worthy brother sketched, by no means charmed him: on
the contrary, a secret spirit of contradiction dragged him for-
cibly the other way. He convinced himself, that, except on
the stage, he could nowhere find that mental culture which he
longed'to give himself : he seemed to grow the more decided
in his resolution, the more strongly Werner, without knowing
it, opposed him. Thus assailed, he collected all his argu-
ments together, and buttressed his opinions in his mind the
more carefully, the more desirable he reckoned it to show
them in a favorable light to Werner; and in this manner he
produced an answer, which also we insert.





                     CHAPTER III.

   " THY letter is so well written, and so prudently and wisely
conceived, that no objection can be made to it. Only thou
must pardon me, when I declare that one may think, maintain,
and do directly the reverse, and yet be in the right as well as
thou. Thy mode of being and imagining appears to turn on
boundless acquisition, and a light, mirthful manner of enjoy-


260





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ment: I need scarcely tell thee, that inl all this' I find little
that can charm me.
  " First, however, I am sorry to admit, that my journal is
none of mine. Under the pressure of necessity, and to
satisfy my father, it was patched together by a friend's help,
out  f many books : and though in words I know the objects
it relates to, and more of the like sort, I by no means under-
stand them, or can occupy myself about them. What good
were it for me to manufacture perfect iron while my own
breast is full of dross ? What would it stead me to put
properties of land in order, while I am at variance with
myself?
  "' To speak it in a word, the cultivation of my individual
self, here as I am, has from my youth upwards been con-
stantly though dimly my wish and my purpose. The same
intention I still cherish, but the means of realizing it are now
grown somewhat clearer. I have seen more of life than thou
believest, and profited more by it also. Give some attention,
then, to what I say, though it should not altogether tally with
thy own opinions.
   ' Had I been a nobleman, our dispute would soon have
been decided; but, being a simple burgher, I must take a
path of my own: and I fear it may be difficult to make thee
understand me. I know not how it is in foreign countries,
but in Germany, a universal, and, if I may say so, personal,
cultivation is beyond the reach of any one except a nobleman.
A burgher may acquire merit; by excessive efforts he may
even educate his mind; but his personal qualities are lost,
or worse than lost, let him struggle as he will. Since the
nobleman, frequenting the society of the most polished, is
compelled to give himself a polished manner; since this man-
ner, neither door nor gate being shut against him, grows at
last an unconstrained one; since, in court or camp, his fig-
ure, his person, are a part of his possessions, and, it may be,
the most necessary part, - he has reason enough to put some
value on them, and to show that he puts some. A certain
stately grace in common things, a sort of gay elegance in ear-
nest and important ones, becomes him well; for it shows him
to be everywhere in equilibrium. He is a public person; and
the more cultivated his movements, the more sonorous his
voice, the more staid and measured his whole being is, the
more perfect is he. If to high and low, to friends and rela-
tions, he continues still the same, then nothing can be said
against hirm, none may wish him otherwise. His coldness


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


must be reckoned clearness of head, his dissimulation pru.,
dence. If he can rule himself externally at every moment
of his life, no man has aught more to demand of him; and,
whatever else there may be in him or about him, capacities,
talents, wealth, all seem gifts of supererogation.
  "Now, imagine any burgher offering ever to pretend to
these advantages, he will utterly fail, and the more com-
pletely, the greater inclination and the more endowments
nature may have given him for that mode of being.
  " Since, in common life, the nobleman is hampered by no
limits; since kings, or kinglike figures, do not differ from
him, -he can everywhere advance with a silent conscious-
ness, as if before his equals : everywhere he is entitled to press
forward, whereas nothing more beseems the burgher than the
quiet feeling of the limits that are drawn round him. The
burgher may not ask himself, ' What art thou ? ' He can only
ask, ' What hast thou? What discernment, knowledge, tal-
ent, wealth? ' If the nobleman, merely by his personal car-
riage, offers all that can be asked of him, the burgher by his
personal carriage offers nothing, and can offer nothing. The
former has a right to. seem: the latter is compelled to be,
and what he aims at, seeming becomes ludicrous and taste-
less. The former does and makes, the latter but effects and
procures; he must cultivate some single gifts in order to be
useful; and it is beforehand settled, that, in his manner of
existence, there is no harmony, and can be none, since he is
bound to make himself of use in one department, and so has
to relinquish all the others.
  " Perhaps the reason of this difference is not the usurpa-
tion of the nobles, and the submission of the burghers, but
the constitution of society itself. Whether it will ever alter,
and how, is to me of small importance: my present business
is to meet my own case, as matters actually stand; to con-
sider by what means I may save myself, and reach the object
which I cannot live in peace without.
  " Now, this harmonious cultivation of my nature, which
has been denied me by birth, is exactly what I most long
for. Since leaving thee, I have gained much by voluntary
practice: I have laid aside much of my wonted embarrass-
ment, and can bear myself in very tolerable style. My speech
and voice I have likewise been attending to; and I may say,
without much vanity, that in society I do not cause displeas-
ure. But I will not conceal from thee, that my inclination
to become a public person, and to please and influence in a


262





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


larger circle, is daily growing more insuperable. With this,
there is combined my love for poetry and all that is related
to it; and the necessity I feel to cultivate my mental faculties
and tastes, that so, in this enjoyment henceforth indispensa-
ble, I may esteem as good the good alone, as beautiful the
beautiful alone. Thou seest well, that for me all this is no-
where to be met with except upon the stage; that in this ele-
ment alone can I effect and cultivate myself according to my
wishes. On the boards a polished man appears in his splen-
dor with personal accomplishments, just as he does so in the
upper classes of society; body and spirit must advance with
equal steps in all his studies; and there I shall have it in my
power at once to be and seem as well as anywhere. If I
further long for solid occupations, we have there mechanical
vexations in abundance: I may give my patience daily exer-
cise.
  "Dispute not with me on this subject; for, ere thou
writest, the step is taken. In compliance with the ruling
prejudices, I will change my name; as, indeed, that of Meis-
ter, or Master, does not suit me. Farewell ! Our fortune is
in good hands: on that subject I shall not disturb myself.
What I need I will, as occasion calls, require from thee: it
will not be much, for I hope my art will be sufficient to
maintain me."

  Scarcely was the letter sent away, when our friend made
good his words. To the great surprise of Serlo and the rest,
he at once declared that he was ready to become an actor,
and bind himself by a contract on reasonable terms. With
regard to these they were soon agreed ; for Serlo had before
made offers, with which Wilhelm and his comrades had good
reason to be satisfied. The whole of that unlucky company,
wherewith we have had so long to occupy ourselves, was now
at once received; and, except perhaps Laertes, not a member
of it showed the smallest thankfulness to Wilhelm. As they
had entreated without confidence, so they accepted without
gratitude. Most of them preferred ascribing their appoint-
rient to the influence of Philina, and directed their thanks to
)er. Meanwhile the contracts had been written out, and
were now a-signing. At the moment when our friend was
subscribing his assumed designation, by some inexplicable
c'ncatenation of ideas, there arose before his mind's eye the
image of that green in the forest where he lay wounded in
Phiina's lap. The lovely Amazon came riding on her gray


263





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


palfrey from the bushes of the wood: she approached him
and dismounted. Her humane anxiety made her come and
go: -at length she stood before him. The white surtout fell
down from her shoulders: her countenance, her form, began
to glance in radiance; and she vanished from his sight. He
wrote his name mechanically only, not knowing what he did,
and felt not, till after he had signed, that Mignon was stand-
ing at his side, was holding by his arm, and had softly tried
to stop him, and pull back his hand.





                     CHAPTER IV.

  ONE of the conditions under which our friend had gone
upon the stage was not acceded to by Serlo without some
limitations. Wilhelm had required that "Hamlet" should
be played entire and unmutilated : the other had agreed to
this strange stipulation, in so far as it was possible. On
this point they had many a contest; for as to what was pos-
sible or not possible, and what parts of the piece could be
omitted without mutilating it, the two were of very different
opinions.
  Wilhelm was still in that happy season when one cannot
understand how, in the woman one loves, in the writer one
honors, there should be any thing defective. The feeling
they excite in us is so entire, so accordant with itself, that
we cannot help attributing the same perfect harmony to the
objects themselves. Serlo again was willing to discriminate,
perhaps too willing: his acute understanding could usually
discern in any work of art nothing but a more or less im-
perfect whole. He thought, that as pieces usually stood,
there was little reason to be chary about meddling with
them; that of course Shakspeare, and particularly " Ham-
let," would need to suffer much curtailment.
   But, when Serlo talked of separating the wheat from the
 chaff, Wilhelm would not hear of it. " It is not chaff and
 wheat together," said he: " it is a trunk with boughs, twigs,
 leaves, buds, blossoms, and fruit. Is not the one there with
 the others, and by means of them? " To which Serlo would
 reply, that people did not bring a whole tree upon the table;
 that the artist was required to present his guests with silver


264





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


apples in platters of silver. They exhausted their inven-
tion in similitudes, and their opinions seemed still farther to
diverge.
  Our friend was on the borders of despair, when on one
occasion, after much debating, Serlo counselled him to take
the simple plan, - to make a brief resolution, to grasp his
pen, to peruse the tragedy ; dashing out whatever would not
answer, compressing several personages into one : and if he
was not skilled in such proceedings, or had not heart enough
for going through with them, he might leave the task to him,
the manager, who would engage to make short work with
it.
  " That is not our bargain," answered Wilhelm. " How
can you, with all your taste, show so much levity? "
  " My friend," cried Serlo, " you yourself will erelong feel
it and show it. I know too well how shocking such a mode
of treating works is: perhaps it never was allowed on any
theatre till now. But where, indeed, was ever one so
slighted as ours? Authors force us on this wretched clip-
ping system, and the public tolerates it. How many pieces
have we, pray, which do not overstep the measure of our
numbers, of our decorations and theatrical machinery, of the
proper time, of the fit alternation of dialogue, and the phys-
ical strength of the actor? And yet we are to play, and
play, and constantly give novelties. Ought we not to profit
by our privilege, then, since we accomplish just as much by
mutilated works as by entire ones? It is the public itself
that grants the privilege. Few Germans, perhaps few men
of any modern nation, have a proper sense of an aesthetic
whole: --they praise and blame by passages; they, are
charmed by passages; and who has greater reason to re-
joice at this than actors, since the stage is ever but a patched
and piece-work matter? '
  " Is! " cried Wilhelm; " but must it ever be so? Must
every thing that is continue? Convince me not that you are
right, for no power on earth should force me to abide by
any contract which I had concluded with the grossest mis-
conceptions."
  Serlo gave a merry turn to the business, and persuaded
Wilhelm to review once more the many conversations they
had had together about " Hamlet," and himself to invent
some means of properly re-forming the piece.
  After a few days, which he had spent alone, our friend re-
turned with a cheerful look. " I am much mistaken," cried


265





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


he, " if I have not now discovered how the whole is to be
managed: nay, I am convinced that Shakspeare himself
would have arranged it so, had not his mind been too ex-
clusively directed to the ruling interest, and perhaps misled
by the novels which furnished him with his materials."
  " Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of
solemnity upon the sofa: "I will listen calmly, but judge
with rigor."
  " I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm : "only hear me.
In the composition of this play, after the most accurate in-
vestigation and the most mature reflection, I distinguish two
classes of objects. The first are the grand internal relations
of the persons and events, the powerful effects which arise
from the characters and proceedings of the main figures:
these, I hold, are individually excellent; and the order in
which they are presented cannot be improved. No kind of
interference must be suffered to destroy them, or even
essentially to change their form. These are the things
which stamp themselves deep into the soul, which all men
long to see, which no one dares to meddle with. Accord-
ingly, I understand, they have almost wholly been retained
in all our German theatres.     But our countrymen have
erred, in my opinion, with regard to the second class of
objects, which may be observed in this tragedy: I allude
to the' external relations of the persons, whereby they are
brought from place to place, or combined in various ways,
by certain accidental incidents. These they have looked
upon as very unimportant; have spoken of them only in
passing, or left them out altogether. Now, indeed, it must
be owned, these threads are slack and slender; yet they run
through the entire piece, and bind together much that would
otherwise fall asunder, and does actually fall asunder, when
you cut them off,-and imagine you have done enough and
more, if you have left the ends hanging.
   4" Among these external relations I include the disturb-
ances in Norway, the war with young Fortinbras, the em-
bassy to his uncle, the settling of that: feud, the march of
young Fortinbras to Poland, and his coming back at the
end; of the same sort are Horatio's return from Wittenberg,
Hamlet's wish to go thither, the journey of Laertes to
France, his return, the despatch of Hamlet into England,
his capture by pirates, the death of the two courtiers by the
letter which they carried. All these circumstances and
events would be very fit for expanding and lengthening a


266





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


267


novel; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of thq
piece, particularly as the hero has no plan, and are, in con-
sequence, entirely out of place."
  "For once in the right !" cried Serlo.
  " Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm: "perhaps
you will not always think me right: These errors are like
temporary props of an edifice: they must not be removed
till we have built a firm wall in their stead. My project,
therefore, is, not at all to change those first-mentioned grand
situations, or at least as much as possible to spare them,
both collectively and individually; but with respect to these
external, single, dissipated, and dissipating motives, to cast
them all at once away, and substitute a solitary one instead
of them."
  "And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his re-
cumbent posture.
  " It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, "only I
employ it rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You
shall hear my plan, and try it."
  " After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians,
lately conquered, grow unruly. The viceroy of that country
sends his son, Horatio, an old school-friend of Hamlet's,
and distinguished above every other for his bravery and pru-
dence, to Denmark, to press forward the equipment of the
fleet, which, under the new luxurious king, proceeds but
slowly. Horatio has known the former king, having fought
in his battles, having even stood in favor with him, -a cir-
cumstance by which the first ghost-scene will be nothing
injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audience, and
sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the fleet
will soon arrive; whilst Horatio is commissioned to accel-
erate the preparation of it: and the Queen, on the other
hand, will not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes, should go
to sea along with him."
  " Heaven be praised ! " cried Serlo: " we shall now get
rid of Wittenberg and the university, which was always a
sorry piece of business. I think your idea extremely good;
for, except these two distant objects, Norway and the fleet,
the spectator will not be required to .fancy any thing: the
rest he will see; the rest takes place before him; whereas,
his imagination, on the other plan, was hunted over all the
world."
  "You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, " how I shall con-
trive to keep the other parts together. When Hamlet tells





268


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Horatio of his uncle's crime,. Horatio counsels him to go to
Norway in his company, to secure the affections of the army,
and return in warlike force. Hamlet also is becoming dan-
gerous to the King and Queen ; they find no readier method of
deliverance, than to send him in the fleet, with Rosencrantz
and Guildenstern.to be spies upon him; and, as Laertes in
the mean time comes from France, they determine that this
youth, exasperated even to murder, shall go after him. Un-
favorable winds detain the fleet: Hamlet returns; for his
wandering through the churchyard, perhaps some lucky mo-
tive may be thought of; h is meeting with Laertes in Ophe-
lia's grave is a grand moment, which we must not part with.
After this, the King resolves that it is better to get quit of
Hamlet on the spot: the festival of his departure, the pre-
tended reconcilement with Laertes, are now solemnized; on
which occasion knightly sports are held, and Laertes fights
with Hamlet. Without the four corpses, I cannot end the
play: no one must survive. The right of popular election
now again comes in force; and Hamlet, while dying, gives
his vote to Horatio."
  " Quick! quick! " said Serlo, ' sit down and work the
play: your plan has my entire approbation; only let not
your zeal evaporate."





                     CHAPTER V.

  WILHELM had already been for some time busied with
translating "Hamlet; " making use, as he labored, of Wie-
and's spirited performance, through which he had first be-
come acquainted with Shakspeare. What had been omitted
in Wieland's work he replaced, and had secured a complete
version, at the very time when Serlo and he were pretty well
agreed about the way of treating it. He now began, accord-
ing to his plan, to cut out and insert, to separate and unite,
to alter, and often to restore; for, satisfied as he was with
his own conception, it still appeared to him as if, in execut-
ing it, he were but spoiling the original."
  When all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and the
rest. They declared themselves exceedingly contented with
it: Serlo, in particular, made many flattering observations.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   You have felt very justly," said he, among other things,
" that some external circumstances must accompany this
play, but that they must be simpler than those which the
great poet has employed. What takes place without the
theatre, what the spectator does not see, but must imagine,
is like a background, in front of which the acting figures
move. Your large and simple prospect of the fleet and Nor-
way will do much to improve the play; if this were alto-
gether taken from it, we should have but a family scene
remaining; and the great idea, that here a kingly house, by
internal crimes and incongruities, goes down to ruin, would
not be presented with its proper dignity. But if the former
background were left standing, so manifold, so fluctuating
and confused, it would hurt the impression of the figures."
  Wilhelm again took Shakspeare's part; alleging that he
wrote for islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the
distance, were accustomed to see little else than ships and
voyages, the coast of France and privateers * and thus what
perplexed and distracted others was to them quite natural.
  Serlo assented; and both were of opinion, that, as the
play was now to be produced upon the German stage, this
more serious and simple background was the best adapted
for the German mind.
  The parts had been distributed before: Serlo undertook
Polonius Aurelia, Ophelia; Laertes was already designated
by his name; a young, thick-set, jolly new-comer was to .be
Horatio; the King, and Ghost alone occasioned some per
plexity, for both of these no one but Old Boisterous remain-
ing. Serlo proposed to make the Pedant, King; but against
this our friend protested in the strongest terms. They could
resolve on nothing.
  .Wilhelm had also allowed both Rosencrantz and Guilden-
stern to continue in his play. "' Why not compress them
into one ?" said Serlo. "This abbreviation will not cost
you much."
  " Heaven keep me from all such curtailments ! " answered
Wilhelm: " they destroy at once the sense and the effect.
What these two persons are and do it is impossible to rep-
resent by one. In such small matters we discover Shak-
speare's greatness.  These soft approaches, this smirking
and bowing, this assenting, wheedling, flattering, this whisk-
ing agility, this wagging of the tail, this allness and empti-
ness, this legal knavery, this ineptitude and insipidity, -
how can they be expressed by a single man? There ought


269





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


to be at least a dozen of these people, if they could be had;
for it is only in society that they are any thing; they are
society itself ; and Shakspeare showed no little wisdom and
discernment in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need
them as a couple that may be contrasted with the single,
noble, excellent Horatio."
  "I understand you," answered Serlo, "and we can ar-
range it. One of them we shall hand over to Elmira, Old
Boisterous's eldest daughter: it will all be right, if they
look well enough; and I will deck and trim the puppets so
that it shall be first-rate fun to behold them."
  Philina was rejoicing not a little, that she had to act the
Duchess in the small subordinate play. " I will show it so
natural," cried she, " how you wed a second husband, with-
out loss of time, when you have loved the first immensely.
I mean to win the loudest plaudits, and every man shall
wish to be the third."
  Aurelia gave a frown: her spleen against Philina was in-
creasing every day.
   "'Tis a pity, I declare," said Serlo, " that we have no
ballet; else you should dance me a pas de deux with your
first, and then another with your second husband, - and the
first might dance himself to sleep by the measure; and your
bits of feet and ankles would look so pretty, tripping to and
fro upon the side stage."
  " Of my ankles you do not know much," replied she pertly ;
" and as to my bits of feet," cried she, hastily reaching
below the table, pulling off her slippers, and holding them
together out to Serlo, - here are the cases of them; and I
challenge you to find me more dainty ones."
   " I was in earnest," said he, looking at the elegant half-
shoes. "In truth, one does not often meet with any thing
so dainty."
  They were of Parisian workmanship: Philina had received
them as a present from the countess, a lady whose foot was
celebrated for its beauty.
   "A charming thing!" cried Serlo : "my heart leaps at
the sight of them."
   " What gallant throbs ! " replied Philina.
   " There is nothing in the world beyond a pairof slippers,"
said he, "of such pretty manufacture, in their proper time
and place, when" -
   Philina took her slippers from his hands, crying, " You
have squeezed them all! They are far too wide for me !"


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


She played with them, and rubbed the soles of them together.
" How hot it is !" cried she, clapping the sole upon her
cheek, then again rubbing, and holding it to Serlo. He was
innocent enough to stretch out his hand to feel the warmth.
" Clip ! clap ! " cried she, giving him a smart rap over the
knuckles with the heel; so that he screamed, and drew back
his hand. "That's for indulging in thoughts of your own
at the sight of my slippers."
  "And that's for using old folk like children," cried the
other; then sprang up, seized her, and plundered many a
kiss, every one of which she artfully contested with a show
of serious reluctance. In this romping, her long hair got
loose, and floated round the group; the chair overset; and
Aurelia, inwardly indignant at such rioting, arose in great
vexation.




                     CHAPTER VI.

  THOUGH in this remoulding of "Hamlet " many characters
had been cut off, a sufficient number of them still remained,
- a number. which the company was scarcely adequate to
meet.
  ' If this is the way of it," said Serlo, " our prompter him-
self must issue from his den, and mount the stage, and
become a personage like one of us."
  " In his own station," answered Wilhelm, " I have fre-
quently admired him."
  " I do not think," said Serlo, " that there is in the world
a more perfect artist of his kind. No spectator ever hears
him: we upon the stage catch every syllable. He has formed
in himself, as it were, a peculiar set of vocal organs for this
purpose: he is like a Genius that whispers intelligibly to us
in the hour of need. He feels, as if by instinct, what por-
tion of his task an actor is completely master of, and an-
ticipates from afar where his memory will fail him.- I have
known cases in which I myself had scarcely read my part:
he said it over to me word for word, and I played happily.
Yet he has some peculiarities which would make another in
his place quite useless. For example, he takes such an in-
terest in the plays, that, in giving any moving passage, he
does not indeed declaim it, but he reads it with all pomp and


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pathos. By this ill habit he has nonplussed me on more
than one occasion."
  " As with another of his singularities," observed Aurelia,
" he once left me sticking fast in a very dangerous passage."
  "How could this happen, with the man's attentiveness? "
said Wilhelm.
  " He is so affected," said Aurelia, " by certain passages,
that he weeps warm tears, and for a few moments loses all
reflection; and it is not properly passages such as we should
call affecting that produce this impression on him; but, if I
express myself clearly, the beautifdl passages, those out of
which the pure spirit of the poet looks forth, as it were,
through open, sparkling eyes, - passages which others at
most rejoice over, and which many thousands altogether
overlook."
  " And with a soul so tender, why does he never venture
on the stage? "
  " A hoarse voice," said Serlo, " and a stiff carriage, ex-
clude him from it; as his melancholic temper excludes him
from society. What trouble have I taken, and in vain, to
make him take to me! But he is a charming reader; such
another I have never heard; no one can observe like him the
narrow limit between declamation and graceful recital."
  ' The very man ! " exclaimed our friend, " the very man !
What a fortunate discovery ! We have now the proper hand
for delivering the passage of ' The rugged Pyrrhus.'"
  " One requires your eagerness," said Serlo, " before he
can employ every object in the use it was meant for."
  " In truth," said Wilhelm, "' I was very much afraid we
should be obliged to leave this passage out: the omission
would have lamed the whole play."
  " Well! That is what I cannot understand," observed
Aurelia.
  " I hope you will erelong be of my opinion," answered
Wilhelm.    " Shakspeare has introduced these travelling
players with a double purpose. The person who recites the
death of Priam with such feeling, in the first place, makes a
deep impression on the prince himself; he sharpens the con-
science of the wavering youth: and, accordingly, this scene
becomes a prelude to that other, where, in the second place,
the little play produces such effect upon the King. Hamlet
sees himself reproved and put to shame by the player, who
feels so deep a sympathy in foreign and fictitious woes; and
the thought of making an experiment upon the conscience of


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his stepfather is in consequence suggested to him. What a
royal monologue is that, which ends the second act ! How
charming it will be to speak it !

       " ' Oh, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!
          Is it not monstrous that this player here,
          But in a fiction, in a dream of passion,
          Could force his soul so to his own conceit,
          That, from her working, all his visage wann'd;
          Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect,
          A broken voice, and his whole function suiting
          With forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing!
          For Hecuba!
          What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba,
          That he should weep for her ?' "

  " If we can but persuade our man to come upon the stage,"
observed Aurelia.
  " We must lead him to it by degrees," said Serlo. "At
the rehearsal he may read the passage: we shall tell him
that an actor whom we are expecting is to play it; and so,
by and by, we shall lead him nearer to the point."
  Having agreed on this affair, the conversation next turned
upon the Ghost. Wilhelm could not bring himself to give
the part of the living King to the Pedant, that so Old Bois-
terous might play the Ghost: he was of opinion that they
ought to wait a while; because some other actors had an-
nounced themselves, and among these it was probable they
would find a fitter man.
  We can easily conceive, then, how astonished Wilhelm
must have been when, returning home that evening, he found
a billet lying on his table, sealed with singular figures, and
containing what follows : -
  " Strange youth ! we know thou art in great perplexity.
For thy Hamlet thou canst hardly find men enough, not to
speak of ghosts. Thy zeal deserves a miracle: miracles we
cannot work, but somewhat marvellous shall happen.      If
thou have faith, the Ghost shall arise at the proper hour !
Be of courage and keep firm ! This needs no answer:. thy
determination will be known to us."
  With this curious sheet he hastened back to Serlo, who
read and re-read it, and at last declared, with a thoughtful
look, that it seemed a matter of some moment; that they
must consider well and seriously whether they could risk it.
They talked the subject over at some length; Aurelia was
silent, only smiling now and then; and a few days after,


273





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


when speaking of the incident again, she gave our friend,
not obscurely, to understand that she held it all a joke of
Serlo's. She desired him to cast away anxiety, and to expect
the Ghost with patience.
  Serlo, for most part, was in excellent humor: the actors
that were going to leave him took all possible pains to play
well, that their absence might be much regretted; and this,
combined with the new-fangled zeal of the others, gave
promise of the best results.
  His intercourse with Wilhelm had not failed to exert some
influence on him. He began to speak more about art: for,
after all, he was a German; and Germans like to give them-
selves account of what they do. Wilhelm wrote down many
of their conversations; which, as our narrative must not be
so often interrupted here, we shall communicate to such of
our readers as feel an interest in dramaturgic matters, by
some other opportunity.
  In particular, one evening, the manager was very merry in
speaking of the part of Polonius, and how he meant to take
it up. " I engage," said he, " on this occasion, to present
a very meritorious person in his best aspect. The repose
and security of this old gentleman, his emptiness and his
significance, his exterior gracefulness and interior meanness,
his frankness and sycophancy, his sincere roguery and deceit-
ful truth, I will introduce with all due elegance in their fit
proportions. This respectable, gray-haired, enduring, time-
serving half-knave, I will represent in the most courtly style :
the occasional roughness and coarseness of our author's
strokes will further me here. I will speak like a book when
I am prepared beforehand, and like an ass when I utter the
cverflowings of my heart.  I will be insipid and absurd
enough to chime in with every one, and acute enough never
to observe when people make a mock of me. I have seldom
taken up a part with so much zeal and roguishness."
   " Could I but hope as much from mine! " exclaimed
Aurelia. 'L I have neither youth nor softness enough to be
at home in this character. One thing alone I am too sure
of, -the feeling that turns Ophelia's brain, I shall not
want."
   " We must not take the matter up so strictly," said our
friend. " For my share, I am certain, that the wish to act
the character of Hamlet has led me exceedingly astray,
throughout my study of the play. And now, the more I look
into the part, the more clearly do I see, that, in my whole


274





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


form and physiognomy, there is not one feature such as
Shakspeare meant for Hamlet. When I consider with what
nicety the various circumstances are adapted to each other,
I can scarcely hope to produce even a tolerable effect."
  " You are entering on your new career with becoming con-
scientiousness," said Serlo. " The actor fits himself to his
part as he can, and the part to him as it must. But how
has Shakspeare drawn his Hamlet? Is he so utterly unlike
you?"
  "In the first place," answered Wilhelm, "he is fair-
haired."
  " That I call far-fetched," observed Aurelia. " How do
you infer that?"
  " As a Dane, as a Northman, he is fair-haired and blue-
eyed by descent."
  "And you think Shakspeare had this in view?"
  "I do not find it specially expressed; but, by comparison
of passages, I think it incontestable. The fencing tires him ;
the sweat is running from his brow; and the Queen remarks,
' He's fat, and scant of breath.' Can you conceive him to be
otherwise than plump and fair-haired? Brown-complexioned
people, in their youth, are seldom plump. And does not his
wavering melancholy, his soft Iamenting, his irresolute ac-
tivity, accord with such a figure ? From a dark-haired young
man, you Would look for more decision and impetuosity."
  " You are spoiling my imagination," cried Aurelia:
" away with your fat Hamlets ! Do not set your well-fed
prince before us ! Give us rather any succedaneum that will
move us, will deligitius. The intention of the author is of
less importance to us than our own enjoyment, and we need
a charm that is adapted for us."






                    CHAPTER VII.

   ONE evening a dispute arose among our friends about the
novel and the drama, and which of them deserved the pref-
erence. Serlo said it was a fruitless and misunderstood
debate: both might be superior in their kinds, only each
must keep within the limits proper to it.


275





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " About their limits and their kinds," said Wilhelm, " I
confess myself not altogether clear."
  " Who is so ?" said the other; " and yet perhaps it were
worth while to come a little closer to the business."
  They conversed together long upon the matter; and, in
fine, the following was nearly the result of their discussion :-
  " In the novel as well as in the drama, it is human nature
and human action that we see. The difference between these
sorts of fiction lies not merely in their outward form, - not
merely in the circumstance that the personages of the one
are made to speak, while those of the other have commonly
their history narrated. Unfortunately many dramas are but
novels, which proceed by dialogue; and it would not be im-
possible to write a draina in the shape of letters.
   " But, in the novel, it is chiefly sentiments and events that
are exhibitd in.thiualaLa~itAs C aracte   adf~eds. The
novel must go slowly forward; and the sentiments of the
hero, by some means or another, must restrain the tendency
of the whole to unfold itself and to conclude. The drama,
on the other hand, must hasten; and the character of the
hero must press forward to cith end: it does not restrain,
but is restrained. The novel-hero must be suffering, - at
least he must not in a high degree be active: in the dramatic
one, we look for activity and deeds. Grandison, Clarissa,
Pamela; the Vicar of Wakefield, Tom Jones himself, are, if
not suffering, at least retarding, personages; and the inci-
dents are all in some sort modelled by their sentiments. In
the drim'L th   - ho mnodely 'othiy by himself; all things
withstand him;-and he clears and casts away the hinderances
from off his path, or else sinks under them."
   Our friends were also of opinion, that, in the novel, some
 degree of scope may be allowed to Cban e, but that it must
 always be led and guided by the sentiments of the personages :
 on the other hand, that Fate, which, by means of outward,
 unconnected circumstances, carries forward men, without
 their own concurrence, to an unforeseen catastrophe, can
 have place only in the dr "ma; that Chance may produce
 pattetiic situations, but ne er tragic ones; Fate, on the
 other hand, ought always to be terrible, - and is, in the
 highest sense, tragic, when it brings into a ruinous concate-
 nation the guilty man, and the guiltless that was unconcerned
 with him.
   These considerations led them back to the play of " Ham-
 let," and the peculiarities of its composition. The hero in


276





M1ISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


this case, it was observed, is endowed ~pore properly with
sentiments than with a character: it is events alone that
push him on, and accordingly the play has in some measure
the expansion of a novel. But as it is Fate that draws the
plan, as the story issues from a deed of terror, and the hero
is continually driven forward to a deed of terror, the work is
tragic in the highest sense, and admits of no other than
a tragic end.
  The book-rehearsal was now to take place, to which Wil-
helm had looked forward as to a festival. Having previously
collated all the parts, no obstacle on this side could oppose
him. The whole of the actors were acquainted with the
piece: he endeavored to impress their minds with the impor-
tance of these book-rehearsals. "' As you require," said he,
" of every musical performer, that he shall, in some degree,
be able to play from the book: so every actor, every edu-
cated man, should train himself to recite from the book, to
catch immediately the character of any drama, any poem,
any tale he may be reading, and exhibit it with grace and
readiness. No committing to memory will be of service, if
the actor have not, in the first place, penetrated into the
sense and spirit of his author: the mere letter will avail him
nothing."
  Serlo declared that he would overlook all subsequent re-
hearsals, - the last rehearsal itself, --if justice were but
done to these rehearsals from the book. "' For, commonly,"
said he, "there is nothing more amusing than to hear an
actor speak of study: it is as if freemasons were to talk of
building."
  The rehearsal passed according to their wishes; and we
may assert, that the fame and favor which our company
acquired afterwards had their foundation in these few but
well-spent hours.
  I" You did right, my friend," said Serlo, when they were
alone, " in speaking to our fellow-laborers so earnestly; and
yet I am afraid they will scarcely fulfil your wishes."
  " How so ? " asked Wilhelm.
  "I have noticed," answered Serlo, " that, as easily as
you may set in motion the imaginations of men, gladly as
they listen to your tales and fictions, it is yet very seldom
that you find among them any touch of an imagination you
can call productive. In actors this remark is strikingly
exemplified. Any one of them is well content to undertake
a beautiful, praiseworthy, brilliant part; and seldom will any


2977





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


one of them do more than self-complacently transport himself
into his hero's place, without in the smallest troubling his
head whether other people view him so or not. But to seize
with vivacity what the author's feeling was in writing; what
portion of your individual qualities you must cast off, in order
to do justice to a part; how, by your own conviction that you
are become another man, you may carry with:you the convic-
tions of the audience; how, by the inward truth of your con-
ceptive power, you can change these boards into a temple,
this pasteboard into woods, - to seize and execute all this,
is given to very few. That internal strength of soul, by
which alone deception can be brought about; that lying
truth, without which nothing will affect us rightly, -have,
by most men, never even been imagined.
  " Let us not, then, press too hard for spirit and feeling in
our friends. The surest way is first coolly to instruct them
in the sense and letter of the play, -if possible, to open their
understandings. Whoever has the talent will then, of his
own accord, eagerly adopt the spirited feeling and manner
of expression; and those who have it not will at least be
prevented from acting or recitipg altogether falsely. And
among actors, as indeed in all cases, there is no worse arrange-
ment than for any one to make pretensions to the spirit of a
thing, while the sense and letter of it are not ready and clear
to him.'2




                    CHAPTER VIII.

  COMING to the first stage-rehearsal very early, Wilhelm
found himself alone upon the boards. The appearance of
the place surprised him, and awoke the strangest recollec-
tions. A forest and village scene stood exactly represented
as he once had seen it in the theatre of his native town. On
that occasion also, a rehearsal was proceeding; and it was
the morning when Mariana first confessed her love to him,
and promised him a happy interview. The peasants' cottages
resembled one another on the two stages, as they did in
nature: the true morning sun, beaming through a half-closed
window-shutter, fell upon a part of a bench ill joined to a
cottage door; but unhappily it did not now enlighten Mari-
ana's waist and bosom. He sat down, reflecting on this


278





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


strange coincidence: he almost thought that perhaps on this
very spot he would soon see her again. And, alas ! the truth
was nothing more, than that an afterpiece, to which this
scene belonged, was at that time very often played upon the
German stage. .
  Out of these meditations he was roused by the other actors,
along with whom two amateurs, frequenters of the wardrobe
and the stage, camne in, and saluted Wilhelm with a show of
great enthusiasm. One of these was in some degree attached
to Frau Melina, but the other was entirely a lover of the art,
and both were of the kind which a good company should
always wish to have about it. It was difficult to say whether
their love for the stage, or their knowledge of it, was the
greater. They loved it too much to know it perfectly: they
knew it well enough to prize the good and to discard the
bad. But, their inclination being so powerful, they could
tolerate the mediocre; and the glorious joy which they expe-
rienced from the foretaste and the aftertaste of excellence
surpassed expression.   The mechanical department gave
them pleasure, the intellectual charmed them; and so strong
was their susceptibility, that even a discontinuous rehearsal
afforded them a species of illusion. Deficiencies appeared in
their eyes to fade away in distance: the successful touched
them like an object near at hand. In a word, they were
judges such as every artist wishes in his own department.
Their favorite movement was from the side-scenes to the pit,
and from the pit to the side-scenes; their happiest place was
in the wardrobe; their busiest employment was in trying to
improve the dress, position, recitation, gesture, of the actor;
their liveliest conversation was on the effect produced by
him; their most constant effort was to keep him accurate,
active, and attentive, to do him service or kindness, and,
without squandering, to procure for the company a series of
enjoyments. The two had obtained the exclusive privilege
of being present on the stage at rehearsals as well as exhi-
bitions. In regard to " Hamlet," they had not in all points
agreed with Wilhelm : here and there he had yielded; but,
for most part, he had stood by his opinion: and, upon the
whole, these discussions had been very useful in the forming
of his taste. He showed both gentlemen how much he valued
them ; and they again predicted nothing less, from these com-
bined endeavors, than a new epoch for the German theatre.
  The presence of these persons was of great service during
the rehearsals. In particular they labored to convince our


279





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


players, that, throughout the whole of their preparations, the
posture and action, as they were intended ultimately to
appear, should always be combined with the words, and thus
the whole be mechanically united by habit. In rehearsing a
tragedy especially, they said, no common movement with the
hands should be allowed: a tragic actor that took snuff in
the rehearsal always frightened them; for, in all probability,
on coming to the same passage in the exhibition, he would
miss his pinch. Nay, on the same principles, they main-
tained that no one should rehearse in boots, if his part were
to be played in shoes. But nothing, they declared, afflicted
them so much as when the women, in rehearsing, stuck their
hands into the folds of their gowns.
  By the persuasion of our friends, another very good effect
was brought about: the actors all began to learn the use of
arms. Since military parts occur so frequently, said they,
can any thing look more absurd than men, without the small-
est particle of discipline, trolling about the stage in captains'
and majors' uniforms ?
  Wilhelm and Laertes were the first that took lessons of a
subaltern: they continued their practising of fence with the
greatest zeal.
  Such pains did these two men take for perfecting a com-
pany which had so fortunately come together. . They were
thus prdviding for the future satisfaction of the public, while
the public was usually laughing at their taste. People did not
know what gratitude they owed our friends, particularly for
performing one service, - the service of frequently impress-
ing on the actor the fundamental point, that it was his duty
to speak so loud as to be heard. In this simple matter, they
experienced more opposition and repugnance than could have
been expected. Most part maintained that they were heard
well enough already; some laid the blame upon the building;
others said, one could not yell and bellow, when one had to
speak naturally, secretly, or tenderly.
  Our two friends, having an immeasurable stock of patience,
tried every means of undoing this delusion, of getting round
this obstinate self-will. They spared neither arguments nor
flatteries; and at last they reached their object, being aided
not a little by the good example of Wilhelm. By him they
were requested to sit down in the remotest corners of the
house, and, every time they did not hear him perfectly, to rap
on the bench with a key. He articulated well, spoke out in
a measured manner, raised his tones gradually, and did not


280





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


overcry himself in the most vehement passages. The rap-
ping of the key was heard less and less every new rehearsal:
by and by the rest submitted to the same operation, and at
last it seemed rational to hope that the piece would be heard
by every one in all the nooks of the house.
  From this example we may see how desirous people are to
reach their object in their own way; what need there often is
of enforcing on them truths which are self-evident; and how
difficult it may be to reduce the man who aims at effecting
something to admit the primary conditions under which
alone his enterprise is possible.




                     CHAPTER IX.

  THE necessary preparations for scenery and dresses, and
whatever else was requisite, were now proceeding. In regard
to certain scenes and passages, our friend had whims of his
own, which Serlo humored, partly in consideration of their
bargain, partly from conviction, and because he hoped by
these civilities to gain Wilhelm, and to lead him according to
his own phrposes the more implicitly in time to come.
   Thus, for example, the King and Queen were, at the first
audience, to appear sitting on the throne, with the courtiers
at the sides, and Hamlet standing undistinguished in the
crowd. " Hamlet," said he, " must keep himself quiet:
his sable dress will sufficiently point him out. He should
rather shun remark than seek it. Not till the audience is
ended, and the King speaks with him as with a son, should
he advance, and allow the scene to take its course."
   A formidable obstacle still remained, in regard to the two
pictures which Hamlet so passionately refers to in the scene
with his mother. " We ought," said Wilhelm, " to have
both of them visible, at full length, in the bottom of the
chamber, near the main door; and the former king must be
clad in armor, like the Ghost, and hang at the side where it
enters. I could wish that the figure held its right hand in a
commanding attitude, were somewhat turned away, and, as
it were, looked over its shoulder, that so it might perfectly
resemble the Ghost at the moment when he issues from the
door. It will produce a great effect, when at this instant


281





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Hamlet looks upon the Ghost, and the Queen upon the pic-
ture. The stepfather may be painted in royal ornaments,
but not so striking."
  There were several other points of this sort, about which
we shall, perhaps, elsewhere have opportunity to speak.
   " Are you, then, inexorably bent on Hamlet's dying at
the end?" inquired Serlo.
  " How can I keep him alive," said Wilhelm, " when the
whole play is pressing him to death? We have already
talked at large on that matter."
  " But the public wishes him to live."
  " I will show the public any other complaisance; but, as
to this, I cannot. We often wish that some gallant, useful
man, who is dying of a chronical disease, might yet live
longer. The family weep, and conjure the physician; but he
cannot stay him: and no more than this physician can with-
stand the necessity of nature, can we give law to an acknowl-
edged necessity of art. It is a false compliance with the
multitude, to raise in them emotions which they wish, when
these are not emotions which they ought, to feel."
   " Whoever pays the cash," said Serlo, " may require the
ware according to his liking."
   " Doubtless, in some degree," replied our friend; " but
a great public should be reverenced, not used as children
are, when pedlers wish to hook the money from them. By
presenting excellence to the people, you should gradually
excite in them a taste and feeling for the excellent; and
they will pay their money with double satisfaction when
reason itself has nothing to object against this outlay. The
public you may flatter, as you do a well-beloved child, to
better, to enlighten, it; not as you do a pampered child of
quality, to perpetuate the error you profit from."
  In this manner various other topics were discussed relat-
ing to the question, What might still be changed in the play,
and what must of necessity remain untouched? We shall
not enter farther on those points at present; but, perhaps,
at some future time we may submit this altered " Hamlet "
itself to such of our readers as feel any interest in the
subject.


282





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER X.

  THE main rehearsal was at length concluded: it had lasted
very long. Serlo and Wilhelm still found much to care for:
notwithstanding all the time which had already been con-
sumed in preparation, some highly necessary matters had been
left to the very last moment.
  Thus, the pictures of the kings, for instance, were not ready :
and the scene between Hamlet and his mother, from which
so powerful an effect was looked for, had a very helpless
aspect, as the business stood; for neither Ghost nor painted
image of him was at present forthcoming. Serlo made a
jest of this perplexity: " We should be in a pretty scrape,"
said he, " if the Ghost were to decline appearing, and the
guard had nothing to fight with but the air, and our prompter
were obliged to speak the spirit's part from the side-scenes."
  " We will not scare away our strange friend by unbelief,"
said Wilhelm : " doubtless at the proper season he will come,
and astonish us as much as the spectators."
  I" Well, certainly," said Serlo, " I shall be a happy man
to-morrow night, when once the play will have been acted.
It costs us more arrangement than I dreamed of."
  " But none of you," exclaimed Philina, " will be happier
than I, little as my part disturbs me. Really, to hear a
single subject talked of forever and forever, when, after all,
there is nothing to come of it beyond an exhibition, which
will be forgotten like so many hundred others, this is what I
have not patience for. In Heaven's name, not so many pros
and cons! The guests you entertain have always something
to object against the dinner; nay, if you could hear them
talk of it at home, they cannot understand how it was possible
to undergo so sad a business."
  " Let me turn your illustration, pretty one, to my own
advantage," answered Wilhelm. " Consider how much must
be done by art and nature, by traffickers and tradesmen, be-
fore an entertainment can be given. How many years the
stag must wander in the forest, the fish in the river or the
sea, before they can deserve to grace our table ! And what
cares and consultations with her cooks and servants has the
lady of the house submitted to ! Observe with what indiffer-
ence the people swallow the production of the distant vin-
tager, the seaman, and the vintner, as if it were a thing of
course. And ought these men to cease from laboring, pro-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


viding, and preparing; ought the master of the house to
cease from purchasing and laying up the fruit of their exer-
tions, -because at last the enjoyment it affords is transitory ?
But no enjoyment can be transitory; the impression which it
leaves is permanent: and what is done with diligence and
effort communicates to the spectator a hidden force, of which
we cannot say how far its influence may reach."
   " 'Tis all one to me," replied Philina: " only here again I
must observe, that you men are constantly at variance with
yourselves. With all this conscientious horror at curtailing
Shakspeare, you have missed the finest thought there was in
' Hamlet' ! "
   "The finest ? " cried our friend.
   " Certainly the finest," said Philina: "the prince himself
takes pleasure in it."
   "And it is ? " inquired Serlo.
   " If you wore a wig," replied Philina, " I would pluck it
very coolly off you; for I think you need to have your under-
standing opened."
  The rest began to think what she could mean : the conver-
sation paused. The party arose; it was now grown late;
they seemed about to separate. While they were standing in
this undetermined mood, Philina all at once struck up a song,
with a very graceful, pleasing tune : -

             " Sirg me not with such emotion,
                How the night so lonesome is:
              Pretty maids, I've got a notion
                It is the reverse of this.
              For as wife and man are plighted,
                And the better half the wife;
                So is night to day united:
                Night's the better half of life.
                Can you joy in bustling daytime,
                Day when none can get his will?
              It is good for work, for haytime;
                For much other it is ill.
                But when, in the nightly glooming,
                Social lamp on table glows,
              Face for faces dear illuming,
                And such jest and joyance goes;
                When the fiery, pert young fellow,
                Wont by day to run or ride,
                Whispering now some tale would tell O,
                All so gentle by your side;


284





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


            When the nightingale to lovers
              Lovingly her songlet sings,
            Which for exiles and sad rovers
              Like mere woe and wailing rings, -

            With a heart how lightsome feeling,
              Do ye count the kindly clock,
            Which twelve times deliberate pealing,
              Tells you none to-niglt shall knock!

            Therefore, on all fit occasions,
              Mark it, maidens, what I sing:
            Every day its own vexations,
              And the night its joys, will bring."

  She made a slight courtesy on concluding, and Serlo gave
a loud 1" Bravo ! " She scuttled off, and left the room with a
teehee of laughter. They heard her singing and skipping as
she went down-stairs.
  Serlo passed into another room: Wilhelm bade Aurelia
good-night; but she continued looking at him for a few mo-
ments, and said, -
  "' How I dislike that woman ! Dislike her from my heart,
and to her very slightest qualities ! Those brown eyelashes,
with her fair hair, which our brother thinks so charming, I
cannot bear to look at; and that scar upon her brow has
something in it so repulsive, so low and base, that I could
recoil ten paces every time I meet her. She was lately telling
as a joke, that her father, when she was a child, threw a plate
at her head, of which this is the mark. It is well that she is
marked in the eyes and brow, that those about her may be
on their guard."
  Wilhelm made no answer; and Aurelia went on, apparently
with greater spleen, -
   G It is next to impossible for me to speak a kind, civil
word to her, so deeply do I hate her, with all her wheedling.
Would that we were rid of her ! And you, too, my friend,
have a certain complaisance for thy; creature, a way of acting
towards her, that grieves me to the soul, - an attention which
borders on respect; which, by Heaven I she does not merit."
   "Whatever she may be," replied our friend, " I owe her
thanks. Her upbringing is to blame : to her natural charac-
ter I would do justice."
   "Character!" exclaimed Aurelia; " and do you think
such a creature has a character? O you men! It is so like
you! These are the women you deserve! "


285





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  "My friend, can you suspect me?" answered Wilhelm.
" I will give account of every minute I have spent beside
her."
  " Come, come," replied Aurelia: "it is late, we will not
quarrel. All like each, and each like all! Good-night, my
friend! Good-night, my sparkling bird-of-paradise ! "
  Wilhelm asked how he had earned this title.
  " Another time," cried 'she; " another time. They say it
has no feet, but hovers in the air, and lives on ether. That,
however, is a story, a poetic fiction. Good-night ! Dream
sweetly, if you are in luck ! "
  She proceeded to her room ; and he, being left alone, made
haste to his.
  Half angrily he walked along his chamber to and fro. The
jesting but decided tone of Aurelia had hurt him: he felt
deeply how unjust she was. Could he treat Philina with un-
kindness or ill-nature? She had done no evil to him; but,
for any love to her, he could proudly and confidently take his
conscience to witness that it was not so.
  On the point of beginning to undress, he was going for-
ward to his bed to draw aside the curtains, when, not with-
out extreme astonishment, he saw a pair of women's slippers
lying on the floor before it. One of them was resting on its
sole, the other on its edge. They were Philina's slippers:
he recognized them but too well. He thought he noticed some
disorder in the curtains; nay, it seemed as if they moved.
He stood, and looked with unaverted eyes.
  A new impulse, which he took for anger, cut his breath :
after a short pause, he recovered, and cried in a firm tone,-
  "I Come out, Plrilina ! What do you mean by this ? Where
is your sense, your modesty? Are we to be the.speech of the
house to-morrow ? "
  Nothing stirred.
  " I do not jest," continued he: " these pranks are little
to ny taste."
  No sound ! No motion !
  Irritated and determined, he at last went forward to the
bed, and tore the curtains asunder. C Arise," said he,' "if
I am not to give you up my room to-night."
  With great surprise, he found his bed unoccupied; the
sheets and pillows in the sleekest rest. He looked around:
he searched and searched, but found no traces of the rouge.
Behind the bed, the stove, the drawers, there was nothing
to be seen: he sought with great and greater diligence; a


286





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIIP.


spiteful looker-on might have believed that he was seeking
in the hope of finding.
  All thought of sleep was gone. He put the slippers on
his table; went past it, up and down; often paused before
it; and a wicked sprite that watched him has asserted that
our friend employed himself for several hours about these
dainty little shoes; that he viewed them with a certain in-
terest; that he handled them and played with them; and it
was not till towards morning that he threw himself on the bed,
without undressing, where he fell asleep amidst a world of
curious fantasies.
  He was still slumbering, when Serlo entered hastily.
' Where are you ? " cried he: " still in bed ? Impossible ! I
want you in the theatre: we have a thousand things to do."





                     CHAPTER XI.

  THE forenoon and the afternoon fled rapidly away. The
playhouse was already full: our friend hastened to dress.
It was not with the joy which it had given him when he first
essayed it, that he now put on the garb of Hamlet: he
only dressed that he might be in readiness. On his joining
the women in the stage-room, they unanimously cried that
nothing sat upon him right; the fine feather stood awry;
the buckle of his belt did not fit: they began to slit, to sew,
and piece together. The music started: Philina still ob-
jected somewhat to his ruff ; Aurelia had much to say against
his mantle. " Leave me alone, good people," cried he:
" this negligence will make me liker Hamlet." The women
would not let him go, but continued trimming him. The
music ceased: the acting was begun. He looked at himself
in the glass, pressed his hat closer down upon his face, and
retouched the painting of his cheeks.
  At this instant somebody came rushing in, and cried,
"The Ghost ! the Ghost ! "
   Wilhelm had not once had time all day to think of the
Ghost, and whether it would come or not. His anxiety on
that head was at length removed, and 'now some strange
assistant was to be expected. The stage-manager came in,
inquiring after various matters : Wilholm had not time to


287





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ask about the Ghost; he hastened to present himself before
the throne, where King and Queen, surrounded with their
court, were already glancing in all the splendors of royalty,
and waiting till the scene in front of them should be con-
cluded. He caught the last words of Horatio, who was
speaking of the Ghost, in extreme confusion, and seemed to
have almost forgotten his part.
  The intermediate curtain went aloft, and Hamlet saw the
crowded house before him. Horatio, having spoken his
address, and been dismissed by the King, pressed through
to Hamlet; and, as if presenting himself to the Prince, he
said, " The Devil is in harness: he has put us all in fright."
   In the mean while, two men of large stature, in white
cloaks and capouches, were observed standing in the side-
scenes. Our friend, in the distraction, embarrassment, and
hurry of the moment, had failed in the first soliloquy; at
least, such was his own opinion, though loud plaudits had
attended his exit. Accordingly, he made his next entrance
in no pleasant mood, with the dreary wintry feeling of dra-
matic condemnation. Yet he girded up his mind, and spoke
that appropriate passage on the "' rouse and wassail," the
" heavy-headed revel " of the Danes, with suitable indiffer-
,ence; he had, like the audience, in thinking of it, quite
forgotten the Ghost; and he started, in real terror, when
Horatio cried out, " Look, my lord ! it comes! " He whirled
violently round; and the tall, noble figure, the low, inaudible
tread, the light movement in the heavy-looking armor, made
such an impression on him, that he stood as if transformed
to stone, and could utter only in a half-voice his " Angels
and ministers of grace defend us! "  He glared at the form,
drew a deep breathing once or twice, and pronounced his
address to the Ghost in a manner so confused, so broken, so
constrained, that the highest art could not have hit the mark
so well.
   His translation of this passage now stood him in good
 stead. He had kept very close to the original, in which the
 arrangement of the words appeared to him expressive of a
 mind confounded, terrified, and seized with horror :--

     "' Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd,
        Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell,
        Be thy intents wicked, or charitable,
        Thou com'st in such a questionable shape,
        That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet,
        King, father, royal Dane: oh, answer me!' "


288





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


A deep effect was visible in the audience. The Ghost beck-
oned, the Prince followed him amid the loudest plaudits.
  The scene changed: and, when the two had re-appeared,
the Ghost, on a sudden, stopped, and turned round; by
which means Hamlet came to be a little too close upon it.
With a longing curiosity, he looked in at the lowered visor;
but except two deep-lying eyes, and a well-formed nose, he
could discern nothing. Gazing timidly, he stood before the
Ghost; but when the first tones issued from the helmet, and
a somewhat hoarse, yet deep and penetrating, voice, pro-
nounced the words, " I am thy father's spirit," Wilhelm,
shuddering, started back some paces; and the audience shud-
dered with him. Each imagined that he knew the voice:
Wilhelm thought he noticed in it some resemblance to his
father's. These strange emotions and remembrances, the
curiosity he felt about discovering his secret friend, the
anxiety about offending him, even the theatric impropriety
of coming too near him in the present situation, all this
affected Wilhelm with powerful and conflicting impulses.
During the long speech of the Ghost, he changed his place
so frequently, he seemed so unsettled and perplexed, so
attentive and so absent-minded, that his acting caused a
universal admiration, as the Spirit caused a universal horror.
The latter spoke with a feeling of melancholy anger, rather
than of sorrow; but of an anger spiritual, slow, and inex-
haustible. It was the mistemper of a noble soul, that is sev-
ered from all earthly things, and yet devoted to unbounded
woe. At last he vanished, but in a curious manner; for a
thin, gray, transparent gauze arose from the place of de-
scent, like a vapor, spread itself over him, and sank along
with him.
   Hamlet's friends now entered, and swore upon the sword.
Old Truepenny, in the mean time, was so busy under ground,
that, wherever they might take their station, he was sure to
call- out right beneath them, " Swear ! " and they started,
as if the soil had taken fire below them, and hastened to
another spot. On each of these occasions, too, a little flame
pierced through at the place where they were standing. The
whole produced on" the spectators a profound impression.
   After this, the play proceeded calmly on its course: noth-
ing failed; all prospered; the audience manifested their con-
tentment, and the actors seemed to rise in heart and spirits
every scene.


289





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XII.

  THE curtain fell, and rapturous applauses sounded out of
every corner of the house. The four princely corpses sprang
aloft, and embraced each other. Polonius and Ophelia like-
wise issued from their graves, and listened with extreme
satisfaction, as Horatio, who had stepped before the curtain
to announce the following play, was welcomed with the most
thundering plaudits. The people would not hear of any
other play, but violently required the repetition of the present.
  " We have won," cried Serlo, " and so not another rea-
sonable word this night ! Every thing depends on the first
impression: we should never take it ill of any actor, that, on
occasion of his first appearance, he is provident, and even
self-willed."
  The box-keeper came, and delivered him a heavy sum.
"We have made a good beginning," cried the manager,
" and prejudice itself will now be on our side. But where
is the supper you promised us ? To-night we may be allowed
to relish it a little."
  It had been agreed that all the party were to stay together
in their stage-dresses, and enjoy a little feast among them-
selves. Wilhelm had engaged to have the place in readiness,
and Fra'u Melina to provide the victuals.
  A room, which commonly was occupied by scene-painters,
had accordingly been polished up as well as possible: our
friends had hung it round with little decorations, and so
decked and trimmed it, that it looked half like a garden,
half like a colonnade. On entering it, the company were
dazzled with the glitter of a multitude of lights, which,
across the vapors of the sweetest and most copious perfumes,
spread a stately splendor over a well-decorated and well-fur-
nished table. These preparations were hailed with joyful
interjections by the party; all took their places with a cer-
tain genuine dignity; it seemed as if some royal family had
met together in the Kingdom of the Shades. Wilhelm sat
between Aurelia and the Frau Melina; Serlo between Philina
and Elmira; nobody was discontented with himself or with
his place.
   Our two theatric amateurs, who had from the first been
present,,now increased the pleasure of the meetinig. While
the exhibition was proceeding, they had several times stepped
round, and come upon the stage, expressing, in the warmest


290





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


terms, the delight which they and the audience felt. They
now descended to particulars, and each was richly rewarded
for his efforts.
  With boundless animation, the company extolled man after
man, and passage after passage. To the prompter, who had
modestly sat down at the bottom of the table, they gave a lib-
eral commendation for his "rugged Pyrrhus ; " the fencing of
Hamlet and Laertes was beyond all praise; Ophelia's mourn-
ing had been inexpressibly exalted and affecting; of Polo-
nius they would not trust themselves to speak.
  Every individual present heard himself commended through
the rest and by them, nor was the absent Ghost defrauded
of his share of praise and admiration. He had played the
part, it was asserted, with a very happy voice, and in a
lofty style; but what surprised them most, was the informa-
tion which he seemed to have about their own affairs. He
entirely resembled the painted figure, as if he had sat to the
painter of it; and the two amateurs described, in glowing
language, how awful it had looked when the spirit entered
near the picture, and stepped across before his own image.
Truth and error, they declared, had been commingled in the
strangest manner: they had felt as if the Queen really did
not see the Ghost. And Frau Melina was especially com-
mended, because on this occasion she had gazed upwards at
the pictue, while Hamlet was pointing downwards at the
Spectre.
  Inquiry was now made how the apparition could have
entered. The stage-manager reported that a back-door,
usually blocked up by decorations, had that evening, as the
Gothic hall was occupied, been opened; that two large fig-
ures in white cloaks and hoods, one of whom was not to be
distinguished from the other, had entered by this passage;
and by the same, it was likely, they had issued when the
third act was over.
  Serlo praised the Ghost for one merit, - that he had not
whined and lamented like a tailor; nay, to animate his son,
had even introduced a passage at the end, which more be-
seemed such a hero. Wilhelm had kept it in memory: he
promised to insert it in his manuscript.
  Amid the pleasures of the entertainment, it had not been
noticed that the children and the harper were absent. Ere-
long they made their entrance, and were blithely welcomed
by the company. They came in together, very strangely
decked : Felix was beating a triangle, Mignon a tambourine ;


291





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the old man had his large harp hung round his neck, and was
playing on it whilst he carried it before him. They marched
round and round the table, and sang a multitude of songs.
Eatables were handed them; and the guests seemed to think
they could not do a greater kindness to the children, than by
giving them as much sweet wine as they chose to have. For
the company themselves had not by any means neglected a
stock of savory flasks, presented by the two amateurs, which
had arrived that evening in baskets. The children tripped
about, and sang: Mignon, in particular, was frolicsome
beyond all wont. She beat the tambourine with the greatest
liveliness and grace: now, with her finger pressed against
the parchment, she hummed across it swiftly to and fro; now
rattled on it with her knuckles, now with the back of her
hand; nay, sometimes, with alternating rhythm, she struck
it first against her knee and then against her head ; and anon
twirling it in her hand, she made the shells jingle by them-
selves; and thus, from the simplest instrument, elicited a
great variety of tones. After she and Felix had long rioted
about, they sat down upon an elbow-chair which was stand-
ing empty at the table, exactly opposite to Wilhelm.
  ' Keep out of the chair ! " cried Serlo: " it is waiting for
the Ghost, I think; and, when he comes, it will be worse
for you."
  "I dbo not fear him," answered Mignon: "if lie come,
we can rise. He is my uncle, and will not harm me."  To
those who did not know that her reputed father had been
named the Great Devil, this speech was unintelligible.
  The party looked at one another: they were more and
more confirmed in their suspicion that the manager was in
the secret of the Ghost. They talked and tippled, and the
girls from time to time cast timid glances towards the door.
  The children, who, sitting in the big chair, looked from
over the table but like puppets in their box, did actually at
length start a little drama in the style of Punch. The
screeching tone of these people Mignon imitated very well;
and Felix and she began to knock their heads together, and
against the edges of the table, in such a way as only wooden
puppets could endure. Mignon, in particular, grew frantic
with gayety: the company, much as they had laughed at her
at first, were in fine obliged to curb her. But persuasion was
of small avail; for she now sprang up, and raved, and shook
her tambourine, and capered round the table. With her hair
flying out behind her, with her head thrown back, and her


292





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


limbs, as it were, cast into the air, she seemed like one of
those antique Maenads, whose wild and all but impossible
positions still, on classic monuments, often strike us with
amazement.
  Incited by the talents and the uproar of the children, each
endeavored to contribute something to the entertainment of
the night. The girls sung several canons; Laertes whistled
in the manner of a nightingale; and the Pedant gave a
symphony pianissimo upon the Jew's-harp. Meanwhile the
youths and damsels, who sat near each other, had begun a
great variety of games; in which, as the hands often crossed
and met, some pairs were favored with a transient squeeze,
the emblem of a hopeful kindness. Madam Melina in par-
ticular seemed scarcely to conceal a decided tenderness for
Wilhelm. It was late; and Aurelia, perhaps the only one
retaining self-possession in the party, now stood up, and
signified that it was time to go.
  By way of termination, Serlo gave a firework, or what
resembled one; for he could imitate the sound of crackers,
rockets, and firewheels, with his mouth, in a style of nearly
inconceivable correctness. You had only to shut your eyes,
and the deception was complete. In the mean time, they
had all risen: the men gave their arms to the women to
escort them home. Wilhelm was walking last with Aurelia.
The stag6-manager met him on the stairs, and said to him,
" Here is the veil our Ghost vanished in; it was hanging
fixed to the place where he sank; we found it this moment."
---" A curious relic! " said our friend, and took it with him.
  At this instant his left arm was laid hold of, and he felt a
smart twinge of pain in it. Mignon had hid herself in the
place: she had seized him, and bit his arm. She rushed
past him, down stairs, and disappeared.
  On reaching the open air, almost all of them discovered
that they had drunk too liberally. They glided asunder
without taking leave.
  The instant Wilhelm gained his room, he stripped, and,
extinguishing his candle, hastened into bed. Sleep was over-
powering him without delay, when a noise, that seemed to
issue from behind the stove, aroused him. In the eye of his
heated fancy, the image of the harnessed King was hovering
there: he sat up that he might address the Spectre; but he
felt himself encircled with soft arms, and his mouth was
shut with kisses, which he had not force to push away.


293





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XIII.

  NEXT morning Wilhelm     started up with an unpleasant
feeling, and found himself alone. His head was still dim
with the tumult, which he had not yet entirely slept off;
and the recollection of his nightly visitant disquieted his
mind. His first suspicion lighted on Philina; but, on second
thoughts, he conceived that it could not have been she. He
sprang out of bed: and, while putting on his clothes, he
noticed that the door, which commonly he used to bolt, was
now ajar; though whether he had shut it on the previous
night, or not, he could not recollect.
  But what surprised him most was the Spirit's veil, which
he found lying on his bed. Having brought it up with him,
he had most probably thrown it there himself. It was a
gray gauze: on the hem of it he noticed an inscription
broidered in dark letters. He unfolded it, and read the
words, " FOR THE FIRST AND THE LAST TIME ! FLEE, YOUTH !
FLEE! "   He was struck with it, and knew not what to
think or say.
  At this moment Mignon entered with his breakfast. The
aspect of the child astonished Wilhelm, we may almost say
frightened him. She appeared to have grown taller over
night: 'she entered with a stately, noble air, and looked him
in the face so earnestly, that he could not endure her
glances. She did not touch him, as at other times, when,
for morning salutation, she would press his hand, or kiss his
cheek, his lips, his arm, or shoulder; but, having put his
things in order, she retired in silence.
  The appointed time of a first rehearsal now arrived: our
friends assembled, all of them entirely out of tune from yes-
,ternight's debauch. Wilhelm roused himself as much as
possible, that he might not at the very outset violate the prin-
ciples he had preached so lately with such emphasis. His
practice in the matter helped him through; for practice and
habit must, in every art, fill up the voids which genius and
temper in their fluctuations will so often leave.
   But, in the present case, our friends had especial reason to
admit the truth of the remark, that no one should begin
with a festivity any situation that is meant to last, particularly
that is meant to be a trade, a mode of living. Festivities
are fit for what is happily concluded: at the commence-
ment, they but waste the force and zeal which should inspire


294





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


us in the struggle, and support us through a long-continued
labor. Of all festivities, the marriage festival appears the
most unsuitable : calmness, humility, and silent hope befit no
ceremony more than this.
  So passed the day, which to Wilhelm seemed the most in-
sipid he had ever spent. Instead of their accustomed con-
versatioh in the evening, the company began to yawn: the
interest of Hamlet was exhausted; they rather felt it disa-
greeable than otherwise that the play was to be repeated
next night. Wilhelm showed the veil which the royal Dane
had left: it was to be inferred from this, that he would not
come again. Serlo was of that opinion; he appeared to be
deep in the secrets of the Ghost: but, on the other hand, the
inscription, " Flee, youth ! Flee i " seemed inconsistent with
the rest. How could Serlo be in league with any one whose
aim it was to take away the finest actor of his troop ?
  It had now become a matter of necessity to confer on
Boisterous the Ghost's part, and on the Pedant that of the
King. Both declared that they had studied these sufficiently :
nor was it wonderful; for .in such a number of rehearsals,
and so copious a treatment of the subject, all of them had
grown familiar with it: each could have exchanged his part
with any other. Yet they rehearsed a little here and there,
and prepar.ed the new adventurers, as fully as the hurry -would
admit. When the company was breaking up at a pretty late
hour, Philina softly whispered Wilhelm as she passed, " I
must have my slippers back: thou wilt not bolt the door? "
These words excited some perplexity in Wilhelm, when he
reached his chamber; they strengthened the suspicion that
Philina was the secret visitant : and we ourselves are forced
to coincide with this idea; particularly as the causes, which
awakened in our friend another and a stranger supposition,
cannot be disclosed. He kept walking up and down his
chamber in no quiet frame: his door was actually not yet
bolted.
  On a sudden Mignon rushed into the room, laid hold of
him, and cried, " Master ! save the house ! It is on fire ! "
Wilhelm sprang through the door, and a strong smoke came
rushing down upon him from the upper story. On the street
he heard the cry of fire; and the harper, with his instru-
ment in his hand, came down-stairs breathless through the
smoke. Aurelia hurried out of her chamber, and threw little
Felix into Wilhelm's arms.
  ' Save the child " cried she,     and we will mind the
rest."


295





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   Wilhelm did not look upon the danger as so great: his
 first thought was, to penetrate to the source of the fire, and
 try to stifle it before it reached a head. He gave Felix to
 the harper; commanding him to hasten down the stone
 stairs, which led across a little garden-vault out into the
 garden, and to wait with the children in the open air. Mig-
 non took a light to show the way. He begged Aurelia to
 secure her things there also. He himself pierced upwards
 through the smoke, but it was in vain that he exposed him-
 self to such danger. The flame appeared to issue from a
 neighboring house; it had already caught the wooden floor
 and staircase: some others, who had hastened to his help,
 were suffering like himself from fire and vapor. Yet he
 kept inciting them; he called for water; he conjured them
 to dispute every inch with the flame, and promised to abide
 by them to the last. At this instant, Mignon came spring-
 ing up, and cried, " Master ! save thy Felix! The old man
 is mad ! He is killing him."   Scarcely knowing what he
 did, Wilhelm darted down stairs; and Mignon followed close
 behind him.
   On - the last steps, which led into the garden-vault, he
paused with horror. Some heaps of fire-wood branches, and
large masses of straw, which had been stowed in the place,
were burning with a clear flame; Felix was lying on the
ground, and screaming; the harper stood aside, holding down
his head, and leaned against the wall. " Unhappy creature !
what is this?" said Wilhelm. The old man spoke not;
Mignon lifted Felix, and carried him with difficulty to the
garden; while Wilhelm strove to pull the fire asunder and
extinguish it, but only by his efforts made the flame more
violent. At last he, too, was forced to flee into the garden,
with his hair and his eyelashes burned; tearing the harper
with him through the conflagration, who, with singed beard,
unwillingly accompanied him..
  Wilhelm hastened instantly to seek the children. He
found them on the threshold of a summer-house at some
distance : Mignon was trying every effort to pacify her com-
rade. Wilhelm took him on his knee : he questioned him,
felt him, but could obtain no satisfactory account from either
him or Mignon.
   Meanwhile, the fire had fiercely seized on several houses:
it was now enlightening all the neighborhood. Wilhelm
looked at the child in the red glare of the flames: he could
find no wound, no blood, no hurt of any kind. He groped


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


over all the little creature's body, but the boy gave no sign of
pain: on the contrary, he by degrees grew calm, and began to
wonder at the blazing houses, and express his pleasure at the
spectacle of beams and rafters burning all in order, like a
grand illumination, so beautifully there.
  Wilhelm thought not of the clothes or goods he might have
lost: he felt deeply how inestimable to him was this pair of
human beings, who had just escaped so great a danger. He
pressed little Felix to his heart with a new emotion : Mignon,
too, he was about to clasp with joyful tenderness; but she
softly avoided this: she took him by the hand, and held it
fast.
  " Master," said she (till the present evening she had
hardly ever named him master; at first she used to name him
sir, and afterwards to call him father), -" Master! we
have escaped an awful danger: thy Felix was on the point
of death."
  By many inquiries, Wilhelm learned from her at last, that,
when they came into the vault, the harper tore the light
from her hand, and set on fire the straw. That he then put
Felix down, laid his hands with strange gestures on the head
of the child, and drew a knife as if he meant to sacrifice him.
That she sprang forward, and snatched it from him; that
she screamed; and some one from the house, who was carry-
ing something down into the garden, came to her help, but
must have gone away again in the confusion, and left the
old man and the child alone.
  Two or even three houses were now flaming in a general
blaze. Owing to the conflagration in the vault, no person
had been able to take shelter in the garden. Wilhelm was
distressed about his friends, and in a less degree about his
property. Not venturing to quit the children, he was forced
to sit, and see the mischief spreading more and more.
  In this anxious state he passed some hours. Felix had
fallen asleep on his bosom: Mignon was lying at his side,
and holding fast his hand. The efforts of the people finally
subdued the fire. The burned houses sank, with successive
crashes, into heaps ; the morning was advancing ; the children
awoke, and complained of bitter cold; even Wilhelm, in his
light dress, could scarcely brook the chillness of the falling
dew. He took the young ones to the rubbish of the prostrate
building, where, among the ashes and the embers, they found
a very grateful warmth.
  The opening day collected, by degrees, the various indi-


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


viduals of the party. All of them had got away unhurt:
no one had lost much. Wilhelm's trunk was saved among
the rest.
  Towards ten o'clock Serlo called them to rehearse their
"Hamlet," at least some scenes, in which fresh players were
to act. He had some debates to manage, on this point, with
the municipal authorities. The clergy required, that, after
such a visitation of Providence, the playhouse should be shut
for some time ; and Serlo, on the other hand, maintained, that
both for the purpose of repairing the damage he had suffered,
and of exhilarating the depressed and terrified spirits of the
people, nothing could be more in place than the exhibition
of some interesting play. His opinion in the end prevailed,
and the house was full. The actors played with singular fire,
with more of a passionate freedom than -at first. The feel-
ings of the audience had been heightened by the horrors of
the previous night, and their appetite for entertainment, had
been sharpened by the tedium of a wasted and dissipated
day: every one had more than usual susceptibility for what
was strange and moving. Most of them were new spectators,
invited by the fame of the play: they could not compare
the present with the preceding evening. Boisterous played
altogether in the style of the unknown Ghost: the Pedant,
too, had accurately seized the manner of his predecessor;
nor was his own woful aspect without its use to him; for it
seemed as if, in spite of his purple cloak and his ermine
collar, Hamlet were fully justified in calling him a " king of
shreds and patches."
  Few have ever reached the throne by a path more singular
than his had been. But although the rest, and especially
Philina, made sport of his preferment, he himself signified
that the count, a consummate judge, had at the first glance
predicted this and much more of him. Philina, on the other
hand, recommended lowliness of mind to him; saying, she
would now and then powder the sleeves of his coat, that he
might remember that unhappy night in the castle, and wear
his crown with meekness.


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XIV.

  OUR friends had sought out other lodgings, on the spur of
the moment, and were by this means much dispersed. Wil-
helm had conceived a liking for the garden-house, where he
had spent the night of the conflagration: he easily obtained
the key, and settled himself there. But Aurelia being greatly
hampered in her new abode, he was obliged to retain little
Felix with him. Mignon, indeed, would not part with the
boy.
  He had placed the children in a neat chamber on the upper
floor: he himself was in the lower parlor. The young ones
were asleep at this time: Wilhelm could not sleep.
  Adjoining the lovely garden, which the full moon had just
risen to illuminate, the black ruins of the fire were visible;
and here and there a streak of vapor was still mounting from
them. The air 'was soft, the night extremely beautiful.
Philina, in issuing from the theatre, had jogged him with her
elbow, and whispered something to him, which he did not
understand. He felt perplexed and out of humor: he knew
not what he should expect or do. For a day or two Philina
had avoided him: it was not till to-night that she had given
him any second signal. Unhappily the doors, that he was
not to bolt, were now consumed: the slippers had evaporated
into smoke.   How the girl would gain admission to the
garden, if her aim was such, he knew not. He wished she
might not come, and yet he longed to have some explanation
with her.
  But what lay heavier at his heart than this, was the fate
of the harper, whom, since the fire, no one had seen. Wil-
helm Was afraid, that, in clearing off the rubbish, they would
find him buried under it. Our friend had carefully concealed
the suspicion which he entertained, that it was the harper
who had fired the house. The old man had been first seen,
as he rushed from the burning and smoking floor, and his
desperation in the vault appeared a natural consequence of
such a deed. Yet, from the inquiry which the magistrates
had instituted touching the affair, it seemed likely that the
fire had not originated in the house where Wilhelm lived, but
had accidentally been kindled in the third from that, and had
crept along beneath the roofs before it burst into activity.
  Seated in a grove, our friend was meditating all these things,
when he heard a low footfall in a neighboring walk. By the


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300


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP


melancholy song which arose along with it, he recognized the
harper. He caught the words of. the song without difficulty :
it turned on the consolations of a miserable man, conscious
of being on the borders of insanity. Unhappily our friend
forgot the whole of it except the last verse :--
             "Wheresoe' er my steps may lead me,
                Meekly at the door I'll stay:
                Pious hands will come to feed me,
                And I'll wander on my way.
                Each will feel a touch of gladness
                When my aged form appears:
                Each will shed a tear of sadness,
                Though I reck not of his tears."

  So singing, he had reached the garden-door, which led into
an unfrequented street. Finding it bolted, he was making
an attempt to climb the railing, when Wilhelm held him back,
and addressed some kindly words to him. The old man
begged to have the door unlocked, declaring that he would
and must escape. Wilhelm represented to him that he might
indeed escape from the garden, but could not from the town ;
showing, at the same time, what suspicions he must needs
incur by such a step. But it was in vain: the old man held
by his opinion. Our friend, however, would not yield; and
at last he brought him, half by force, into the garden-house,
in which he locked himself along with him. The two carried
on a strange conversation ; which, however, not to afflict our
readers with repeating unconnected thoughts and dolorous
emotions, we had rather pass in silence than detail at large.





                     CHAPTER XV.

  UNDETERMINED what to do with this unhappy man, who
displayed such indubitable symptoms of madness, Wilhelm
would have been in great perplexity, had not Laertes come
that very morning, and delivered him from his uncertainty.
Laertes, as usual, rambling everywhere about the towns had
happened, in some coffee-house, to meet with a man, who, a
short time ago, had suffered under violent attacks of melan-
choly. This person, it appeared, had been intrusted to the
care of some country clergyman, who made it his peculiar





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


business to attend to people in such situations. In the present
instance, as in many others, his treatment had succeeded : he
was still in town, and the friends of the patient were show-
ing him the greatest honor.
  Wilhelm hastened to find out this person: he disclosed the
case to him, and agreed with him about the terms. The
harper was to be brought over to him, under certain pre-
texts. The separation deeply pained our friend; so used
was he to see the man beside him, and to hear his spirited
and touching strains. The hope of soon beholding him re-
covered, served, in some degree, to moderate this feeling.
The old man's harp had been destroyed in the burning of the
house: they purchased him another, and gave it him when
he departed.
  Mignon's little wardrobe had in like manner been con-
sumed. As Wilhelm was about providing her with new
apparel, Aurelia proposed that now at last they should dress
her as a girl.
  " No ! no ! not at all!" cried Mignon, and insisted on it
with such earnestness, that they let her have her way.
  The company had not much leisure for reflection : the ex-
hibitions followed close on one another.
  Wilhelm often mingled with the audience, to ascertain
their feelings; but he seldom heard a criticism of the kind
he wished: more frequently the observations he listened to
distressed or angered him. Thus, for instance, shortly after
"IHamlet" had been acted for the first time, a youth was
telling, with considerable animation, how happy he had been
that evening in the playhouse. Wilhelm hearkened, and was
scandalized to learn that his neighbor had, on that occasion,
in contempt of those behind him, kept his hat on, stubbornly
refusing to remove it till the play was done; to which hero-
ical transaction he still looked back with great contentment.
  Another gentleman declared that Wilhelm played Laertes
very well, but that the actor who had undertaken Hamlet
did not seem too happy in his part. This permutation was
not quite unnatural; for Wilhelm and Laertes did resemble
one another, though in a very distant manner.
  A third critic warmly praised his acting, particularly in the
scene with his mother; only he regretted much, that, in this
fiery moment, a white strap had peered out from below the
Prince's waistcoat, whereby the illusion had been greatly
marred.
  Meanwhile, in the interior of the company, a multitude of


301





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


alterations were occurring. Philina, since the evening sub-
sequent to that of the fire, had never given our friend the
smallest sign of closer intimacy. She had, as it seemed on
purpose, hired a remote lodging : she associated with Elmira,
and came seldomer to Serlo,- an arrangement very gratify-
ing to Aurelia. Serlo continued still to like her, and often
visited her quarters, particularly when he hoped to find El-
mira there. One evening he took Wilhelm with him. At
their entrance, both of them were much surprised to see
Philina, in the inner room, sitting in close contact with a
young officer. He wore a red uniform with white panta-
loons; but, his face being turned away, they could not see it.
Philina came into the outer room to meet her visitors, and
shut the door behind her. " You surprise me in the middle
of a very strange adventure," cried she.
  " It does not appear so strange," said Serlo; " but let us
see this handsome, young, enviable gallant. You have us in
such training, that we dare not show any jealousy, however
it may be."
  " I must leave you to suspicion for a time," replied Phil-
ina in a jesting tone; " yet I can assure you, the gallant is
a lady of my friends, who wishes to remain a few days un-
discovered. You shall know her history in due season ; nay,
perhaps you shall even behold the beautiful spinster in
person ; and then most probably I shall have need of all my
prudence and discretion, for it seems too likely that your
new acquaintance will drive your old friend out of favor."
  Wilhelm stood as if transformed to stone. At the first
glance, the red uniform had reminded him of Mariana: the
figure, too, was hers; the fair hair was hers; only the pres-
ent individual seemed to be a little taller.
  " For Heaven's sake," cried he, " let us know something
more about your friend! let us see this lady in disguise!
\We are now partakers of your secret: we will promise, we
will swear; only let us see the lady ! "
  " What a fire he is in ! " cried Philina: " but be cool, be
calm; for to-day there will nothing come of it."
  " Let us only know her name ! " cried Wilhelm.
  ' It were a fine secret, then," replied Philina.
  " At least her first name ! "
  ' If you can guess it. be it so. Three guesses I will give
you, - not a fourth. You might lead me through the whole
calendar."
  "' Well ! " said Wilhelm : " Cecilia, then? "


802





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " None of your Cecilias ! "
  " Henrietta ? "
  " Not at all! Have a care, I pray you: guess better, or
your curiosity will have to sleep unsatisfied."
  Wilhelm paused and shivered: he tried to speak, but the
sound died away within him. " Mariana? " stammered he
at last, " Mariana?"
  " Bravo! " cried Philina. " Hit to a hair's-breadth! "
said she, whirling round upon her heel, as she was wont on
such occasions.
  Wilhelm could not utter a word; and Serlo, not observing
his emotion, urged Philina more and more to let them in.
  Conceive the astonishment of both, when Wilhelm, suddenly
and vehemently interrupting their raillery, threw himself at
Philina's feet, and, with an air and tone of the deepest
passion, begged and conjured her, " Let me see the stran-
ger," cried he: " she is mine; she is my Mariana ! She
for whom I have longed all the days of my life, she who is
still more to me than all the women in this world ! Go in to
her at least, and tell her that I am here, - that the man is here
who linked to her his earliest love, and all the happiness of
his youth. Say that he will justify himself, though he left
her so unkindly; he will pray for pardon of her; and will
grant her pardon, whatsoever she may have done to him; he
will even.make no pretensions further, if he may but see her,
if he may but see that she is living and in happiness."
  Philina shook her head, and said, " Speak low ! Do not
betray us ! If the lady is indeed your friend, her feelings
must be spared; for she does not in the least suspect that
you are here. Quite a different sort of business brings her
hither; and you know well enough, one had rather see a
spectre than a former lover at an inconvenient time. I will
ask her, and prepare her: we will then consider what is
further to be done. To-morrow I shall write you a note,
saying when you are to come, or whether you may come at
all. Obey me punctually; for }I protest, that, without her
own and my consent, no eye shall see this lovely creature. I
shall keep my doors better bolted; and, with axe and crow,
you surely will not visit me."
  Our friend conjured her, Serlo begged of her; but all in
vain: they were obliged to yield, and leave the chamber and
the house.
  With what feelings Wilhelm passed the night is easy to
conceive. How slowly the hours of the day flowed on, while


803





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


he sat expecting a message from Philina, may also be ima-
gined. Unhappily he had to play that evening : such mental
pain he had never endured. The moment his part was done,
he hastened to Philina's house, without inquiring whether he
had got her leave or not. He found her doors bolted: and
the people of the house informed him that mademoiselle had
set out early in the morning, in company with a young offi-
cer; that she had talked about returning shortly; but they
had not believed her, she having paid her debts, and taken
every thing along with her.
  This intelligence drove Wilhelm almost frantic. He has-
tened to Laertes, that he might take measures for pursuing
her, and, cost what it would, for attaining certainty regard-
ing her attendant. Laertes, however, represented to him the
imprndence of such passion and credulity. " I dare wager,
after all," said he, "that it is no one else but Friedrich.
The boy is of a high family, I know; he is madly in love
with Philina; it is likely he has cozened from his friends a
fresh supply of money, so that he can once more live with
her in peace for a while."
  These considerations, though they did not quite convince
our friend, sufficed to make him waver. Laertes showed
him how improbable the story was with which Philina had
amused them; reminded him how well the stranger's hair
and figure answered Friedrich; that with the start of him by
twelve hburs, they could rot easily be overtaken; and, what
was more than all, that Serlo could not do without him at
the theatre.
  By so many reasons, Wilhelm was at last persuaded to
postpone the execution of his project. That night Laertes
got an active man, to whom they gave the charge of follow-
ing the runaways. It was a steady person, who had often
officiated as courier and guide to travelling-parties, and was
at present without employment. They gave him money, they
informed him of the whole affair; instructing him to seek
and overtake the fugitives, to keep them in his eye, and in-
stantly to send intelligence to Wilhelm where and how he
found them. That very hour he mounted horse, pursuing
this ambiguous pair; by which exertions, Wilhelm ws ia
some degree at least, composed.


304





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                    CHAPTER XVI.

  THE departure of Philina did not make a deep sensation,
either in the theatre or in the public. She never was in
earnest with any thing: the women universally detested her;
the men rather wished to see her selves-two than on the
boards. Thus her fine, and, for the stage, even happy, tal-
ents were of no avail to her. The other members of the
company took greater labor on them to supply her place:
the Frau Melina, in particular, was much distinguished by
her diligence and zeal. She noted down, as formerly, the
principles of Wilhelm; she guided herself according to his
theory and his example; there was of late a something in
her nature that rendered her more interesting. She soon
acquired an accurate mode of acting: she attained the nat-
ural tone of conversation altogether, that of keen emotion
she attained in some degree. She contrived, moreover, to
adapt herself to Serlo's humors: she took pains in singing
for his pleasure, and succeeded in that matter moderately
well.
  By the accession of some other players, the company was
rendered more complete: and while Wilhelm and Serlo were
busied each in his degree, the former insisting on the general
tone and spirit of the whole, the latter faithfully elaborating
the separate passages, a laudable ardor likewise inspired the
actors; and the public took a lively interest in their concerns.
   " We are on the right path," said Serlo once: " if we can
continue thus, the public, too, will soon be on it. Men are
easily astonished and misled by wild and barbarous exhibi-
tions; yet lay before them any thing rational and polished,
in an interesting manner, and doubt not they will catch at
it."
   "What forms the chief defect of our German theatre,
what prevents both actor and spectator from obtaining
proper views, is the vague and variegated nature of the
objects it contains. You nowhere find a barrier on which to
prop your judgment. In my opinion, it is far from an ad-
vantage to us that we have expanded our stage into, as it
were, a boundless arena for the whole of nature; yet neither
manager nor actor need attempt contracting it, until the
taste of the nation shall itself mark out the proper circle.
Every good society submits to certain conditions and restric-
tions; so also must every good theatre. Certain manners,


305





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


certain modes of speech, certain objects, and fashions of
proceeding, must altogether be excluded. You do not grow
poorer by limiting your household expenditure."
  On these points our friends were more or less accordant
or at variance. The majority, with Wilhelm at their head,
were for the English theatre; Serlo and a few others for the
French.
  It was also settled, that in vacant hours, of which unhap-
pily an actor has too many, they should in company peruse
the finest plays in both these languages; examining what
parts of them seemed best and worthiest of imitation. They
accordingly commenced with some French pieces. On these
occasions, it was soon observed, Aurelia went away when-
ever they began to read. At first they supposed she had
been sick: Wilhelm once questioned her about it.
   "I would not assist at such a reading," said she, "for
how could I hear and judge, when my heart was torn in
pieces ? I hate the French language from the bottom of my
soul. "
   " How can you be hostile to a language," cried our friend,
" to which we Germans are indebted for the greater part of
our accomplishments; to which we must become indebted
still more, if our natural qualities are ever to assume their
proper form ? "
   " It 4s no prejudice ! " replied Aurelia, " a painful impres-
sion, a hated recollection of my faithless friend, has robbed
me of all enjoyment in that beautiful and cultivated tongue.
How I hate it now with my whole strength and heart ! Dur-
ing the period of our kindliest connection, he wrote in Ger-
man; and what genuine, powerful, cordial German ! It was
not till he wanted to get quit of me that he began seriously
to write in French. I marked, I felt, what he meant. What
he would have blushed to utter in his mother tongue, he
could by this means write with a quiet conscience. It is the
language of reservations, equivocations, and lies: it is a
perfidious language.  Heaven be praised! I cannot find
another word to express this perfide of theirs in all its com-
pass. Our poor treulos, the faithless of the English, are
innocent as babes beside it. Perfide means faithless with
pleasure, with insolence and malice. How enviable is the
culture of a nation that can figure out so many shades of
meaning by a single word ! French is exactly the language
of the world, - worthy to become the universal language,
that all may have it in their power to cheat and cozen and


306





IIEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


betray each other ! His French letters were always smooth
and pleasant, while you read them. If you chose to believe"
it, they sounded warmly, even passionately; but, if you ex-
amined narrowly, they were but phrases, - accursed phrases !
He has spoiled my feeling to the whole language, to French
literature, even to the beautiful, delicious expressions of noble
souls which may be found in it. I shudder when a French
word is spoken in my hearing."
  In such terms she could for hours continue to give utter-
ance to her chagrin, interrupting or disturbing every other
kind of conversation. Sooner or later, Serlo used to put an
end to such peevish lamentations by some bitter sally; but
by this means, commonly, the talk for the evening was de-
stroyed.
  In all provinces of life, it is unhappily the case, that
whatever is to be accomplished by a number of co-operating
men and circumstances cannot long continue perfect. Of
an acting company as well as of a kingdom, of a circle of
friends as well as of an army, you may commonly select the
moment when it may be said that all was standing on the
highest pinnacle of harmony, perfection, contentment, and
activity. But alterations will ere long occur; the individuals
that compose the body often change; new members are
added; the persons are no longer suited to the circum-
stances, or the circumstances to the persons; what was for-
merly united quickly falls asunder. Thus it was with Serlo's
company. For a time you might have called it as complete
as any German company could ever boast of being. Most
of the actors were occupying their proper places: all had
enough to do, and all did it willingly. Their private personal
condition was not bad; and each appeared to promise great
things in his art, for each commenced with animation and
alacrity. But it soon became apparent that a part of them
were mere automatons, who could not reach beyond what
was attainable without the aid of feeling. Nor was it long
till grudgings and envyings arose among them, such as com-
monly obstruct every good arrangement, and easily distort
and tear in pieces every thing that reasonable and thinking
men would wish to keep united.
  The departure of Philina was not quite so insignificant as
it had at first appeared. She had always skilfully contrived
to entertain the manager, and keep the others in good humor.
She had endured Aurelia's violence with amazing patience,
and her dearest task had been to flatter Wilhelm. Thus she


307





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was, In some respects, a bond of union for the whole: the
loss of her was quickly felt.
  Serlo could not live without some little passion of the love
sort. Elmira was of late grown up, we might almost say
grown beautiful; for some time she had been attracting his
attention: and Philina, with her usual dexterity, had favored
this attachment so soon as she observed it. "We should
train ourselves in time," she would say, " to the business of
procuress: nothing else remains for us when we are old."
Serlo and Elmira had by this means so approximated to each
other, that, shortly after the departure of Philina, both were
of a mind: and their small romance was rendered doubly
interesting, as they had to hide it sedulously from the father;
Old Boisterous not understanding jokes of that description.
Elmira's sister had been admitted to the secret; and Serlo
was, in consequence, obliged to overlook a multitude of things
in both of them. One of their worst habits was an exces-
sive love of junketing, -nay, if you will, an intolerable glut-
tony. In this respect they altogether differed from Philina,
to whom it gave a new tint of loveliness, that she seemed,
as it were, to live on air, eating very little; and, for drink,
merely skimming off, with all imaginable grace, the foam
from a glass of champagne.
  Now, however, Serlo, if he meant to please his doxies,
was obliged to join breakfast with dinner; and with this, by
a substantial bever, to connect the supper. But, amid gor-
mandizing, Serlo entertained another plan, which he longed
to have fulfilled. He imagined that he saw a kind of attach-
ment between Wilhelm and Aurelia, and he anxiously wished
that it might assume a serious shape. He hoped to cast the
whole mechanical department of his theatrical economy on
Wilhelm's shoulders; to find in him, as in the former brother,
a faithful and industrious tool. Already he had, by degrees,
shifted over to him most of the cares of management; Aure-
lia kept the strong-box; and Serlo once more lived as he had
done of old, entirely according to his humor. Yet there was
a circumstance which vexed him in secret, as it did his sister
likewise.
  The world has a particular way of acting towards public
persons of acknowledged merit: it gradually begins to be
indifferent to them, and to favor talents which are new,
though far inferior; it makes excessive requisitions of the
former, and accepts of any thing with approbation from the
latter.


308





MISTER'S APPRJ51NTCtSHIP.


  Serlo and Aurelia had opportunity enough to meditate on
this peculiarity. The strangers, especially the young and
handsome ones, had drawn the whole attention and applause
upon themselves; and Serlo and his sister, in spite of the
most zealous efforts, had in general to make their exits with-
out the welcome sound of clapping hands. It is true, some
special causes were at work on this occasion. Aurelia's
pride was palpable, and her contempt for the public was
known to many. Serlo, indeed, flattered every individual;
but his cutting jibes against the whole were often circulated
and repeated. The new members, again, were not only
strangers, unknown, and wanting help, but some of them
were likewise young and amiable: thus all of them found
patrons.
  Erelong, too, there arose internal discontents, and many
bickerings, among the actors. Scarcely had they noticed that
our friend was acting as director, when most of them began
to grow the more remiss, the more he strove to introduce a
better order, greater accuracy, and chiefly to insist that every
thing mechanical should be performed in the most strict and
regular manner.
  Thus, by and by, the whole concern, which actually for a
time had nearly looked ideal, grew as vulgar in its attributes
as any mere itinerating theatre. And, unhappily, just as
Wilhelm, by his labor, diligence, and vigorous efforts, had
made himself acquainted with the requisitions of the art, and
trained completely both his person and his habits to comply
with them, he began to feel, in melancholy hours, that this
craft deserved the necessary outlay of time and talents less
than any other. The task was burdensome, the recompense
was small. He would rather have engaged with any occupa-
tion in which, when the period of exertion is passed, one
can enjoy repose of mind, than with this, wherein, after
undergoing much mechanical drudgery, the aim of one's
activity cannot still be attained but by the strongest effort of
thought and emotion. Besides, he had to listen to Aurelia's
complaints about her brother's wastefulness: he had to mis-
conceive the winks and nods of Serlo, trying from afar to
lead him to a marriage with Aurelia. He had, withal, to
hide his own secret sorrow, which pressed heavy on his heart,
because of that ambiguous officer whom he had sent in quest
of. The messenger returned not, sent no tidings; and Wil-
helm feared that his Mariana was lost to him a second time.
   About this period, there occurred a public mourning, which





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


obliged our friends to shut their theatre for several weeks.
Wilhelm seized this opportunity to pay a visit to the clergy-
man with whom the harper had been placed to board. He
found him in a pleasant district; and the first thing that he
noticed in the parsonage was the old man teaching a boy to
play upon his instrument. The harper showed great joy at
sight of Wilhelm: he rose held out his, hand, and said,
" You see, I am still good for something in the world:
permit me to continue; for my hours are all distributed, and
full of business."
  The clergyman saluted Wilhelm very kindly, and told him
that the harper promised well, already giving hopes of a
complete recovery.
  Their conversation naturally turned upon the various modes
of treating the insane.
  " Except physical derangements," observed the clergy-
man, " which often place insuperable difficulties in the way,
and in regard to which I follow the prescriptions of a wise
physician, the means of curing madness seem to me ex-
tremely simple. They are the very means by which you
hinder sane persons from becoming mad. Awaken their ac-
tivity ; accustom them to order; bring them to perceive that
they hold their being and their fate in common with many mil-
lions; that extraordinary talents, the highest happiness, the
deepest misery, are but slight variations from the general
lot: in this way, no insanity will enter, or, if it has entered,
will gradually disappear. I have portioned out the old man's
hours: he gives lessons to some children on the harp; he
works in the garden; he is already much more cheerful. He
wishes to enjoy the cabbages he plants: my son, to whom in
case of death he has bequeathed his harp, he is ardent to
instruct, that the boy may be able to make use of his inher-
itance. I have said but little to him, as a clergyman, about
his wild, mysterious scruples; but a busy life brings on so
many incidents, that erelong he must feel how true it is, that
loubt of any kind can be removed by nothing but activity.
I go softly to work: yet, if I could get his beard and hood
removed, I should reckon it a weighty point; for nothing
more exposes us to madness than distinguishing ourselves
from others, and nothing more contributes to maintain our
common sense than living in the universal way with multi-
tudes of men. Alas ! how much there is in education, in
our social institutions, to prepare us and our children for
insanity ! "


310





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Wilhelm staid some days with this intelligent divine;
heard from him many curious narratives, not of the insane
alone, but of persons such as commonly are reckoned wise
and rational, though they may have peculiarities which
border on insanity.
  The conversation became doubly animated, on the entrance
of the doctor, with whom it was a custom to pay frequent
visits to his friend the clergyman, and to assist him in his
labors of humanity. The physician was an oldish man, who,
though in weak health, had spent many years in the practice
of the noblest virtues. He was a strong advocate for coun-
try life, being himself scarcely able to exist except in the
open air. Withal, he was extremely active and companion-
able. For several years he had shown a special inclination
to make friends with all the country clergymen within his
reach. Such of these as were employed in any useful oc-
cupation he strove by every means to help; into others, who
were still unsettled in their aims, he endeavored to infuse a
taste for some profitable species of exertion. Being at the
same time in connection with a multitude of noblemen, ma-
gistrates, judges, he had in the space of twenty years, in
secret, accomplished much towards the advancement of many
branches of husbandry: he had done his best to put in motion
every project that seemed capable of benefiting agriculture,
.animals, bor men, and had thus forwarded improvement in
its truest sense. " For man," he used to say, "' there is
but one misfortune, -when some idea lays hold of him, which
exerts no influence upon active life, or, still more, which with-
draws him from it. At the present time," continued he, on
this occasion, " I have such a case before me: it concerns a
rich and noble couple, and hitherto has baffled all my skill.
The affair belongs in part to your department, worthy pastor ;
and your friend here will forbear to mention it again.
   " In the absence of a certain nobleman, some persons of
the house, in a frolic not entirely commendable, disguised a
young man in the master's clothes. The lady was to be
imposed upon by this deception; and, although it was de-
scribed to me as nothing but a joke, I am much afraid the
purpose of it was to lead this noble and most amiable lady
from the path of honor. Her husband, however, unexpect-
edly returns; enters his chamber; thinks he sees his spirit;
and from that time falls into a melancholy temper, firmly
believing that his death is near.
   " He has now abandoned himself to men who pamper


311





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


him with religious ideas; and I see not how he is to be pre-
vented from going among the Hernhuters with his lady,
and, as he has no children, from depriving his relations of
the chief part of his fortune."
  "With his lady ?" cried our friend in great agitation ;
for this story had frightened him extremely.
  " And, alas ! " replied the doctor, who regarded Wilhelm's
exclamation only as the voice of common sympathy, " this
lady is herself possessed with a deeper sorrow, which renders
a removal from the world desirable to her also. The same
young man was taking leave of her; she was not circumspect
enough to hide a nascent inclination towards him; the youth
grew bolder, clasped her in his arms, and pressed a large
portrait of her husband, which was set with diamonds,
forcibly against her breast. She felt a sharp pain, which
gradually went off, leaving first a little redness, then no
trace at all. As a man, I am convinced that she has nothing
further to reproach herself with, in this affair ; as a physician,
I am certain that this pressure could not have the smallest
ill effect. Yet she will not be persuaded that an induration
is not taking place in the part; and, if you try to overcome
her notion by the evidence of feeling, she maintains; that,
though the evil is away this moment, it will return the next.
She conceives that the disease will end in cancer, and thus
her youth and loveliness be altogether lost to others and
herself."
   " Wretch that I am! " cried Wilhelm, striking his brow,
and rushing from the company into the fields. He had never
felt himself in such a miserable case.
   The clergyman and the physician were of course exceed-
ingly astonished at this singular discovery. In the evening
all their skill was called for, when our friend returned, aid,
with a circumstantial disclosure of the whole occurrenlce,
uttered the most violent accusations of himself. Both look
interest in him: both felt a real concern about his general
condition, particularly as he painted it in the gloomy colors
which arose from the humor of the moment.
   Next day the physician, without much entreaty, was pre-
vailed upon to accompany him in his return; both thet he
might bear him company, and that he might, if possibl , do
something for Aurelia, whom our friend had left in r ther
dangerous circumstances.
   In fact, they found her worse than they expected. She
was afflicted with a sort of intermittent fever, which could


81.2





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the less be mastered, as she purposely maintained and ag-
gravated the attacks of it. The stranger was not introduced
as a physician: he behaved with great courteousness and
prudence. They conversed about her situation, bodily and
mental: her new friend related many anecdotes of persons
who, in spite of lingering disorders, had attained a good old
age; adding, that, in such cases, nothing could be more
injurious than the intentional recalling of passionate and
disagreeable emotions. In particular he stated, that, for
persons laboring under chronical and partly incurable dis-
tempers, he had always found it a very happy circumstance
when they chanced to entertain, and cherish in their minds,
true feelings of religion. This he signified in the most un-
obtrusive manner, as it were historically ; promising Aurelia
at the same time the reading of a very interesting manuscript,
which he said he had received from the hands of an excellent
lady of his friends, who was now deceased. " To me," he
said, " it is of uncommon value; and I shall trust you even
with the original. Nothing but the title is in my hand-
writing: I have called it, 'Confessions of a Fair Saint.' "
  Touching the medical and dietetic treatment of the racked
and hapless patient, he also left his best advice with Wilhelm.
He then departed; promising to write, and, if possible, to
come again in person.
  Meanwhile, in Wilhelm's absence, there had changes been
preparing such as he was not aware of. During his director-
ship, our friend had managed all' things with a certain
liberality and freedom; looking chiefly at the main result.
Whatever was required for dresses, decorations, and the like,
he had usually provided in a plentiful and handsome style;
and, for securing the co-operation of his people, he had
flattered their self-interest, since he could not reach them by
nobler motives. In this he felt his conduct justified the
more; as Serlo for his own part never aimed at being a strict
economist, but liked to hear the beauty of his theatre com-
mended, and was contented if Aurelia, who conducted the
domestic matters, on defraying all expenses, signified that
she was free from debt, and could besides afford the neces-
sary sums for clearing off such scores as Serlo in the interim,
by lavish kindness to his mistresses or otherwise, might have
incurred.
  Melina, who was charged with managing the wardrobe,
had all the while been silently considering these things, with
the cold, spiteful temper peculiar to him. On occasion of our


313





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


friend's departure, and Aurelia's increasing sickness, he con-
trived to signify to Serlo, that more money might be raised
and less expended, and, consequently, something be laid up,
or at least a merrier life be led. Serlo hearkened gladly
to such allegations, and Melina risked the exhibition of his
plan.
  "I will not say," continued he, " that any of your actors
has at present too much salary : they are meritorious people,
they would find a welcome anywhere; but, for the income
which they bring us in, they have too much. My project
would be, to set up an opera; and, as to what concerns the
playhouse, I may be allowed to say it, you are the person
for maintaining that establishment upon your single strength.
Observe how at present your merits are neglected; and jus-
tice is refused you, not because your fellow-actors are excel-
lent, but merely good.
  "Come out alone, as used to be the case; endeavor to
attract around you middling, I will even say inferior people,
for a slender salary; regale the public with mechanical dis-
plays, as you can so cleverly do; apply your remaining
means to the opera, which I am talking of; and you will
quickly see, that, with the same labor and expense, you will
give greater satisfaction, while you draw incomparably more
moneythan at present."
  These observations were so flattering to Serlo, that they
could not fail of making some impression on him. He readily
admitted, that, loving music as he did, he had long wished
for some arrangement such as this; though he could not
but perceive that the public taste would thus be still more
widely led astray, and that with such a mongrel theatre, not
properly an opera, not properly a playhouse, any residue of
true feeling for regular and perfect works of art must shortly
disappear.
  Melina ridiculed, in terms more plain than delicate, our
friend's pedantic notions in this matter, and his vain attempts
to form the public mind, instead of being formed by it : Serlo
and he at last agreed, with full conviction, that the sole con-
cern was, how to gather money, and grow rich, or live a
joyous life; and they scarcely concealed their wish to be
delivered from those persons who at present hindered them.
Melina took occasion to lament Aurelia's weak health, and the
speedy end which it threatened ; thinking all the while directly
the reverse. Serlo affected to regret that Wilhelm could not
sing, thus signifying that his presence was by no means


814





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


indispensable. Melina then came forward with a whole cat-
alogue of savings, which, he said, might be effected; and
Serlo saw in him his brother-in-law replaced threefold. They
both felt that secrecy was necessary in the matter, but this
mutual obligation only joined them closer in their interests.
They failed not to converse together privately on every thing
that happened; to blame whatever Wilhelm or Aurelia un-
dertook; and to elaborate their own project, and prepare it
more and more for execution.
  Silent as they both might be about their plan, little as
their words betrayed them, in their conduct they were not so
politic as constantly to hide their purposes. Melina now
opposed our friend in many points that lay within the prov-
ince of the latter; and Serlo, who had never acted smoothly
to his sister, seemed to grow more bitter the. more her sick-
ness deepened, the more her passionate and variable humors
would have needed toleration.
  About this period they took up the " Emilie Galotti" of
Lessing. The parts were very happily distributed and filled:
within the narrow circle of this tragedy, the company found
room for showing all the complex riches of their acting.
Serlo, in the character of Marinelli, was altogether in his
place; Odoardo was very well exhibited; Madam Melina
played the Mother with considerable skill; Elmira gained
distinction as Emilie; Laertes made a stately Appiani; and
Wilhelm had bestowed the study of some months upon the
Prince's part. On this occasion, both internally and with
Aurelia and Serlo, he had often come upon this question:
What is the distinction between a noble and a well-bred
manner? and how far must the former be included in the
latter, though the latter is not in the former?
   Serlo, who himself in Marinelli had to act the courtier ac-
curately, without caricature, afforded him some valuable
thoughts on this. "A well-bred carriage," he would say,
"' is difficult to imitate; for in strictness it is negative, and
it implies a long-continued previous training. You are not
required to exhibit in your manner any thing that specially
betokens dignity; for, by this means, you are like to run
into formality and haughtiness: you are rather to avoid
whatever is undignified and vulgar. You are never to for-
get yourself; are to keep a constant watch upon yourself
and others; to forgive nothing that is faulty in your own
conduct, in that of others neither to forgive too little nor
too much. Nothing must appear to touch yoj "--,ing to


315





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


agitate: you must never overhaste yourself, must ever keep
yourself composed, retaining still an outward calmness,
whatever storms may rage within. The noble character at
certain moments may resign himself to his emotions; the
well-bred never. The latter is like a man diessed out in
fair and spotless clothes: he will not lean on any thing;
every person will beware of rubbing on him. He distin-
guishes himself from others, yet he may not stand apart;
for as in all arts, so in this, the hardest must at length be
done with ease: the well-bred man of rank, in spite of every
separation, always seems united with the people round him;
he is never to be stiff or uncomplying; he is always to ap-
pear the first, and never to insist on so appearing.
   I It is clear, then, that, to seem well-bred, a man must
actually be so. It is also clear why women generally are
more expert at taking up the air of breeding than the other
sex; why courtiers and soldiers catch it more easily than
other men."
  Wilhelm now despaired of doing justice to his part; but
Serlo aided and encouraged him, communicated the acutest
observations on detached points, and furnished him so well,
that, on the exhibition of the piece, the public reckoned him
a very proper Prince.
  Serlo had engaged to give him, when the play was over,
such remarks as might occur upon his acting: a disagreea-
ble contention with Aurelia prevented any conversation of
that kind. Aurelia had acted the character of Orsina, in such
a style as few have ever done. She was well acquainted with
the part, and during the rehearsals she had treated it indiffer-
ently: but, in the exhibition of the piece, she had opened, as
it were, all the sluices of her personal sorrow; and the char-
acter was represented so as never poet in the first glow of
invention could have figured it. A boundless applause re-
warded her painful efforts; but her friends, on visiting her
when the play was finished, found her half fainting in her
chair.
  Serlo had already signified his anger at her overcharged
acting, as he called it; at this disclosure of her inmost heart
before the public, to many individuals of which the history
of her fatal passion' was more or less completely known.
He had spoken bitterly and fiercely; grinding with his teeth
and stamping with his feet, as was his custom when enraged.
" Never mind her," cried he, when he saw her in the chair,
surrounded by the rest; " she will go upon the stage stark-


316





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


naked one of these days, and then the approbation will be
perfect."
  " Ungrateful, inhuman man!" exclaimed she: " soon
shall I be carried naked to the place where approbation or
disapprobation can no longer reach our ears ! "  With these
words she started up, and hastened to the door. The maid
had not yet brought her mantle; the sedan was not in wait-
ing; it had been raining lately; a cold, raw wind was blow-
ing through the streets. They endeavored to persuade her
to remain, for she was very warm. But in vain: she pur-
posely walked slow; she praised the coolness, seemed to in-
hale it with peculiar eagerness. No sooner was she home,
than she became so hoarse that she could hardly speak a
word: she did not mention that there was a total stiffness in
her neck and along her back. Shortly afterwards a sort of
palsy in the tongue came on, so that she pronounced one
word instead of another. They put her to bed: by numer-
ous and copious remedies, the evil changed its form, but
was not mastered. The fever gathered strength : her case
was dangerous.
  Next morning she enjoyed a quiet hour. She sent for
Wilhelm, and delivered him a letter. " This sheet," said
she, " has long been waiting for the present moment. I
feel that my end is drawing nigh: promise me that you
yourself Will take this paper; that, by a word or two, you
will avenge my sorrows on the faithless man. He is not
void of feeling: my death will pain him for a moment."
  Wilhelm took the letter; still endeavoring to console her,
and to drive away the thought of death.
  " No," said she: " do not deprive me of my nearest hope.
I have waited for him long: I will joyfully clasp him when
he comes."
  Shortly after this the manuscript arrived which the phy-
sician had engaged to send her. She called for Wilhelm,-
made him read it to her. The effect which it produced upon
her, the reader will be better able to appreciate after look-
ing at the following Book. The violent and stubborn temper
of our poor Aurelia was mollified by hearing it. She took
back the letter, and wrote another, as it seemed, in a meeker
tone; charging Wilhelm at the same time to console her
friend, if he should be distressed about her death; to assure
him that she had forgiven him, and wished him every kind
of happiness.
  From this time she was very quiet, and appeared to oc-


317





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


cupy herself with but a few ideas, which she endeavored to
extract and appropriate from the manuscript, out of which
she frequently made Wilhelm read to her. The decay of
her strength was not perceptible: nor had Wilhelm been
anticipating the event, when one morning, as he went to visit
her, he found that she was dead.
  Entertaining such respect for her as he had done, and
accustomed as he was to live in her society, the loss of her
affected him with no common sorrow. She was the only
person that had truly wished him well: the coldness of Serlo
he had felt of late but too keenly. He hastened, therefore,
to perform the service she had intrusted to him: he wished
to be absent for a time.
  On the other hand, this journey was exceedingly con-
venient for Melina: in the course of his extensive corre-
spondence, he had lately entered upon terms with a male
and a female singer, who, it was intended, should, by their
performances in interludes, prepare the public for his future
opera. The loss of Aurelia, and Wilhelm's absence, were
to be supplied in this manner; and our friend was satisfied
with any thing that could facilitate his setting out.
  He had formed, within himself, a singular idea of the im-
portance of his errand. The death of his unhappy friend
had moved him deeply; and, having seen her pass so early
from the scene, he could not but be hostilely inclined against
the man who had abridged her life, and made that shortened
term so full of woe.
  Notwithstanding the last mild words of the dying woman,
he resolved, that, on delivering his letter, he would pass a
strict sentence on her faithless friend; and, not wishing to
depend upon the temper of the moment, he studied an ad-
dress, which, in the course of preparation, became more
pathetic than just. Having fully convinced himself of the
good composition of his essay, he began committing it to
memory, and at the same time making ready for departure.
Mignon was present as he packed his articles: she asked
him whether he intended travelling south or north; and, learn-
ing that it was the latter, she replied, " Then, I will wait here
for thee." She begged of him the pearl necklace which had
once been Mariana's. He could not refuse to gratify the
dear little creature, and he gave it her: the neckerchief she
had already. On the other hand, she put the veil of Ham-
let's Ghost into his travelling-bag; though he told her it
could not be of any service to him.


318





              MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.                 319

   Melina took upon him the directorship: his wife engaged
to keep a mother's ,eye upon the children, whom Wilhelm
parted with unwillingly. Felix was very merry at the set-
ting out; and, when asked what pretty thing he wished to
have brought back for him, he said, " Hark you ! bring me
a papa ! " Mignon seized the traveller's hand; then, stand-
ing on her tiptoes, she pressed a warm and cordial, though
not a tender, kiss, upon his lips, and cried, "Master ! forget
us not, and come soon back."
  And so we leave our friend, entering on his journey, amid
a thousand different thoughts and feelings; and here sub-
join, by way of close, a little poem, which Mignon had re-
cited once or twice with great expressiveness, and which the
hurry of so many singular occurrences prevented us from
inserting sooner :--

       " Not speech, bid silence, I implore thee;
           For secrecy's my duty still:
         My heart entire I'd fain lay bare before thee,
           But such is not of fate the will.
         In season due the sun's course backward throws
           Dark night; ensue must light; the mountain's
         Hard rock, at length, its bosom doth unclose,
           Now grudging earth no more the hidden fountains.

         lEach seeks repose upon a friend's true breast,
           Where by laments he frees his bosom lonely;
         Whereas an oath my lips hold closely pressed,
           The which to speech a God can open only."
                                          - Editor's Version.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                      BOOK VI.



         CONFESSIONS OF A FAIR SAINT.

  TILL my eighth year I was always a healthy child, but of
that period I can recollect no more than of the day when I
was born. About the beginning of my eighth year, I was
seized with a hemorrhage; and from that moment my soul
became all feeling, all memory. The smallest circumstances
of that accident are yet before my eyes as if they had oc-
curred but yesterday.
  During the nine months which I then spent patiently upon
a sick-bed, it appears to me the groundwork of my whole
turn of thought was laid; as the first means were then
afforded my mind of developing itself in its own manner.
  I suffered and I loved: this was the peculiar form of my
heart. In the most violent fits of coughing, in the depress-
ing pains of fever, I lay quiet, like a snail drawn back within
its house: the moment I obtained a respite, I wanted to
enjoy something pleasant; and, as every other pleasure was
denied me, I endeavored to amuse myself with the innocent
delights of eye and ear. The people brought me dolls and
picture-books, and whoever would sit by my bed was obliged
to tell me something.
  From my mother I rejoiced to hear the Bible histories, and
my father entertained me with natural curiosities. He had a
very pretty cabinet, from which he brought me first one
drawer and then another, as occasion served; showing me
the articles, and pointing out their properties. Dried plants
and insects, with many kinds of anatomical preparations,
such as human skin, bones, mummies, and the like, were in
succession laid upon the sick-bed of the little one; the birds
and animals he killed in hunting were shown to me, before
they passed into the kitchen; and, that the Prince of the
World might also have a voice in this assembly, my aunt re-
lated to me love-adventures out of fairy-tales. All was


820





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


accepted, all took root. There were hours in which I vividly
conversed with the Invisible Power. I can still repeat some
verses which I then dictated, and my mother wrote down.
  Often I would tell my father back again what I had
learned from him. Rarely did I take any physic without
asking where the simples it was made of grew, what look
they had, what names they bore. Nor had the stories of my
aunt lighted on stony ground. I figured myself out in pretty
clothes, and met the most delightful princes, who could find
no peace or rest till they discovered who the unknown beauty
was. One adventure of this kind, with a charming little
angel dressed in white, with golden wings, who warmly
courted me, I dwelt upon so long, that my imagination
painted out his form almost to visibility.
  After a year I was pretty well restored to health, but
nothing of the giddiness of childhood remained with me. I
could not play with dolls : I longed for beings able to return
my love. Dogs, cats, and birds, of which my father kept a
great variety, afforded me delight; but what would I have
given for such a creature as my aunt once told me of ! It
was a lamb which a peasant-girl took up and nourished in a
wood; but, in the guise of this pretty beast, an enchanted
prince was hid, who at length appeared in his native shape,
a lovely youth, and rewarded his benefactress by his hand.
Such a lamb I would have given the world for.
  But there was none to be had ; and, as every thing about me
went on in such a quite natural manner, I by degrees all but
abandoned nearly all hopes of such a treasure. Meanwhile
I comforted myself by reading books in which the strangest
inciden ts were set forth. Among them all, my favorite was
the " Christian German Hercules : " that devout love-history
was altogether in my way. Whenever any thing befell his
dear Valiska, and cruel things befell her, he always prayed
before hastening to her aid; and the prayers stood there
verbatim. My longing after the Invisible, which I had always
dimly felt, was strengthened by such means; for, in short,
it was o :dained that God should also be my confidant.
  As I grew older I continued reading, Heaven knows what,
in chaotic order. The " Roman Octavia" was the book I liked
beyond all others. The persecutions of the first Christians,
decorated with the charms of a romance, awoke the deepest
interest in me.
   But my mother now began to murmur at my constant read-
ing; and, to humor her, my father took away my books to-


821





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


day, but gave them back to-morrow. She was wise enough
to see that nothing could be done in this way : she next in-
sisted merely that my Bible should be read with equal dili-
gence. To this I was not disinclined, and I accordingly
perused the sacred volume with a lively interest. Withal
my mother was extremely careful that no books of a corrup-
tive tendency should come into my hands: immodest writings
I would, of my own accord, have cast away.; for my princes
and my princesses were all extremely virtuous.
  To my mother, and my zeal for knowledge, it was owing,
that, with all my love of books, I also learned to cook; for
much was to be seen in cookery. To cut up a hen, a pig,
was quite a feast for me. I used to bring the entrails to my
father, and he talked with me about them as if I had been a
student of anatomy. With suppressed joy he would often
call me his misfashioned son.
  I had passed my twelfth year. I learned French, dancing,
and drawing: I received the usual instructions in religion.
In the latter, many thoughts and feelings were awakened,
but nothing properly relating to my own condition. I liked
to hear the people speak of God: I was proud that I could
speak on these points better than my equals. I zealously
read many books which put me in a condition to talk about
religion; but it never once struck me to think how matters
stood iith me, whether my soul was formed according to
these holy precepts, whether it was like a glass from which
the everlasting sun could be reflected in its glancing. From
the first I had presupposed all this.
  My French I learned with eagerness. My teacher was a
clever man. He was not a vain empiric, not a dry gram-
marian: he had learning, he had seen the world. Instruct-
ing me in language, he satisfied my zeal for knowledge in
a thousand ways. I loved him so much, that I used to wait
his coming with a palpitating heart. Drawing was not hard
for me: I should have made greater progress had my teacher
possessed head and science; he had only hands and practice.
  Dancing was at first one of my smallest amusements;
my body was too sensitive for it; I learned it only in the
company of my sisters. But our dancing-master took a
thought of gathering all his scholars, male and female, and
giving them a ball. This event gave dancing quite another
charm for me.
  Amid a throng of boys and girls, the most remarkable
were two sons of the marshal of the court. The youngest


822





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was of my age; the other, two years older : they were chil-
dren of such beauty, that, according to the universal voice,
no one had seen their like. For my part, scarcely had I no-
ticed them when I lost sight of all the other crowd. From
that moment I began to dance with care, and to wish that I
could dance with grace. How came it, on the other hand,
that these two boys distinguished me from all the rest? No
matter: before an hour had passed we had become the
warmest friends, and our little entertainment did not end
till we had fixed upon the time and place where we were
next to meet. - What a joy for me ! And how charmed was
I next morning when both of them inquired for my health,
each in a gallant note, accompanied with a nosegay ! I have
never since felt as I then did. Compliment was met by com-
pliment: letter answered letter. The church and the public-
walks were grown a rendezvous; our young acquaintances,
in all their little parties, now invited us together; while, at
the same time, we were sly enough to veil the business from
our parents, so that they saw no more of it than we thought
good.
  Thus had I at once got a pair of lovers. I had yet decided
upon neither: they both pleased me, and we did extremely
well together. All at once the eldest of the two fell very
sick. I myself had often been sick; and thus I was ena-
bled, by iendering him many little dainties and delicacies
suited for a sick person, to afford some solace to the sufferer.
His parents thankfully acknowledged my attention: in com-
pliance with the prayer of their beloved son, they invited me,
with all my sisters, to their house so soon as he had arisen
from his sick-bed. The tenderness which he displayed on
meeting me was not the feeling of a child: from that day I
gave the preference to him. He warned me to keep our
secret from his brother; but the flame could no longer be
concealed, and the jealousy of the younger completed our
romance. He played us a thousand tricks: eager to annihi-
late our joys, he but increased the passion he was seeking to
destroy.
   At last I had actually found the wished-for lamb, and this
attachment acted on me like my sickness: it made me calm,
and drew me back from noisy pleasures. I was solitary, I
was moved; and thoughts of God again occurred to me.
He was again my confidant; and I well remember with what
tears I often prayed for this poor boy, who still continued
sickly.


323





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  The more childishness there was in this adventure, the
more did it contribute to the forming of my heart. Our
French teacher had now turned us from translating into daily
writing him some letter of our own invention. I brought my
little history to market, shrouded in the names of Phyllis and
Damon. The old man soon saw through it, and, to render
me communicative, praised my labor very much. I still
waxed bolder; came openly out with the affair, adhering,
even in the minute details, to truth. I do not now remember
what the passage was at which he took occasion to remark,
" How pretty, how natural, it is ! But the good Phyllis had
better have a care: the thing may soon grow serious."
  I felt vexed that he did not look upon the matter as al-
ready serious; and I asked him, with an air of pique, what
he meant by serious. I had not to repeat the question: he
explained himself so clearly, that I could scarcely hide my
terror. Yet as anger came along with it, as I took it ill
that he should entertain such thoughts, I kept myself com-
posed: I tried to justify my nymph, and said, with glowing
cheeks, "But, sir, Phyllis is an honorable girl."
  He was rogue enough to banter me about my honorable
heroine. While we were speaking French, he played upon
the word honn&te, and hunted the honorableness of Phyllis
over all its meanings. I felt the ridicule of this, and ex-
tremelj puzzled. He, not to frighten me, broke off, but
afterwards often led the conversation to such topics. Plays,
and little histories, such as I was reading and translating
with him, gave him frequent opportunity to show how feeble
a security against the calls of inclination our boasted virtue
was. I no longer contradicted him, but I was in secret
scandalized; and his remarks became a burden to me.
  With my worthy Damon, too, I by degrees fell out of all
connection. The chicanery of the younger boy destroyed
our intercourse. Soon after, both these blooming creatures
lied. I lamented sore: however, in a short time, I forgot.
  But Phyllis rapidly increased in stature, was altogether
healthy, and began to see the world. The hereditary prince
now married, and a short time after, on his father's death,
began his rule. Court and town were in the liveliest motion :
my curiosity had copious nourishment. There were plays
and balls, with all their usual accompaniments; and, though
my parents kept retired as much as possible, they were
obliged to show themselves at court, where I was of course
introduced. Strangers were pouring in from every 'side;


324





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


high company was in every house; even to us some cavaliers
were recommended, others introduced; and, at my uncle's,
men of every nation might be met with.
  My honest mentor still continued, in a modest and yet
striking way, to warn me, and I in secret to take it ill of
him. With regard to his assertion, that women under every
circumstance were weak, I did not feel at all convinced; and
here, perhaps, I was in the right, and my mentor in the
wrong: but he spoke so earnestly that once I grew afraid he
might be right, and said to him, with much vivacity, " Since
the danger is so great, and the human heart so weak, I will
pray to God that he may keep me."
  This simple answer seemed to please him, for he praised
my purpose; but, on my side, it was any thing but seriously
Tmeant. It was, in truth, but an empty word; for my feel-
ings towards the Invisible were almost totally extinguished.
The hurry and the crowd I lived in dissipated my attention,
and carried me along as in a rapid stream. These were the
emptiest years of my life. All day long to speak of noth-
ing, to have no solid thought, never to do, any thing but
revel, - such was my employment. On my beloved books I
never once bestowed a thought. The people I lived among
had not the slightest tinge of literature or science : they were
German courtiers, a class of men at that time altogether des-
titute of culture.
  Such society, it may be thought, must naturally have led
me to the brink of ruin. I lived away in mere corporeal
cheerfulness: I never took myself to task, I never prayed, I
never thought about myself or God. Yet I look upon it as
a providential guidance, that none of these many handsome,
rich, and well-dressed men could take my fancy. They were
rakes, and did not conceal it; this scared me back: they
adorned their speech with double meanings; this offended
me, made me act with coldness towards them. Many times
their improprieties exceeded belief, and I did not restrain
myself from being rude.
  Besides, my ancient counsellor had once in confidence con-
trived to tell me, that, with the greater part of these lewd
fellows, health, as well as virtue, was in danger. I now
shuddered at the sight of them : I was afraid if one of them
in any way approached too near me. I would not touch
their cups or glasses, - even the chairs they had been sitting
on. Thus, morally and physically, I remained apart from
them: all the compliments they paid me I haughtily ac-
cepted, as incense that was due,


325





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Among the strangers then resident among us was one
young man peculiarly distinguished, whom we used in sport
to call Narciss. He had gained a reputation in the diplo-
matic line; and, among the various changes now occurring
at court, he was in hopes of meeting with some advantageous
place. He soon became acquainted with my father: his ac-
quirements and manners opened for him the way to a select
society of most accomplished men. My father often spoke
in praise of him: his figure, which was very handsome, would
have made a still better impression, had it not been for
something of self-complacency which breathed from the
whole carriage of the man. I had seen him, I thought well
of him; but we had never spoken.
  At a great ball, where we chanced to be in company, I
danced a minuet with him; but this, too, passed without re-
sults. The more violent dances, in compliance with my
father, who felt anxious about my health, I was accustomed
to avoid: in the present case, when these came on, I retired
to an adjoining room, and began to talk with certain of my
friends, elderly ladies, who had set themselves to cards.
  Narciss, who had jigged it for a while, at last came into
the room where I was; and having got the better of a bleed-
ing at the nose, which had overtaken him in dancing, he be-
gan speaking with me about a multitude of things. In half
an hour the talk had grown so interesting, that neither of us
could think of dancing any more. We were rallied by our
friends, but we did not let their bantering disturb us. Next
evening we recommenced our conversation, and were very
careful not to hurt our health.
  The acquaintance then was made. Narciss was often with
my sisters and myself ; and I now once more began to reckon
over and consider what I knew, what I thought of, what I
had felt, and what I could express myself about in conversa-
tion. My new friend had mingled in the best society; be-
sides the department of history and politics, with every part
of which he was familiar, he had gained extensive literary
knowledge ; there was nothing new that issued from the press,
especially in France, that he was unacquainted with. He
brought or sent me many a pleasant book, but this we had to
keep as secret as forbidden love. Learned women had been
made ridiculous, nor were well-informed women tolerated, -
apparently because it would have been uncivil to put so
many ill-informed men to shame. Even my father, much
as he delighted in this new opportunity of cultivating my


326





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mind, expressly stipulated that our literary commerce should
remain secret.
  Thus our intercourse continued for almost year and day;
and still I could not say, that, in any wise, Narciss had ever
shown me aught of love or tenderness. He was always com-
plaisant and kind, but manifested nothing like attachment:
on the contrary, he even seemed to be in some degree affected
by the charms of my youngest sister, who was then extremely
beautiful. In sport, he gave her many little friendly names
out of foreign tongues; for lie could speak two or three of
these extremely well, and loved to mix their idiomatic phrases
with his German. Such compliments she did not answer
very liberally; she was entangled in a different noose: and
being very sharp, while he was very sensitive, the two were
often quarrelling about trifles. With my mother and my
aunt he kept on very pleasant terms; and thus, by gradual
advances, he was grown to be a member of the family.
  Who knows how long we might have lived in this way, had
not a curious accident altered our relations all at once? My
sisters and I were invited to a certain house, to which we did
not like to go. The company was too mixed; and persons
of the stupidest, if not the rudest, stamp were often to be
met there. Narciss, on this occasion, was invited also; and
on his account I felt inclined to go, for I was sure of finding
one, at least, whom I could converse with as I desired. Even
at table we had many things to suffer, for several of the
gentlemen had drunk too much: then, in the drawing-room,
they insisted on a game at forfeits. It went on with great
vivacity and tumult. . Narciss had lost a forfeit: they ordered
him, by way of penalty, to whisper something pleasant in the
ear of every member of the company. It seems he staid
too long beside my next neighbor, the lady of a captain. The
latter on a sudden struck him such a box with his fist, that
the powder flew about me, into my eyes. When I had got
my eyes cleared, and in some degree recovered from my
terror, I saw that both gentlemen had drawn their swords.
Narciss was bleeding; and the other, mad with wine and
rage and jealousy, could scarcely be held back by all the
company. I seized Narciss, led him by the arm up-stairs;
and, as I did not think my friend safe even here from his
frantic enemy, I shut the door and bolted it.
   Neither of us considered the wound serious, for a slight
cut across the hand was all we saw. Soon, however, I dis-
covered that there was a stream of blood running down his


327





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


back, that there was a deep wound on the head. I now be.
gan to be afraid. I hastened to the lobby, to get help: but
I could see no person; every one had staid below to calm
the raving captain. At last a daughter of the family came
skipping up: her mirth annoyed me; she was like to die with
laughing at the bedlam spectacle. I conjured her, for the
sake of Heaven, to get a surgeon; and she, in her wild way,
sprang down-stairs to fetch me one herself.
   Returning to my wounded friend, I bound my handkerchief
about his hand, and a neckerchief, that was hanging on the
door, about his head. He was still bleeding copiously: he
now grew pale, and seemed as if he were about to faint.
There was none at hand to aid me: I very freely put my arm
round him, patted his cheek, and tried to cheer him by little
flatteries. It seemed to act on him like a spiritual remedy:
he kept his senses, but sat as pale as death.
   At last the active housewife arrived: it is easy to conceive
 her terror when she saw my friend in this predicament, lying
 in my arms, and both of us bestreamed with blood. No on
 had supposed he was wounded: all imagined I had carried
 him away in safety.
   Now smelling-bottles, wine, and every thing that col ld
-support and stimulate, were copiously produced. The ,ur-
geon also came, and I might easily have been dispensed with.
Narciss, however, held me firmly by the hand: I would Ihave
staid without holding. During the dressing of his wounds,
I continued wetting his lips with wine: I minded not, though
all the company were now about us. The surgeon having
finished, his patient took a mute but ternder leave of me, and
was conducted home.
   The mistress of the house now led me to her bedroom : she
 had to strip me altogether; and I must confess, while they
 washed the blood from me, I saw with pleasure, for the firFt
 time, in a mirror, that I might be reckoned beautiful without
 help of dress. No portion of my clothes could be put on
 again; and, as the people of the house were all either less or
 larger than myself, J was taken home in a strange disguise.
 My parents were, of course, astonished. They felt exceed-
 ingly indignant at my fright, at the wounds of their friend, at
 the captain's madness, at the whole occurrence. A very lit le
 would have made my father send the captain a challenge,
 that he might avenge his friend without delay. He blamed
 the gentlemen that had been there, because they had not
 punished on the spot such a murderous attempt; for it was


828





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


but too clear, that the captain, instantly on striking, had
drawn his sword, and wounded the other from behind. The
cut across the hand had been give>n just when Narciss him-
self was grasping at his sword. I felt unspeakably affected,
altered; or how shall I express it? The passion which was
sleeping at the deepest bottom of my heart had at once broken
loose, like a flame getting air. And if joy and pleasure are
well suited for the first producing and the silent nourishing
of love, yet this passion, bold by nature, is most easily im-
pelled by terror to decide and to declare itself. My mother
gave her little flurried daughter some medicine, and made her
go to bed. With the earliest morrow my father hastened to
NIarciss, whom he found lying very sick of a wound-fever.
  He told me little of what passed between them, but tried
to quiet me about the probable results of this event. They
were now considering whether an apology should be accepted,
whether the affair should go before a court of justice, and
many other points of that description. I knew my father too
well to doubt that he would be averse to see the matter end
without a duel: but I held my peace ; for I had learned from
him before, that women should not meddle in such things.
For the rest, it did not strike me as if any thing had passed
between the friends, in which my interests were specially
concerned.; but my father soon communicated to my mother
the purport of their further conversation. Narciss, he said,
appeared to be exceedingly affected at the help afforded by
me; had embraced him, declared himself my debtor forever,
signified that he desired no happiness except what he could
share with me, and concluded by entreating that he might
presume to ask my hand. All this mamma repeated to me,
but subjoined the safe reflection, that, 1" as for what was said
in the first agitation of mind in such a case, there was little
trust to be placed in it." -" Of course, none," I answered
with affected coldness; though all the while I was feeling,
Heaven knows what.
  Narciss continued sick for two months ; owing to the wound
in his right hand, he could not even write. Yet, in the mean
time, he showed me his regard by the most obliging courtesies.
All these unusual attentions I combined with what my mother
had disclosed to me, and constantly  my headwas full of
fancies. The whole city talked of the occurrence. With me
they spoke of it in a p ,culiar tone: they drew inferences,
which, greatly as I struggled to avoid them, touched me very
close. What had formerly been habitude and trifling, was


329





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


now grown seriousness and inclination. The anxiety in
which I lived was the more violent, the more carefully I stud-
ied to conceal it from every one. The idea of losing him
frightened me: the possibility of any closer union made me
tremble. For a half-prudent girl, there is really something
awful in the thought of marriage.
  By such incessant agitations I was once more led to recol-
lect myself. The gaudy imagery of a thoughtless life, which
used to hover day and night before my eyes, was at once
blown away. My soul again began to awaken, but the
greatly interrupted intimacy with my invisible friend was
not so easy to renew. We still continued at a frigid dis-
tance : it was again something, but little to the times of old.
  A duel had been fought, and the captain severely wounded,
before I ever heard of it. The public feeling was, in all
senses, strong on the side- of my lover, who at length
again appeared upon the scene. But, first of all, he came,
with his head tied up and his arm in a sling, to visit us.
How my heart beat while he was there ! The whole family
was present: general thanks and compliments were all that
passed on either side. Narciss, however, found an opportu-
nity to show some secret tokens of his love to me; by which
means my inquietude was but increased. After his recovery
he visited us throughout the winter on the former footing;
and in spite of all the soft, private marks of tenderness
which he contrived to give me, the whole affair remained
unsettled, undiscussed.
  In this manner was I kept in constant practice. I could
trust my thoughts to no mortal, and from God I was too
far removed. Him I had quite forgotten those four wild
years: I now again began to think of him occasionally, but
our acquaintance had grown cool; they were visits of mere
ceremony these; and as, moreover, in waiting on him, I used
to dress in fine apparel, to set before him self-complacently
my virtue, honor, and superiorities to others, he did not seem
to notice me, or know me in that finery.
  A courtier would have been exceedingly distressed, if the
prince who held his fortune in his hands had treated him in
this way; but, for me, I did not sorrow at it. I had what I
required, - health and conveniences: if God should please
to think of me, well; if not, I reckoned I had done my duty.
   This, in truth, I did not think at that period; yet it was
the true figure of my soul. But, to change and purify my
feelings, preparations were already made.


33880





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


831


  The spring came on: Narciss once visited me unan-
nounced, and at a time when I happened to be quite alone.
He now appeared in the character of lover, and asked me if
I could bestow on him my heart, and, so soon as he should
obtain some lucrative and honorable place, my hand along
with it.
  He had been received into our service; but at first they
kept him back, and would not rapidly promote him, because
they dreaded his ambition. Having some little fortune of
his own, he was left with a slender salary.
  Notwithstanding my regard for him, I knew that he was
not a man to treat with altogether frankly. I drew up,
therefore, and referred him to my father. About my father
he did not seem to doubt, but wished first to be at one with
me, now and here. I at last said, Yes; but stipulated, as an
indispensable condition, that my parents should concur. He
then spoke formally with both of them; they signified their
satisfaction: mutual promises were given, on the faith of
his advancement, which it was expected would be speedy.
Sisters and aunts were informed of this arrangement, and
the strictest secrecy enjoined on them.
  Thus had my lover become my bridegroom, and great
was the difference between the two. If one could change
the lovers of all honorable maidens into bridegrooms, it
would bd a kindness to our sex, even though marriage
should hot follow the connection. The love between two
persons does not lessen by the change, but it becomes more
reasonable. Innumerable little follies, all coquetries and
caprices, disappear.  If the bridegroom tells us that we
please him better in a morning-cap than in the finest head-
dress, no discreet young woman will disturb herself about
her hair-dressing; and nothing is more natural than that he,
too, should think solidly, and rather wish to form a house-
wife for himself than a gaudy doll for others. And thus it
is in every province of the business.
  Should a young woman of this kind be fortunate enough
to have a bridegroom who possesses understanding and ac-
quirements, she learns from him more than universities and
foreign lands can teach. She not only willingly receives in-
struction when he offers it, but she endeavors to elicit more
and more from him. Love makes much that was impossible
possible. By degrees, too, that subjection, so necessary and
so graceful for the female sex, begins: the bridegroom does
not govern like the husband; he only asks: but his mistress





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


seeks to discover what he wants, and to offer it before he
asks it.
  So did experience teach me what I would not for much
have missed. I was happy, truly happy as woman could
be in the world, - that is to say, for a while.
  Amid these quiet joys, a summer passed away. Narciss
gave not the slightest reason to complain of him: he daily
became more dear to me; my whole soul was his. This he
well knew, and knew also how to prize it. Meanwhile, from
seeming trifles, something rose, which by and by grew hurt-
ful to our union.
  Narciss behaved to me as to a bride, and never dared to
ask of me such favors as were yet forbidden us. But, about
the boundaries of virtue and decorum, we were of very dif-
ferent opinions. I meant to walk securely, and so never
granted him the smallest freedom which the whole world
might not have witnessed. He, used to dainties, thought
this diet very strict. On this point there was continual vari-
ance: he praised my modesty, and sought to undermine my
resolution.
  The serious of my old French teacher now occurred to
me, as well as the defence which I had once suggested in
regard to it.
  With God I had again become a little more acquainted.
He had given me a bridegroom whom I loved, and for this
I felt some thankfulness. Earthly love itself concebntrated
my soul, and put its powers in motion; nor did it contradict
my intercourse with God. I naturally complained to him
of what alarmed me, but I did not perceive that I myself
was wishing and desiring it. In my own eyes I was strong:
I did not pray, " Lead us not into temptation! "     My
thoughts were far beyond temptation. In this flimsy tinsel-
work of virtue I came to God. He did not drive me back.
On the smallest movement towards him, he left a soft im-
pression in my soul; and this impression caused me always
to return.
  Except Narciss, the world was altogether dead to me:
excepting him, there was nothing in it that had any charm.
Even my love for dress was but the wish to please him: if I
knew that he was not to see me, I could spend no care upon
it. I liked to dance; but, if he was not beside me, it seemed
as if I could not bear the motion. At a brilliant festival, if
he was not invited, I could neither take the trouble of pro-
viding new things, nor of putting on the old according to





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the mode. To me they were alike agreeable, or rather, I
might say, alike burdensome. I used to reckon such an
evening very fairly spent when I could join myself to any
ancient card-party, though formerly I had not the smallest
taste for such things; and, if some old acquaintance came
and rallied me about it, I would smile, perhaps for the first
time all that night. So, likewise, it was with promenades,
and every social entertainment that can be imagined --
             " Him had I chosen from all others;
             His would I be, and not another's:
             To me his love was all in all."
  Thus was I often solitary in the midst of company, and
real solitude was generally acceptable to me. But my busy
soul could neither sleep nor dream: I felt and thought, and
acquired by degrees some faculty to speak about my feel-
ings and my thoughts with God. Then were feelings of
another' sort unfolded, but these did not contradict the for-
mer feelings: my affection to Narciss accorded with the uni-
versal scheme of nature; it nowhere hindered the perform-
ance of a duty. They did not contradict each other, yet
they were immensely different. Narciss was the only living
form which hovered in my mind, and to which my love was
all directed; but the other feeling was not directed towards
any form; and yet it was - unspeakably agreeable. I no
longer have it: I no longer can impart it.
  My lover, whom I used to trust with all my secrets, did not
know of this. I soon discovered that he thought far other-
wise : he often gave me writings which opposed, with light
and heavy weapons, all that can be called connection with
the Invisible. I used to read the books because they came
from him; but, at the end, I knew no word of all that had
been argued in them.
  Nor, in regard to sciences and knowledge, was there want
of contradiction in our conduct. He did as all men do, - he
mocked at learned women; and yet he kept continually in-
structing me. He used to speak with me on all subjects,
law excepted ; and, while constantly procuring books of every
kind for me, he frequently repeated the uncertain precept,
" That a lady ought to keep the knowledge she might have
more secret than the Calvinist his creed in Catholic coun-
tries." And while I, by natural consequence, endeavored
not to show myself more wise or learned than formerly be-
fore the world, Narciss himself was commonly the first who


33883





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIIP.


yielded to the vanity of speaking about me and my supe-
riorities.
  A nobleman of high repute, and at that time valued for
his influence, his talents, and accomplishments, was living
at our court with great applause. He bestowed especial
notice on Narciss, whom he kept continually about him.
They once had an argument about the virtue of women.
Narciss repeated to me what had passed between them: I
was not wanting with my observations, and my friend re-
quired of me a written essay on the subject. I could write
French fluently enough: I had laid a good foundation with
my teacher. My correspondence with Narciss was likewise
carried on in French: except in French books, there was
then no elegant instruction to be had. My essay pleased the
count: I was obliged to let him have some little songs,
which I had lately been composing. In short, Narciss ap-
peared to revel without stint in the renown of his beloved:
and the story, to his great contentment, ended with a French
epistle in heroic verse, which the count transmitted to him
on departing; in which their argument was mentioned, and
my friend reminded of his happiness in being destined, after
all his doubts and errors, to learn most certainly what virtue
was, in the arms of a virtuous and charming wife.
  He showed this poem first of all to me, and then to almost
every one; each thinking of. the matter what he pleased.
Thus did he act in several cases: every stranger, whom he
valued, must be made acquainted in our house.
  A noble family was staying for a season in the place, to
profit by the skill of our physician. In this house, too,
Narciss was looked on as a son; he introduced me there;
we found among these worthy persons the most pleasant en-
tertainment for mind and heart. Even the common pastimes
of society appeared less empty here than elsewhere. All
knew how matters stood with us: they treated us as circum-
stances would allow, and left the main relation unalluded to.
I mention this one family; -because, in the after-period of
my life, it had a powerful influence upon me.
   Almost a year of our connection had elapsed; and, along
 with it, our spring was over. The summer came, and all
 grew drier and more earnest.
   By several unexpected deaths, some offices fell vacant,
 which Narciss might make pretensions to. The instant was
 at hand when my whole destiny must be decided; and while
 Narciss, and all our friends, were making every effort tc


33884





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


efface some impressions which obstructed him at court, and
to obtain for him the wished-for situation, I turned with my
request to my Invisible Friend.  I was received so kindly,
that I gladly came again. I confessed, without disguise,
my wish that Narciss might obtain the place; but my prayer
was not importunate, and I did not require that it should
happen for the sake of my petition.
  The place was obtained by a far inferior competitor. I
was dreadfully troubled at this news : I hastened to my room,
the door of which I locked behind me. The first fit of grief
went off in a shower of tears: the next thought was, " Yet
it was not by chance that it happened;" and instantly I
formed the resolution to be well content with it, seeing even
this apparent evil would be for my true advantage. The
softest emotions then pressed in upon me, and divided all
the clouds of sorrow. I felt, that, with help like this, there
was nothing one might not endure. At dinner I appeared
quite cheerful, to the great astonishment of all the house.
  Narciss had less internal force than I, and I was called
upon to comfort him. In his family, too, he had many
crosses to encounter, some of which afflicted him consider-
ably; and, such true confidence subsisting between us, he
intrusted me with all.   His negotiations for entering on
foreign service were not more fortunate; all this I felt deeply
on his atcount and mine; all this, too, I ultimately carried
to the place where my petitions had already been so well
received.
  The softer these experiences were, the oftener did I en-
deavor to renew them : I hoped continually to meet with com-
fort where I had so often met with it. Yet I did not always
meet with it: I was as one that goes to warm him in the
sunshine, while there is something standing in the way that
makes a shadow. " What is this? " I asked myself.        I
traced the matter zealously, and soon perceived that it all
depended on the situation of my soul: if this was not turned
in the straightest direction towards God, I still continued
cold; I did not feel his counter-influence; I could obtain no
answer. The second question was, "What hinders this
direction?"  Here I was in a wide field: I perplexed myself
in an inquiry which lasted nearly all the second year of my
attachment to Narciss. I might have ended the investiga-
tion sooner, for it was not long till I had got upon the
proper trace; but I would not confess it, and I sought a
thousand outlets.


335





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  I very soon discovered that the straight direction of my
soul was marred by foolish dissipations, and employment
with unworthy things. The how and the where were clear
enough to me. Yet by what means could I help myself, or
extricate my mind from the calls of a world where every
thing was either cold indifference or hot insanity? Gladly
would I have left things standing as they were, and lived
from day to day, floating down with the stream, like other
people whom I saw quite happy; but I durst not: my inmost
feelings contradicted me too often. Yet if I determined to
renounce society, and alter my relations to others, it was
not in my power. I was hemmed in as by a ring drawn
round me; certain connections I could not dissolve; and, in
the matter which lay nearest to my heart, fatalities accumu-
lated and oppressed me more and more. I often went to
bed with tears, and, after a sleepless night, arose again with
tears: I required some strong support; and God would not
vouchsafe it me while I was running with the cap and bells.
  I proceeded now to estimate my doings, all and each:
dancing and play were first put upon their trial. Never was
there any thing spoken, thought, or written, for or against
these practices, which I did not examine, talk of, read,
weigh, reject, aggravate, and plague myself about. If I
gave up these habits, I was certain that Narciss would be
offended; for he dreaded exceedingly the ridicule which any
look of straitlaced conscientiousness gives one in the eyes of
the world. And doing what I now looked upon as folly,
noxious folly, out of no taste of my own, but merely to
gratify him, it all grew wofully irksome to me.
  Without disagreeable prolixities and repetitions, it is not
lu my power to represent what pains I took, in trying so to
counteract those occupations which distracted my attention
and disturbed my peace of mind, that my heart, in spite of
them, might still be open to the influences of the Invisible
Being. But at last, with pain, I was compelled to admit,
that in this way the quarrel could not be composed. For no
sooner had I clothed myself in the garment of folly, than it
came to be something more than a mask, than the foolish-
ness pierced and penetrated me through and through.
  May I here overstep the province of a mere historical
detail, and offer one or two remarks on what was then taking
place within me? What could it be which so changed my
tastes and feelings, that, in my twenty-second year, nay,
earlier, I lost all relish for the recreations with which people


836





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


of that age are harmlessly delighted ? Why were they not
harmless for me? I may answer, " Just because they were
not harmless; because I was not, like others of my years,
unacquainted with my soul. No ! I knew, from experiences
which had reached me unsought, that there are loftier emo-
tions, which afford us a contentment such as it is vain to
seek in the amusements of the world; and that, in these
higher joys, there is also kept a secret treasure for strength-
ening the spirit in misfortune.
  But the pleasures of society, the dissipations of youth,
must needs have had a powerful charm for me; since it was
not in my power to engage in them without participation, to
act among them as if they were not there. How many
things could I now do, if I liked, with entire coldness, which
then dazzled and confounded me, nay, threatened to obtain
the mastery over me ! Here there could no medium be ob-
served: either those delicious amusements, or my nourishing
and quickening internal emotions, must be given up.
  But, in my soul, the strife had, without my own conscious-
ness, already been decided. Even if there still was any
thing within me that longed for earthly pleasures, I had now
become unfitted for enjoying them. Much as a man might
hanker after wine, all desire of drinking would forsake him,
if he should be placed among full barrels in a cellar, where
the foul air was like to suffocate him. Free air is more than
wine; this I felt but too keenly: and, from the first, it would
have cost me little studying to prefer the good to the delight-
ful, if the fear of losing the affection of Narciss had not
restrained me. But at last, when after many thousand strug-
gles, and thoughts continually renewed, I began to cast a
steady eye upon the bond which held me to him, I discovered
that it was but weak, that it might be torn asunder. I at
once perceived it to be only as a glass bell, which shut me
up in the exhausted, airless space: one bold stroke to break
the bell in pieces, and thou art delivered !
  No sooner thought than tried. I drew off the mask, and
on all occasions acted as my heart directed. Narciss I still
cordially loved: but the thermometer, which formerly had
stood in hot water, was now hanging in the natural air; it
could rise no higher than the warmth of the atmosphere
directed.
  Unhappily it cooled very much. Narciss drew back, and
began to assume a distant air: this was at his option, but
my thermometer descended as he drew back. Our family ob-


337





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


served this, questioned me, and seemed to be surprised.
I explained to them, with stout defiance, that heretofore I
had made abundant sacrifices; that I was ready, still far-
ther and to the end of my life, to share all crosses that
befell him; but that I required full freedom in my conduct,
that my doings and avoidings must depend upon my own
conviction; that, indeed, I would never bigotedly cleave to
my own opinion, but, on the other hand, would willingly be
reasoned with; yet, as it concerned my own happiness, the
decision must proceed from myself, and be liable to no man-
ner of constraint. The greatest physician could not move
me, by his reasonings, to take an article of food, which per-
haps was altogether wholesome and agreeable to many, so
soon as my experience had shown, that on all occasions it was
noxious to me; as I might produce coffee for an instance:
and just as little, nay, still less, would I have any sort of
conduct which misled me, preached up and demonstrated
upon me as morally profitable.
  Having so long prepared myself in silence, these debates
were rather pleasant than vexatious to me. I gave vent to
my soul: I felt the whole worth of my determination. I
yielded not a hair's-breadth, and those to whom I owed no
filial respect were sharply handled and despatched. In the
family I soon prevailed. My mother from her youth had
entertained these sentiments, though in her they had never
reached maturity; for no necessity had pressed upon her,
and exalted her courage to achieve her purpose. She re-
joiced in beholding her silent wishes fulfilled through me.
My younger sisters seemed to join themselves with me: the
second was attentive and quiet. Our aunt had the most to
object. The arguments which she employed appeared to her
irrefragable; and they were irrefragable, being altogether
commonplace. At last I was obliged to show her, that she
had no voice in the affair in any sense; and, after this, she
seldom signified that she persisted in her views. She was,
indeed, the only person that observed this transaction close
at hand, without in some degree experiencing its influence.
I do not calumniate her, when I say that she had no charac-
ter, and the most limited ideas.
  My father had acted altogether in his own way. He spoke
not much, but often, with me on the matter: his arguments
were rational; and, being his arguments, they could not be
impugned. It was only the deep feeling of my right that
gave, me strength to dispute against him. But the scenes


338





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


soon changed: I was forced to make appeal to his heart.
Straitened by his understanding, I came out with the most
pathetic pleadings. I gave free course to my tongue and to
my tears. I showed him how much I loved Narciss; how
much constraint I had for two years been enduring; how
certain I was of being in the right; that I was ready to tes-
tify that certainty, by the loss of my beloved bridegroom
and prospective happiness, - nay, if it were necessary, by
the loss of all that I possessed on earth; that I would rather
leave my native country, my parents, and my friends, and
beg my bread in foreign lands, than act against these dic-
tates of my conscience. He concealed his emotion: he said
nothing on the subject for a while, and at last he openly de-
clared in my favor.
  During all this time Narciss forbore to visit us; and my
father now gave up the weekly club, where he was used to
meet him. The business made a noise at court, and in the
town. People talked about it, as is common in such cases,
which the public takes a vehement interest in, because its
sentence has usurped an influence on the resolutions of weak
minds. I knew enough about the world to understand that
one's conduct is often censured by the very persons who
would have advised it, had one consulted them; and inde-
pendently of this, with my internal composure, I should have
looked on hll such transitory speculations just as if they had
not been.
  On the other hand, I hindered not myself from yielding to
my inclination for Narciss. To me he had become invisible,
and to him my feelings had not altered. I loved him ten-
derly; as it were anew, and much more steadfastly than be-
fore. If he chose to leave my conscience undisturbed, then
I was his: wanting this condition, I would have refused a
kingdom with him. For several months I bore these feel-
ings and these thoughts about with me; and, finding at last
that I was calm and strong enough to go peacefully and
firmly to work, I wrote him a polite but not a tender note,
inquiring why he never came to see me.
  As I knew his manner of avoiding to explain himself in
little matters, but of silently doing what seemed good to him,
I purposely urged him in the present instance. I got a long,
and, as it seemed to me, pitiful, reply, in vague style and un-
meaning phrases, stating, that, without a better place, he
could not fix himself, and offer me his hand; that I best
knew how hard it had fared with him hitherto; that as he


839





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was afraid lest a fruitless intercourse, so long continued,
might prove hurtful to my reputation, I would give him
leave to continue at his present distance; so soon as it was in
his power to make me happy, he would look upon the word
which he had given me as sacred.
  I answered him on the spot, that, as our intercourse was
known to all the world, it might, perhaps, be rather late to
spare my reputation; for which, at any rate, my conscience
and my innocence were the surest pledges; however, that I
hereby freely gave him back his word, and hoped the change
would prove a happy one for him. The same hour I re-
ceived a short reply, which was, in all essential particulars,
entirely synonymous with the first. He adhered to his for-
mer statement, that, so soon as he obtained a situation, he
would ask me, if I pleased, to share his fortune with him.
  This I interpreted as meaning simply nothing. I signified
to my relations and acquaintances, that the affair was alto-
gether settled; and it was so in fact. Having, nine months
afterwards, obtained the much-desired preferment, he offered
me his hand, but under the condition, that, as the wife of a
man who must keep house like other people, I should alter
my opinions. I returned him many thanks, and hastened
with my heart and mind away from this transaction, as one
hastens from the playhouse when the curtain falls. And as
he, a shbrt time afterwards, had found a rich and advanta-
geous match, a thing now easy for him; and as I now knew
him to be happy in the way he liked, - my own tranquillity
was quite complete.
  I must not pass in silence the fact, that several times be-
fore he got a place, and after it, there were respectable pro-
posals made to me; which, however, I declined without the
smallest hesitation, much as my father and my mother could
have wished for more compliance on my part.
  At length, after a stormy March and April, the loveliest
May weather seemed to be allotted me. With good health,
I enjoyed an indescribable composure of mind: look around
me as I pleased, my loss appeared a gain to me. Young and
full of sensibility, I thought the universe a thousand times
more beautiful than formerly, when I required to have society
and play, that in the fair garden tedium might not overtake
me. And now, as I did not conceal my piety, I likewise
took heart to own my love for the sciences and arts. I drew,
painted, read, and found enough of people to support me:
instead of the great world, which I had left, or, rather, which


840





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


had left me, a smaller one formed itself about me, which was
infinitely richer and more entertaining. I had a turn for
social life; and I do not deny, that, on giving up my old ac-
quaintances, I trembled at the thought of solitude. I now
found myself abundantly, perhaps excessively, indemnified.
My acquaintances erelong were very numerous, not at home
only, but likewise among people at a distance. My story
had been noised abroad, and many persons felt a curiosity
to see the woman who had valued God above her bridegroom.
There was a certain pious tone to be observed, at that time,
geneirally over Germany. In the families of several counts
and princes, a care for the welfare of the soul had been
awakened. Nor were there wanting noblemen who showed
a like attention; while, in the inferior classes, sentiments of
this kind were diffused on every side.
  The noble family, whom I mentioned above, now drew me
nearer to them. They had, in the mean while, gathered
strength ; several of their relations having settled in the town.
These estimable persons courted my familiarity, as I did
theirs. They had high connections: I became acquainted,
in their house, with a great part of the princes, counts, and
lords of the empire.   My sentiments were not concealed
from any one: they might be honored or be tolerated; I
obtained my object, - none attacked me.
  There was yet another way by which I was again led back
into the world. About this period a step-brother of my
father, who till now had never visited the house except in
passing, staid with us for a considerable time. He had left
the service of his court, where he enjoyed great influence
and honor, simply because all matters were not managed
quite according to his mind. His intellect was just, his clhar-
acter was rigid. In these points he was very like my father :
only the latter had withal a certain touch of softness, which
enabled him with greater ease to yield a little in affairs, and
though not to do, yet to permit, some things against his own
conviction; and then to evaporate his anger at them, either
in silence by himself, or in confidence amid his family. My
uncle was a great deal younger, and his independence of
spirit had been favored by his outward circumstances. His
mother had been very rich, and he still had large possessions
to expect from her near and distant relatives; so he needed
no foreign increase: whereas my father, with his moderate
fortune, was bound to his place by the consideration of his
salary.


841





342


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  My uncle had become still more unbending from domestic
sufferings. He had early lost an amiable wife and a hopeful
son; and, from that time, he appeared to wish to push away
from him every thing that did not hang upon his individual will.
  In our family it was whispered now and then with some
complacency, that probably he would not wed again, and so
we children might anticipate inheriting his fortune. I paid
small regard to this, but the demeanor of the rest was not a
little modified by their hopes. In his own imperturbable firm-
ness of character, my uncle had grown into the habit of never
contradicting any one in conversation. On the other hand,
he listened with a friendly air to every one's opinion, and
would himself elucidate and strengthen it by instances and
reasons of his own. All who did not know him fancied that
he thought as they did; for he was possessed of a prepon-
derating intellect, and could transport himself into the mental
state of any man, and imitate his manner of conceiving.
With me he did not prosper quite so well; for here the ques-
tion was about emotions, of which he had not any glimpse:
and, with whatever tolerance and sympathy and rationality
he spoke about my sentiments, it was palpable to me, that he
had not the slightest notion of what formed the ground of
all my conduct.
  With all his secrecy, we by and by found out the aim of
his unusual stay with us. He had, as we at length dis-
covered, cast his eyes upon our youngest sister, with the view
of giving her in marriage, and rendering her happy as he
1)leased; and certainly, considering her personal and mental
attractions, particularly when a handsome fortune was laid
into the scale along with them, she might pretend to the first
matches. His feelings towards me he likewise showed us
pantomimically, by procuring me a post of canoness, the
income of which I very soon began to draw.
  My sister was not so contented with his care as I. She
now disclosed to me a tender secret, which hitherto she had
very wisely kept back; fearing, as in truth it happened, that
I would by all means counsel her against connection with a
man who was not suited to her. I did my utmost, and suc-
ceeded. The purpose of my uncle was too serious and too
distinct: the prospect for my sister, with her worldly views,
was too delightful to be thwarted by a passion which her own
understanding disapproved ; she mustered force to give it up.
   On her ceasing to resist the gentle guidance of my uncle,
the foundation of his plan was quickly laid. She was ap-





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


pointed maid of honor at a neighboring court, where he
could commit her to the oversight and the instructions of a
lady, his friend, who presided there as governess with great
applause. I accompanied her to the place of her new abode.
Both of us had reason to be satisfied with the reception we
met with; and frequently I could not help, in secret, smiling
at the character, which now as canoness, as young and pious
canoness, I was enacting in the world.
  In earlier times a situation such as this would have con-
fused me dreadfully, perhaps have turned my head; but
now, in the midst of all the splendors that surrounded me,
I felt extremely cool.  With great quietness I let them
frizzle me, and deck me out for hours, and thought no more
of it than that my place required me to wear that gala livery.
In the thronged saloons I spoke with all and each, though
no shape or character among them made any impression on
me.   On returning to my house, nearly all the feeling I
brought back with me was that of tired limbs. Yet my un-
derstanding drew advantage from the multitude of persons
whom I saw: and I became acquainted with some ladies,
patterns of every virtue, of a noble and good demeanor;
particularly with the governess, under whom my sister was
to have the happiness of being formed.
  At my .return, however, the consequences of this journey,
in regard to health, were found to be less favorable. With
the greatest temperance, the strictest diet, I had not been,
as I used to be, completely mistress of my time and strength.
Food, motion, rising, and going to sleep, dressing and visiting,
had not depended, as at home, on my own conveniency and
will. In the circle of social life you cannot stop without a
breach of courtesy: all that was needful I had willingly per-
formed; because I looked upon it as my duty, because I
knew that it would soon be over, and because I felt myself
completely healthy. Yet this unusual, restless life must have
had more effect upon me than I was aware of. Scarcely had
I reached home, and cheered my parents with a comfortable
narrative, when I was attacked by a hemorrhage, which, al-
though it did not prove dangerous or lasting, yet left a weak-
ness after it, perceptible for many a day.
   Here, then, I had another lesson to repeat. I did it joy-
 fully. Nothing bound me to the world, and I was convinced
 that here the true good was never to be found; so I waited
 in the cheerfullest and meekest state: and, after having ab-
 dicated life, I was retained in it.


843





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  A new trial was awaiting me: my mother took a painful
and oppressive ailment, which she had to bear five years,
before she paid the debt of nature. All this time we were
sharply proved. Often, when her terror grew too strong, she
would have us all summoned, in the night, to her bed, that
so at least she might be busied, if not bettered, by our pres-
ence. The load grew heavier, nay, scarcely to be borne,
when my father, too, became unwell. From his youth he
had frequently had violent headaches, which, however, at
longest never used to last beyond six and thirty hours. But
now they were continual; and, when they mounted to a high
degree of pain, his moanings tore my very heart. It was in
these tempestuous seasons that I chiefly felt my bodily weak-
ness; because it kept me from my holiest and dearest du-
ties, or rendered the performance of them hard to an extreme
degree.
  It was now that I could try whether the path which I had
chosen was the path of fantasy or truth; whether I had
merely thought as others showed me, or the object of my
trust had a reality. To my unspeakable support, I always
found the latter. The straight direction of my heart to
God, the fellowship of the " Beloved Ones," 1 I had sought
and found; and this was what made all things light to me.
As a traveller in the dark, my soul, when all was pressing on
me fronm without, hastened to the place of refuge; and never
did it return empty.
  In later times some champions of religion, who seem to be
animated more by zeal than feeling for it, have required of
their brethren to produce examples of prayers actually heard;
apparently as wishing to have seal and signature, that so
they might proceed juridically in the matter. How unknown
must the true feeling be to these persons! how few real
experiences can they themselves have made !
   I can say that I never returned empty, when in straits and
oppression I called on God. This is saying infinitely much :
more I must not and can not say. Important as each experi-
ence was at the critical moment for myself, the recital of
them would be flat, improbable, and insignificant, were I to
specify the separate cases. Happy was I, that a thousand
little incidents in combination proved, as clearly as the draw-
ing of my breath proved me to be living, that I was not
without God in the world. He was near to me: I was be
fore him. This is what, with a diligent avoidance of all
                    1 So in the original. - E.


344





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


thevlogical systematic terms, I can with the greatest truth
declare.
  Much do I wish, that, in those times too, I had been en-
tirely without system. But which of us arrives early at the
happiness of being conscious of his individual self, in its
own pure combination, without extraneous forms? I was in
earnest with religion. I timidly trusted in the judgments of
others: I entirely gave in to the Hallean system of con-
version, but my nature would by no means tally with it.
  According to this scheme of doctrine, the alteration of the
heart must begin with a deep terror on account of sin: the
heart in this agony must recognize, in a less or greater
degree, the punishment which it has merited, must get a
foretaste of hell, and so embitter the delight of sin. At last
it feels a very palpable assurance of grace; which, however,
in its progress often fades away, and must again be sought
with earnest prayer.
  Of all this no jot or tittle happened with me. When I
sought God sincerely, he let himself be found of me, and did
not reproach me about by-gone things. On looking back, I
saw well enough where I had been unworthy, where I still
was so; but the confession of my faults was altogether with-
out terror. Not for a moment did the fear of hell occur to
me; nay, the very notion of a wicked spirit, and a place of
punishmerit and torment after death, could nowise gain
admission into the circle of my thoughts. I considered the
men who lived without God, whose hearts were shut against
the trust in and the love of the Invisible, as already so
unhappy, that a hell and external pains appeared to promise
rather an alleviation than an increase of their misery. I
had but to look upon the persons, in this world, who in their
breasts gave scope to hateful feelings; who hardened their
hearts against the good of whatever kind, and strove to force
the evil on themselves and others; who shut their eyes by
day, that so they might deny the shining of the sun. How
unutterably wretched did these persons seem to me! Who
could have formed a hell to make their situation worse ?
  This mood of mind continued in me, without change, for
half a score of years. It maintained itself through many
trials, even at the moving death-bed of my beloved mother.
I was frank enough, on this occasion, not to hide my comfort-
able frame of mind from certain pious but rigorously ortho-
dox people; and I had to suffer many a friendly admonition
on that score. They reckoned they were just in season, for


345





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


explaining with what earnestness one should be diligent to
lay a right foundation in the days of health and youth.
  In earnestness I, too, determined not to fail. For the
moment I allowed myself to be convinced; and fain would
I have grown, for life, distressed and full of fears. But
what was my surprise on finding that I absolutely could not.
When I thought of God, I was cheerful and contented: even
at the painful end of my dear mother, I did not shudder at
the thought of death. Yet I learned many and far other
things than my uncalled teachers thought of, in these solemn
hours.
  By degrees I grew to doubt the dictates of so many
famous people, and retained my own sentiments in silence.
A certain lady of my friends, to whom I had at first disclosed
too much, insisted always on interfering with my business.
Of her; too, I was obliged to rid myself: I at last firmly told
her, that she might spare herself this labor, as I did not need
her counsel; that I knew my God, and would have no guide
but him. She was greatly offended: I believe she never
quite forgave me.
  Such determination to withdraw from the advices and the
influence of my friends, in spiritual matters, produced the con-
sequence, that also in my temporal affairs I gained sufficient
courage to obey my own persuasions. But for the assistance
of my'faithful, invisible Leader, I could not have prospered
here. I am still gratefully astonished at his wise and happy
guidance. No one knew how matters stood with me: even
I myself did not know.
  The thing, the wicked and inexplicable thing, which sepa-
rates us from the Being to whom we owe our life, and in
whom all that deserves the name of life must find its nour-
ishment, - the thing which we call sin I yet knew nothing
of.
  In my intercourse with my invisible Friend, I felt the
sweetest enjoyment of all my powers. My desire of con-
stantly enjoying this felicity was so predominant, that I
abandoned without hesitation whatever marred our inter-
course; and here experience was my best teacher. But it
was with me as with sick persons who have no medicine, and
try to help themselves by diet: something is accomplished,
but far from enough.
  I could not always live in solitude, though in it I found
the best preservative against the dissipation of my thoughts.
On returning to the tumult, the impression it produced upon


346





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Ine was the deeper for my previous loneliness. My most
peculiar advantage lay in this, that love for quiet was my
ruling passion, and that in the end I still drew back to it. I
perceived, as in a kind of twilight, my weakness and my misery,
and tried to save myself by avoiding danger and exposure.
  For seven years I had used my dietetic scheme. I held
myself not wicked, and I thought my state desirable. But
for some peculiar circumstances and occurrences I had re-
mained in this position: it was by a curious path that I got
farther. Contrary to the advice of all my friends, I entered
on a new connection. Their objections, at first, made me
pause. I turned to my invisible Leader; and, as he per-
mitted me, I went forward without fear.
  A man of spirit, heart, and.talents had bought a property
beside us. Among the strangers whom I grew acquainted
with, were this person and his family. In our manners,
domestic economy, and habits we accorded well; and thus
we soon approximated to each other.
  Philo, as I propose to call him, was already middle-aged:
in certain matters he was highly serviceable to my father,
whose strength was now decaying. He soon became the
friend of the family: and finding in me, as he was pleased
to say, a person free alike from the extravagance and empti-
ness of the great world, and from the narrowness and arid-
ness of the still world in the country, he courted intimacy
with me; and erelong we were in one another's confidence.
To me he was very pleasing and useful.
  Though I did not feel the smallest inclination or capacity
for mingling in public business, or seeking any influence on
it, yet I liked to hear about such matters, - liked to know
whatever happened far and near. Of worldly things, I loved
to get a clear though unconcerned perception: feeling, sym-
pathy, affection, I reserved for God, for my people, and my
friends.
   The latter were, if I may say so, jealous of Philo, in my
new connection with him. In more than one sense, they were
right in warning me about it. I suffered much in secret,
for even I could not consider their remonstrances as alto-
gether empty or selfish. I had been accustomed, from of
old, to give a reason for my views and conduct; but in this
case my conviction would not follow. I prayed to God, that
here, as elsewhere, he would warn, restrain, and guide me;
and, as my heart on this did not dissuade me, I went for-
ward on my way with comfort.


347





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Philo, on the whole, had a remote resemblance to Narciss;
only a pious education had more enlivened and concentrated
his feelings. He had less vanity, more character; and in
business, if Narciss was delicate, exact, persevering, inde-
fatigable, the other was clear, sharp, quick, and capable of
working with incredible ease. By means of him I learred
the secret history of almost every noble personage with
whose exterior I had got acquainted in society. It was pleas-
ant for me to behold the tumult, off my watch-tower from
afar. Philo could now hide nothing from me: he confided
to me, by degrees, his own concerns, both inward and out-
ward. I was in fear because of him, for I foresaw certain
circumstances and entanglements; and the mischief came
more speedily than I had looked for. There were some confes-
sions he had still kept back, and even at last he told me only
what enabled me to guess the worst.
  What an effect had this upon my heart! I attained experi-
ences which to me were altogether new. With infinite sor-
row I beheld an Agathon, who, educated in the groves of
Delphi, still owed his school-fees, which he was now obliged
to pay with their accumulated interest; and this Agathon
was my especial friend. My sympathy was lively and com-
plete; I suffered with him; both of us were in the strangest
state.
  After having long occupied myself with the temper of his
mind, I at last turned round to contemplate my own. The
thought, " Thou art no better than he," rose like a little
cloud before me, and gradually expanded till it darkened all
my soul.
  I now not only thought myself no better than he: I felt
this, and felt it as I should not wish to do again. Nor was
it any transitory mood. For more than a year, I was com-
pelled to feel, that, had not an unseen hand restrained me, I
might have become a Girard, a Cartouche, a Damiens, or
an3 wretch you can imagine. The tendencies to this I traced
too clearly in my heart. Heavens, what a discovery !
  If hitherto I had never been able, in the faintest degree,
to recognize in myself the reality of sin by experience, its
possibility was now become apparent to me by anticipation,
in the frightfullest manner. And yet I knew not evir; I but
feared it: I felt that I might be guilty, and could not accuse
myself of being so.
   Deeply as I was convinced that such a temperament of
 soul, as I now saw mine to be, could never be adapted for


848





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


that union with the invisible Being which I hoped for after
death, I did not, in the smallest, fear that I should finally
oe separated from him. With all the wickedness which I
discovered in my heart, I still loved Him: I hated what
I felt, nay, wished to hate it still more earnestly; my whole
desire was, to be delivered from this sickness, and this ten-
dency to sickness; and I was persuaded that the great Physi-
cian would at length vouchsafe his help.
  The sole question was, What medicine will cure this
malady? The practice of virtue? This I could not for a
moment think. For ten years I had already practised more
than mere virtue ; and the horrors now first discovered had, all
the while, lain hidden at the bottom of my soul. Might they
not have broken out with me, as they did with David when
he looked on Bathsheba? Yet was not he a friend of God!
and was not I assured, in my inmost heart, that God was my
friend ?
  Was it, then, an unavoidable infirmity of human nature?
Must we just content ourselves in feeling and acknowledging
the sovereignty of inclination? And, with the best will, is
there nothing left for us but to abhor the fault we have com-
mitted, and on the like occasion to commit it again ?
  From systems of morality I could obtain no comfort.
Neither their severity, by which they try to bend our inclina-
tions, nor their attractiveness, by which they try to place our
inclinations on the side of virtue, gave me any satisfaction.
The fundamental notions, which I had imbibed from inter-
course with my invisible Friend, were of far higher value to
me.
  Once, while I was studying the songs composed by David
after that tremendous fall, it struck me very much that he
traced his indwelling corruption even in the substance out of
which he had been shaped; yet that he wished to be freed
from sin, and that he earnestly entreated for a pure heart.
  But how was this to be attained? The answer from Scrip-
ture I was well aware of : " that the blood of Jesus cleanseth
us from all sin," was a Bible truth which I had long known.
But now, for the first time, I observed that as yet I had never
understood this oft-repeated saying. The questions, What
does it mean? How is it to be? were day and night work-
ing out their answers in me. At last I thought I saw, as by
a gleam of light, that what I sought was to be found in the
incarnation of the everlasting Word, by whom all things,
even we ourselves, were made. That the Eternal descended


349





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


as an inhabitant to the depths in which we dwell, which he
surveys and comprehends; that he passed through our lot
from stage to stage, from conception and birth to the grave;
that by this marvellous circuit he again mounted to, those
shining heights, whither we too must rise in order to be
happy : all this was revealed to me, as in a dawning remote-
ness.
  Oh! why must we, in speaking of such things, make use
of figures which can only indicate external situations ? Where
is there in his eyes aught high or deep, aught dark or clear?
It is we only that have an Under and Upper, a night and
day. And even for this did he become like us, since other-
wise we could have had no part in him.
  But how shall we obtain a share in this priceless benefit?
" By faith," the Scripture says. And what is faith? To
consider the account of an event as true, what help can this
afford me? I must be enabled to appropriate its effects, its
consequences. This appropriating faith must be a state of
mind peculiar, and, to the natural man, unknown.
   " Now, gracious Father, grant me faith! " so prayed I
once, in the deepest heaviness of heart. I was leaning on a
little table, where I sat: my tear-stained countenance was
hidden in my hands. I was now in the condition in which
we seldom are, but in which we are required to be, if God
is to regard our prayers.
  Oh, that I could but paint what I felt then ! A sudden
force drew my soul to the cross where Jesus once expired:
it was a sudden force, a pull, I cannot name it otherwise,
such as leads our soul to an absent loved one; an approxi-
mation, which, perhaps, is far more real and true than we
imagine. So did my soul approach the Son of man, who
died upon the cross; and that instant did I know what faith
was.
   " This is faith ! " said I, and started up as if half fright-
ened. I now endeavored to get certain of my feeling, of
my view; and shortly I became convinced that my soul had
acquired a power of soaring upwards which was altogether
new to it.
  Words fail us in describing such emotions. I could most
distinctly separate them from all fantasy: they were entirely
without fantasy, without image; yet they gave us just such
certainty of their referring to some object as our imagina-
tion gives us when it paints the features of an absent lover.
   When the first rapture was over, I observed that my present


350





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


351


condition of mind had formerly been known to me; only I
had never felt it in such strength; I had never held it fast,
never made it mine. I believe, indeed, every human soul at
intervals feels something of it. Doubtless it is this which
teaches every mortal that there is a God.
  With such faculty, wont from of old to visit me now and
then, I had hitherto been well content: and had not, by a
singular arrangement of events, that unexpected sorrow
weighed upon me for a twelvemonth; had not my own ability
and strength, on that occasion, altogether lost credit with
me, -I perhaps might have remained content with such a
state of matters all my days.
  But now, since that great moment, I had, as it were, got
wings. I could mount aloft above what used to threaten me;
as the bird can fly singing and with ease across the fiercest
stream, while the little dog stands anxiously baying on the
bank.
  My joy was indescribable; and, though I did not mention
it to any one, my people soon observed an unaccustomed
cheerfulness in me, and could not understand the reason of
my joy. Had I but forever held my peace, and tried to
nourish this serene temper in my soul; had I not allowed
myself to be misled by circumstances, so as to reveal my
secret, - I might then have been saved once more a long and
tedious circuit.
  As in the previous ten years of my Christian course, this
necessary force had not existed in my soul, I had just been
in the case of other worthy people, - had helped myself by
keeping my fancy always full of images, which had some
reference to God, - a practice so far truly useful; for nox-
ious images and their baneful consequences are by that
means kept away. Often, too, our spirit seizes one or other
of these spiritual images, and mounts with it a little way up-
wards, like a young bird fluttering from twig to twig.
  Images and impressions pointing towards God are pre-
sented to us by the institutions of the Church, by organs,
bells, singing, and particularly by the preaching of our
pastors. Of these I used to be unspeakably gesirous; no
weather, no bodily weakness, could keep nme from church ;
the sound of the Sunday bells was the only thing that ren-
dered me impatient on a sick-bed. Our head court-chaplain,
a gifted man, I heard with great pleasure; his colleagues,
too, I liked: and I could pick the golden apple of the Word
from the common fruit, with which on earthen platters it was





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mingled. With public ordinances, all sorts of private exer-
cises were combined; and these, too, only nourished fancy
and a finer kind of sense. I was so accustomed to this
track, I reverenced it so much, that even now no higher one
occurred to me. For my soul has only feelers, and not eyes:
it gropes, but does not see. Ah ! that it could get eyes, and
look !
   Now again, therefore, I went with a longing mind to ser-
mon; but, alas ! what happened? I no longer found what I
was wont to find. These preachers were blunting their teeth
on the shell, while I enjoyed the kernel. I soon grew weary
of them; and I had already been so spoiled, that I could not
be content with the little they afforded me. I required
images, I wanted impressions from without, and reckoned it
a pure spiritual desire that I felt.
  Philo's parents had been in connection with the Herrn-
huter Community: in his library were many writings of
Count Zinzendorf's. He had spoken with me, more than
once, very candidly and clearly on the subject; inviting me
to turn over one or two of these treatises, if it were but for
the sake of studying a psychological phenomenon. I looked
upon the count, and those that followed him, as very hetero-
dox; and so the Ebersdorf Hymn-book, which my friend had
pressed upon me, lay unread.
  However, in this total destitution of external excitements
for my soul, I opened the hymn-book, as it were, by chance,
and found in it, to my astonishment, some songs which ac-
tually, though under a fantastic form, appeared to shadow
what I felt. The originality and simplicity of their expres-
sion drew me on. It seemed to be peculiar emotions ex-
pressed in a peculiar way: no school technology suggested
any notion of formality or commonplace. I was persuaded
tnat these people felt as I did: I was very happy to lay hole
of here and there a stanza in their songs, to fix it in my
memory, and carry it about with me for days.
  Since the moment when the truth had been revealed to me,
some three months had in this way passed on. At last I
came to the resolution of disclosing every thing to Philo, and
asking him to let me have those writings, about which I had
now become immoderately curious. Accordingly I did so,
notwithstanding there was something in my heart which ear-
nestly dissuaded me.
  I circumstantially related to him all the story; and as he
was himself a leading person in it, and my narrative con-


352





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


veyed the sharpest reprimand on him, he felt surprised and
-moved to an extreme degree. He melted into tears. I re-
joiced; believing that, in his mind also, a full and funda-
mental change had taken place.
  He provided me with all the writings I could. require, and
now I had excess of nourishment for my imagination. I
made rapid progress in the Zinzendorfic mode of thought and
speech. And be it not supposed that I am yet incapable of
prizing the peculiar turn and manner of the count. I will-
ingly do him justice: he is no empty fantast; he speaks of
mighty truths, and mostly in a bold, figurative style; the
people who despise him know not either how to value or dis-
criminate his qualities.
  At that time I became exceedingly attached to him. Had
I been mistress of myself, I would certainly have left my
friends and country, and gone to join him. We should in-
fallibly have understood each other, and should hardly have
'Agreed together long.
  Thanks to my better genius, that now kept me so confined
1by my domestic duties! I reckoned it a distant journey if I
visited the garden. The charge of my aged, weakly father
rfforded me employment enough; and in hours of recreation,
] had Fancy to procure me pastime. The only mortal whom
1 saw was Philo; he was highly valued by my father; but,
with me, his intimacy had been cooled a little by the late ex-
planation. Its influence on him had not penetrated deep:
atd, as some attempts to talk in my dialect had not succeeded
with him, he avoided: touching on this subject ; and the rather,
a; his extensive knowledge put it always in his power to in-
troduce new topics in his conversation.
  I was thus a Herrnhut sister on my own footing. I had
especially to hide this new turn of my temper and my incli-
nations from the head court-chaplain, whom, as my father
confessor, I had much cause to honor, and whose high
m rits his extreme aversion to the Herrnhut Community
dii not diminish, in my eyes, even then. Unhappily this
worthy person had to suffer many troubles on account of me
and others.
   Several years ago he had become acquainted with an up-
right, pious gentleman, residing in a distant quarter, and had
long continued in unbroken correspondence with him, as with
one who truly sought God. How painful was it to the spir-
itual leader, when this gentleman subsequently joined himself
to the Community -of Herrnhut, where he lived for a long


353





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


while ! How delightful, on the other hand, when at length
he quarrelled with the brethren, determined to settle in our
neighborhood, and seemed once more to yield himself com-
pletely to the guidance of his ancient friend !
  The stranger was presented, as in triumph, by the upper
pastor, to all the chosen lambs of his fold. To our house
alone he was not introduced, because my father did not now
see company. The gentleman obtained no little approbation :
he combined the polish of the court with the winning manner
of the brethren; and, having also many fine qualities by
nature, he soon became the favorite saint with all who knew
him, - a result at which the chaplain was exceedingly con-
tented. But, alas ! it was merely in externals that the gentle.
man had split with the Community: in his heart he was yet
entirely a Herrnhuter. He was, in truth, concerned for the
reality of the matter; but yet the gimcracks, which the
count had stuck round it, were, at the same time, quite
adapted to his taste. Besides, he had now become accus-
tomed to this mode of speaking and conceiving: and, if he
had to hide it carefully from his old friend, the gladder was
he, in any knot of trusty persons, to come forth with his
couplets, litanies, and little figures; in which, as might have
been supposed, he met with great applause.
  I knew nothing of the whole affair, and wandered quietly
along in my separate path. For a good while we continued
mutually unknown.
  Once, in a leisure hour, I happened to visit a lady who was
sick. * I found several acquaintances with her, and soon
perceived that my appearance had cut short their conversa-
tion. I affected not to notice any thing, but saw erelong,
with great surprise, some Herrnhut figures stuck upon the
wall in elegant frames. Quickly comprehending what had
passed before my entrance, I expressed my pleasure at the
sight, in a few suitable verses.
  Conceive the wonder of my friends ! We explained our-
selves: instantly we were agreed, and in each other's con-
fidence.
  I often henceforth sought opportunities of going out. Un-
happily I found such only once in the three or four weeks;
yet I grew acquainted with our gentleman apostle, and by
degrees with all the body. I visited their meetings when I
could: with my social disposition, it was quite delightful for
me to communicate to others, and to hear from them, the feel-
ings which, till now, I had conceived and harbored by myself.


354





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  But I was not so completely taken with my friends, as not
to see that few of them could really feel the sense of those
affecting words and emblems; and that from these they drew
as little benefit as formerly they did from the symbolic lan-
guage of the Church. Yet, notwithstanding, I went on with
them, not letting this disturb me. I thought I was not called
to search and try the hearts of others. Had not I, too, by
long-continued innocent exercisings of that sort, been pre-
pared for something better? I had my share of profit from
our meetings: in speaking, I insisted on attending to the
sense and spirit, which, in things so delicate, is rather apt to
be disguised by words than indicated by them; and for the
rest, I left, with silent tolerance, each to act according to his
own conviction.
  These quiet times of secret social joy were shortly fol-
lowed by storms of open bickering and contradiction, - con-
tentions which excited great commotion, I might almost say
occasioned not a little scandal, in court and town. The
period was now arrived when our chaplain, that stout gain-
sayer of the Herrnhut Brethren, must discover to his deep,
but, I trust, sanctified humiliation, that his best and once most
zealous hearers were now all leaning to the side of that com-
munity. He was excessively provoked: in the first moments
he forgot all moderation, and could not, even if he had
inclined it; retract afterwards. Violent debates took place,
in which happily I was not mentioned, both as being an acci-
dental member of those hated meetings, and then because,
in respect of certain civic matters, our zealous preacher
could not safely disoblige either my father or my friend.
With silent satisfaction I continued neutral. It was irk-
some to me to converse about such feelings and objects,
even with well-affected people, when they could not pene-
trate the deepest sense, and lingered merely on the surface.
But to strive with adversaries, about things on which even
friends could scarcely understand each other, seemed to me
unprofitable, nay, pernicious. For I soon perceived, that
many amiable noblemen, who on this occurrence could not
shut their hearts to enmity and hatred, had rapidly passed
over to injustice, and, in order to defend an outward form,
had almost sacrificed their most substantial duties.
  Far as the worthy clergyman might, in the present case, be
wrong; much as others tried to irritate me at him, -I could
never hesitate to give him my sincere respect. I knew him
well: I could candidly transport myself into his way of


355





 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


looking at these matters. I have never seen a man without
his weaknesses: only in distinguished men they strike us more.
We wish, and will at all rates have it, that.persons privileged
as they are should at the same time pay no tribute, no tax
whatever. I honored him as a superior man, and hoped to
use the influence of my calm neutrality to bring about, if
not a peace, at least a truce. I know not what my efforts
might have done; but God concluded the affair more briefly,
and took the chaplain to himself. On his coffin all wept,
who had lately been striving with him about words. His up-
rightness, his fear of God, no one had ever doubted.
  I, too, was erelong forced to lay aside this Herrnhut doll-
work, which, by means of these contentions, now appeared
before me in a rather different light. Our uncle had, in
silence, executed his intentions with my sister. He offered
her a young man of rank and fortune as a bridegroom, and
showed, by a rich dowry, what might be expected of him-
self. My father joyfully consented: my sister was free and
forewarned; she did not hesitate to change her state. The
bridal was appointed at my uncle's castle: family and
friends were all invited, and we came together in the cheer-
fullest mood.
  For the first time in my life, the aspect of a house excited
admiration in me. I had often heard of my uncle's taste,
of his' Italian architect, of his collections and his library;
but, comparing this with what I had already seen, I had
formed a very vague and fluctuating picture of it in my
thoughts. Great, accordingly, was my surprise at the ear-
nest and harmonious impression which I felt on entering the
house, and which every hall and chamber deepened.       If
elsewhere pomp and decoration had but dissipated my atten-
tion, I felt here concentrated and drawn back upon myself.
In like manner the preparatives for these solemnities and
festivals produced a silent pleasure, by their air of dignity
and splendor; and to me it seemed as inconceivable that
one man could have invented and arranged all this, as that
more than one could have worked together in so high a spirit.
Yet, withal, the landlord and his people were entirely natural:
not a trace of stiffness or of empty form was to be seen.
   The wedding itself was managed in a striking way: an
 exquisite strain of vocal music came ufpon us by surprise,
 and the clergyman went through the ceremony with a singu-
 lar solemnity. I was standing by Philo at the time; and,
 instead of a congratulation, lie whispered in my ear, " When


356





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


I saw your sister give away her hand, I felt as if a stream of
boiling water had been poured over me."- Why so? " I
inquired. " It is always the way with me," said he, " when
I see two people joined." I laughed at him, but I have
often since had cause to recollect his words.
  The revel of the party, among whom were many young
people, looked particularly glittering and airy ; as every thing
around us was dignified and serious. The furniture, plate,
table-ware, and table-ornaments accorded with the general
whole; and if in other houses you would say the architect
was of the school of the confectioner, it here appeared as if
even our confectioner and butler had taken lessons from the
architect.
  We staid together several days, and our intelligent and
gifted landlord had variedly provided for the entertainment
of his guests. I did not in the present case repeat the mel-
ancholy proof, which has so often in my life been forced
upon me, how unhappily a large mixed company are situated,
when, altogether left to themselves, they have to select the
most general and vapid pastimes, that the fools of the party
may not want amusement, however it may fare with those
that are not such.
  My uncle had arranged it altogether differently. Two or
three marshals, if I may call them so, had been appointed
by him: one of them had charge of providing entertainment
for the young. Dances, excursions, little games, were of
his invention and under his direction: and as young people
take delight in being out-of-doors, and do not fear the influ-
ences of the air, the garden and garden-hall had been
assigned to them; while some additional pavilions and gal-
leries had been erected and appended to the latter, formed
of boards and canvas merely, but in such proportions, so
elegant and noble, they reminded one of nothing but stone
and marble.
  How rare is a festivity in which the person who invites the
guests feels also that it is his duty to provide for their con-
veniences and wants of every kind !
  Hunting and card parties, short promenades, opportunities
for trustful private conversations, were afforded the elder
persons; and whoever wished to go earliest to bed was sure
to be lodged the farthest from noise.
  By this happy order, the space we lived in appeared to be a
little world: and yet, considered narrowly, the castle was not
large; without an accurate knowledge of it, and without the


357





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


spirit of its owner, it would have been impossible to enter-
tain so many people here, and quarter each according to his
humor.
  As the aspect of a well-formed person pleases us, so also
does a fair establishment, by means of which the presence
of a rational, intelligent mind is manifested. We feel a joy
in entering even a cleanly house, though it may be tasteless
in its structure and its decorations, because it shows us the
presence of a person cultivated in at least one sense. Doubly
pleasing is it, therefore, when, from a human dwelling, the
spirit of a higher though merely sensual culture speaks to us.
  All this was vividly impressed on my observation at my
uncle's castle. I had heard and read much of art; Philo,
too, was a lover of pictures, and had a fine collection: I
myself had often practised drawing; but I had been too
deeply occupied with my emotions, striving exclusively after
the one thing needful, which alone I was bent on carrying to
perfection; and then, such objects of art as I had hitherto
seen, appeared, like all other worldly objects, to distract my
thoughts. But now, for the first time, outward things had
led me back upon myself: I now first perceived the differ-
ence between the natural charm of the nightingale's song,
and that of a four-voiced anthem pealed from the expressive
organs of men.
  My jdy over this discovery I did not hide from my uncle,
who, when all the rest were settled at their posts, was wont
to come and talk with me in private. He spoke with great
modesty of what he possessed and had produced here, with
great decision of the views in which it had been gathered
and arranged : and I could easily observe that lie spoke with
a forbearance towards me; seeming, in his usual way, to
rate the excellence, which he himself possessed below that
other excellence, which, in my way of thinking, was the best
and properest.
  " If we can conceive it possible," he once observed,
" that the Creator of the world himself assumed the form
of his creature, and lived in that manner for a time upon
earth, this creature must appear to us of infinite perfection,
because susceptible of such a combination with its Maker.
Hence, in our idea of man, there can be no inconsistency
with our idea of God; and if we often feel a certain disa-
greement with him and remoteness from him, it is but the
more on that account our duty, not like advocates of the
wicked Spirit, to keep our eyes continually upon the naked-


358





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ness and weakness of our nature, but rather to seek out every
property and beauty by which our pretension to a similarity
with the Divinity may be made good."
  I smiled, and answered, "Do not make me blush, dear
uncle, by your complaisance in talking in my language!
What you have to say is of such importance to me, that I
wish to hear it in your own most peculiar style; and then
what parts of it I cannot quite appropriate I will endeavor
to translate."
  " I may continue," he replied, " in my own most peculiar
way, without any alteration of my tone. Man's highest
merit always is, as much as possible to rule external circum-
stances, and as little as possible to let himself be ruled by
them. Life lies before us, as a huge quarry lies before the
architect: he deserves not the name of architect, except
when, out of this fortuitous mass, he can combine, with the
greatest economy and fitness and durability, some form,
the pattern of which originated in his spirit. All things
without us, nay, I may add, all things on us, are mere ele-
ments; but deep within us lies the creative force, which out
of these can produce what they were meant to be, and
which leaves us neither sleep nor rest, till, in one way or
another, without us or on us, that same have been produced.
You, my dear niece, have, it may be, chosen the better
part; ydu have striven to bring your moral being, your
earnest, lovely nature, into accordance with itself and with
the Highest: but neither ought we to be blamed, when we
strive to get acquainted with the sentient man in all his com-
prehensiveness, and to bring about an active harmony among
his powers."
  By such discoursing, we in time grew more familiar; and
I begged of him to speak with me as with himself, omitting
every sort of condescension. " Do not think," replied my
uncle, " that I flatter you when I commend your mode of
thinking and acting. I reverence the individual who under-
stands distinctly what it is he wishes; who unweariedly ad-
vances, who knows the means conducive to his object, and
can seize and use them. How far his object may be great
or little, may merit praise or censure, is the next considera-
tion with me. Believe me, love, most part of all the misery
and mischief, of all that is denominated evil in the world,
arises from the fact, that men are too remiss to get a proper
knowledge of their aims, and, when they do know them, to
work intensely in attaining them. They seem to me like


359





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


people who have taken up a notion that they must and will
erect a tower, and who yet expend on the foundation not
more stones and labor than would be sufficient for a hut. If
you, my friend, whose highest want it was to perfect and
unfold your moral nature, had, instead of those bold and
noble sacrifices, merely trimmed between your duties to
yourself and to your family, your bridegroom, or perhaps
your husband, you must have lived in constant contradic-
tion with your feelings, and never could have had a peace-
ful moment."
  " You employ the word sacrifice," I answered here : " and
I have often thought, that to a higher purpose, as to a
divinity, we offer up by way of sacrifice a thing of smaller
value; feeling like persons who should willingly and gladly
bring a favorite lamb to the altar for the health of a ba-
loved father."
   " Whatever it may be," said he, " reason or feeling, that
commands us to give up the one thing for the other, to
choose the one before the other, decision and perseveran te
are, in my opinion, the noblest qualities of man.  You
cannot have the ware and the money both at the same tim ;
and he who always hankers for the ware without havii g
heart to give the money for it, is no better off than he wlho
repents him of the purchase when the ware is in his hands.
But I am far from blaming men on this account: it is not
they that are to blame; it is the difficult, entangled situation
they are in: they know not how to guide themselves in its
perplexities. Thus, for instance, you will on the average
find fewer bad economists in the country than in towns, and
fewer again in small towns than in great; and why? Man
is intended for a limited condition; objects that are simple,
near, determinate, he comprehends, and he becomes accus-
tomed to employ such means as are at hand; but, on enter-
ing a wider field, he now knows neither what he would nor
what he should; and it amounts to quite the same, whether
his attention is distracted by the multitude of objects, or is
overpowered by their magnitude and dignity. It is always
a misfortune for him when he is induced to struggle after
any thing with which he cannot connect himself by soime
regular exertion of his powers.
   " Certainly," pursued he, " without earnestness there is
nothing to be done in life; yet, among the people whom we
name cultivated men, little earnestness is to be found: in
labors and employments, in arts, nay, even in recreations,


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


they proceed, if I may say so, with a sort of self-defence;
they live, as they read a heap of newspapers, only to have
done with it; they remind one of that young Englishman at
Rome, who said, with a contented air one evening in some
company, that to-day he had despatched six churches and
two galleries. They wish to know and learn a multitude of
things, and precisely those they have the least concern with;
and they never see that hunger is not stilled by snapping at
the air. When I become acquainted with a man, my first
inquiry is, With what does he employ himself, and how, and
with what degree of perseverance? The answer regulates
the interest I shall take in him for life."
  " My dear uncle," I replied, " you are, perhaps, too rigor-
ous: you perhaps withdraw your helping hand from here
and there a worthy man to whom you might be useful."
  " Can it be imputed as a fault," said he, " to one who
has so long and vainly labored on them and about them?
How much we have to suffer in our youth from men who
think they are inviting us to a delightful pleasure-party,
when they undertake to introduce us to the Danaides or
Sisyphus! Heaven be praised! I have rid myself of these
people: if one of them unfortunately comes within my
sphere, I forthwith, in the politest manner, compliment him
out again., It is from such persons that you hear the bitter-
est complaints about the miserable course of things, the
aridity of science, the levity of artists, the emptiness of
poets, and much more of that sort. They do not recollect
that they, and the many like them, are the very persons who
would never read a book which had been written just as
they require it; that true poetry is alien to them; that even
an excellent work of art can never gain their approbation
except by means of prejudice. But let us now break off,
for this is not the time to rail or to complain."
  He directed my attention to the different pictures hanging
on the wall: my eye dwelt on those whose look was beau-
tiful or subject striking. This he permitted for a while: at
last he said, " Bestow a little notice on the spirit manifested
in these other works. Good minds delight to trace the fin-
ger of the Deity in nature: why not likewise pay some small
regard to the hand of his imitator?"  He then led my
observation to some unobtrusive figures; endeavoring to
make me understand that it was the history of art alone
which could give us an idea of the wortlh and dignity of any
work of art; that we should know the weary steps of mere


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


handicraft and mechanism, over which the man of talents
has struggled in the course of centuries, before we can con-
ceive how it is possible for the man of genius to move with
airy freedom on the pinnacle whose very aspect makes us
giddy.
  With this view he had formed a beautiful series of works;
and, whilst he explained it, I could not help conceiving that
I saw before me a similitude of moral culture. When I
expressed my thought to him, he answered, " You are alto-
gether right; and we see from this, that those do not act
well, who, in a solitary, exclusive manner, follow moral cul-
tivation by itself. On the contrary, it will be found, that he
whose spirit strives for a development of that kind, has
likewise every reason, at the same time, to improve his finer
sentient powers; that so he may not run the risk of sinking
from his moral height by giving way to the enticements
of a lawless fancy, and degrading his moral nature by allow-
ing it to take delight in tasteless baubles, if not in some-
thing worse."
  I did not suspect him of levelling at me; but I felt myself
struck, when I reflected how many insipidities there might
be in the songs that used to edify me, and how little favor
the figures which had joined themselves to my religious ideas
would have found in the eyes of my uncle.
  Philo, in the mean time, had frequently been busied in the
library : he now took me along with him. We admired the
selection, as well as the multitude, of books. They had been
collected on my uncle's general principle: there were none
to be found among them but such as either lead to correct
knowledge, or teach right arrangement; such as either give
us fit materials, or further the concordance of our spirit.
  In the course of my life I had read very largely; in cer-
tain branches, there was almost no work unknown to me:
the more pleasant was it here to speak about the general
survey of the whole; to mark deficiencies, and not, as else-
where, see nothing but a hampered confusion or a boundless
expansion.
  Here, too, we became acquainted with a very interesting,
quiet man. He was a physician and a naturalist: he seemed
rather one of the Penates than of the inmates. He showed
us the museum, which, like the library, was fixed in glass
cases to the walls of the chambers, adorning and ennobling
the space, which it did not crowd. On this occasion I re-
called with joy the days of my youth, and showed my father


362





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


many of the things he had been wont to lay upon the sick-
bed of his little child, just opening its little eyes to look into
the world then. At the same time the physician, in our
present and following conversations, did not scruple to avow
how near he approximated to me in respect of my religious
sentiments: he warmly praised my uncle for his tolerance,
and his esteem of all that testified or forwarded the worth
and unity of human nature; admitting, also, that he called
for a similar return from others, and would shun and con-
demn nothing else so heartily as individual pretension and
narrow exclusiveness.
  Since the nuptials of my sister, joy had sparkled in the
eyes of our uncle: he often spoke with me of what he meant
to do for her and for her children. He had several fine es-
tates : he managed them himself, and hoped to leave them in
the best condition to his nephews. Regarding the small
estate where we at present were, he appeared to entertain
peculiar thoughts. " I will leave it to none," said he, " but
to a person who can understand and value and enjoy what it
contains, and who feels how loudly every man of wealth and
rank, especially in Germany, is called on to exhibit some-
thing like a model to others."
  Most of his guests were now gone: we, too, were making
ready for departure, thinking we had seen the final scene of
this solemnity, when his attention in affording us some dig-
nified enjoyment produced a new surprise. We had men-
tioned to him the delight which the chorus of voices, suddenly
commencing without accompaniment of any instrument, had
given us, at my sister's marriage. We hinted, at the same
time, how pleasant it would be were such a thing repeated;
but he seemed to pay no heed to us. The livelier was our
surprise, when he said, one evening, 1 The music of the
dance has died away; our transitory, youthful friends have
left us; the happy pair themselves have a more serious look
than they had some days ago. To part at such a time, when,
perhaps, we shall never meet again, certainly never without
changes, exalts us to a solemn mood, which I know not how
to entertain more nobly than by the music you were lately
signifying a desire to have repeated."
   The chorus, which had in the mean while gathered strength,
 and by secret practice more expertness, was accordingly
 made to sing to us a series of four and of eight voiced melo-
 dies, which, if I may say so, gave a real foretaste of bliss.
 Till then I had only known the pious mode of singing, as





4MEiSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


good souls practise it, frequently with hoarse pipes, imagin-
ing, like wild birds, that they are praising God, while they
procure a pleasant feeling to themselves. Or, perhaps, I
had listened to the vain music of concerts, in which you are
at best invited to admire the talent of the singer, and very
seldom have even a transient enjoyment. Now, however, I
was listening to music, which, as it originated in the deepest
feeling of the most accomplished human beings, was, by
suitable and practised organs in harmonious unity, made
again to address the deepest and best feelings of man, and
to impress him at that moment with a lively sense of his like-
ness to the Deity. They were all devotional songs, in the
Latin language: they sat like jewels in the golden ring of a
polished intellectual conversation; and, without pretending
to edify, they elevated me and made me happy in the most
spiritual manner.
  At our departure he presented all of us with handsome
gifts. To me he gave the cross of my order, more beauti-
fully and artfully worked and enamelled than I had ever
seen it before. It was hung upon a large brilliant, by which
also it was fastened to the chain: this he gave me, he said,
" as the noblest stone in the cabinet of a collector."
  My sister, with her husband, went to their estates, the
rest of us to our abodes; appearing to ourselves, so far as
outward circumstances were concerned, to have returned to
quite an every-day existence. We had been, as it were,
dropped from a palace of the fairies down upon the common
earth, and were again obliged to help ourselves as we best
could.
  The singular experiences which this new circle had afforded
left a fine impression on my mind. This, however, did not
long continue in its first vivacity: though my uncle tried to
nourish and renew it by sending me certain of his best and
most pleasing works of art; changing them, from time to
time, with others which I had not seen.
  I had been so much accustomed to be busied with myself,
in regulating the concerns of my heart and temper, and con-
versing on these matters with persons of a like mind, that I
could not long study any work of art attentively without be-
ing turned by it back upon myself. I was used to look at a
picture or copper-plate merely as at the letters of a book.
Fine printing pleases well, but who would read a book for
the beauty of the printing? In like manner I required of
each pictorial form that it should tell me something, should


364





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


instruct, affect, improve me; and, after all my uncle's letters
to expound his works of art, say what he would, I continued
in my former humor.
  Yet not only my peculiar disposition, but external inci-
dents and changes in our family, still farther drew me back
from contemplations of that nature; nay, for some time even
from myself. I had to suffer and to do more than my slen-
der strength seemed fit for.
  My maiden sister had, till now, been as a right arm to me.
Healthy, strong, unspeakably good-natured, she had managed
all the housekeeping ; I myself being busied with the personal
nursing of our aged father. She was seized with a catarrh,
which changed to a disorder of the lungs: in three weeks she
was lying in her coffin. Her death inflicted wounds on me,
the scars of which I am not yet willing to examine.
  I was lying sick before they buried her: the old ailment in
my breast appeared to be awakening; I coughed with vio-
lence, and was so hoarse I could not speak beyond a whisper.
  My married sister, out of fright and grief, was brought to
bed before her time. Our old father thought he was about
to lose at once his children and the hope of their posterity;
his natural tears increased my sorrow: I prayed to God that
he would give me back a sufferable state of health. I asked
him but to spare my life till my father should die. I recov-
ered: I was what I reckoned well, being able to discharge
my duties, though with pain.
  My sister was again with child. Many cares, which in
such cases are committed to the mother, in the present in-
stance fell to me. She was not altogether happy with her
husband; this was to be hidden from our father: I was
often made judge of their disputes, in which I could decide
with the greater safety, as my brother trusted in me; and the
two were really worthy persons, only each of them, instead
of humoring, endeavored to convince, the other, and, out of
eagerness to live in constant harmony, never could agree. I
now learned to mingle seriously in worldly matters, ind to
practise what of old I had but sung.
  My sister bore a son: the frailty of my father did not
hinder him from travelling to her. The sight of the child
exceedingly enlivened and cheered him: at the christening
contrary to his custom, he seemed as if inspired; nay, I
might say like a Genius with two faces. With the one, he
looked joyfully forward to those regions which he soon hoped
to enter; with the other, to the new, hopeful, earthly life


365





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


which had arisen in the boy descended from him. On our
journey home he never wearied talking to me of the child, its
form, its health, and his wish that the gifts of this new deni-
zen of earth might be rightly cultivated. His reflections on
the subject lasted when we had arrived at home: it was not
till some days afterwards that I observed a kind of fever in
him, which displayed itself, without shivering, in a sort of
languid heat commencing after dinner. He did not yield,
however: he went out as usual in the mornings, faithfully
attending to the duties of his office, till at last continuous
serious symptoms kept him within doors.
  I never shall forget with what distinctness, clearness, and
repose of mind he settled in the greatest order the concerns
of his house, nay, the arrangements of his funeral, as he
would have done a business of some other person.
  With a cheerfulness which he never used to show, and
which now mounted to a lively joy, he said to me, " Where
is the fear of death which I once felt? Shall I shrink at
departing? I have a gracious God; the grave awakens no
terror in me; I have an eternal life."
  To recall the circumstances of his death, which shortly
followed, forms one of the most pleasing entertainments of
my solitude: the visible workings of a higher Power min that
solemn time, no one shall ever argue from me.
  The death of my beloved father altogether changed my
mode of life. From the strictest obedience, the narrowest
confinement, I passed at once into the greatest freedom: I
enjoyed it like a sort of food from which one has long ab-
stained. Formerly I very seldom spent two hours from home :
now I very seldom lived a day there. My friends, whom I
had been allowed to visit only by hurried snatches, wished
now to have my company without interruption, as I did to
have theirs. I was often asked to dinner: at walks and
pleasure-jaunts I never failed. But, when once the circle
had been fairly run, I saw that the invaluable happiness of
liberty consisted, not in doing what one pleases and what
circumstances may invite to, but in being able, without hin-
derance or restraint, to do in the direct way what one regards
as right and proper; and, in this instance, I was old enough
to reach a valuable truth, without smarting for my ignorance.
  One pleasure I could not deny myself: it was, as soon as
might be, to renew and strengthen my connection with the
Herrnhut Brethren. I hastened, accordingly, to visit one
of their establishments at no great distance; but here I by


866





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


no means found what I had been anticipating. I was frank
enough to signify my disappointment, which they tried to
soften by alleging that the present settlement was nothing
to a full and fitly organized community. This I did not take
upon me to deny; yet, in my thought, the genuine spirit of
the matter might have displayed itself in a small body as well
as in a great one.
  One of their bishops, who was present, a personal disciple
of the count, took considerable pains with me. He spoke
English perfectly; and as I, too, understood a little of it, he
reckoned this a token that we both belonged to one class. I,
however, reckoned nothing of the kind: his conversation did
not in the least satisfy me. He had been a cutler ; was a native
of Moravia; his mode of thought still savored of the artisan.
With Herr Von L      , who had been a major in the French
service, I got upon a better footing: yet I could never bring
myself to the submissiveness he showed to his superiors;
nay, I felt as if you had given me a box on the ear, when I
saw the major's wife, and other women more or less like
ladies, take the bishop's hand and kiss it. Meanwhile a
journey into Holland was proposed; which, however, doubt-
less for my good, did not take place.
  My sister had been delivered of a daughter; and now it
was the turn. of us women to exult, and consider how the
little creature should be bred like one of us. The husband,
on the other hand, was not so satisfied, when in the follow-
ing year another daughter saw the light: with his large
estates, he wanted to have boys about him, who in future
might assist him in his management.
  My health was feeble: I kept myself in peace, and, by a
quiet mode of life, in tolerable equilibrium. I was not afraid
of death; nay, I wished to die : yet I secretly perceived that
God was granting time for me to prove my soul, and to
advance still nearer to himself. In my many sleepless nights,
especially, I {have at times felt something which I cannot
undertake to describe.
  It was as if my soul were thinking separately from the body :
she looked upon the body as a foreign substance, as we look
upon a garment. She pictured with extreme vivacity events
and times long past, and felt, by means of this, events that
were to follow. Those times are all gone by; what follows
likewise will go by; the body, too, will fall to pieces like a
vesture; but I, the well-known I, I am.
  The thought is great, exalted, and consoling; yet an ex-


367





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


cellent friend, with whom I every day became more intimate,
instructed me to dwell on it as little as I could.. This was the
physician whom I met in my uncle's house, and who had since
accurately informed himself about the temper of my body and
my spirit. He showed me how much these feelings, when
we cherish them within us independently of outward objects,
tend, as it were, to excavate us, and to undermine the whole
foundation of our being. " To be active," he would say,
" is the primary vocation of man: all the intervals in which
he is obliged to rest, he should employ in gaining clearer
knowledge of external things; for this will in its turn facili-
tate activity."
  This friend was acquainted with my custom of looking on
my body as an outward object: he knew also that I pretty
well understood my constitution, my disorder, and the medi-
cines of use for it; nay, that, by continual sufferings of my
own or other people's, I had really grown a kind of half-
doctor : he now carried forward my attention from the human
body, and the drugs which act upon it, to the kindi'ed objects
of creation; he led me up and down as in the paradise of
the first man ; only, if I may continue my comparison, allow-
ing me to trace, in dim remoteness, the Creator walking in
the garden in the cool of the evening.
  How gladly did I now see God in nature, when I bore him
with such certainty within my heart! How interesting to me
was his' handiwork ! how thankful did I feel that he had
pleased to quicken me with the breath of his mouth !
  We again had hopes that my sister would present us with
a boy : her husband waited anxiously for that event, but did
not live to see it. He died in consequence of an unlucky
fall from horseback; and my sister followed him, soon after
she had brought into the world a lovely boy. The four
orphans they had left I could not look at but with sadness.
So many healthy people had been called away before poor,
sickly me; might I not also have blights to witness among
these fair and hopeful blossoms? I knew the world suf-
ficiently to understand what dangers threaten the precarious
breeding of a child, especially a child of quality; and it
seemed as if, since the period of my youth, these dangers
had increased. I felt that, weakly as I was, I could not be
of much, perhaps of any, service to the little ones; and I
rejoiced the more on finding that my uncle, as indeed might
have been looked for, had determined to devote his whole
attention to the education of these amiable creatures. And


368





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


this they doubtless merited in every sense: they were hands
some; and, with great diversities, all promised to be well-
conditioned, reasonable persons.
  Since my worthy doctor had suggested it, I loved to trace
out family likenesses among our relatives and children. My
father had carefully preserved the portraits of his ancestors,
and got his own and those of his descendants drawn by toler-
able masters; nor had my mother and her people been for-
gotten. We accurately knew the characters of all the family ;
and, as we had frequently compared them with each other,
we now endeavored to discover in the children the same
peculiarities outward or inward. My sister's eldest son, we
thought, resembled his paternal grandfather, of whom there
was a fine youthful picture in my uncle's collection: he had
been a brave soldier; and in this point, too, the boy took after
him, liking arms above all things, and busying himself with
them whenever he paid me a visit. For my father had left
a very pretty armory; and the boy got no rest till I had
given him a pair of pistols and a fowling-piece, and he had
learned the proper way of using them. At the same time,
in his conduct or bearing, there was nothing like rudeness:
far from that, he was always meek and sensible.
  The eldest daughter had attracted my especial love; of
which, perhaps, the reason was, that she resembled me, and of
all the fouYr seemed to like me best. But I may well admit,
that, the more closely I observed her as she grew, the more
she shamed me: I could not look on her without a sentiment
of admiration, nay, I may almost say, of reverence. You
would scarcely have seen a nobler form, a more peaceful
spirit, an activity so equable and universal. No moment of
her life was she unoccupied, and every occupation in her
hands became dignified. All seemed indifferent to her, so
that she could but accomplish what was proper in the place
and time; and, in the same manner, she could patiently con-
tinue unemployed, when there was nothing to be done. This
activity without need of occupation I have never elsewhere
met with. In particular, her conduct to the suffering and
destitute was, from her earliest youth, inimitable. For my
part, I freely confess I never had the gift to make a business
of beneficence: I was not niggardly to the poor; nay, I
often gave too largely for my means ; yet this was little more
than buying myself off: and a person needed to be made for
me, if I was to bestow attention on him. Directly the re-
verse was the conduct of my niece. I never saw her give a


369





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


poor man money : whatever she obtained from me for this pur-
pose, she failed not in the first place to change for some neces-
sary article. Never did she seem more lovely in my eyes,
than when rummaging my clothes-presses: she was always
sure to light on something which I did not wear and did not
need; to sew these old cast-off articles together, and put them
on some ragged child, she thought her highest happiness.
  Her sister's turn of mind appeared already different: she
had much of her mother; she promised to become very ele-
gant and beautiful, and she now bids fair to keep her prom-
ise. She is greatly taken up with her exterior: from her
earliest years she could decorate and carry herself in a way
that struck you. I still remember with what ecstasy, when
quite a little creature, she saw herself in a mirror, decked in
certain precious pearls, once my mother's, which she had by
chance discovered, and made me try upon her.
  Reflecting on these diverse inclinations, it was pleasant
for me to consider how my property would, after my decease,
be shared among them, and again called into use. I saw the
fowling-pieces of my father once more travelling round the
fields on my nephew's shoulder, and birds once more falling
from his hunting-pouch: I saw my whole wardrobe issuing
from the church, at Easter Confirmation, on the persons of
tidy little girls; while the best pieces of it were employed to
decorate some virtuous burgher maiden on her marriage-day.
In furnishing such children and poor little girls, Natalia had
a singular delight; though, as I must here remark, she
showed not the smallest love, or, if I may say it, smallest
need, of a dependence upon any visible or invisible Being,
such as I had in my youth so strongly manifested.
  When I also thought that the younger sister, on that same
day, would wear my jewels and pearls at court, I could see
with peace my possessions, like my body, given back to the
elements.
  The children waxed apace : to my comfort, they are
healthy, handsome, clever creatures. That my uncle keeps
them from me, I endure without repining: when staying in
the neighborhood, or even in town, they seldom see me.
  A singular personage, regarded as a French clergyman,
though no one rightly knows his history, has been intrusted
with the oversight of all these children. He has them
taught in various places: they are put to board now here,
now there.
  At first I could perceive no plan whatever in this mode of





             MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.                871

education; till at last our doctor told me the abbe had con-
vinced my uncle, that, in order to accomplish any thing by
education, we must first become acquainted with the pupil's
tendencies and wishes ; that, these once ascertained, he ought
to be transported to a situation where he may, as speedily as
possible, content the former and attain the latter, and so, if
he have been mistaken, may still in time perceive his error,
and at last, having found what suits him, may hold the faster
by it, may the more diligently fashion himself according to it.
I wish this strange experiment may prosper: with such excel-
lent natures it is, perhaps, possible.
  But there is one peculiarity in these instructors, which I
never shall approve of: they study to seclude the children
from whatever might awaken them to an acquaintance with
themselves and with the invisible, sole, faithful Friend. I
often take it ill of my uncle, that, on this account, he con-
siders me dangerous for the little ones. Thus in practice
there is no man tolerant! Many assure us that they will-
ingly leave each to take his own way, yet all endeavor to
exclude from action every one that does not think as they do.
  This removal of the children troubles me the more, the
more I am convinced of the reality of my belief. How can
it fail to have a heavenly origin, an actual object, when in
practice it is so effectual? Is it not by practice alone that
we prove our own existence ? Why, then, may we not, by a
like mode, prove to ourselves the influence of that Power
who gives us all good things?
  That I am still advancing, never retrograding; that my
conduct is approximating more and more to the image I have
formed of perfection; that I every day. feel more facility in
doing-what I reckon proper, even while the weakness of my
body so obstructs me, -can all this be accounted for upon
the principles of human nature, whose corruption I have so
clearly seen into? For me, at least, it cannot.
  I scarcely remember a commandment: to me there is noth-
ing that assumes the aspect of law; it is an impulse that
leads me, and guides me always aright. I freely follow my
emotions, and know as little of constraint as of repentance.
God be praised that I know to whom I am indebted 'for such
happiness, and that I cannot think of it without humility!
There is no danger I should ever become proud of what I
myself can do or can forbear to do: I have seen too well
what a monster might be formed and nursed in every human
bosom, did not higher Influence restrain us.





372


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     BOOK VII.



                     CHAPTER I.

  SPRING had come in all its brilliancy; a storm that had
been lowering all day went fiercely down upon the hills; the
rain drew back into the country; the sun came forth in all
its splendor, and upon the dark vapor rose the lordly rain-
bow. Wilhelm was riding towards it: the sight made him
sad. " Ah! " said he within himself, " must it be that the
fairest hues of life appear to us only on a ground of black?
And must drops fall, if we are to be enraptured? A bright
day is like a dull day, if, we look at it unmoved; and what
can move us but some silent hope that the inborn inclination
of our soul shall not always be without an object? The
recital of a noble action moves us; the sight of every thing
harmonious moves us: we feel then as if we were not
altogether in a foreign land; we fancy we are nearer the
home towards which our best and inmost wishes impatiently
strive.".
  Meanwhile a pedestrian overtook him, and, walking with a
stout step by the side of the horse, began to keep him com-
pany. After a few common words, he looked at the rider,
and said, " If I am not mistaken, I must have al-ready seen
you somewhere."
  '" I, too, remember you," said Wilhelm: " had we not
some time ago a pleasant sail together? " -" Right! " re-
plied the other.
  Wilhelm looked at him more narrowly, then, after a
pause, observed, " I do not know what alteration has oc-
curred in you. Last time we met, I took you for-a Lutheran
country clergyman : you now seem to me more like a Catholic
priest."
   " To-day, at least, you are not wrong," replied the other,
taking off his hat, and showing him the tonsure. " Where is
your company gone? Did you stay long with them? "
   " Longer than was good: on looking back upon the period





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


which I passed in their society, it seems as if I looked into
an endless void; nothing of it has remained with me."
  ' Here you are mistaken," said the st'ranger : " every
thing that happens to us leaves some trace behind it; every
thing contributes imperceptibly to form us. Yet often it is
dangerous to take a strict account of that. For either we
grow proud and negligent, or downcast and dispirited; and
both are equally injurious in their consequences. The safe
plan is, always simply to do the task that lies nearest us;
and this in the present case," added he, with a smile, " is
to hasten to our quarters."
  Wilhelm asked how far Lothario's house was distant: the
stranger answered that it lay behind the hill. " Perhaps I
shall meet you there," continued he: " I have merely a
small affair to manage in the neighborhood. Farewell till
then !"  And, with this, he struck into a steep path that
seemed to lead more speedily across the hill.
  " Yes, the man is r.ight ! " said Wilhelm to himself, as he
proceeded : " we should think of what is nearest; and for
me, at present, there is nothing nearer than the mournful
errand I have come to do. Let me see whether I can still
repeat the speech, which is to put that cruel man to shame."
  He then began reciting to himself this piece of oratory:
not a syllable was wanting; and the more his recollection
served him, the higher grew his passion and his courage.
Aurelia's sorrows and her death were vividly present to his
soul.
  "I Spirit of my friend ! " exclaimed he, " hover round me,
and, if thou canst, give some sign to me that thou art soft-
ened, art appeased ! "
  Amid such words and meditations, he had reached the
summit of the hill; and, near the foot of its declivity, he
now beheld a curious building which he at once took to be
Lothario's dwelling. An old, irregular castle, with several
turrets and peaked roofs, appeared to have been the primi-
tive erection; but the new additions to it, placed near the
main structure, looked still more irregular. A part of them
stood close upon the main edifice: others, at some distance,
were combined with it by galleries and covered passages.
All external symmetry, every shade of architectural beauty,
appeared to have been sacrificed to the convenience of the
interior. No trace of wall or trench was to be seen; none
of avenues or artificial gardens. A fruit and pot-herb gar-
den reached to the very buildings, and little patches of a





374


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


like sort showed themselves even in the intermediate spaces.
A cheerful village lay at no great distance: the fields and
gardens everywhere appeared in the highest state of cultiva-
tion.
  Sunk in his own impassioned feelings, Wilhelm rode along,
not thinking much of what he saw: he put up his horse at an
inn, and, not without emotion, hastened to the castle.
  An old serving-man received him at the door, and signi-
fied, with much good-nature, that to-day it would be diffi-
cult to get admission to his lordship, who was occupied in
writing letters, and had already refused some people that
had business with him. Our friend became more importu-
nate : the old man was at last obliged to yield, and announce
him. He returned, and conducted Wilhelm to a spacious,
ancient hall; desiring him to be so good as wait, since per-
haps it might be some time before his lordship could appear.
Our friend walked up and down unrestfully, casting now
and then a look at the knights and dames whose ancient
figures hung round him on the walls. He repeated the be-
ginning of his speech: it seemed, in presence of these ruffs
and coats of mail, to answer even better. Every time there
rose any stir, he put himself in posture to receive his man
with dignity; meaning first to hand him the letter, then
assail him with the weapons of reproach.
  More than once mistaken, he was now beginning to be
really vexed and out of tune, when at last a handsome man,
in boots and light surtout, stepped in from a side-door.
" What good news have you for me ? " said he to Wilhelm,
with a friendly voice: " pardon me, that I have made you
wait."
  So speaking, he kept folding a letter which he held in his
hand. Wilhelm, not without embarrassment, delivered him
Aurelia's paper, and replied, " I bring you the last words
of a friend, which you will not read without emotion."
  Lothario took it, and returned to his chamber with it;
where, as Wilhelm through the open door could very easily
observe, he addressed and sealed some letters before open-
ing Aurelia's. He appeared to have perused it once or
twice; and Wilhelm, though his feelings signified that the
pathetic speech would sort but ill with such a cool recep-
tion, girded up his mind, went forward to the threshold, and
was just about beginning his address, when a tapestry-door
of the cabinet opened, and the clergyman came in.
  " I have got the strangest message you can think of,"





MEISTER'S APPREN1TICESHIP.


cried Lothario to him. "Pardon me," continued he, ad-
dressing Wilhelm, " if I am not in a mood for speaking
further with you at this moment. You remain with us to-
night: you, abbe, see the stranger properly attended to."
  With these words, he made his guest a bow: the clergy-
man took Wilhelm by the hand, who followed, not without
reluctance.
  They walked along some curious passages in silence, and
at last reached a very pretty chamber. The abbe led him
in, then left him, making no excuses. Erelong an active
boy appeared: he introduced himself as Wilhelm's valet,
and brought up his supper. In waiting, he had much to
say about the order of the house, about their breakfasting
and dining, labors and amusements; interspersing many
things in commendation of Lothario.
  Pleasant as the boy was, Wilhelm endeavored to get rid
of him as soon as possible. He wished to be alone, for
he felt exceedingly oppressed and straitened in his new
position. He reproached himself with having executed his
intention so ill, with having done his errand only half. One
moment, he proposed to undertake next morning what he had
neglected to-night; the next, he saw, that, by Lothario's
presence, he would be attuned to quite a different set of feel-
.ings. The house, too, where he was, seemed very strange to
him: he could not be at home in his position. Intending to
undress, he opened his travelling-bag : with his night-clothes,
he took out the Spirit's veil, which Mignon had packed in
along with them. The sight of it increased the sadness of
his humor. "Flee, youth! flee ! "cried he. "What means
this mystic word? What am I to flee, or whither? It were
better had the Spirit called to me, Return to thyself ! " He
cast his eyes on some English copper-plates hung round the
room in frames; most of them he looked at with indifference:
at last he met with one, in which a ship was represented
sinking in a tempest; a father, with his lovely daughters,
was awaiting death from the intrusive billows. One of the
maidens had a kind of likeness to the Amazon: an inde-
scribable compassion seized our friend; he felt an irresisti-
ble necessity to vent his feelings; tears filled his eyes, he
wept, and did not recover his composure till slumber over-
powered him.
   Strange dreams arose upon him towards morning. He
 was in a garden, which in boyhood he had often visited: he
 looked with pleasure at the well-known alleys, hedges, flower-


375





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


beds. Mariana met him: he spoke to her with love and
tenderness, recollecting nothing of any by-gone grievance.
Erelong his father joined them, in his week-day dress; with
a look of frankness that was rare in him, he bade his son
fetch two seats from the garden-house; then took Mariana
by the hand, and led her into a grove.
  Wilhelm hastened to the garden-house, but found it alto-
gether empty: only at a window in the farther side he saw
Aurelia standing. He went forward, and addressed her, but
she turned not round; and, though he placed himself beside
her, he could never see her face. He looked out from the
window: in an unknown garden, there were several people,
some of whom he recognized. Frau Melina, seated under a
tree, was playing with a rose which she had in her hand:
Laertes stood beside her, counting money from the one hand
to the other   Mignon and Felix were lying on the grass,
the former on her back, the latter on his face. Philina
came, and clapped her hands above the children: Mignon
lay unmoved; Felix started up and fled. At first he laughed
while running, as Philina followed; but he screamed in
terror when he saw the harper coming after him with large,
slow steps. Felix ran directly to a pond. Wilhelm hastened
after him: too late; the child was lying in the water ! Wil-
helm stood as if rooted to the spot. The fair Amazon ap-
peared bn the other side of the pond : she stretched her right
hand towards the child, and walked along the shore. The
child came through the water, by the course her finger
pointed to; he followed her as she went round; at last
she reached her hand to him, and pulled him out. Wilhelm
had come nearer: the child was all in flames; fiery drops
were falling from his body. Wilhelm's agony was greater
than ever; but instantly the Amazon took a white veil from
her head, and covered up the child with it. The fire was at
once quenched. But, when she lifted up the veil, two boys
sprang out from under it, and frolicsomely sported to and
fro; while Wilhelm and the Amazon proceeded hand in
hand across the garden, and noticed in the distance Mari-
ana and his father walking in an alley, which was formed
of lofty trees, and seemed to go quite round the garden.
He turned his steps to them, and, with his beautiful attend-
ant, was moving through the garden, when suddenly the fair-
haired Friedrich came across their path, and kept them back
with loud laughter and a thousand tricks. Still, however,
they insisted on proceeding; and Friedrich hastened off,


876





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


running towards Mariana and the father. These seemed to
flee before him; he pursued the faster, till Wilhelm saw
them hovering down the alley almost as on wings. Nature
and inclination called on him to go and help them, but the
hand of the Amazon detained him. How gladly did he let
himself be held ! With this mingled feeling he awoke, and
found his chamber shining with the morning beams.





                      CHAPTER II.

   OUR friend was called to breakfast by the boy: he found
the abbe waiting in the hall; Lothario, it appeared, had rid-
den out. The abbe was not very talkative, but rather wore
a thoughtful look: he inquired about Aurelia's death, and
listened to our friend's recital of it with apparent sympathy.
" Ah! " cried he, " the man that discerns, with lively clear-
ness, what infinite operations art and nature must have joined
in before a cultivated human being can be formed; the man
that himself as much as possible takes interest in the cul-
ture of his fellow-men, - is ready to despair when he sees
how lightly mortals will destroy themselves, will blamelessly
or blamably expose themselves to be destroyed. When I
think of these things, life itself appears to me so uncertain
a gift, that I could praise the man who does not value it be-
yond its worth."
   Scarcely had he spoken, when the door flew violently up:
 a young lady came rushing in; she pushed away the old ser-
 vant, who attempted to restrain her. She made right to the
 abbe, and seized him by the arm: her tears and sobs would
 hardly let her speak these words: " Where is he? Where
 have you put him? 'Tis a frightful treachery ! Confess it
 now ! I know what you are doing: I will after him, - will
 know where you have sent him ! "
   " Be calm, my child," replied the abbe, with assumed com-
 posure; " come with me to your room: you shall know it
 all; only you must have the strength to listen, if you ask me
 to relate." He offered her his hand, as if he meant to lead
 her out. "I will not return to my room," cried she: " I
 hate the walls where you have kept me prisoner so long.
 I know it already : the colonel has challenged him; he is


377





1MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


gone to meet his enemy: perhaps this very moment he -
once or twice I thought I heard the sound of shots ! I tell
you, order out a coach, and come along with me, or I will fill
the house and all the village with my screaming."''
  Weeping bitterly, she hastened to the window: the abbe
held her back, and sought in vain to soothe her.
  They heard a sound of wheels: she threw up the window,
exclaiming, " He is dead! They are bringing home his
body."--" He is coming out," replied the abb6: "you
perceive he lives." - " He is wounded," said she wildly,
" else he would have come on horseback. They are hold-
ing him ! The wound is dangerous ! "  She ran to the door,
and down the stairs: the abb6 hastened after her; and Wil-
helm, following, observed the fair one meet her lover, who
had now dismounted.
  Lothario leaned on his attendant, whom Wilhelm at once
knew as his ancient patron, Jarno. The wounded man
spoke very tenderly and kindly to the tearful damsel.: he
rested on her shoulder, and came slowly up the steps,
saluted Wilhelm as he passed, and was conducted to his
cabinet.
  Jarno soon returned, and, going up to Wilhelm, " It ap-
pears," said he, " you are predestined everywhere to find a
theatre and actors. We have here commenced a play which
is not altogether pleasant."
  " I rejoice to find you," answered Wilhelm, " in so strange
an hour: I am astonished, frightened; and your presence
already quiets my mind. Tell me, is there danger? Is the
baron badly wounded? "
  " I imagine not," said Jarno.
  It was not long till the young surgeon entered from the
cabinet.  " Now, what say you?" cried Jarno to him.
' That it is a dangerous piece of work," replied the other,
putting several' instruments into his leathern pouch. Wil-
helm looked at the band, which was hanging from the pouch :
he fancied he knew it. Bright, contrary colors, a curious
pattern, gold and silver wrought in singular figures, marked
this band from all the bands in the world. Wilhelm was
convinced he beheld the very pouch of the ancient surgeon
who had dressed his wounds in the green of the forest; and
the hope, so long deferred, of again finding traces of the
lovely Amazon, struck like a flame through all his soul.
  " Where did you get that pouch? " cried he. " To whom
did it belong before you? I beg of you, tell me." -" I


878





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


bought it at an auction," said the other: " what is it to me
whom it belonged to? "  So speaking, he went out; and
Jarno said, " If there would come but one word of truth
from our young doctor's mouth! "- " Then, he did not
buy the pouch? " said Wilhelm. " Just as little as Lothario
is in danger," said the other.
  Wilhelm stood, immersed in many reflections: Jarno asked
how he had fared of late. Wilhelm sketched an outline of
his history; and when he at last came to speak of Aurelia's
death, and his message to the place, his auditor exclaimed,
6 Well! it is strange ! most strange ! "
  The abbe entered from Lothario's chamber, beckoned
Jarno to go in instead of him, and said to Wilhelm, " The
baron bids me ask you to remain with us a day or two, to
share his hospitality, and, in the present circumstances, con-
tribute to his solacement. If you need to give any notice
to your people, your letter shall be instantly despatched.
Meanwhile, to make you understand this curious incident, of
which you have been witness, I must tell you something,
which, indeed, is no secret. The baron had a small adven-
ture with a lady, which excited more than usual attention;
the lady having taken him from a rival, and wishing to enjoy
her victory too ostentatiously. After a time he no longer
found the same delight in her society; which he, of course,
forsook: but, being of a violent temper, she could not bear
her fate with patience. Meeting at a ball, they had an open
quarrel: she thought herself irreparably injured, and would
be revenged. No knight stepped forth to do battle for her;
till her husband, whom for years she had not lived with, heard
of the affair and took it up. He challenged the baron, and
to-day he has wounded him; yet, as I hear, the gallant
colonel has himself come still worse off."
  From this hour our friend was treated in the house as if
he had belonged to it.




                     CHAPTER III.

  AT times they had read a little to the patient: Wilhelm
joyfully performed this service. Lydia stirred not from
Lothario's bed; her care for him absorbed her wbole aten-


379





M-EISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


tion. But to-day the patient himself seemed occupied with
thought: he bade them lay aside their book. " To-day,"
said he, " I feel through my whole heart how foolishly we
let our time pass on. How many things have I proposed
to do, how many have I planped; yet how we loiter in our
noblest purposes ! I have just read over the scheme of the
changes which I mean to make in my estates; and it is
chiefly, I may say, on their account that I rejoice at the
bullet's not having gone a deadlier road."
  Lydia looked at him with tenderness, with tears in her
eyes; as if to ask if she, if his friends, could not pretend to
any interest in his wish to live. Jarno answered, " Changes
such as you project require to be considered well on every
side before they are resolved on."
   "' Long considerations," said Lothario, " are commonly a
proof that we have not the point to be determined clearly in
our eye; precipitate proceedings, that we do not know it. I
see distinctly, that, in managing my property, there are sev-
eral particulars in which the services of my dependants can-
not be remitted ; certain rights which I must rigidly insist on :
but I also see that there are other articles, advantageous to
me, but by no means indispensable, which might admit of
relaxation. Do I not profit by my lands far better than my
father did? Is not my income still increasing? And shall I
alone enjoy this growing benefit? Shall not those who labor
with and for me partake, in their degree, of the advantages
which expanding knowledge, which a period of improvement,
are procuring for us ? "
   " 'Tis human nature!" cried Jarno: " I do not blame
myself when I detect this selfish quality among the rest.
Every man desires to gather all things round him, to shape
and manage them according to his own pleasure: the money
which he himself does not expend, he seldom reckons well
expended."
   " Certainly," observed Lothario, 1 much of the capital
might be abated if we consumed the interest less capri-
ciously."
   " The only thing I shall mention," said the other, " the
only reason I can urge against your now proceeding with
those alterations, which, for a time at least, must cause you
loss, is, that you yourself are still in debt, and that the pay-
ment presses hard on you. My advice is, therefore, to post-
pone your plan till you are altogether free."
   " And in the mean while leave it at the mercy of a bullet,


880





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


or the fall of a tile, to annihilate the whole result of my ex-
istence and activity! O my friend ! it is ever. thus : it is ever
the besetting fault of cultivated men, that they wish to spend
their whole resources on some idea, scarcely any part of
them on tangible, existing objects. Why was it that I con-
tracted debts, that I quarrelled with my uncle, that I left my
sisters to themselves so long? Purely for the sake of an
idea. In America I fancied I might accomplish something;
over seas, I hoped to become useful and essential: if any
task was not begirt with a thousand dangers, I considered it
trivial, unworthy of me. How differently do matters now
appear ! How precious, how important, seems the duty
which is nearest me, whatever it may be ! "
  " I recollect the letter which you sent me from the Western
world," said Jarno: " it contains the words, ' I will return ;
and in my house, amid my fields, among my people, I will
say, Here or nowhere is America!' "
  "Yes, my friend; and I am still repeating it, and still
repining at myself that I am not so busy here as I was there.
For certain equable, continuous modes of life, there is noth-
ing more than judgment necessary, and we study to attain
nothing more : so that we become unable to discern what
extraordinary services each vulgar day requires of us; or,
if we do discern them, we find abundance of excuses for not
doing them. A judicious man is valuable to himself, but of
little value for the general whole."
  "We will not," said Jarno, "bear too hard upon judg-
ment: let us grant, that, whenever extraordinary things are
done, they are generally foolish."
  "Yes ! and just because they are not done according to
the proper plan. My brother-in-law, you see, is giving up
his fortune, so far as in his power, to the Community of
Herrnhut: he reckons, that, by doing so, he is advancing the
salvation of his soul. Had he sacrificed a small portion of
his revenue, he might have rendered many people happy,
might have made for them and for himself a heaven upon
earth. Our sacrifices are rarely of an active kind: we, as it
were, abandon what we give away. It is not from resolu-
tion, but despair, that we renounce our property. In these
days, I confess it, the image of the count is hovering con-
stantly before me: I have firmly resolved on doing from
conviction what a crazy fear is forcing upon him. I will not
wait for being cured. Here are the papers: they require
only to be properly drawn out. Take the lawyer with you;


381





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


our guest will help: what I want, you know as well as I;
recovering or dying, I will stand by it, and say, Here or no-
where is Herrnhut ! "
  When he mentioned dying, Lydia sank before his bed:
she hung upon his arm, and wept bitterly. The surgeon
entered : Jarno gave our friend the papers, and made Lydia
leave the room.
  I For Heaven's sake ! what is this about the count?" cried
Wilhelm, when they reached the hall and were alone. " What
count is it that means to join the Herrnhuters ?"
  " One whom you know very well," said Jarno. "You
yourself are the ghost who have frightened the unhappy
wiseacre into piety: you are the villain who have brought
his pretty wife to such a state that she inclines accompanying
him."
  " And she is Lothario's sister ? " cried our friend.
  "No other !"    " And Lothario knows "-
  " The whole !"
  "Oh, let me fly !" cried Wilhelm. "How shall I appear
before him? What can he say to me?"
  " That no man should cast a stone at his brother; that
when one composes long speeches, with a view to shame his
neighbors, he should speak them to a looking-glass."
  ' Do you know that too ?"
  "And many things beside," said Jarno, with a smile.
" But in the present case," continued he, "you shall not get
away from me so easily as you did last time. You need not
now be apprehensive of my bounty-money: I have ceased
to be a soldier; when I was one, you might have thought
more charitably of me. Since you saw me, many things
have altered. My prince, my only friend and benefactor,
being dead, I have now withdrawn from busy life and its
concerns. I used to have a pleasure in advancing what was
reasonable; when I met with any despicable thing, I hesi-
tated not to call it so; and men had never done with talking
of my restless head and wicked tongue. The herd of people
dread sound understanding more than any thing: they ought
to dread stupidity, if they had any notion what was really
dreadful. Understanding is unpleasant, they must have it
pushed aside; stupidity is but pernicious, they can let it
stay. Well, be it so! I need to live: I will by and by
communicate my plans to you; if you incline, you shall par-
take in them. But tell me first how things have gone with
you. I see, I feel, that you are changed. How is it with


882





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


your ancient maggot of producing something beautiful and
good in the society of gypsies?"
   ' Do not speak of it !" cried Wilhelm : "I have been
 already punished for it. People talk about the stage, but
 none that has not been upon it can form the smallest notion
 of it. How utterly these men are unacquainted with them-
 selves, how thoughtlessly they carry on their trade, how
 boundless their pretensions are, no mortal can conceive.
 Each would be not only first, but sole; each wishes to ex-
 clude the rest, and does not see that even with them he can
 scarcely accomplish any thing. Each thinks himself a man
 of marvellous originality; yet, with a ravening appetite for
 novelty, he cannot walk a footstep from the beaten track.
 How vehemently they counterwork each other ! It is only
 the pitifullest self-love, the narrowest views of interest, that
 unite them. Of reciprocal accommodation they have no
 idea: backbiting and hidden spitefulness maintain a constant
 jealousy among them. In their lives they are either rakes
 or simpletons. Each claims the loftiest respect, each writhes
 under the slightest blame. 'All this he knew already,' he
 will tell you! Why, then, did he not do it? Ever needy,
 ever unconfiding, they seem as if their greatest fear were
 reason and good taste; their highest care, to secure the
 majesty of their self-will."
   Wilhelm drew breath, intending to proceed with his eulo-
 gium, when an immoderate *laugh from Jarno interrupted
 him. "Poor actors!" cried he; threw himself into a chair,
 and laughed away. " Poor, dear actors ! Do you know, my
 friend," continued he, recovering from his fit, "that you
 have been describing, not the playhouse, but the world;
 that, out of all ranks, I could find you characters and doings
 in abundance to suit your cruel pencil? Pardon me : it makes
 me laugh again, that you should think these amiable qualities
 existed on the boards alone."
   Wilhelm checked his feelings. Jarno's extravagant, un-
 timely laughter had in truth offended him. " It is scarcely
 hiding your misanthropy," said he, "�when you maintain
 that faults like these are universal."
   "And it shows your unacquaintance with the world, when
-you impute them to the theatre in such a heinous light. I
pardon, in the player, every fault that springs from   self-
deception and the desire to please. If he seem not something
to himself and others, he is nothing. To seem is his voca-
tion; he must prize his moment of applause, for he gets no





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


other recompense; he must try to glitter, - he is there to
do so."
  " You will give me leave at least to smile, in my turn,"
answered Wilhelm. " I should never have believed that you
could be so merciful, so tolerant."
   " I swear to you I am serious, fully and deliberately seri-
ous. All faults of the man I can pardon in the player: no
fault of the player can I pardon in the man. Do not set me
upon chanting my lament about the latter: it might have
a sharper sound than yours."
   The surgeon entered from the cabinet ; and, to the question
how his patient was, he answered, with a lively air of com-
plaisance, " Extremely well, indeed: I hope soon to see him
quite recovered." He hastened through the hall, not waiting
Wilhelm's speech, who was preparing to inquire again with
greater importunity about the leathern case. His anxiety to
gain some tidings of his Amazon inspired him with confidence
in Jarno: he disclosed his case to him, and begged his help.
"You that know so many things," said he, " can you not
discover this?"
  Jarno reflected for a moment; then, turning to his friend,
" Be calm," said he, " give no one any hint of it: we shall
come upon the fair one's footsteps, never fear. At present
I am anxious only for Lothario: the case is dangerous; the
kindliness and comfortable talking of the doctor tells me so.
We should be quit of Lydia, for here she does no good ; but
how to set about the task I know not. To-night I am
looking for our old physician: we shall then take further
counsel."




                       CHAPTER IV.

  THE physician came: it was the good, old, little doctor
whom we know already, and to whom we were obliged for
the communication of the pious manuscript. First of all,
he visited the wounded man, with whose condition he ap-
peared to be by no means satisfied. He had next a long
interview with Jarno, but they made no allusion to the sub-
ject of it when they came to supper.
  Wilhelm saluted him in the kindest manner, and inquired
about the harper.   ' We have still hopes of bringing round


884





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the hapless creature," answered the physician. " He formed
a dreary item in your limited and singular way of life,"
said Jarno. " How has it fared with him ? Tell me."
  Having satisfied Jarno's curiosity, the physician thus pro-
ceeded: "I have never seen another man so strangely cir-
cumstanced. For many years he has not felt the smallest
interest in any thing without him, scarcely paid the smallest
notice to it: wrapped up in himself, he has looked at noth-
ing but his own hollow, empty Me, which seemed to him like
an immeasurable abyss. It was really .touching when he
spoke to us of this mournful state. ' Before me,' cried he,
' I see nothing; behind me nothing but an endless night, in
which I Jive in the most horrid solitude. There is no feel-
ing in me but the feeling of my guilt; and this appears but
like a dim, formless spirit, far before me. Yet here there is
no height, no depth, no forwards, no backwards: no words
can express this never-changing state. Often in the agony
of this sameness I exclaim with violence, Forever ! Forever !
and this dark, incomprlehensible word is clear and plain to
the gloom of my condition. No ray of Divinity illuminates
this night: I shed all my tears by myself and for myself.
Nothing is more horrible to me than friendship and love,
for they alone excite in me the wish that the apparitions
which surround me might be real. But these two spectres
also have arisen from the abyss to plague me, and at length
to tear from me the precious consciousness of my existence,
unearthly though it be.'
  "You should hear him speak," continued the physician,
"when in hours of confidence he thus alleviates his heart. I
have listened to him often with the deepest feelings. When
pressed by any thing, and, as it were, compelled for an instant
to confess that a space of time has passed, he looks astounded,
then again refers the alteration to the things about him, con-
sidering it as an appearance of appearances, and so rejecting
the idea of progress in duration. One night he sung a song
about his gray hairs: we all sat round him weeping."
  " Oh, get it for me ! " cried Wilhelm.
  " But have you not discovered any trace of what he calls
his crime? " inquired Jarno: " nor found out the reason of
his wearing such a singular garb ; of his conduct at the burn-
ing of the house; of his rage against the child?"
   " It is only by conjectures that we can approximate to
any knowledge of his fate: to question him directly contra-
dicts our principle. Observing easily that he was of the


885





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Catholic religion, we thought perhaps confession might afford
him some assuagement; but he shrinks away with the stran-
gest gestures every time we try to introduce the priest to him.
However, not to leave your curiosity respecting him entirely
unsatisfied, I may communicate our suppositions on the sub-
ject. In his youth, we think, he must have been a clergy-
man: hence probably his wish to keep his beard and long
cloak. The joys of love appear to have remained for many
years unknown to him. Late in life, as we conceive, some
aberration with a lady very nearly related to him; then her
death, the consequence of an unlucky creature's birth,--
have altogether crazed his brain.
  " His chief delusion is a fancy that he brings misfortune
everywhere along with him ; and that death, to be unwittingly
occasioned by a boy, is constantly impending over him. At
first he was afraid of Mignon, not knowing that she was a
girl; then Felix frightened him; and as, with all his misery,
he has a boundless love of life, this may, perhaps, have been
the origin of his aversion to the child."
  I What hopes have you of his recovery?" " inquired our
friend.
   "It advances slowly," answered the physician, "yet it
does advance. He continues his appointed occupations: we
have now accustomed him to read the newspapers ; he always
looks for them with eagerness."
   " I am curious about his songs," said Jarno.
   " Of these I can engage to get you several," replied the
doctor. " Our parson's eldest son, who frequently writes
down his father's sermons, has, unnoticed by the harper,
marked on paper many stanzas of his singing; out of which
some songs have gradually been pieced together."
  Next morning Jarno met our friend, and said to him,
" We have to ask a kindness of you. Lydia must, for some
time, be removed : her violent, unreasonable love and passion-
ateness hinder the baron's recovery. His wound requires
rest and calmness, though with his healthy temperament
it is not dangerous. You see how Lydia tortures him with
her tempestuous anxieties, her ungovernable terrors, her
never-drying tears; and-  Enough! " he added with a
smile, after pausing for a moment, " our doctor expressly
requires that she must quit us for a while. We have got her
to believe that a lady, one of her most intimate friends, is at
present in the neighborhood, wishing and expecting instantly
to see her. She has been prevailed upon to undertake a


386





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


journey to our lawyer's, which is but two leagues off. This
man is in the secret: he will wofully lament that Fraulein
Theresa should just have left him again; he will seem to
think she may still be overtaken. Lydia will hasten after
her, and, if you prosper, will be led from place to place.
At last, if she insist on turning back, you must not contra-
dict her; but the night will help you: the coachman is a
cunning knave, and we shall speak with him before he goes.
You are to travel with her in the coach, to talk to her, and
manage the adventure."
  "It is a strange and dubious commission that you give
me," answered Wilhelm. " How painful is the sight of true
love injured! And am I to be the instrument of injuring it?
I have never cheated any person so; for it has always seemed
to me, that if we once begin deceiving, with a view to good
and useful purposes, we run the risk of carrying it to excess."
   " Yet you cannot manage children otherwise," said Jarno.
   " With children it may do," said Wilhelm; " for we love
them tenderly, and take an open charge of them.. But with
our equals, in behalf of whom our heart is not so sure to call
upon us for forbearance, it might frequently be dangerous.
Yet do not think," he added, after pausing for a moment,
" that I purpose to decline the task on this account. Hon-
oring your judgment as I do, feeling such attachment to
your noble friend, such eagerness to forward his recovery by
whatever means, I willingly forget myself and my opinions.
It is not enough that we can risk our life to serve a friend:
in the hour of need, we should also yield him our convic-
tions. Our dearest passions, our best wishes, we are bound
to sacrifice in helping him. I undertake the charge; though
it is easy to foresee the pain I shall have to suffer, from the
tears, from the despair, of Lydia."
   I And, for this, no small reward awaits you," answered
Jarno: " Fraulein Theresa, whom you get acquainted with,
is a lady such as you will rarely see. She puts many a man
to shame; I may say, she is a genuine Amazon: while others
are but pretty counterfeits, that wander up and down the
world in that ambiguous dress."
  Wilhelm was struck: he almost fancied that in Theresa he
would find his Amazon again; especially as Jarno, whom he
importuned to tell him more, broke off abruptly, and went
away.
  The new, near hope of once more seeing that beloved and
honored being awoke a thousand feelings in his heart. He


887





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


now looked upon the task which had -been given him as the
intervention of a special Providence: the thought that he
was minded treacherously to carry off a helpless girl from
the object of her sincerest, warmest love dwelt but a mo-
ment in his mind, as the shadow of a bird flits over the sun-
shiny earth.
  The coach was at the door: Lydia lingered for a moment,
as she was about to mount. "Salute your lord again for
me," said she to the old servant: " tell him that I shall be
home before night." Tears were standing in her eyes as she
again looked back when the carriage started. She then
turned round to Wilhelm, made an effort to compose herself,
and said, " In Fraulein Theresa you will find a very interest-
ing person. I wonder what it is that brings her hither; for,
you must know, Lothario and she once passionately loved each
other. In spite of the distance, he often used to visit her:
I was staying with her then; I thought they would have
lived and died for one another. But all at once it went to
wreck, no creature could discover why. He had seen me,
and I must confess that I was envious of Theresa's fortune;
that I scarcely hid my love from him; that, when he suddenly
appeared to choose me in her stead, I could not but accept
of him. She behaved to me beyond my wishes, though it
almost seemed as if Ihad robbed her of this precious lover.
But, all ! how many thousand tears and pains that love of his
has cost me ! At first we met only now and then, and by
stealth, at some appointed place: but I could not long en-
dure that kind of life; in his presence only was I happy,
wholly happy ! Far from him, my eyes were never dry, my
pulse was never calm. Once he staid away for several
days: I was altogether in despair; I ordered out my carriage,
and surprised him here. He received me tenderly; and, had
not this unlucky quarrel happened, I should have led a heav-
enly life with him. But, since the time he began to be in
danger and in pain, I shall not say what I have suffered: at
this moment I am bitterly reproaching myself that I could
leave him for a single day."
   Wilhelm was proceeding to inquire about Theresa, when
they reached the lawyer's house. This gentleman came for-
ward to the coach, lamenting wofully that Friulein Theresa
was already gone. He invited them to breakfast ; signifying,
however, that the lady might be overtaken in the nearest vil-
lage. They determined upon following her: the coachman
did not loiter; they had soon passed several villages, and


388





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


yet come up with nobody. Lydia now gave orders foi
returning : the coachman drove along, as if he did not
understand her. As she insisted with redoubled vehemence,
Wilhelm called to him, and gave the promised token. The
coachman answered that it was not necessary to go back by
the same road: he knew a shorter, and, at the same time,
greatly easier one. He turned aside across a wood, and over
large commons. At last, no object they could recognize ap.
pearing, he confessed that unfortunately he had lost his way;
declaring, at the same time, that he would soon get right
again, as he saw a little town before him. Night came on:
the coachman managed so discreetly, that he asked every-
where, and noivhere waited for an answer. He drove along
all night: Lydia never closed an eye; in the moonshine she
was constantly detecting similarities, which as constantly
turned out to be dissimilar. In the morning things around
seemed known to her, and but more strange on that account.
The coach drew up before a neat little country-house: a
young lady stepped out, and opened the carriage-door.
Lydia looked at her with a stare of wonder, looked round,
looked at her again, and fainted in the arms of Wilhelm.




                     CHAPTER V.

  WILHELM was conducted to a little upper room: the house
was new, as small nearly as it could be, and extremely orderly
and clean. In Theresa, who had welcomed him and Lydia
at the coach, lie had not found his Amazon: she was another
and an altogether different woman. Handsome, and but of
middle stature, she moved about with great alertness; and
it seemed as if her clear, blue, open eyes let nothing that
occurred escape them.
  She entered Wilhelm's room, inquiring if he wanted any
thing. " Pardon me," said she, " for having lodged you in
a chamber which the smell of paint still renders disagree-
able: my little dwelling is but just made ready; you are
handselling this room, which is appointed for my guests.
Would that you had come on some more pleasant errand!
Poor Lydia is like to be a dull companion: in other points,
also, you will have much to pardon. My cook has run away


389





890          MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.

from me, at this unseasonable time; and a serving-man has
bruised his hand. The case might happen I had to manage
every thing myself ; and if it were so, why, then we should
just put up with it. One is plagued so with nobody as with
one's servants: none of them will serve you, scarcely even
serve himself."
  She said a good deal more on different mattes : in general
she seemed to like speaking. Wilhelm inquired for Lydia,
- if he might not see her, and endeavor to excuse himself.
  " It will have no effect at present," said Theresa : " time
excuses, as it comforts. Words, in both cases, are of little
effect. Lydia will not see you. ' Keep him from my sight,'
she cried, when I was leaving her: ' I could almost despair
of human nature. Such an honorable countenance, so frank
a manner, and this secret guile ! ' Lothario she has quite for-
given: in a letter to the poor girl, he declares, ' My friends
persuaded me, my friends compelled me!' Among these
she reckons you, and she condemns you with the rest."
  " She does me too much honor in so blaming me," said
Wilhelm: " I have no pretension to the friendship of that
noble gentleman; on this occasion, I am but a guiltless in-
strument. I will not praise what I have done: it is enough
that I could do it. It concerned the health, it concerned the
life, of a man whom I value more than any one I ever knew
before. Oh, what a man is he, Frulein ! and what men are
they that live about him.! In their society, I for the first
time, I may well say, carried on a conversation; for the first
time, was the inmost sense of my words returned to me, more
rich, more full, more comprehensive, from another's mouth;
what I had been groping for was rendered clear to me; what
I had been thinking I was taught to see. Unfortunately this
enjoyment was disturbed, at first by numerous anxieties and
whims, and then by this unpleasant task. I undertook it
with submission; for I reckoned it my duty, even though I
sacrificed my feelings, to comply with the request of this
gifted company of men."
  While he spoke, Theresa had been looking at him with a
very friendly air. " Oh, how sweet is it to hear one's own
opinion uttered by a stranger tongue ! We are never prop
erly ourselves until another thinks entirely as we do. My
own opinion of Lothario is perfectly the same as yours: it is
not every one that does him justice, and therefore all that
know him better are enthusiastic in esteem of him. The
painful sentiment that mingles with the memory of him in





MtSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


my heart cannot hinder me from thinking of him daily." A
sigh heaved her bosom as she spoke thus, and a lovely tear
glittered in her right eye. '.' Think not," continued she,
" that I am so weak, so easy to be moved. It is but the eye
that weeps. There was a little wart upon the under eyelid;
they have happily removed it, but the eye has been weak
ever since; the smallest cause brings a tear into it. Here
sat the little wart: you cannot see a vestige of it now."
  He saw no vestige, but he saw into her eye; it was clear
as crystal: he almost imagined he could see to the very bot-
tom of her soul.
  " We have now," said she, " pronounced the watchword
of our friendship: let us get entirely acquainted as fast as
possible. The history of every person paints his character.
I will tell you -what my life has been: do you, too, place a
little trust in me, and let us be united even when distance
parts us. The world is so waste and empty, when we figure
only towns and hills and rivers in it; but to know of some
one here and there whom we accord with, who is living on
with us, even in silence, - this makes our earthly ball a peo-
pled garden."
  She hastened off, engaging soon to take him out to walk.
Her presence had affected him agreeably: he wished to be
informed 9f her relation to Lothario. He was called : she
came to meet him from her room. While they descended,
necessarily one by one, the straight and even steepish stairs,
she said, "All this might have been larger and grander, had I
chosen to accept the offers of your generous friend; but, to
continue worthy of him, I must study to retain the qualities
which gave me merit in his eyes. Where is the steward? "
asked she, stepping from the bottom of the stairs. " You
must not think," continued she, " that I am rich enough to
need a steward: the few acres of my own little property I
myself can manage well enough. The steward is my new
neighbor's, who has bought a fine estate beside us, every
point of w1ich I am acquainted with. The good old gentle-
man is lying ill of gout: his men are strangers here; I will-
ingly assist in settling them."
  They took a walk through fields, meadows, and some
orchards. Everywhere Theresa kept instructing the stew-
ard; nothing so minute but she could give account of it:
and Wilhelm had reason to wonder at her knowledge, her
precision, the prompt dexterity with which she suggested
means for ends. She loitered nowhere, always hastened to


391





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the leading-points; and thus her task was quickly over.
" Salute your master," said she, as she sent away the man:
"I mean to visit him as soon as possible, and wish him a
complete recovery. There, now," she added with a smile,
as soon as he was gone, " I might soon be rich: my good
neighbor, I believe, would not be disinclined to offer me his
hand."
  "The old man with the gout ? " cried Wilhelm : " I know
not how, at your years, you could bring yourself to make so
desperate a determination." -" Nor am I tempted to it ! "
said Theresa. 'Whoever can administer what he possesses
has enough; and to be wealthy is a burdensome affair, unless
you understand it."
  Wilhelm testified his admiration at her skill in husbandry
concerns. " Decided inclination, early opportunity, exter-
nal impulse, and continued occupation in a useful business,"
said she, " make many things, which were at first far harder,
possible in life. When you have learned what causes stim-
ulated me in this pursuit, you will cease to wonder at the
talent you now think strange."
  On returning home, she sent him to her little garden.
Here he could scarcely turn himself, so narrow were the
walks, so thickly was it sown and planted. On looking over
to the court, he could not help smiling: the firewood was
lying "'there, as accurately sawed, split, and piled, as if it had
been part of the building, and had been intended to con-
tinue permanently there.   The tubs and implements, all
clean, were standing in their places: the house was painted
white and red ; it was really pleasant to behold. Whatever
can be done by handicraft, which knows not beautiful pro-
portions, but labors for convenience, cheerfulness, and
durability, appeared united in this spot. They served him
up dinner in his own room: he had time enough for medi-
tating. Especially it struck him, that he should have got
acquainted with another person of so interesting a character,
who had been so ,closely related to Lothario. "' It is just,"
said he to himself, " that a man so gifted should 'attract
round him gifted women. How far the influence of manli-
ness and dignity extends! Would that others did not come
so wofully short, compared with him! Yes, confess thy
fear. When thou meetest with thy Amazon, this woman of
women, in spite of all thy hopes and dreaming, thou wilt
find her, in the end, to thy humiliation and thy shame, -
his bride."


392





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER VI.

  WILHELM had passed a restless afternoon, not altogether
without tedium, when towards evening his door opened,
and a handsome hunter-boy stepped forward with a bow.
" Shall we have a walk?" said the youth; and in the
instant Wilhelm recognized Theresa by her lovely eyes.
    Pardon me this masquerade," said she; " for now,
alas ! it is nothing more. But, as I am going to tell you of
the time when I so enjoyed the world, I will recall those
days by every method to my fancy.    Come along ! Even
the place where we have rested so often from our hunts and
promenades shall help me."
  They went accordingly. On their way Theresa said to
her attendant, " It is not fair that I alone should speak:
you already know enough of me, I nothing about you. Tell
me, in the mean while, something of yourself, that I may
gather courage to submit to you my history and situation." -
" Alas! " said Wilhelm, " I have nothing to relate but
error on the back of error, deviation following deviation;
and I know none from whom I would more gladly hide my
present and my past embarrassments than from yourself.
Your look, te' scene you move in, your whole temperament
and manner, prove to me that -you have reason to rejoice in
your by-gone life; that you have travelled by a fair, clear
path in constant progress; that you have lost no time; that
you have nothing to reproach yourself withal."
  Theresa answered with a smile, " Let us see if you will
think so after you have heard my history." They walked
along: among some general remarks, Theresa asked him,
"Are you free?"- " I think I am," said he, "and yet I
do not wish it." -   Good ! " said she: ' that indicates a
complicated story: you also will have something to relate.'"
  Conversing thus, they ascended the hill, aid placed them-
selves beside a lofty oak, which spread its shade far out on
every side. " Here," said she, " beneath this German tree,
will I disclose to you the history of a German maiden: listen
to me patiently.
   " My father was a wealthy nobleman of this province, -a
cheerful, clear-sighted, active, able man; a tender father, an
upright friend, an excellent economist.  I knew but one
fault in him: he was too compliant to a wife who did not
know his worth. Alas that I should have to say so of my


893





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


mother !  Her nature was the opposite of his. She was
quick and changeful; without affection either for her home or
for me, her only child ; extravagant, but beautiful, sprightly,
full of talent, the delight of a circle she had gathered round
her.  Her society, in truth, was never large; nor did it
long continue the same.   It consisted, principally of men,
for no woman could like to be near her; still less could she
endure the merit or the praise of any woman. I resembled
my father, both in form and disposition. As the duckling,
with its first footsteps, seeks the water ; so, from my earliest
youth, the kitchen, the storeroom, the granaries, the fields,
were my selected element. Cleanliness and order in the
house seemed, even while I was playing in it, to be my
peculiar instinct, my peculiar object. This tendency gave
my father pleasure; and he directed, step by step, my child-
ish endeavor into the suitablest employments. On the con-
trary, my mother did not like me; and she never for a
moment hid it.
  " I waxed in stature: with my years increased my turn
for occupation, and my father's love to me. When we were
by ourselves, when walking through the fields, when I was
helping to examine his accounts, it was then I could see how
glad he was. While gazing on his eyes, I felt as if I had
been looking in upon myself; for it was in the eyes that I
completely resembled him.    But, in the presence of my
mother, he lost this energy, this aspect: he excused me
mildly when she blamed me unjustly and violently ; he took
my part, not as if he would protect me, but as if he would
extenuate the demerit of my good qualities. To none of her
caprices did he set himself in opposition. She began to be
immensely taken with a passion for the stage: a theatre was
soon got up; of men of all shapes and ages, crowding to
display themselves along with her upon her boards, she had
abundance; of women, on the other hand, there was often
a scarcity. "Lydia, a pretty girl who had been brought up
with me, and who promised from the first to be extremely
beautiful, had to undertake the secondary parts; the moth-
ers and the aunts were represented by an ancient chamber-
maid; while the leading heroines, lovers, and shepherdesses
of every kind were seized on by my mother. I cannot tell
you how ridiculous it seemed to me to see the people, every
one of whom I knew full well, standing on their scaffold, and
pretending, after they had dressed themselves in other
clothes, to pass for something else than what they were.


394





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


895


In my eyes they were never any thing but Lydia and my
mother, this baron and that secretary, whether they appeared
as counts and princes, or as peasants; and I could not
understand how they meant to make me think that they
were sad or happy, that they were indifferent or in love,
liberal or avaricious, when I well knew the contrary to be
the case.   Accordingly I very seldom staid among the
audience: I always snuffed their candles, that I might not
be entirely without employment; I prepared the supper;
and next morning, before they rose, I used to have their
wardrobe all sorted, which commonly, the night before, they
had left in a chaotic state.
  " To my mother this activity appeared quite proper, but
her love I could not gain. She despised me; and I know
for certain that she more than once exclaimed with bitter-
ness, I If the mother could be as uncertain as the father,
you would scarcely take this housemaid for my daughter! '
Such treatment, I confess, at length entirely estranged me
from her: I viewed her conduct as the conduct of a person
unconnected with me; and, being used to watch our servants
like a falcon (for this, be it said in passing, is the ground
of all true housekeeping), the proceedings of my mother and
her friends at the same time naturally forced themselves
upon my observation. It was easy to perceive that she did
not look on all men alike: I gave sharper heed, and soon
found out that Lydia was her confidant, and had herself, by
this opportunity, become acquainted with a passion, which,
from her earliest youth, she had so often represented. I
was aware of all .their meetings; but I held my tongue,
hinting nothing to my father, whom I was afraid of trou-
bling. At last, however, I was obliged to speak. Many
of their enterprises could not be accomplished without cor-
rupting the servants: These now began to grow refractory:
they despised my father's regulations, disregarded my com-
mands. The disorders which arose from this I could not
tolerate: I discovered all, complained of all to my father.
  " He listened to me calmly. ' Good girl! ' replied he with
a smile; ' I know it all: be quiet, bear it patiently ; for it is
on thy account alone that I endure it.'
  " I was not quiet : I had not patience. I in secret blamed
my father, for I did not think that any reason should induce
him to endure such things. I called for regularity from all
the servants: I was bent on driving matters to extremity.
  " My mother had been rich before her marriage, yet she





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


squandered more than she had a right to; and this, as I
observed, occasioned many conferences between my parents.
For a long time the evil was not helped, till at last the pas-
sions of my mother brought it to a head.
  " Her first gallant became unfaithful in a glaring manner:
the house, the neighborhood, her whole condition, grew offen-
sive to her. She insisted on removing to a different estate;
there she was too solitary: she insisted on removing to" the
town; there she felt herself eclipsed among the crowd. Of
much that passed between my father and her I know nothing :
however, he at last determined, under stipulations which I
did not learn, to consent that she should take a journey,
which she had been meditating, to the south of France.
  " Wewere now free; we lived as if in heaven: I do be-
lieve my father could not be a loser, had he purchased her
absence by a considerable sum. All our useless domestics
were dismissed, and fortune seemed to smile on our under-
takings: we had some extremely prosperous years; all things
succeeded to our wish. But, alas ! this pleasing state was
not of long continuance: altogether unexpectedly my father
had a shock of palsy; it lamed his right side, and deprived
him of the proper use of speech. We had to guess at every
thing that her required, for he never could pronounce the
word that he intended. There were times when this was
dreadfdlly afflicting to us: he would require expressly to be
left alone with me; with earnest gestures, he would signify
that every one should go away; and, when we saw ourselves
alone, he could not speak the word he meant. His impatience
mounted to the highest pitch: his situation touched me to
the inmost heart. Thus much seemed certain : he had some-
thing which he wished to tell me, which especially concerned
my interest. What longing did I feel to know it ! At other
times I could discover all things in his eyes, but now it was
in vain. Even his eyes no longer spoke. Only this was
clear: he wanted nothing, he desired nothing; he was striv-
ing to discover something to me, which unhappily I did not
learn. His malady revisited him: he grew entirely inactive,
incapable of motion; and a short time afterwards he died.
  " I know not how it had got rooted in my thoughts, that
somewhere he had hid a treasure which he wished at death
to leave me rather than my mother; I searched about for
traces of it while he lived, but I could meet with none : at
his death a seal was put on every thing. I wrote to my
mother, offering to continue in the house, and manage for her ;





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


she refused, -and I was obliged to leave the place. A mutual
testament was now produced: it gave my mother the posses-
sion and the use of all; and I was left, at least throughout
her life, dependent on her. It was now that I conceived I
rightly Understood my father's beckonings : I pitied him for
having been so weak; he had let himself be forced to do un-
justly to me even after he was dead. Certain of my friends
maintained that it was little better than if he had disinherited
me: they called upon me to attack the will by law, but this
I never could resolve on doing. I reverenced my father's
memory too much: I trusted in destiny; I trusted in myself.
  I There was a lady in the neighborhood possessed of large
property, -with whom I had always been on good terms: she
gladly received me; I engaged to superintend her. household,
and erelong the task grew very easy to me. She lived reg-
ularly, she loved order in every thing; and I faithfully
assisted her in struggling with her steward and domestics.
I am neither of a niggardly nor grudging temper; but we
women are disposed to insist, more earnestly than men, that
nothing shall be wasted. Embezzlement of all sorts is in-
tolerable to us: we require that each enjoy exactly in so far
as right entitles him.
  " Here I was in my element once more: I mourned my
father's death in silence. My protectress was content with
me: one small circumstance alone disturbed my peace.
Lydia returned: my mother had been harsh enough to cast
the poor girl off, after having altogether spoiled her. Lydia
had learned with her mistress to consider passions as her
occupation: she was wont to curb herself in nothing. On
her unexpected re-appearance, the lady whom I lived with
took her in: she wished to help me, but could train herself
to nothing.
   "About this time the relatives and future heirs of my
protectress often visited the house, to recreate themselves
with hunting. Lothario was frequently among them: it was
not long till I had noticed, though without the smallest refer-
ence to myself, how far he was superior to the rest. He was
courteous towards all, and Lydia seemed erelong to have
attracted his attention to her. Constantly engaged in some-
thing, I was seldom with the company: while he was there
I did not talk so much as usual; for, I will confess it, lively
conversation, from of old, had been to me the finest season-
ing of existence. With my father I was wont to talk of
every thing that happened. What you do not speak of, you


897





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIt.


will seldom accurately think of. No man had I ever heard
with greater pleasure than I did Lothario, when he told us of
his travels and campaigns. The world appeared to lie before
him clear and open, as to me the district was in which I lived
and managed. We were not entertained with marvellous
personal adventures, the extravagant half-truths of a shallow
traveller, who is always painting out himself, and not the
country he has undertaken to describe. Lothario did not tell
us his adventures: he led us to the place itself. I have
seldom felt so pure a satisfaction.
  " But still higher was my pleasure when I heard him talk,
one evening, about women. The subject happened to be in-
troduced : some ladies of the neighborhood had come to see
us, and were speaking, in the common style, about the cul-
tivation of the female mind. Our sex, they said, was treated
unjustly: every sort of higher education men insisted on
retaining for themselves; they admitted us to no science,
they required us either to be dolls or family drudges. To all
this Lothario said not much; but, when the party was a
little thinned, he gave us his opinion more explicitly. 'It
is very strange,' cried he, 'that men are blamed for their
proceeding here: they have placed woman on the highest
station she is capable of occupying. And where is there any
station higher than the ordering of the house? While the
husban'd has to vex himself with outward matters, while he
has wealth to gather and secure, while perhaps he takes part
in the administration of the state, and everywhere depends
on circumstances; ruling nothing, I may say, while he con-
ceives that he is ruling much; compelled to be but politic
where he would willingly be reasonable, to dissemble where
he would be open, to be false where he would be upright;
while thus, for the sake of an object which he never reaches,
lie must every moment sacrifice the first of objects, harmony
with himself, - a reasonable housewife is actually governing
in the interior of her family; has the comfort and activity
of every person in it to provide for, and make possible.
What is the highest happiness of mortals, if not to execute
what we consider right and good,- to be really masters of
the means conducive to our aims? And where should or can
our nearest aims be, but in the interior of our home? All
those indispensable and still to be renewed supplies, where do
we expect, do we require, to find them, if not in the place
where we rise and where we go to sleep, where kitchen and
cellar, and every species of accommodation for ourselves


398





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


and ours, is to be always ready? What unvarying activity is
needed to conduct this constantly recurring series in unbroken
living order! How few are the men to whom it is given to
return regularly like a star, to command their day as they
command their night; to form for themselves their household
instruments, to sow and to reap, to gain and to expand,
and to travel round their circle with perpetual success and
peace and love ! It is when a voman has attained this inward
mastery, that she truly makes the husband whom she loves,
a master: her attention will acquire all sorts of knowledge;
her activity will turn them all to profit. Thus is she depend-
ent upon no one; and she procures her husband genuine
independence, that which is interior and domestic: whatever
he possesses, he beholds secured; what he earns, well em-
ployed: and thus he can direct his mind to lofty objects ; and,
if fortune favors, he may act in the state the same char-
acter which so well becomes his wife at home.'
  " He then described to us the kind of wife he wished. I
reddened; for he was describing me, as I looked and lived.
I silently enjoyed my triumph; and the more, as I perceived,
from all the circumstances, that he had not meant me indi-
vidually, that, indeed, he did not know me. I cannot recol-
lect a more delightful feeling in my life than this, when a
man whom I so highly valued gave the preference, not to
my person, but to my inmost nature. What a recompense
did I consider it! What encouragement did it afford me !
  " So soon as they were gone, my worthy benefactress with
a smile observed to me, 'Pity that men often think and
speak of what they will never execute, else here were a
special match, the exact thing for my dear Theresa!' I
made sport of her remark, and added, that indeed men's
understanding gave its vote for household wives, but that
their heart and imagination longed for other qualities; and
that we household people could not stand a rivalry with
beautiful and lovely women. This was spoken for the ear
of Lydia; she did not hide from us that Lothario had made
a deep impression on her heart: and, in reality, he seemed
at each new visit to grow more and more attentive to her.
She was poor, and not of rank; she could not think of mar-
riage; but she was unable to resist the dear delight of
charming and of being charmed. I had never loved, nor
did I love at present; but though it was unspeakably agree-
able to see in what light my turn of mind was viewed, how
high it was ranked by such a man, I will confess I still was


399





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


not altogether satisfied. I now wished that he should be
acquainted with me, and should take a personal interest in
me. This wish arose, without the smallest settled thought
of any thing that could result from it.
  " The greatest service I did my benefactress was in bring-
ing into order the extensive forests which belonged to her.
In this precious property, whose value time and circum-
stances were continually increasing, matters still went on
according to the old routine, --without regularity, without
plan, no end to theft and fraud. Many hills were standing
bare: an equal growth was nowhere to be found but in the
oldest cuttings. I personally visited the whole of them,
with an experienced forester.   I got the woods correctly
measured: I set men to hew, to sow, to plant; in a short
time, all things were in progress. That I might mount more
readily on horseback, and also walk on foot with' less ob-
struction, I had a suit of men's clothes made for me: I was
present in many places, I was feared in all.
   "Hearing that our young friends, with Lothario, were
purposing to have another hunt, it came into my head, for
the first time in my life, to make a figure, or, that I may
not do myself injustice, to pass in the eyes of this noble
gentleman for what I was. I put on my men's clothes, took
my gun upon my shoulder, and went forward with our hunt-
ers, to await the.party on our marches. They came : Lotha-
rio did 'not know me; a nephew of the lady introduced
me to him as a clever forester, joked about my youth, and
carried on his jesting in my praise, till at last Lothario
recognized me. The nephew seconded my project, as if we
had concocted it together. He circumstantially and grate-
fully described what I had done for the estates of his aunt,
and consequently for himself.
   "Lothario listened with attention: he talked with me,
 inquired concerning all particulars of the estates and district.
 I, of course, was glad to have such an opportunity of showing
 him my knowledge : I stood my ordeal very well ; I submitted
 certain projects of improvement to him, which he sanctioned,
 telling me of similar examples, and strengthening my argu-
 ments by the connection which he gave them. My satisfac-
 tion grew more perfect every moment. Happily, however,
 I merely wished that he should be acquainted with me, not
 that he should love me. We came home; and I observed,
 more clearly than before, that the attention lihe showed Lydia
 seemed expressive of a secret attachment. I had reached


400





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


my object, yet I was not at rest: from that day he showed
a true respect for me, a fine trust in me; in company he
usually spoke to me, asked my opinion, and appeared to be
persuaded, that, in household matters, nothing was unknown
to me. His sympathy excited me extremely: even when the
conversation was of general finance and political economy,
he used to lead me to take part in it; and, in his absence, I
endeavored to acquire more knowledge of our province, nay,
of all the empire. The task was easy for me : it was but
repeating on the great scale what I knew so accurately on
the small.
  " From this period he visited our house oftener. We
talked, I may say, of every thing; yet in some degree our
conversation always in the end grew economical, if even but
in a secondary sense. What immense effects a man, by the
continuous application of his powers, his time, his money,
even by means which seem but small, may bring about, was
frequently and largely spoken of.
  " I did not withstand the tendency which drew me towards
him; and, alas ! I felt too soon how deep, how cordial, how
pure and genuine, was my love, as I believed it more and
mnore apparent that Lydia, and not myself, was the occasion
of these visits. She, at least, was most vividly persuaded
so: she made me her confidant; and this, again, in some de-
gree, consoled me. For, in truth, what she explained so
much to her advantage, I reckoned nowise of importance:
there was not �a trace of any serious lasting union being
meditated, but the more distinctly did I see the wish of the
impassioned girl to be his at any price.
  " Thus did matters stand, when the lady of the house sur-
prised me with an unexpected message. 'Lothario,' said
she,' offers you his hand, and desires through life to have
you ever at his side.' She enlarged upon my qualities, and
told me, what I liked sufficiently to hear, that in me Lothario
was persuaded he had found the person whom he had so long
been seeking for.
  ' The height of happiness was now attained for me: my
hand was asked by a man for whom I had the greatest value,
beside whom, and along with whom, I might expect a full,
expanded, free, and profitable employment of my inborn
tendency, of my talent perfected by practice. The sum of
my existence seemed to have enlarged itself into infinitude.
I gave my consent: lie himself came, and spoke with me in
private; he held out his hand to me; he looked into my


401





TIEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


eyes, he clasped me in his arms, and pressed a kiss upon my
lips. It was the first and the last. He confided to me all
his circumstances ; told me how much his American campaign
had cost him, what debts he had accumulated on his property;
that, on this score, he had in some measure quarrelled with
his grand-uncle; that the worthy gentleman intended to re-
lieve him, though truly in his own peculiar way, being
minded to provide him with a rich wife, whereas, a man of
sense would choose a household wife, at all events; that,
however, by his sister's influence, he hoped his noble rela-
tive would be persuaded. He set before me the condition of
his fortune, his plans, his prospects, and requested my co-
operation. Till his uncle should consent, our promise was
to be a secret.
   " Scarcely was he gone when Lydia asked me whether he
had spoken of her. I answered no, and tired her with a
long detail of economical affairs. She was restless; out of
humor; and his conduct, when he came again, did not im-
prove her situation.
   " But the sun, I see, is' bending to the place of rest.
Well for you, my friend ! You would otherwise have had to
hear this- story, which I often enough go over by myself, in
all its most minute particulars. Let me hasten : we are com-
ing to an epoch on which it is not good to linger.
  " By.Lothario I was made acquainted with his noble sis-
ter; and she, at a convenient time, contrived to introduce me
to the uncle. I gained the old man: he consented to our
wishes, and I returned with happy tidings to my benefac-
tress. The affair was now no secret in the house: Lydia
heard of it; she thought the thing impossible. When she
could no longer doubt of it, she vanished all at once: we
knew not whither she had gone.
  " Our marriage-day was coming near: I had often asked
him for his portrait; just as he was going off, I reminded
him that he had promised it. He said, 'You have never
given me the case you want to have it fitted into.' This was
true: I had got a present from a female friend, on which I
set no ordinary value. Her name, worked from her own hair,
was fastened on the outer glass: within, there was a vacant
piece of ivory, on which her portrait was to have been
painted, when a sudden death snatched her from    me.
Lothario's love had cheered me at the time her death lay
heavy on my spirits, and I wished to have the void which she
had left me in her present filled by the picture of my friend.


102





MEISTElR'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   "I ran to my chamber, fetched my jewel-box, and opened
it in his presence. Scarcely had he looked into it, when he
noticed a medallion with the portrait of a lady. He took it
in his hand, considered it attentively, and asked me hastily
whose face it was. ' My mother's,' answered I. ' I could
have sworn,' said he, ' that it was the portrait of a Madame
Saint Alban, whom I met some years ago in Switzerland.' -
'It is the same,' replied I, smiling, ' and so you have un-
wittingly become acquainted with your stepmother. Saint
Alban is the name my mother has assumed for travelling
with: she passes under it in France at present.'
  "' I am the miserablest man alive ! ' exclaimed he, as he
threw the portrait back into the box, covered his eyes with
his hand, and hurried from the room. He sprang on horse-
back : I ran to the balcony, and called out after him; he
turned, waved his hand to me, went speedily away, - and I
have never seen him more."
  The sun went down i Theresa gazed with unaverted looks
upon the splendor, and both her fine eyes filled with tears.
  Theresa spoke not: she laid her hand upon her new
friend's hands; he kissed it with emotion: she dried her
tears, and rose. " Let us return, and see that all is right,"
said she.
  The conversation was not lively by the way. They en-
tered the' garden-door, and noticed Lydia sitting on a bench:
she rose, withdrew before them, and walked in. She had a
paper in her hand: two little girls were by her. " I see,"
observed Theresa, "she is still carrying her only comfort,
Lothario's letter, with her. He promises that she shall live
with him again so soon as he is well: he begs of her till
then to stay in peace with me. On these words she hangs,
with these lines she solaces herself ; but with his friends she
is extremely angry."
  Meanwhile the two children had approached. They cour-
tesied to Theresa, and gave her an account of all that had
occurred while she was absent. " You see here another part
of my employment," said Theresa. " Lothario's sister and
I have made a league: we educate some little ones in com-
mon; such as promise to be lively, serviceable housewives I
take charge of, she of such as show a finer and more quiet
talent: it is right to provide for the happiness of future hus-
bands, both in household and in intellectual matters. When
you become acquainted with my noble friend, a new era in
your life will open. He r beauty, her goodness, make her


408





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


worthy of the reverence of the world." Wilhelm did not.
venture to confess, that unhappily the lovely countess was
already known to him; that his transient connection with
her would occasion him perpetual sorrow. He was well
pleased that Theresa let the conversation drop, that some
business called for her within. He was now alone: the in-
telligence which he had just received of the young and
lovely countess being driven to replace, by deeds of benevo-
lence, her own lost comfort, made him very sad; he felt,
that, with her, it was but a need of self-oblivion, an attempt
to supply, by the hopes of happiness to others, the want of
a cheerful enjoyment of existence in herself. He thought
Theresa happy, since, even in that unexpected melancholy
alteration which had taken place in her prospects, there was
no alteration needed in herself. " How fortunate beyond all
others," cried he, " is the man, who, in order to adjust himself
to fate, is not required to cast away his whole preceding life ! "
  Theresa came into his room, and begged pardon for dis-
turbing him. " My whole library," said she, " is in the
wall-press here: they are rather books which I do not throw
aside, than which I have taken up. Lydia wants a pious
book: there are one or two of that sort among them. Per.
sons who throughout the whole twelve months are worldly,
think it necessary to be godly at a time of straits: all moral
and religious matters they regard as physic, which is to be
taken with aversion when they are unwell; in a clergyman,
a moralist, they see nothing but a doctor, whom they cannot
soon enough get rid of. Now, I confess, I look upon reli-
gion as a kind of diet, which can only be so when I make a
constant practice of it, when throughout the whole twelve
months I never lose it out of sight."
  She searched among the books: she found some edifying
works, as they are called. " It was of my mother," said
Theresa, " that poor Lydia learned to have recourse to
books like these. While her gallant continued faithful,
plays and novels were her life: his departure brought re-
ligious writings once more into credit. I, for my share,
cannot understand," continued she, " how men have made
themselves believe that God speaks to us through books and
histories. The man to whom the universe does not reveal
directly what relation it has to him, whose heart does not
tell him what he owes to himself and others, that man will
scarcely learn it out of books, which generally do little more
than give our errors names."


404





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  She left our friend alone: he passed his evening in exam-
ining the little library ; it had, in truth, been gathered quite
at random.
  Theresa, for the few days Wilhelh spent with her, con-
tinued still the same: she related to him at different times
the consequences of that singular incident with great minute-
ness. Day and hour, place and name, were present to her
memory : we shall here compress into a word or two so
much of it as will be necessary for the information of our
readers.
  The reason of Lothario's quick departure was, unhappily,
too easy to explain. He had met Theresa's mother on her
journey: her charms attracted him; she was no niggard of
them; and this luckless transitory aberration came at length
to shut him out from being united to a lady whom nature
seemed to have expressly made for him. As for Theresa,
she continued in the pure circle of her duties. They learned
that Lydia had been living in the neighborhood in secret.
She was happy that the marriage, though for unknown
causes, had not been completed. She endeavored to renew
her intimacy with Lothario; and more, as it seemed, out of
desperation than affection, by surprise than with considera-
tion, from tedium than of purpose, he had met her wishes.
  Theresa was not uneasy on this account; she waived all
further claims; and, if he had even been her husband, she
would probably have had sufficient spirit to endure a matter
of this kind, if it had not troubled her domestic order: at
least, she often used to say, that a wife who properly con-
ducted her economy should take no umbrage at such little
fancies of her husband, but be always certain that he would
return.
  Erelong Theresa's mother had deranged her fortune : the
losses fell upon the daughter, whose share of the effects, in
consequence, was small. The old lady, who had been The-
resa's benefactress, died, leaving her a little property in land,
and a handsome sum by way of legacy. Theresa soon con-
trived to make herself at home in this new, narrow circle.
Lothario offered her a better property, Jarno endeavoring to
negotiate the business; but she refused it. ' I will show,"
said she, " in this little, that I deserved to share the great
with him; but I keep this before me, that, should accident
embarrass me, on my own account or that of others, I will
betake myself without the smallest hesitation to my generous
friend."


405





1MLEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  There is nothing less liable to be concealed and unem.
ployed than well-directed practical activity. Scarcely had
she settled in her little property, when her acquaintance and
advice began to be desired by many of her neighbors; and
the proprietor of the adjacent lands gave her plainly enough
to understand that it depended on herself alone whether she
would take his hand, and be heiress of the greater part of
his estates. She had already mentioned the matter to our
friend: she often jested with him about marriages, suitable
and unsuitable.
  " Nothing," said she once, j gives a greater loose to peo-
ple's tongues than when a marriage happens which they can
denominate unsuitable: and yet the unsuitable are far more
common than the suitable; for, alas ! with most marriages,
it is not long till things assume a very piteous look. The
confusion of ranks by marriage can be called unsuitable
only when the one party is unable to participate in the
manner of existence which is native, habitual, and which at
length grows absolutely necessary, to the other. The differ-
ent classes have different ways of living, which they cannot
change or communicate to one another; and this is the rea-
son why connections such as these, in general, were better
not be formed. Yet exceptions, and exceptions of the
happiest kind, are possible. Thus, too, the marriage of a
young woman with a man advanced in life is generally un-
suitable; yet I have seen.some such turn out extremely well.
For me, I know but of one kind of marriage that would be
entirely unsuitable, - that in which I should be called upon
to make a show, and manage ceremonies : I would rather give
my hand.to the son of any honest farmer in the neighbor-
hood.
   Wilhelm at length made ready for returning. He re-
quested of Theresa to obtain for him a parting word with
Lydia. The impassioned girl at last consented: he said
some kindly things to her, to which she answered, "The
first burst of anguish I have conquered. Lothario will be
ever dear to me ; but for those friends of his, I know them;
and it grieves me that they are about him. The abbe, for
a whim's sake, could leave a person in extreme need, or even
plunge one into it; the doctor would have all things go on
like clock-work; Jarno has no heart; and you - at least no
force of character ! Just go on : let these three people use
you as their tool; they will have many an execution to com-
mit to you. For a long time, as I know well, my presence


406




MEISTER'S APPRENTIChaHIP.


has been hateful to them. I had not found out their secret,
but I had observed that they had one. Why these bolted
rooms, these strange passages? Why can no one ever reach
the central tower? Why did they banish me, whenever they
could, to my own chamber? I will confess, jealousy at first
incited me to these discoveries: I feared some lucky rival
might be hid there. I have now laid aside that suspicion: I
am well convinced that Lothario loves me, that he means
honorably by me; but I am quite as well convinced that his
false and artful friends betray him. If you would really do
him service, if you would ever be forgiven for the injury
which I have suffered from you, free him from the hands of
these men. But what am I expecting ! Give this 'letter to
him; repeat what it contains, - that I will love him forever,
that I depend upon his word. Ah! " cried she, rising, and
throwing herself with tears upon Theresa's neck: "he is
surrounded by my foes; they will endeavor to persuade him
that I have sacrificed nothing for his sake. Oh! Lothario
may well believe that he is worthy of any sacrifice, without
needing to be grateful for it."
  Wilhelm's parting with Theresa was more cheerful: she
wished they might soon meet again. " Me you wholly
know," said she: " I alone have talked while we have been
together. It will be your duty, next time, to repay my
candor."
  During his return he .kept contemplating this new and
bright phenomenon with the liveliest recollection. What
confidence had she inspired him with. He thought of Mig-
non and Felix, and how happy they might be if under her
direction; then he thought of himself, and felt what pleas-
ure it would be to live beside a being so entirely serene and
clear. As he approached Lothario's castle, he observed,
with more than usual interest, the central tower and the
many passages and side-buildings: he resolved to question
Jarno or the abb6 on the subject, by the earliest oppor-
tunity.



                    CHAPTER VII.

  ON arriving at the castle, Wilhelm found its noble owner
in the way of full recovery: the doctor and the abbe had


407





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


gone off ; Jarno alone was there. It was not long till the
patient now and then could ride, sometimes by himself,
sometimes with his friends. His conversation was at once
courteous and earnest, instructive and enlivening: you could
often notice in it traces of a tender sensibility; although he
strove to hide it, and almost seemed to blame it, when, in
spite of him, it came to view.
  One evening while at table he was silent, though his look
was very cheerful.
  "To-day," said Jarno, "you have met with an adven-
ture; and, no doubt, you relished it."
  I I give you credit for your penetration," said Lothario.
" Yes, I have met with a very pleasing adventure. At an-
other time, perhaps, I should not have considered it so
charming.as to-day, when it came upon me so attractively.
Towards night I rode out beyond the river, through the
hamlets, by a path which I had often visited in former years.
My bodily ailings must have reduced me more than I sup-
posed: I felt weak ; but, as my strength was re-awakening, I
was, as' it were, new-born. All objects seemed to wear the
hues they had in earlier times: all looked graceful, lovely,
charming, as they have not looked to me for many years. I
easily observed that it was mere debility, yet I continued to
enjoy it: I rode softly onwards, and could now conceive
how men may grow to like diseases which attune us to those
sweet emotions. You know, perhaps, what used of old so
frequently to lead me that way? "
  " If I mistake not," answered Jarno, "it was a little love-
concern you were engaged in with a farmer's daughter."
  " It might be called a great one," said Lothario; "' for we
loved each other deeply,. seriously, and for a long time.
To-day, it happened, every thing combined to represent be-
fore me in its liveliest color the earliest season of our love.
The boys were again shaking may-bugs from the trees: the
ashen grove had not grown larger since the day I saw her
first. It was now long since I had met with Margaret. She
is married at a distance; and I had heard by chance that she
was come with her children, some weeks ago, to pay a visit
to her father."
   " This ride, then, was not altogether accidental ? "
   " I will not deny," replied Lothario, ' that I wished to
meet her. On coming near the house, I saw her father sit-
ting at the door: a child of probably a year old was standing
by him. As I approached, a female gave a hasty look from


408





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


an upper window; and a minute afterwards I heard some
person tripping down-stairs. I thought surely it was she;
and, I will confess, I was flattering myself that she had
recognized me, and was hastening to meet me. But what
was my surprise and disappointment, when she bounded from
the door, seized the child, to whom the horses had come
pretty close, and took it in ! . It gave me a painful twinge :
my vanity, however, was a little solaced when I thought I
saw a tint of redness on her neck and on the ear, which.were
uncovered.
  ' I drew up, and, while speaking with the father, glanced
sideways over all the windows, to observe if she would not
appear at some of them; but no trace of her was visible.
Ask I would not, so I rode away. My displeasure was a
little mollified by wonder; though I had not seen the face, it
appeared to me that she was scarcely changed; and ten years
are a pretty space ! Nay, she looked even younger, quite as
slim, as light of foot; her neck, if possible, was lovelier
than before; her cheeks as quick at blushing; yet she was
the mother of six children, perhaps of more. This appari-
tion suited the enchantment which surrounded me so well,
that I rode along with feelings grown still younger; and I
did not turn till I was at the forest, when the sun was going
down, Strongly as the falling dew and the prescription of
our doctor called upon me to proceed direct homewards, I
could not help again going round by the farmhouse. I ob-
served a woman walking up and down the garden, which is
fenced by a light hedge. I rode along the footpath to it, and
found myself at no great distance from the person whom I
wanted.
   "Though the evening sun was glancing in my eyes, I saw
 that she was busy with the hedge, which only slightly cov-
 ered her. I thought r recognized my mistress. On coming
 up, I halted, not without a palpitation at the heart. Some
 high twigs of wild roses, which a soft air was blowing to and
 fro, made her figure indistinct to me. I spoke to her, asked
 her how she was. She answered, in an under-tone, ' uite
 well.' In the mean time I perceived a child behind the hedge,
 engaged in plucking roses; and I took the opportunity of
 asking where her other children were. ' It is not my child,'
 said she: 'that were rather early ! ' And at this moment it
 happened that the twigs were blown aside, and her face could
 be distinctly seen. I knew not what to make of the affair.
 It was my mistress, and it was not. Almost younger, almost


409





410


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


lovelier, than she used to be ten years before. ' Are not you
the farmer's daughter?' inquired I, half confused. 'No,'
said she : ' I am her cousin.'
   " ' You resemble one another wonderfully,' added I.
   " ' Yes, so says every one that knew her half a score of
years ago.'
   ' I continued putting various questions to her: my mis-
take was pleasant to me, even after I had found it out. I
coul not leave this living image of by-gone blessedness that
stood before me. The child, meanwhile, had gone away: it
had wandered to the pond in search of flowers. She took
her leave, and hastened after it.
   " I had now, however, learned that my former love was
really in her father's house. While riding forward, I em-
ployed myself in guessing whether it had been her cousin or
she that had secured the child from harm. I more than once,
in thought, repeated all the circumstances of the incident:
I can remember few things that have affected me more grate-
fully. But I feel that I am still unwell: we must ask the
doctor to deliver us from the remains of this pathetic humor."
  With confidential narratives of pretty love adventures, it
often happens as with ghost stories: when the first is told,
the others follow of themselves.
  Our little party, in recalling other times, found numerous
passages of this description. Lothario had the most to tell.
Jarno's histories were all of one peculiar character: what
Wilhelm could disclose we already know. He was appre-
hensive they might mention his adventure with the countess;
but it was not hinted at, not even in the remotest manner.
  " It is true," observed Lothario, " there can scarcely any
feeling in the world be more agreeable than when the heart,
after a pause of indifference, again opens to love for some
new object; yet I would forever have renounced that happi-
ness, had fate been pleased to unite me with Theresa. We
are not always youths: we ought not always to be children.
To the man who knows the world, who understands what he
should do in it, what he should hope from it, nothing can be
more desirable than meeting with a wife who will everywhere
co-operate with him, who will everywhere prepare his way for
him; whose diligence takes up what his must leave; whose
occupation spreads itself on every side, while his must travel
forward on its single path. What a heaven had I figured for
myself beside Theresa! Not the heaven of an enthusiastic
bliss, but of a sure life on earth; order in prosperity, courage





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


in adversity, care for the smallest, and a spirit capable of
comprehending and managing the greatest. Oh! I saw in
her the qualities which, when developed, make such women
as we find in history, whose excellence appears to us far
preferable to that of men, - this clearness of view, this ex-
pertness in all emergencies, this sureness in details, which
brings the whole so accurately out, although they never seem
to think of it. You may well forgive me," added he, and
turning to Wilhelm, with a smile, 1" that I forsook Aurelia
for Theresa: with the one I could expect a calm and cheer-
ful life, with the other not a happy hour."
  " I will confess," said Wilhelm, " that, in coming hither,
I had no small anger in my heart against you; that I pro-
posed to censure with severity your conduct to Au-
relia."
  " It was really censurable," said Lothario : " I should not
have exchanged my friendship for her with the sentiment of
love I should not, in place of the respect which she deserved,
have intruded an attachment she was neither calculated to
excite nor to maintain. Alas ! she was not lovely when she
loved, -the greatest misery that can befall a woman."
  " Well, it is past ! " said Wilhelm. " We cannot always
shun the things we blame; in spite of us, our feelings and
our actions sometimes strangely swerve from their natural
and right direction; yet there are certain duties which we
never should lose sight of. Peace be to the ashes of our
friend ! Without censuring ourselves or her, let us with
sympathizing hearts strew flowers upon her grave. But, at
the grave in which the hapless mother sleeps, let me ask why
you acknowledge not the child, - a son whom any father
might rejoice in, and whom you appear entirely to overlook ?
With your pure and tender nature, how can you altogether
cast away the. instinct of a parent ? All this while you have
not spent one syllable upon that precious creature, of whose
attractions I could say so much."
  " Whom do you speak of? " asked Lothario: " I do not
understand you."
  " Of whom but of your son, Aurelia's son, the lovely child,
to whose good fortune there is nothing wanting, but that a
tender father should acknowledge and receive him,"
  " You mistake, my friend! " exclaimed Lothario; " Au-
relia never had a son, at least by me: I know of no child, or
I would with joy acknowledge it; and, even in the present
case, I will gladly look upon the little creature as a rjic of


411





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


her, and take charge of educating it. But did she ever give
you to believe that the boy was hers, was mine? "
  " I cannot recollect that I ever heard a word from her ex-
pressly on the subject; but we took it up so, and I never for
a moment doubted it."
- " I can give you something like a clew to this- perplexity,"
said Jarno. " An old woman, whom you must have noticed
often, gave Aurelia the child: she accepted it with passion,
hoping to alleviate her sorrows by its presence; and, in truth,
it gave her many a comfortable hour."
  This discovery awoke anxieties in Wilhelm : he thought of
his dear Mignon and his beautiful Felix with the liveliest dis-
tinctness. He expressed his wish to remove them both from
the state in which they were.
   "We shall soon arrange it," said Lothario. " The little
girl may be committed to Theresa: she cannot be in better
hands. As for the boy, I think you should yourself take
charge of him: what in us the women leave uncultivated,
children cultivate when we retain them near us."
   " But first, I think," said Jarno, " you will once for all re-
nounce the stage, as you have no talent for it."
  Our friend was struck: he had to curb himself, for Jarno's
harsh sentence had not a little wounded his self-love. " If
you convince me of that," replied he, forcing a smile, " you
will do *me a service, though it is but a mournful service to
rouse one from a pleasing dream."
   ' Without enlarging on the subject," answered Jarno, " I
could merely wish you would go and fetch the children. The
rest will come in course."
   ' I am ready," answered Wilhelm: " I am restless, and
curious to see if I can get no further knowledge of the boy:
I long to see the little girl who has attached herself so
strangely to me."
  It was agreed that he should lose no time in setting out.
Next day he had prepared himself: his horse was saddled;
he only waited for Lothario to take leave of him. At the
dinner-hour they went as usual to table, not waiting for
the master of the house. He did not come till late, and
then sat down by them.
   " I could.bet," said Jarno, "that to-day you have again
been making trial of your tenderness of heart: you have not
been able to withstand the curiosity to see your quondam
love."
   " Guessed ! " replied Lothario,


412





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " Let us hear," said Jarno, "how it went: I long to
know."
   " I confess," replied Lothario, "the affair lay nearer my
heart than it reasonably ought: so I formed the resolution of
again, riding out, and actually seeing the person whose re-
newed young image had affected me with such a pleasing
illusion. I alighted at some distance from the house, and
sent the horses to a side, that the children, who were playing
at the door, might not be disturbed. I entered the house:
by chance she met me just within the threshold; it was her-
self; and I recognized her, notwithstanding the striking
change. She had grown stouter, and seemed to be larger;
her gracefulness was shaded by a look of staidness; her
vivacity had passed into a calm reflectiveness. Her head,
which she once bore so airily and freely, drooped a little:
slight furrows had been traced upon her brow.
   " She cast.down her eyes on seeing me, but no blush
announced any inward movement of the heart. I held out
my hand to her, she gave me hers; I inquired about her
husband, he was absent ; about her children, she stepped out
and called them; all came in and gathered round her. Noth-
ing is more charming than to see a mother with a child upon-
her arm; nothing is more reverend than a mother among
many children. That I might say something, I asked the
name of the youngest. She desired me to walk in and see
her father; I agreed; she introduced me to the room, where
every thing was standing almost just as I had left it; and,
what seemed stranger still, the fair cousin, her living image,
was sitting on the very seat behind the spinning-wheel,
where I had found my love so often in the self-same form.
A little girl, the very figure of her mother, had come after
us; and thus I stood in the most curious scene, between
the future and the past, as in a grove of' oranges, where
within a little circle flowers and fruits are living, in succes-
sive stages of their growth, beside each other. The cousin
went away to fetch us some refreshment: I gave the woman
I had loved so much my hand, and said to her,' I feel a true
joy in seeing you again.' -' You are very good to say so,'
answered; she ' but I also can assure you I feel the highest
joy. How often have I wished to see you once more in my
life ! I have wished it in moments which I regarded as my
last.' She said this with a settled voice, without appearance
of emotion, with that natural air which of old delighted me
so much. The cousin returned, the father with her; and I


413





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


leave you to conceive with what feelings I remained, and
with what I came away."





                    CHAPTER VIII.

  IN his journey to the town, our friend was thinking of the
lovely women whom he knew or had heard of: their curious
fortunes, which contained so little happiness, were present to
him with a sad distinctness. " Ah ! " cried he, " poor Ma-
riana ! What shall I yet learn of thee? And thou, noble
Amazon, glorious, protecting spirit, to whom I owe so much,
whom I everywhere expect to meet, and nowhere see, in what
mournful circumstances may I find thee, shouldst thou again
appear before me ! "
  On his arrival in the town, there was not one of his
acquaintances at home: he hastened to the theatre; he sup-
posed they would be rehearsing. Here, however, all was still ;
the house seemed empty: one little door alone was open.
Passing through it to the stage, he found Aurelia's ancient
serving-maid, employed in sewing linen for a new decora-
tion: there was barely light enough to let her work. Felix
and Mignon were sitting by her on the floor: they had a
book between them; and, while Mignon read aloud, Felix
was repeating all the words, as if he, too, knew his letters,-
as if he, too, could read.
  The children started up, and ran to him: he embraced
them with the tenderest feelings, and brought them closer to
the woman. " Art thou the person," said he to her with an
earnest voice, "'from whom Aurelia received this child? "
She looked up from her work, and turned her face to him:
he saw her in full light; he started back in terror, - it was
old Barbara.
  " Where is Mariana? " cried he. " Far from here," re-
plied the crone.
  " And Felix " -
  " Is the son of that unhappy and too true and tender-
hearted girl. May you never feel what you have made us
suffer ! May the treasure which I now deliver you make you
as happy as he made us wretched! "
   She arose to go away: Wilhelm held her fast. " I mean


414





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


not to escape you," said she: "let me fetch a paper that
will make you glad and sorrowful."
  She retired, and Wilhelm gazed upon the child with a
painful joy: he durst not reckon him his own. " He is
thine.! " cried Mignon, " he is thine ! " and passed the child
to Wilhelm's knee.
  Barbara came back, and handed him a letter. " Here are
Mariana's last words," said she.
  " She is dead ! " cried he.
  " Dead," said the old woman. " I wish to spare you all
reproaches."
  Astonished and confounded, Wilhelm broke up the letter;
but scarcely had he read the first words of it when a bitter
grief took hold of him: he let the letter fall, and sank upon
a seat. Mignon hurried to him, trying to console him. In
the mean time Felix had picked up the letter: he teased his
playmate till she yielded, till she knelt beside him and read
it over. Felix repeated the words, and Wilhelm was com-
pelled to hear them twice. " If this sheet should ever reach
thee, then lament thy ill-starred friend. Thy love has caused
her death. The boy, whose birth I survive but a few days,
is thine: I die faithful to thee, much as appearances may be
against me; with thee I lost every thing that bound me to
life. I die content, for they have assured me that the child
is healthy and will live. Listen to old Barbara; forgive her :
farewell, and forget me not."
   What a painful, and yet, to his comfort, half enigmatic let-
ter ! Its contents pierced through his heart, as the children,
stuttering and stammering, pronounced and repeated them.
   " That's what has come of it ! " said the crone, not wait-
ing till he had recovered. " Thank Heaven, that, having
lost so true a love, you have still left you so fine a child.
Your grief will be unequalled when you learn how the poor,
good girl stood faithful to you to the end, how miserable she
became, and what she sacrificed for your sake."
   1" Let me drain the cup of sorrow and of joy at once! "
 cried Wilhelm. '' Convince me, even persuade me, that she
 was a good girl, that she deserved respect as well as love:
 then leave me to my grief for her irreparable loss."
   " It is not yet time," said Barbara: " I have work to do,
 and I would not we were seen together. Let it be a secret
 that Felix is your son : I should have too much abuse to
 suffer from the company, for having formerly deceived them.
 Mignon will not betray us: she is good and close."


415





416


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  "I have known it long, and I said nothing," answered Mig-
non. "l How is it possible?" cried Barbara. "Whence? "
cried -Wilhelm.
  "The spirit told it me."
  "Where ? Where ? "
  " In the vault, when the old man drew his knife, it called
to me, ' Bring his father; ' and I thought it must be thou."
  " Wfo called to thee ? "
  " I know not: in my heart, in my head, I was terrified; I
trembled, I prayed; then it called, and I understood it.'
  Wilhelm pressed her to his heart, recommended Felix to
her, and retired. He had not observed till then that she
was grown much paler and thinner than when he left her.
Madam Melina was the first acquaintance he met: she re-
ceived him in the friendliest manner. Oh that you might find
every thing among us as you wished ! " exclaimed she.
  " I doubt it," answered Wilhelm: " I do not expect it.
Confess that they have taken all their measures to dispense
with me."
  " Why would you go away? " replied his friend.
  "We cannot soon enough convince ourselves," said he,
" how very simply we may be dispensed with in the world.
What important personages we conceive ourselves to be!
We think that it is we alone who animate the circle we move
in; that, in our absence, life, nourishment, and breath will
make a general pause: and, alas! the void which occurs is
scarcely remarked, so soon is it filled up again; nay, it is
often but the place, if not for something better, at least for
something more agreeable."
  "And the sorrows of our friends we are not .to take into
account ? "
  " For our friends, too, it is well, when they soon recover
their composure, when they say each to himself, there where
thou art, there where thou remainest, accomplish what thou
canst; be busy, be courteous, and let the present scene de-
light thee."
  On a narrower inquiry, he found what he had looked for:
the opera had been set up, and was exclusively attracting the
attention of the public. His parts had in the mean while
been distributed between Horatio and Laertes, and both of
them were in the habit of eliciting from the spectators far
more liberal applause than he had ever been enabled to
obtain.
  Laertes entered: and Madam Melina cried, " Look you





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


here at this lucky fellow; he is soon to be a capitalist, or
Heaven knows what! "     Wilhelm, in embracing him, dis-
covered that his coat was superfine: the rest of his apparel
was simple, but of the very best materials.
  " Solve -me the riddle ! " cried our friend.
  "You are still in time to learn," replied Laertes, "that
my running to and fro is now about to be repaid; that a part-
ner in a large commercial house is turning to advantage my
acquirements from books or observation, and allowing me a
share with him. I would give something, could I purchase
back my confidence in women: there is a pretty niece in the
house; and I see well enough, that, if I pleased, I might
soon be a made man."
  " You have not heard," said Frau Melina, " that a mar-
riage has already taken place among ourselves? Serlo is
actually wedded to the fair Elmira: her father would not tol-
erate their secret correspondence."
  They talked in this manner about many things that had
occurred while he was absent: nor was it difficult for him to
observe, that, according to the present temper and constitu-
tion of the company, his dismissal had already taken place.
  He impatiently expected Barbara, who had appointed him-
to wait for her far in the night. She was to come when all
were sleeping: she.required as many preparations as if she
had been' the youngest maiden gliding in to her beloved.
Meanwhile he read a hundred times the letter she had given
him, - read with unspeakable delight the word faithful in the
hand of his darling, with horror the announcement of her
death, whose approaches she appeared to view unmoved.
  Midnight was past, when something rustled at the half-
open door, and Barbara came in with a little basket. " I am
to tell you the story of our woes," said she: " and I must
believe that you will sit unmoved at the recital; that you are
waiting for me but to satisfy your curiosity; that you will
now, as you did formerly, retire within your cold selfishness,
while our hearts are breaking. But look you here ! Thus,
on that happy evening, did I bring you the bottle of cham-
pagne; thus did I place the three glasses on the table: and
as you then began, with soft nursery tales, to cozen us and
lull us asleep; so will I now with stern truths instruct you
and keep you waking."
  Wilhelm knew not what to say, when the old woman, in
fact, let go the cork, and filled the three glasses to the brim.
  " Drink !" cried she, having emptied at a draught her


417





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


foaming glass. "Drink, ere the spirit of it pass! This
third glass shall froth away untasted to the memory of my
unhappy Mariana. How red were her lips when she then
drank your health ! Ah, and now forever pale and cold ! "
  " Sibyl! Fury ! " cried Wilhelm, springing up,. and strik-
ing the table with his fist, " what evil spirit possesses thee
and drives thee? For what dost thou take me, that thou
thinkest the simplest narrative of Mariana's death and sor-
rows will not harrow me enough, but usest these hellish arts
to sharpen my torment? If thy insatiable greediness is such,
that thou must revel at'the funeral-table, drink and speak !
I have loathed thee from of old; and I cannot reckon Ma-
riana guiltless while I even look upon thee, her compan-
ion."
   " Softly, mein Herr.! " replied the crone: "you shall not
ruffle me. Your debts to us are deep and dark: the railing
of a debtor does not anger one. But you are right: the
simplest narrative will punish you sufficiently. Hear, then,
the struggle and the victory of Mariana striving to continue
yours."
   " Continue mine ? " cried Wilhelm : "what fable dost thou
mean to tell me ?"
   " Interrupt me not," said she; " hear me, and then give
what belief you list: to me it is all one. Did you not,:the
last night you were with us, find a letter in'the room, and take
it with you ?"
   "I found the letter after I had taken it with me: it was
lying in the neckerchief, which, in the warmth of my love, I
had seized and carried off."
   "What did the sheet contain ?"
   "The expectation of an angry lover to be better treated
 on the next than he had been on the preceding evening.
 And that you kept your word to him, I need not be told; for
 I saw him with my own eyes gliding from your house before
 daybreak."
   " You may have seen him; but what occurred within, how
 sadly Mariana passed that night, how fretfully I passed it,
 you are yet to learn. I will be altogether candid: I will
 neither hide nor palliate the fact, that I persuaded Mariana
 to yield to the solicitations of a certain Norberg; it was with
 repugnance that she followed my advice, nay, that she even
 heard it. He was rich; he seemed attached: I hoped he
 would be constant. Soon after, he was forced to go upon
 his journey; and Mariana became acquainted with you.


418





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


What had I then to abide! What to hinder, what to un-
dergo! 'Oh!' cried she often, 'hadst thou spared my
youth, my innocence, but four short weeks, I might have
found a worthy object of my love ; I had then been worthy of
him; and love might have given, with a quiet conscience,
what now I have sold against my will.' She entirely aban-
doned herself to her affection for you: I need not ask if you
were happy. Over her understanding I had an unbounded
power, for I knew the means of satisfying all her little in-
clinations: but over her heart I had no control; for she
never sanctioned what I did for her, what I counselled her to
do, when her heart said nay. It was only to irresistible
necessity that she would yield, but erelong the necessity ap-
peared to her extremely pressing. In the first period of her
youth, she had never known want; by a complication of mis-
fortunes, her people lost their fortune; the poor girl had
been used to have a number of conveniences; and upon her
young spirit celtain principles of honor had been stamped,
which made her restless, without much helping her. She had
not the smallest skill in worldly matters: she was innocent
in the strictest meaning of the word. She had no idea that
one could buy without paying; nothing frightened her more
than being in debt: she always rather liked to give than
take. This, and this alone, was what made it possible that
she could be constrained to give herself away, in order to
get rid of 'various little debts which weighed upon her."
   " And couldst not thou," cried Wilhelm, in an angry tone,
' have saved her ? "
   " Oh, yes ! " replied the beldame, " with hunger and need,
with sorrow and privation; but for this I was not disposed."
   " Abominable, base procuress! So thou hast sacrificed
the hapless creature ! Offered her up to thy .throat, to thy
insatiable maw ! "
   " It were better to compose yourself, and cease your revil-
ing," said the dame. " If you will revile, go to your high,
noble houses: there you will meet with many a mother, full
of anxious cares to find out for some lovely, heavenly maiden
the most odious of men, provided he be the richest. See the
poor creature shivering and faltering before her fate, and
nowhere finding consolation, till some more experienced fe-
male lets her understand, that, by marriage, she acquires the
right, in future, to dispose of her heart and person as she
pleases."
   "' Peace i " cried Wilhelm. "Dost thou think that one


419





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


crime can be the exctse of another? To thy story, without
further observations ! "
  "Do you listen, then, without blaming ! Mariana became
yours against my will. In this adventure, at least, I have
nothing to reproach myself with. Norberg returned; he
made haste to visit Mariana: she received him coldly and
angrily, - would not even admit him to a kiss. I employed
all my art in apologizing for her conduct, - gave him to
understand that her confessor had awakened her conscience;
that, so long as conscientious scruples lasted, one was bound
to respect them. I at last so far succeeded that he went
away, I promising to do my utmost for him. He was rich
and rude; but there was a touch of goodness in him, and he
loved Mariana without limit. He promised to be patient,
and I labored with the greatest ardor not to try him too far.
With Mariana I had a stubborn contest: I persuaded her,
nay, I may call it forced her, by the threat of leaving her, to
write to Norberg, and invite him for the night. You came,
and by chance picked up his answer in the neckerchief.
Your presence broke my game. For scarcely were you gone,
when she anew began her lamentation: she swore she would
not be unfaithful to you; she was so passionate, so frantic,
that I could not help sincerely pitying her. In the end, I
promised, that for this night also I would pacify her lover,
and send him off, under some pretence or other. I entreated
her to go to bed, but she did not seem to trust me : she kept
on her clothes, and at last fell asleep, without undressing,
agitated and exhausted with weeping as she was.
   " Norberg came; representing in the blackest hues her
conscientious agonies and her repentance, I endeavored to
retain him: he wished to see her, and I went into the room
to prepare her; he followed me, and both of us at once
came forward to her bed. She awoke, sprang wildly up, and
tore herself from our arms: she conjured and begged, she
entreated, threatened, and declared she would not yield.
She was improvident enough to let fall some words about the
true state of her affections, which poor Norberg had to
understand in a spiritual sense. At length he left her, and
she locked her door. I kept him long with me, and talked
with him about her situation. I told him that she was with
child; that, poor girl, she should be humored. He was so
delighted with his fatherhood, with his prospect of a boy,
that he granted every thing she wished : he promised rather
to set out and travel for a time, than vex his dear, and


420





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


injure her by these internal troubles. With such intentions,
at an early hour he glided out; and if you, mein Herr,
stood sentry by our house, there was nothing wanting to yotur
happiness, but to have looked into the bosom of your rival,
whom you thought, so favored and so fortunate, and whose
appearance drove you to despair."
  " Art thou speaking truth ? " said Wilhelm.
  " True," said the crone, " as I still hope to drive you to
despair."
  ,' Yes: certainly you would despair, if I could rightly
paint to you the following morning. How cheerfully did she
awake ! how kindly did she call me in, how warmly thank
me, how cordially press me to her bosom ! ' Now,' said she,
stepping up to her mirror with a smile, 'can I again take
pleasure in myself, and in my looks, since once more I am
my own, am his, my one beloved friend's. How sweet is it
to conquer ! How I thank thee for taking charge of me; for
having turned thy prudence and thy understanding, once, at
least, to my advantage ! Stand by me, and devise the means
of making me entirely happy! '
  " I assented, would not irritate her: I flattered her hopes,
and she caressed me tenderly. If she retired but a moment
from the window, I was made to stand and watch: for you,
of course, would pass; for she at least would see you. Thus
did we spend the restless day. At night, at the accustomed
hour, we' looked for you with certainty. I was already out
waiting at the staircase: I grew weary, and came in to her
again. With surprise I found her in her military dress: she
looked cheerful and charming beyond what I had ever seen
her. 'Do I not deserve,' said she, 'to appear to-night in
man's apparel? Have I not struggled bravely? My dear-
est shall see me as he saw me for the first time : I will press
him as tenderly and with greater freedom to my heart than
then; for am I not his much more than I was then, when a
noble resolution had not freed me? But,' added she, after
pausing for a little, ' I have not yet entirely won him; I must
still risk the uttermost, in order to be worthy, to be certain
of possessing him; I must disclose the whole to him, dis-
cover to him all my state, then leave it to himself to keep or
to reject me. This scene I am preparing for my friend, pre-
paring for myself; and, were his feelings capable of casting
me away, I should then belong again entirely to myself; my
punishment would bring me consolation. I would suffer all
that fate could lay upon me.'


421





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " With such purposes and hopes, mein Herr, this lovely
girl expected you: you came not. Oh ! how shall I describe
the state of watching and of hope ? I see thee still before
me, - with what love, what heartfelt love, thou spokest of
the man whose cruelty thou hadst not yet experienced."
  " Good, dear Barbara ! " cried Wilhelm, springing up, and
seizing the old woman by the hand, " we have had enough of
mummery and preparation ! Thy indifferent, thy calm, con-
tented tone betrays thee. Give me back my Mariana ! She
is living, she is near at hand. Not in vain didst thou choose
this late, lonely hour to visit me; not in vain hast thou pre-
pared mB by thy most delicious narrative. Where is she?
Where hast thou hidden her? I believe all, I will promise to
believe all, so thou but show her to me, so thou give her to
my arms. The shadow of her I have seen already: let me
clasp her once more to my bosom. I will kneel before her,
I will entreat forgiveness; I will congratulate her upon her
victory over herself and thee; I will bring my Felix to her.
Come! Where hast thou concealed her? Leave her, leave
me no longer in uncertainty ! Thy object is attained. Where
hast thou hidden her? Let me light thee with this candle,
let me once more see her fair and kindly face! "
  He had pulled old Barbara from her chair: she stared at
him; tears started into her eyes, wild pangs of grief took
hold of her. '"What luckless error," cried she, " leaves
you still a moment's hope? Yes, I have hidden her, but
beneath the ground : neither the light of the sun nor any
social taper shall again illuminate her kindly face. Take
the boy Felix to her grave, and say to him, ' There lies thy
mother, whom thy father doomed unheard.' The heart of
Mariana beats no longer with impatience to behold you: not
in a neighboring chamber is she waiting the conclusion of my
narrative or fable; the dark chamber has received her, to
which no bridegroom follows, from which none comes to
meet a lover."
  She cast herself upon the floor beside a chair, and wept
bitterly. Wilhelm now, for the first time, felt entirely con-
vinced that Mariana was no more: his emotions it is easy
to conceive. The old woman rose: " I have nothing more
to tell you," cried she, and threw a packet on the table.
"Here are some writings that will put your cruelty to
shame: peruse these sheets with unwet eyes, if you can."
She glided softly out. Our friend had not the heart to open
the pocket-book that night: he had himself presented it to


422





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Mariana; he knew that she had carefully preserved in it
every letter he had sent her. Next morning he prevailed
upon himself: he untied the ribbon; little notes came for-
ward written with pencil in his own hand, and recalled to
him every situation, from the first day of their graceful
acquaintance to the last of their stern separation. In par-
ticular, it was not without acute anguish that he read a small
series of billets which had been addressed to himself, and to
which, as he saw from their tenor, Werner had refused
admittance.

  " No one of my letters has yet penetrated to thee; my
entreaties, my prayers, have not reached thee; was it thyself
that gave these cruel orders ? Shall I never see thee more?
Yet again I attempt it: I entreat thee, come, oh come! I
ask not to retain thee, if I: might but once more press thee
to my heart."

  "When I used to sit beside thee, holding thy hands, look-
ing in thy eyes, and with the full heart of love and trust to
call thee ' Dear, dear good Wilhelm !' it would please thee
so, that I had to repeat it over and over. I repeat it once
again: 'Dear, dear good Wilhelm ! Be good as thou wert:
come, and leave me not to perish in my wretchedness.' "

  "Thou regardest me as guilty: I am so, but not as thou
thinkest. Come, let me have this single comfort, to be alto-
gether known to thee, let what will befall me afterwards."

  " Not for my sake alone, for thy own too, I beg of thee
to come. I feel the intolerable pains thou art suffering,
whilst thou fleest from me. Come, that our separation may
be less cruel! Perhaps I was never worthy of thee till this
moment, when thou art repelling me to boundless woe."

  " By all that is holy, by all that can touch a human heart,
I call upon thee ! It involves the safety of a soul, it in-
volves a life, two lives, one of which must ever be dear to
thee.   This, too, thy suspicion will discredit: yet I will
speak it in the hour of death; the child which I carry under
my heart is thine. Since I began to love thee, no other
man has even pressed my hand. Oh that thy love, that thy
uprightness, had been the companions of my youth! "


423





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " Thou wilt not hear me? I must even be silent. But
these letters will not die: perhaps they will speak to thee,
when the shroud is covering my lips, and the voice of thy
repentance cannot reach my ear. Through my weary life,
to the last moment, this will be my only comfort, that,
though I cannot call myself blameless, towards thee I am
free from blame."

  Wilhelm could proceed no farther: he resigned himself
entirely to his sorrow, which became still more afflicting;
when, Laertes entering, he was obliged to hide his feelings.
Laertes showed a purse of ducats, and began to count and
reckon them, assuring Wilhelm that there could be nothing
finer in the world than for a man to feel himself on the way
to wealth; that nothing then could trouble or detain him.
Wilhelm bethought him of his dream, and smiled; but at the
same time, he remembered with a shudder, that in his vision
Mariana had forsaken him, to follow his departed father,
and that both of them at last had moved about the garden,
hovering in the air like spirits.
  Laertes forced him from his meditations: he brought him
to a coffee-house, where, immediately on Wilhelm's entrance,
several persons gathered round him. They were men who
had applauded his performance on the stage: they expressed
their joy at meeting him; lamenting that, as they had heard,
he meant to leave the theatre. They spoke so reasonably.
and kindly of himself and his acting, of his talent, and their
hopes from it, that Wilhelm, not without emotion, cried at
last," Oh, how infinitely precious would such sympathy have
been to me some months ago! How instructive, how en-
couraging ! Never had I turned my mind so totally from the
concerns of the stage, never had I gone so far as to despair
of the public."
  " So far as this," said an elderly man who now stepped
forward, " we should never go. The public is large: true
judgment, true feeling, are iot quite so rare as one believes;
only the artist ought not to demand an unconditional ap-
proval of his work. Unconditional approval is always the
least valuable: conditional you gentlemen are not content
with. In life, as in art, I know well, a person must take
counsel with himself when he purposes to do or to produce
any thing: but, when it is produced or done, he must listen
with attention to the voices of a number; and, with a little
practice, out of these many votes he will be able to collect a


424





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


perfect judgmeht. The few who could well have saved us
this trouble for the most part hold their peace."
   " This they should not do," said Wilhelm. " I have often
heard people, who themselves kept silence in regard to works
of merit, complain and lament that silence was kept."
   "To-day, then, we will speak aloud," cried a young man.
 "You must dine with us; and we will try to pay off a little
 of the debt which we have owed to you, and sometimes also
 to our good Aurelia."
   This invitation Wilhelm courteously declined: he went to
Frau Melina, whom he wished to speak with on the subject of
the children, as he meant to take them from her.
   Old Barbara's secret was not too religiously observed by
him. He betrayed himself so soon as he again beheld the
lovely Felix. " Oh my child ! " cried he : " my dear child ! "
He lifted him, and pressed him to his heart.
   " Father ! what hast thou brought for me? " cried the child.
Mignon looked at both, as if she meant to warn them not to
blab.
   S"What new phenomenon is this? " said Frau Melina.
They got the children sent away; and Wilhelm, thinking
that he did not owe old Barbara the strictest secrecy, dis-
closed the whole affair to Frau Melina. She viewed him
with a smile. " Oh, these credulous men ! " exclaimed she.
" If any thing is lying in their path, it is so easy to impose it
on them; while in other cases they will neither look to the
right nor left, and can value nothing which they have not
previously impressed with the stamp of an arbitrary pas-
sion ! " She sighed, against her will: if our friend had not
been altogether blind, he must have noticed in her conduct
an affection for him.which had never been entirely subdued.
   He now spoke with her about the children, -how he pur-
 posed to keep Felix with him, and to place Mignon in the
 country. Madam Melina, though sorry at the thought of
 parting with them, said the plan was good, nay, absolutely
 necessary. Felix was becoming wild with her, and Mignon
 seemed to need fresh air and other occupation: she was
 sickly, and was not yet recovering.
   " Let it not mislead you," added Frau Melina, " that I
have lightly hinted doubts about the boy's being really
yours. The old woman, it is true, deserves but little confi.-
dence; yet a person who invents untruths for her advantage,
may likewise speak the truth when truths are profitable to
ler. Aurelia she had hoodwinked to believe that Felix was-


425





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Lothario's son; and it is a property of us women, that we
cordially like the children of our lovers, though we do not
know the mothers, or even hate them from the heart." Fe-
lix came jumping in.: she pressed him to her with a tender-
ness which was not usual to her.
  Wilhelm hastened home, and sent for Barbara, who, how-
ever, would not undertake to meet him till the twilight. He
received her angrily. " There is nothing in the world more
shameful," said he, " than establishing one's self on lies
and fables. Already thou hast done much mischief with
them; and now, when thy word could decide the fortune of
my life, now must I stand dubious, not venturing to call the
child my own, though to possess him without scruple would
form my highest happiness. I cannot look upon thee, scan-
dalous creature, without hatred and contempt."
   " Your conduct, if I speak with candor," said the old
woman, " appears to me intolerable. Even if Felix were
not.yours, he is the fairest and the loveliest child in nature:
one might purchase him at any price, to have him always
near one. Is he not worthy your acceptance? Do not I
deserve for my care, for the labor I have had with him, a
little pension for the small remainder of my life? Oh, you
gentlemen who know no want ! It is well for you to talk of
truth and honor; but how the miserable being whose small-
est necessity is unprovided for, who sees in her perplexities
no friend, no help, no counsel, how she is to press through
the crowd of selfish men, and to starve in silence, you are
seldom at the trouble to consider. Did you read Mariana's
letters? They are the letters she wrote to you at that un-
happy season. It was in vain that I attempted to approach
you to deliver you these sheets: your savage brother-in-law
had so begirt you, that craft and cunning were of no avail;
and at last, when he began to threaten me and Mariana with
imprisonment, I had then to cease my efforts and renounce all
hope. Does not every thing agree with what I told you?
And does not Norberg's letter put the story altogether out
of doubt?"
   "What letter? " asked he.
   "Did you not find it in the pocket-book ? " said Barbara.
   " I have not yet read all of them."
   " Give me the pocket-book: on that paper every thing de-
 penids. Norberg's luckless billet caused this sorrowful per-
 plexity: another from his hand may loose the knots, so far as
 aught may still depend upon unravelling them." She took a


426





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


427


letter from the book: Wilhelm recognized that odious writ-
ing; he constrained himself, and read, -
  "Tell me, girl, how hast thou got such power over me?
I would not have believed that a goddess herself could make
a sighing lover of me. Instead of hastening towards me
with open arms, thou shrankest back from me: one might
have taken it for aversion. Is it fair that I should spend
the night with old Barbara, sitting on a trunk, and but two
doors between me and my pretty Mariana? It is too bad, I
tell thee ! I have promised to allow thee time to think, not
to press thee unrelentingly: I could run mad at every wasted
quarter of an hour. Have not I given thee gifts according
to my power? Dost thou still doubt of my love? What
wilt thou have ? Do but tell me: thou shalt want for noth-
ing. Would the Devil had the priest that put such stuff into
thy head ! Why didst thou go to such a churl? There are
plenty of them that allow young people somewhat. In short,
I tell thee, things must alter: in two days I must have an
answer, for I am to leave the town; and, if thou become not
kind and friendly to me, thou shalt never see me more." . . .
  In this style the letter spun itself to great length; turn-
ing, to Wilhelm's painful satisfaction, still about the same
point, and testifying for the truth of the account which he
had got from Barbara. A second letter clearly proved that
Mariana, in the sequel, also had maintained her purpose;
and it was not without heartfelt grief, that, out of these and
other papers, Wilhelm learned the history of the unlucky
girl to the very hour of her death.
  Barbara had gradually tamed rude, regardless Norberg,
by announcing to him Mariana's death, and leaving him in the
belief that Felix was his son. Once or twice he had sent
her money, which, however, she retained for herself; having
talked Aurelia into taking charge of the child. But, un-
happily, this secret source of riches did not long endure.
Norberg, by a life of riot, had impaired his fortune; and, by
repeated love-affairs, his heart was rendered callous to his
supposed first-born.
  Probable as all this seemed, beautifully as it all agreed,
Wilhelm did not venture to give way to joy. He still
appeared to dread a present coming from his evil Genius.
   " Your jealous fears," said Barbara, who guessed his
mood of mind, " time alone can cure. Look upon the child
as a stranger one; take stricter heed of him on that account;
observe his gifts, his temper, his eanacities; and if you do





1MEISTER'S APPRENTICtSHIP.


not, by and by, discover in him the exact resemblance of
yourself, your eyes must certainly be bad. Of this I can
assure you, - were I a man, no one should foist a child on
me; but it is a happiness for women, that, in these cases,
men are not so quick of sight."
  These things over, Wilhelm and Barbara parted: he was
to take Felix with him; she, to carry Mignon to Theresa,
and afterwards to live in any place she pleased, upon a small
annuity which he engaged to settle on her.
  He sent for Mignon, to prepare her for the new arrange-
ment. " Master," said she, " keep me with thee : it will do
me good, and do me ill."
  He told her, that, as she was now grown up, there should
be something further done for her instruction. " I am suffi-
ciently instructed," answered she, " to love and grieve."
  He directed her attention to her health, and showed that
she required continuous care, and the direction of a, good
physician. " Why care for me," said she, " when there are
so many things to care for?"
  After he had labored greatly to persuade her that he could
not take her with him, that he would conduct her to a place
where he might often see her, she appeared as if she had not
heard a word of it. "' Thou wishest not to have me with
thee," said she. " Perhaps it is better: send me to the old
harper; the poor man is lonely where he is."
  Wilhelm tried to show her that the old man was in com-
fortable circumstances. " Every hour I long for him," re-
plied the child.
   " I did not see," said Wilhelm, "that thou wert so fond
of him when he was living with us."
   " I was frightened for him when he was awake; I could
not bear his eyes: but, when he was asleep, I liked so well to
sit by him ! I used to chase the flies from him: I could not
look at him enough. Oh ! he has stood by me in fearful mo-
ments: none knows how much I owe him. Had I known
the road, I should have run away to him already."
   Wilhelm set the circumstances in detail before her : he said
 that she had always been a reasonable child, and that, on
 this occasion also, she might do as she desired. "' Reason is
 cruel," said she; "the heart is better: I will go as thou re-
 quirest, only leave me Felix."
   After much discussion her opinion was not altered; and
 Wilhelm at last resolved on giving Barbara both the children,
 and sending them together to Theresa. This was the easiex


428





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


for him, as he still feared to look upon the lovely Felix as
his son. He would take him on his arm, and carry him
about: the child delighted to be held before the glass; Wil-
helm also liked, though unavowedly, to hold him there, and
seek resemblances between their faces. If for a moment any
striking similarity appeared between them, he would press
the boy in his arms; and then, at once affrighted by the
thought that he might be mistaken, he would set him down,
and let him run away. I Oh," cried he, " if I were to appro-
priate this priceless treasure, and it were then to be snatched
from me, I should be the most unhappy man on earth ! "
  The children had been sent away; and Wilhelm was about
to take a formal leave of the theatre, when he felt that in
reality he had already taken leave, and needed but to go.
Mariana was no more : his two guardian spirits had de-
parted, and his thoughts hied after them. The fair boy
hovered like a beautiful uncertain vision in the eyes of his
imagination : he saw him, at Theresa's hand, running through
the fields and woods, forming his mind and person in the
free air, beside a free and cheerful foster-mother. Theresa
had become far dearer to him since he figured her in company
with Felix. Even while sitting in the theatre, he thought of
her with qmiles; he was almost in her own case: the stage
could now produce no more illusion in him.
  Serlo and Melina were excessively polite to him, when they
observed that he was making no pretensions to his foriper
place. A portion of the public wished to see him act again:
this he could not accede to; nor in the company did any one
desire it, saving Frau Melina.
  Of this friend he now took leave; he was moved at parting
with her: he exclaimed, " Why do we presume to promise
any thing depending on an unknown future ? Themost slight
engagement we have not power to keep, far less a purpose
of importance. I feel ashamed in recollecting what I prom-
ised to you all, in that unhappy night, when we were lying
plundered, sick, and wounded, crammed into a miserable
tavern. How did misfortune elevate my courage! -what a
treasure did I think I had found in my good wishes ! And
of all this not a jot has taken effect ! I leave you as your
debtor; and my comfort is, that our people prized my prom-
ise at its actual worth, and never more took notice of it."
  " Be not unjust to yourself," said Frau Melina : " if no
one acknowledges what you have done for us, I at least will
not forget it. Our whole condition had been different, if you


429





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


had not been with us. But it is with our purposes as with
our wishes. They seem no longer what they were, when
they have been accomplished, been fulfilled; and we think
we have done, have wished for, nothing."
  " You shall not, by your friendly statement," answered
Wilhelm, " put my conscience to peace. I shall always look
upon myself as in your debt."
  " Nay, perhaps you are so," said Madam Melina, " but
not in the manner you suppose. We reckon it a shame to
fail in the fulfilment of a promise we have uttered with the
voice. O my friend ! a worthy person by his very presence
promises us much. The confidence he elicits, the inclination
he inspires, the hopes he awakens, are unbounded: he is and
continues in our debt, although he does not know it. Fare
you well! If our external circumstances have been happily
repaired by your direction, in my mind there is, by your de-
parture, produced a void which will not be filled up again so
easily."
  Before leaving the-city, Wilhelm wrote a copious sheet to
Werner. He had before- exchanged some letters; but, not
being able to agree, they had at length ceased to write.
Now, however, Wilhelm had again approximated to his
brother: he was just about to do what Werner had so ear-
nestly desired. He could say, " I am abandoning the stage :
I mean to join myself with men whose intercourse, in every
sense, must lead me to a sure and suitable activity." He
inquired about his property; and it now seemed strange to
him, that he had never, for so long a time, disturbed himself
about it. He knew not that it is the manner of all persons
who attach importance to their inward cultivation altogether
to neglect their outward circumstances. This had been Wil-
helm's case': he now for the first time seemed to notice, that,
to work effectively, he stood in 'need of outward means. He
entered on his journey, this time, in a temper altogether dif-
ferent from that of last; the prospects he had in view were
charming; he hoped to meet with something cheerful by the
way.


430





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER IX.

  ON returning to Lothario's castle, Wilhelm found that
changes had occurred. Jarno met him with the tidings, that,
Lothario's uncle being dead, the baron had himself set out
to take possession of the heritage. " You come in time,"
said he, "to help the abb6 and me. Lothario has commis-
sioned us to purchase some extensive properties of land in
this quarter: he has long contemplated the bargain, and we
have now got cash and credit just in season. The only point
which made us hesitate was, that a distant trading-house had
also views upon the same estates: at length we have deter-
mined to make common cause with it, as otherwise we might
outbid each other without need or reason. The trader seems
to be a prudent man. At present we are making estimates
and calculations: we must also settle economically how the
lands are to be shared, so that each of us may have a fine
estate."  The papers were submitted to our friend: the
fields, meadows, houses, were inspected; and, though Jarno
and the abbe seemed to understand the matter fully, Wil-
helm'could not help desiring that Theresa had been with them.
  In these labors several days were spent, and Wilhelm had
scarcely-time to tell his friends of his adventures and his
dubious fitherhood. This incident, to him so interesting,
they treated with indifference and levity.
  He had noticed, that they frequently in confidential con-
versation, while at table or in walks, would suddenly stop
short, and give their words another application; thereby
showing, at least, that they had on the anvil many things
which were concealed from him. He bethought him of what
Lydia had said; and he put the greater faith in it, as one
entire division of the castle had always been inaccessible to
him. The way to certain galleries, particularly to the ancient
tower, with which externally he was so well acquainted, he had
often sought, and hitherto in vain.
  One evening Jarno said to him, " We can now consider you
as ours, with such security, that it were unjust if we did not
introduce you deeper into our mysteries. It is right that a
man, when he first enters upon life, should think highly of
himself, should determine to attain many eminent distinctions,
should endeavor to make all things possible; but, when his
education has proceeded to a certain pitch, it is advantageous
for him, that he learn to lose himself among a mass of men,


431





MESTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


that he learn to live for the sake of others, and to forget him-
self in an activity prescribed by duty. It is then that he
first becomes acquainted with himself, for it is conduct alone
that compares us with others. You shall soon see what a
curious little world is at your very hand, and how well you
are known in it. To-morrow morning before sunrise be
dressed and ready."
  Jarno came at the appointed hour: he led our friend
through certain known and unknown chambers of the castle,
then through several galleries; till at last they reached a
large old door, strongly framed with iron. Jarno knocked :
the door went up a little, so as to admit one person. Jarno
shoved in our friend, but did not follow him. Wilhelm found
himself in an obscure and narrow stand : all was dark around
him; and, when he tried to go a step forward, he found him-
self hemmed in. A voice not altogether strange to him
cried, " Enter! " and he now discovered that the sides of
the place where he was were merely hung with tapestry,
through which a feeble light glimmered in to him. " En-
ter ? " cried the voice again: he raised the tapestry, and
entered.
  The hall in which he now stood appeared to have at one
time been a chapel: instead of the altar, he observed a large
table raised some steps above the floor, and covered with a
green cloth hanging over it. On the top of this, a drawn
curtain seemed as if it hid a picture; on the sides were
spaces beautifully worked, and covered in with fine wire-net-
ting, like the shelves of a library; only here, instead of
books, a multitude of rolls had been inserted. Nobody was
in the hall: the rising sun shone through the window, right
on Wilhelm, and kindly saluted him as he came in.
   " Be seated ! " cried a voice, which seemed to issue from
the altar. Wilhelm placed himself in a small arm-chair, which
stood against the tapestry where he had entered. There was
no seat but this in the room : Wilhelm had to be content with
it, though the morning radiance dazzled him; the chair stood
fast, he could only keep his hand before his eyes.
  But now the curtain, which hung down above the altar,
went asunder with a gentle rustling, and showed, within a
picture-frame, a dark, empty aperture. A man stepped for-
ward at it, in a common dress, saluted the astonished looker-
on, and said to him, " Do you not recognize me? Among
the many things which you would like to know, do you feel
no curiosity to learn where your graudfather's collection of


432





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


pictures and statues are at present? Have you forgot the
painting which you once so much delighted in ? Where, think
you, is the sick king's son now languishing?"'   Wilhelm,
without difficulty, recognized the stranger, whom, in that im-
portant night, he had conversed with at the inn. " Per-
haps," continued his interrogator, " we should now be less
at variance in regard to destiny and character."
  Wilhelm was about to answer, when the curtain quickly
flew together. " Strange ! " said Wilhelm to himself : " can
chance occurrences have a connection? Is what we call
Destiny but Chance? Where is my grandfather's collection ?
and why am I reminded of it in these solemn moments ? "
  He had not leisure to pursue his thoughts: the curtain
once more parted ; and a person stood before him, whom he
instantly perceived to be the country clergyman that had
attended him and his companions on that pleasure-sail of
theirs. He had a resemblance to the abb6, though he seemed
to be a different person. With a cheerful countenance, in a
tone of dignity, he said, "To guard from error is not the
instructor's duty, but to lead the erring pupil; nay, to let
him quaff his error in deep, satiating draughts, this is the
instructor's wisdom. He who only tastes his error, will long
dwell with it, will take delight in it as in a singular fe-
licity ; while he who drains it to the dregs will, if he be not
crazy, fifid it out." The curtain closed again, and Wilhelm
had a little time to think. "What error can he mean," said
he within himself, " but the error which has clung to me
through my whole life, - that I sought for cultivation where
it was not to be found; that I fancied I could form a talent
in me, while without the smallest gift for it?"
  The curtain dashed asunder faster than before: an officer
advanced, and said in passing, " Learn to know the men
who may be trusted! "    The curtain closed; and Wilhelm
did not long consider, till he found this officer to be the one
who had embraced him in the count's park, and had caused
his taking Jarno for a crimp. How that stranger had come
hither, who he was, were riddles to our friend. " If so
many men," cried he, " took interest in thee, know thy way
of life, and how it should be carried on, why did they not
conduct thee with greater strictness, with greater seriousness ?
Why did they favor thy silly sports, instead of drawing thee
away from them? "
  " Dispute not with us ! " cried a voice. " Thou art saved,
thou art 91o the way to the goal. None of thy follies wilt


433





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


thou repent; none wilt thou wish to repeat,; no luckier
destiny can be allotted to a man." The curtain went asun-
der, and in full armor stood the old king of Denmark in the
space. " I am thy father's spirit," said the figure; " and I
depart in comfort since my wishes for thee are accomplished,
in a higher sense than I myself contemplated. Steep regions
cannot be surmounted save by winding paths: on the plain,
straight roads conduct from place to place. Farewell, and
think of me when thou enjoyest what I have provided for
thee."
   Wilhelm was exceedingly amazed and struck: he thought
it was his father's voice; and yet in truth it was not : the
present and the past alike confounded and perplexed him.
   He had not meditated long when the abb6 came to view,
and placed himself behind the green table. "Come hither ! "
cried he to his marvelling friend. He went, and mounted up
the steps. ' On the green cloth lay a little roll. " Here is
your indenture," said the abb6: " take it to heart; it is of
weighty import."   Wilhelm lifted, opened it, and read :--


                      INDENTURE.

   Art is long, life short, judgment difficult, opportunity
transient. To act is easy, to think is hard; to act accord-
ing to our thoitght is troublesome. Every beginning is cheer-
ful: the threshold is the place of expectation. The boy
stands astonished, his impressions guide him : he learns sport-
fully, seriousness comes on him by surprise. Imitation is
born with us: what should be imitated is not easy to dis-
cover. The excellent is rarely found, more rarely valued.
The height charms us, the steps to it do not: with the summit
in our eye, we love to walk along the plain. It is but a part
of art that can be taught: the artist needs it all. Who
knows it half, speaks much, and is always wrong: who
knows it wholly, inclines to act, and speaks seldom or late.
The former have no secrets and no force: the instruction
they can give is like baked bread, savory and satisfying for
a single day; but flour cannot be sown, and seed-corn ought
not to be ground. Words are good, but they are not the
best. The best is not to be explained by words. The spirit
in which we act is the highest matter. Action can be under-
stood and again represented by the spirit alone. No one
knows what he is doing while he acts aright, but of what is


484





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


wrong we are always conscious. Whoever works with sym-
bols only is a pedant, a hypocrite, or a bungler. There are
many such, and they like to be together. Their babbling
detains the scholar: their obstinate mediocrity vexes even
the best. The instruction which the true artist gives us
opens the mind; for, where words fail him, deeds speak.
The true scholar learns from the known to unfold the un-
known, and approaches more and more to being a master.

  "Enough!" cried the abbe: "the rest in due time.
Now look round you among these cases."
  Wilhelm went, and read the titles of the rolls. With aston-
ishment he found, " Lothario's Apprenticeship," "Jarno's
Apprenticeship," and his own Apprenticeship placed there,
with many others whose names he did not know.
  " May I hope to cast a look into these rolls ? "
  " In this chamber there is now nothing hid from you.''
  " May I put a question ? "
  " Without scruple; and you may expect a positive reply,
if it concerns a matter which is nearest your heart, and ought
to be so."
   " Good, then! Ye marvellous sages, whose sight has
pierced sp many secrets, can you tell me whether Felix is in
truth my son ? "
  " Hail to you for this question ! " cried the abbe, clapping
hands for joy. " Felix is your son ! By the holiest that
lies hid among us, I swear to you Felix is your son; nor, in
our opinion, was the mother that is gone unworthy of you.
Receive the lovely child from our hands: turn round, and
venture to be happy."
  Wilhelm heard a noise behind him: he turned round, and
saw a child's face peeping archly through the tapestry at the
end of the room; it was Felix. The boy playfully hid him-
self so soon as he was noticed. " Come forward ! " cried
the abb4 : he came running; his father rushed towards him,
took him in his arms, and pressed him to his heart. " Yes !
I feel it," cried he, "thou art mine! What a gift of
Heaven have I to thank my friends for! Whence or how
comest thou, my child, at this important moment ? "
   " Ask not," said the abbe. " Hail to thee, young man!
Thy Apprenticeship is done: Nature has pronounced thee
free."


435
















         MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.




                     BOOK VIIL


                     CHAPTER I.

  FELIX skipped into the garden; Wilhelm followed him
with rapture: a lovely morning was displaying every thing
with fresh charms; our friend enjoyed the most delightful
moment. .Felix was new in the free and lordly world, nor
did his father know much more than he about the objects
concerning which the little creature was repeatedly and un-
weariedly inquiring. At last they joined the gardener, who
had to tell them the names and uses of a multitude of plants.
Wilhelm looked on nature as with unsealed eyes: the child's
new-fangled curiosity first made him sensible how weak an
interest he himself had taken in external things, how small
his actual knowledge was. Not till this day, the happiest of
his life, did his own cultivation seem to have commenced :
he felt the necessity of learning, being called upon to teach.
  Jarno and the abb6 did not show themselves again till
evening, when they brought a guest along with them. Wil-
helm viewed the stranger with amazement; he could scarce
believe his eyes : it was Werner, who likewise, for a moment,
hesitated in his recognition. They embraced each other ten-
derly: neither of them could conceal that he thought the
other greatly altered: Werner declared that his friend was
taller, stronger, straighter; that he had become more polished
in his looks and carriage. "Something of his old true-
heartedness I miss, however," added he. "That, too, will





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


soon appear again," said Wilhelm, " when we have recovered
from our first astonishment."
  The impression Werner made upon his friend was by no
means so favorable. The honest man seemed rather to have
retrograded than advanced. He was much leaner than of
old; his peaked face appeared to have grown sharper, his
nose longer; brow and crown had lost their hair; the voice,
clear, eager, shrill, the hollow breast and stooping shoulders,
the sallow cheeks, announced indubitably that a melancholic
drudge was there.
  Wilhelm was discreet enough to speak but sparingly of
these great changes; while the other, oi the contrary, gave
free course to his friendly joy. " In truth," cried he, " if
thou hast spent thy time badly, and, as I suppose, gained
nothing, it must be owned thou art grown a piece of man-
hood such as cannot fail to turn to somewhat. Do not
waste and squander me this, too, again : with such a figure
thou shalt buy some rich and beautiful heiress." - " I see,"
said Wilhelm, smiling, "thou wilt not belie thy character.
Scarcely hast thou found thy brother after long absence,
when thou lookest on him as a piece of goods, a thing to
speculate on and make profit by."
  Jarno and the abb6 did not seem at all astonished at this
recognition : they allowed the two to expatiate on the past
and present as they pleased. Werner walked round and
round his friend, turned him to this side and to that, so as
almost to embarrass him. " No ! " cried he, " such a thing
as this I never met with, and yet I know that I am not mis-
taken. Thy eyes are deeper, thy brow is broader; thy nose
has grown finer, thy mouth more lovely. Do but look at
him, how he stands ; how it all suits and fits together ! Well,
idling is the way to grow. But for me, poor devil," said he,
looking at himself in the glass, " if I had not all this while
been making store of money, it were over with me alto-
gether."
  Werner had got Wilhelm's last letter: the distant trading-
house, in common with which Lothario meant to purchase
the estates, was theirs. On that business Werner had come
hither, not dreaming that he should meet with Wilhelm on
the way. The baron's lawyer came: the papers were pro-
duced; Werner reckoned the conditions reasonable. " If
you mean well," said he, " as you seem to do, with this
young man, you will of yourselves take care that our part be
not abridged i it shall be at my friend's option whether he





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


will take the land and lay out a portion of his fortune on
it." Jarno and the abb6 protested that they did not need
this admonition. Scarcely had the business been discussed
in general terms, when Werner signified a longing for a game
at ombre; to which, in consequence, Jarno and the abb6
set themselves along with hiin.   He was now grown so
accustomed to it, that he could not pass the evening without
cards.
  The two friends, after supper, being left alone, began to
talk and question one another very keenly, touching every
thing they wished to have communicated. Wilhelm spoke
in high terms of his situation, of his happiness in being re-
ceived among such men. Werner shook his head, and said,
" Well, I see, we should believe nothing that we do not see
with our eyes. More than one obliging friend assured me
thou wert living with a wild young nobleman, wert supplying
him with actresses, helping him to waste his money ; that,
by thy means, he had quarrelled with every one of his rela-
tions." --" For my own sake, and the sake of these worthy
gentlemen, I should be vexed at this," said Wilhelm, " had
not my theatrical experience made me tolerant to every sort
of calumny. How can men judge rightly of our actions,
which appear but singly or in fragments to them; of which
they see the smallest portion; while good and bad take
place in secret, and for most part nothing comes to light but
an indifferent show? Are not the actors and actresses in a
play set up on boards before them; lamps are lit on every
side; the whole transaction is comprised within three hours;
yet scarcely one of them knows rightly what to make of it? "
  Our friend proceeded to inquire about his family, his
young comrades, his native town. Werner told, with great
haste, of changes that had taken place, of changes that were
still in progress. " The women in our house," said he, " are
satisfied and happy: we are never short of money. One-
half of their time they spend in dressing, the other in show-
ing themselves when dressed. They are as domestic as a
reasonable man could wish. My boys are growing up to
prudent youths. I already, as in vision, see them sitting,
writing, reckoning, running, trading, trucking : each of them,
as soon as possible, shall have a business of his own. As
to what concerns our fortune, thou wilt be contented with the
state of it. When we have got these lauds- in order, thou
must come directly home with me; for it now appears as if
thou, too, couldst mingle with some skill in  orldly undertak-





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ings, thanks to thy new friends, who have set thee on the
proper path. I am certainly a fool: I never knew till now
how well I liked thee, - now when I cannot gape and gaze at
thee enough, so well and handsome thou lookest. That is, in
truth, another form than the portrait which was sent thy sis-
ter, which occasioned such disputes at home. Both mother
and daughter thought young master very handsome indeed,
with his slack collar, half-open breast, large ruff, sleek, pen-
dent hair, round hat, short waistcoat, and wide pantaloons;
while I, on the other hand, maintained that the costume was
scarce two finger-breadths from that of harlequin. But now
thou lookest like a man: only the cue is wanting, in which I
beg of thee to bind thy hair; else, some time or other, they
will seize thee as a Jew, and demand toll and tribute of
thee."
  Felix, in the mean time, had come into the room; and, as
they did not mind him, he had laid himself upon the ,sofa,
and was fallen asleep. " What urchin is this?" said Wer-
ner. Wilhelm at that moment had not the heart to tell the
truth, nor did he wish to lay a still ambiguous narrative be-
fore a man who was by nature any thing but credulous.
  The whole party now proceeded to the lands, to view them,
and conclude the bargain. Wilhelm would not part with
Felix from his side: for the boy's sake, he rejoiced exceed-
ingly ir the intended purchase. The longing of the child for
cherries and berries, the season for which was at hand,
brought to his mind the days of his own youth, and the
manifold duties of a father, to prepare, to procure, and to
maintain for his family a constant series of enjoyments.
With what interest he viewed the nurseries and the buildings !
How zealously he contemplated repairing what had been
neglected, restoring what had fallen ! He no longer looked
upon the world with the eyes of a bird of passage: an edifice
he did not now consider as a grove that is hastily put to-
gether, and that withers ere one leaves it. Every thing that
he proposed commencing was to be completed for his boy:
every thing that he erected was to last for several genera-
tions. In this sense his apprenticeship was ended: with
the feeling of a father, he had acquired all the virtues of a
citizen. He felt this, and nothing could exceed his joy. "0O
needless strictness of morality! " exclaimed he, " while
Nature in her own kindly manner trains us to all that we
require to be: O strange demands of civil society! which
first perplexes and misleads us, then asks of us more than





MEISTER'S -APPRENTICESHIP.


Nature herself: Woe to every sort of culture which destroys
the most effectual means of all true culture, and directs us
to the end, instead of rendering us happy on the way ! "
  Much as he had already seen in his life, it seemed as if
the observation of the child afforded him his first clear view
of human nature. The theatre, the world, had appeared
before him, only as a multitude of thrown dice, every one
of which upon its upper surface indicates a greater or a
smaller value, and which, when reckoned up together, make
a sum. But here in the person of the boy, as we might say.
a single die was laid before him, on the many sides of which
the worth and worthlessness of man's nature were legibly
engraved.
  The child's desire to have distinctions made in his ideas
grew stronger every day. Having learned that things had
names, he wished to hear the name of every thing: supposing
that there could be nothing which his father did not know,
he often teased him with his questions, and caused him to
iuquire concerning objects which, but for this, he would have
passed without notice. Our innate tendency to pry into the
origin and end of things was likewise soon developed in the
boy. When he asked whence came the wind, and whither
went the flame, his father for the first time truly felt the
limitation of his own powers, and wished to understand how
far man may venture with his thoughts, and what things he
may hope ever to give account of to himself or others. The
anger of the child, when he saw injustice done to any living
thing, was extremely grateful to the father, as the symptom
of a generous heart. Felix once struck fiercely at the cook
for cutting up some pigeons. The fine impression this pro-
duced on Wilhelm was, indeed, erelong disturbed, when he
found the boy unmercifully tearing sparrows in pieces and
beating frogs to death. This trait reminded him of many
men, who appear so scrupulously just when without pas-
sion, and witnessing the proceedings of other men.
  The pleasant feeling, that the boy was producing so fine
and wholesome an influence on his being, was, in a short
time, troubled for a moment, when our friend observed, that
in truth the boy was educating him more than he the boy.
The child's conduct he was not qualified to correct: its mind
he could not guide in any path but a spontaneous one. The
evil habits which Aurelia had so violently striven against had
all, as it seemed, on her death, assumed their ancient privi-
leges. Felix still never shut the door behind him bhe TJ





10


MEISTE1'S APPRENTICESHIP.


would not eat from a plate; and no greater pleasure could
befall him than when he happened to be overlooked, and
could take his bit immediately from the dish, or let the full
glass stand, and drink out of the bottle. He delighted also
very much when he could set himself in a corner with a book,
and say with a serious air, " I must study this scholar stuff !"
though he neither knew his letters, nor would learn them.
  Thus, when Wilhelm thought how little he had done for
Felix, how little he was capable of doing, there arose at times
a restlessness within him, which appeared to counterbalance
all his happiness. "LAre we men, then," said he, " so selfishly
formed, that we cannot possibly take proper charge of any
one without us? Am I not acting with the boy exactly as I
did with Mignon? I drew the dear child towards me: her
presence gave me pleasure, yet I cruelly neglected her.
What did I do for her education, which she longed for with
such earnestness? Nothing! I left her to herself, and to
all the accidents-to which, in a society of coarse people, she
could be exposed. And now for this boy, who seemed so
interesting before he could be precious to thee, has thy heart
ever bid thee do the smallest service to him ? It is time that
thou shouldst cease to waste thy own years and those of
others: awake, and think what thou shouldst do for thyself,
and for this good being, whom love and nature have so
firmly.bound to thee.."
  This soliloquy was but an introduction to admit that he
had already thought and cared, and tried and chosen: he
could delay no longer to confess it. After sorrow, often
and in vain repeated, for the loss of Mariana, he distinctly
felt that he must seek a mother for the boy; and also that
he could not find one equal to Theresa. With this gifted
lady he was thoroughly acquainted. Such a spouse and
helpmate seemed the only one to trust one's self to in such
circumstances. Her generous affection for Lothario did not
make him hesitate. By a singular destiny, they two had
been forever parted: Theresa looked upon herself as free;
she had talked of marrying, with indifference, indeed, but
as of a matter understood.
  After long deliberation he determined on communicating
to her every thing he knew about himself. She was to be
made acquainted with him, as he already was with her. He
accordingly began to take a survey of his history; but it
seemed to him so empty of events, and in general so little to
his credit, that he more than once was on the point of giving





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


up his purpose. At last, however, he resolved on asking
Jarno for the Roll of his Apprenticeship, which he had no-
ticed lying in the tower: Jarno said it was the very time for
that, and Wilhelm consequently got it.
  It is a feeling of awe and fear which seizes on a man of
noble mind when conscious that his character is just about
to be exhibited before him. Every transition is a crisis, and
a crisis presupposes sickness. With what reluctance do we
look into the glass after rising from a sick-bed! The re-
covery we feel: the effects of the past disease are all we see.
Wilhelm had, however, been sufficiently prepared: events
had already spoken loudly to him, and his friends had not
spared him. If he opened the roll of parchment with some
hurry, he grew calmer and calmer the farther he read. He
found his life delineated with large, sharp strokes; neither
unconnected incidents, nor narrow sentiments, perplexed his
view; the most bland and general reflections taught, without
shaming him. For the first time his own figure was pre-
sented to him, not, indeed, as in a mirror, a second self,
but as in a portrait, another self: we do not, it is true, rec-
ognize ourselves in every feature; but we are delighted that
a thinking spirit has so understood us, that such gifts have
been employed in representing us, that an image of what
we were exists, and may endure when we ourselves are
gone.
  Wilhelm next employed himself in setting forth the history
of his life, for the perusal of Theresa: all the' circumstances
of it were recalled to memory by what he had been reading;
he almost felt ashamed that to her great virtues he had noth-
ing to oppose which indicated a judicious activity. He had
been minute in his written narrative: he was brief in the
letter which he sent along with it. He solicited her friend-
ship, her love if it were possible: he offered her his hand,
and entreated for a quick decision.
  After some internal contest, whether it were proper to im-
part this weighty business to his friends, - to Jarno and the
abb6, - he determined not to do so. His resolution was so
firm, the business was of such importance, that he could not
have submitted it to the decision of the wisest and best of
men. He was even cautious enough to carry his letter with
his own hand to the nearest pest     From his parchment-
roll it appeared with certainty enough, that in very many
actions of his life, in which he had conceived himself to be
)roceeding freely and in secret, he had been observed, nay,


11





12


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


guided; and perhaps the thought of this had given him ail
unpleasant feeling: and he wished at least, in speaking to
Theresa's heart, to speak purely from the heart,- to owe
his fate to her decision and determination only. Hence, in
this solemn point, he scrupled not to give his overseers the
slip.




                     CHAPTER II.

  SCARCELY was the letter gone, when Lothario returned.
Every one was gladdened at the prospect of so speedily con.
chiding the important business which they had in hand.
Wilhelm waited with anxiety to see how all these many
threads were to be loosed, or tied anew, and how his own
future state was to be settled. Lothario gave a kindly salu-
tation to them all: he was quite recovered and serene; he
had the air of one who knows what he should do, and who-
finds no hinderance in the way of doing it. .
  His cordial greeting Wilhelm could scarcely repay. " This,"
he had to own within himself, " is the. friend, the lover, bride-
groom, of Theresa: in his stead thou art presuming to in-
trude. Dost thou think it possible for thee to banish, to
obliterate, an impression such as this? " Had the letter not
been sent away, perhaps he would not have ventured sending
it at all. But happily the die was cast: it might be, Theresa
had already taken up her resolution, and only distance
shrouded with its veil a happy termination. The winning or
the losing must soon be decided. By such considerations
he endeavored to compose himself, and yet the movements
of his heart were almost feverish. He could give but little
attention to the weighty business, on which, in some degree,
the fate of his whole property depended. In passionate mo-
ments how trivial do we reckon all that is about us, all that
belongs to us!
  Happily for him, Lothario treated the affair with magna-
nimity, and Werner with an air of ease. The latter, in his
violent desire of gain, experienced a lively pleasure in con-
templating the fine estate which was to be his friend's. Lo-
thario, for his part, seemed to be revolving very different
thoughts. " I cannot take such pleasure in the acquirement
of property," said he, " as in the justness of it."





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " And, in the name of Heaven," cried Werner, " is not
this of ours acquired justly ?"
   " Not altogether,''" said Lothario.
   " Are we not giving hard cash for it ?"
   " Doubtless," replied Lothario; ' and most probably you
will consider what I am now hinting at as nothing but a
whim. No property appears to me quite just, quite free of
flaw, except it contribute to the state its due proportion."
   " What ! " said Werner.   "You would rather that our
lands, which we have purchased free from burden, had been
taxable? "
   "Yes," replied Lothario, "in a suitable degree. It is
only by this equality with every other kind of property, that
our possession of it can be made secure. In these new
times, when so many old ideas are tottering, what is the
grand reason why the peasant reckons the possession of the
noble less equitable than his own ? Simply that the noble is
not burdened, and lies a bu'rden on him."
   "But how would the interest of our capital agree with
that?" said Werner.
   " Perfectfly well," returned the other; "if the state, for a
regular and fair contribution, would relieve us from the feudal
hocus-pocus; would allow us to proceed with our lands ac-
cording to our pleasuie : so that we were not compelled to
retain such masses of them undivided, so that we might part
them more equally among our children, whom we might thus
introduce to vigorous and free activity, instead of leaving
them the poor inheritance of these our limited and limiting
privileges, to enjoy which we must ever be invoking the
ghosts of our forefathers. How much happier were men and
women in our rank of life, if they might, with unforbidden
eyes, look round them, and elevate by their selection, here a
worthy maiden, there a worthy youth, regarding nothing fur-
ther than their own ideas of happiness in marriage! The
state would have more; perhaps better citizens, and would
not so often be distressed for want of heads and hands."
  .'" I can assure you honestly," said Werner, " I never in
my life thought about the state : my taxes, tolls, and tributes
I have paid, because it w-as the custom."
   " Still, however," said Lothario, "I hope to make a wor-
thy patriot of you. As he alone is a good father who at
table serves his children first; so is he alone a good citizen
who, before all other outlays, discharges what he owes the
state."


13





14


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  By such general reflections their special business was ac-
celerated rather than retarded. It was nearly over, when
Lothario said to Wilhelm, " I must send you to a place
where you are needed more than here. My sister bids me
beg of you to go to her as soon as possible. Poor Mignon
seems to be decaying more and more, and it is thought your
presence might allay the malady. Besides telling me in per-
son, my sister has despatched this note after me: so that
you perceive she reckons it a pressing case." Lothario
handed him a billet. Wilhelm, who had listened in extreme
perplexity, at once discovered in these hasty pencil-strokes
the hand of the countess, and knew not what to answer.
  " Take Felix with you," said Lothario: "I the little ones
will cheer each other. You must be upon the road to-morrow
morning early: my sister's coach, in which my people trav-
elled hither, is still here; I will give you horses half the
way, the rest you post. A     prosperous journey to you!
Make many compliments from me, when you arrive: tell my
sister I shall soon be back, and that she must prepare for
guests. Our grand-uncle's friend, the Marchese Cipriani,
is on his way to visit us: he hoped to find the old man still
in life; they meant to entertain each other with their com-
mQn love of art, and the recollection of their early intimacy.
The marchese, mtch younger than my uncle, owed to him
the greater part of his accomplishments. We must exert
all our endeavors to fill up, in some measure, the void which
is awaiting him; and a larger party is the readiest means."
   Lothario went with the abbe to his chaniber; Jarno had
ridden off before; Wilhelm hastened to his room. There
was none to whom he could unbosom his distress, none by
whose assistance he could turn aside the project, which he
viewed with so much fear. The little servant came, request-
ing him to pack: they were to put the luggage on to-night,
meaning to set out by daybreak. Wilhelm knew not what to
do: at length he cried, " Well, I shall leave this house at
any rate; on the road I may consider what is to be done;.
at all events, I will halt in the middle of my journey ; I can
send a message hither, I can write what I recoil from say-
ing, then let come of it what will." In spite of this reso-
lution, he spent a sleepless night: a look on Felix resting so
serenely was the only thing that gave him any solace. " Oh,
who knows," cried he, " what trials are before me! who
knows how sharply by-gone errors will yet punish me, how
often good and reasonable projects for the future siall mis-





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


15


carry ! But this treasure, which I call my own, continue it to
me, thou exorable or inexorable Fate ! Were it possible that
this best part of myself were taken from me, that this heart
could be torn from my heart, then farewell sense and under-
standing; farewell all care and foresight; vanish thou ten-
dency to perseverance! All that distinguishes us from the
beasts, pass away ! And, if it is not lawful for a man to
end his heavy days by the act of his own hand, may speedy
madness banish consciousness, before death, which destroys
it forever, shall bring on his own long night."
  He seized the boy in his arms, kissed him, clasped him,
and wetted him with plenteous tears.
  The child awoke: his clear eye, his friendly look, touched
his father to the inmost heart. "What a scene awaits me,"
-cried he, "when I shall present thee to the beautiful, un-
happy countess, when she shall press thee to her bosom,
which thy father has so deeply injured! Ought I not to
fear that she will push thee from her with a cry, when a
touch of thee renews her real or fancied pain? " The coach-
man did not leave him time for further thought or hesitation,
but forced him into the carriage before day. Wilhelm
wrapped his Felix well; the morning was cold but clear:
the child, for the first time in his life, saw the sun rise.
His astonishment at the first fiery glance of the luminary,
at the growing power of the light; his pleasure and his
strange remarks, - rejoiced the father, and afforded him a
glimpse into the heart of the boy, before which, as over a
clear and silent sea, the sun was mounting and hovering.
  In a little town the coachman halted, unyoked his horses,
and rode back. Wilhelm took possession of a room, and
asked himself seriously whether he would stay or proceed.
Thus irresolute, he ventured to take out the little note, which
hitherto he had never had the heart to look on: it contained
the following words: " Send thy young friend very soon:
Mignon for the last two days has been growing rather worse.
Sad as the occasion is, I shall be happy to get acquainted
with him."
  The concluding words Wilhelm, at the first glance, had
not seen. Ie was terrified on reading them, and instantly de-
termined not to go. " How? " cried he, " Lothario, know-
ing what occurred between us, has not told her who I am?
She is not, with a settled mind, expecting an acquaintance,
whom she would rather not see: she expects a stranger, -
and I enter! I see her shudder and start back, I see her





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


blush! No, it is impossible for me to encounter such a
scene ! " Just then his horses were led out and yoked:
Wilhelm was determined to take off his luggage and remain.
He felt extremely agitated. Hearing the maid running up
stairs to tell him, as he thought, that all was ready, he began
on the spur of the instant to devise some pretext for continu-
ing : his eyes were fixed, without attention, on the letter
which he still held in his hand. " In the name of Heaven! "
cried he, " what is this ? It is not the hand of the countess:
it is the hand of the Amazon ! "
  The maid came in, requested him to walk down, and took
Felix with her. "Is it possible," exclaimed he, "is it true ?
What shall I do? Remain, arid wait, and certify myself?
Or hasten, hasten, and rush into an explanation? Thou art
on the way to her, and thou canst loiter? This night thou
mayest see her, and thou wilt voluntarily lock thyself in
prison? It is her hand; yes, it is hers ! This hand calls
thee: her coach is yoked to lead thee to her ! Now the rid-
dle is explained: Lothario has two sisters; my relation to
the one he knows, how much I owe to the other is unknown
to him. Nor is she aware that the wounded stroller, who
stands indebted to her for his health, if not his life, has been
received with such unmerited attention in her brother's
house."
  Felit, who was swinging to and fro in the coach, cried up
to him, " Father! Come, oh come! Look at the piretty
clouds, the pretty colors ! " -" Yes, I come," cried Wilhelm,
springing down-stairs; " and all the glories of the sky,
which thou, good creature, so admirest, are as nothing to the
moment which I look for."
  Sitting in the coach, he recalled all the circumstances of
the matter to his memory. " So this is the Natalia, then,
Theresa's friend! What a discovery! what hopes, what
prospects! How strange that the fear of speaking about the
one sister should have altogether concealed from me the ex-
istence of the other ! " With what joy he looked on Felix !
He anticipated for the child, as for himself, the best recep-
tion.
  Evening at last came on; the sun had set; the road'was
not the best; the postilion drove slowly; Felix had fallen
asleep, and new cares and doubts arose in the bosom of our
friend. " What delusion, what fantasies, are these that rule
thee! " said he to himself. "An uncertain similarity of
handwriting has at once assured thee, and given thee matter


16





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


17


for the strangest castles in the air."  He again brought out
the paper; in the departing light he again imagined that he
recognized the hand of the countess: his eyes could no
longer find in the parts what his heart had at once shown
him in the whole. "These horses, then, are running with
thee to ascene of terror! Who knows but in a few hours
they may have to bring thee back again ? And if thou
shouldst meet with her alone! But perhaps her husband
will be there, perhaps the baroness ! How altered will she
be ! Shall I not fail, and sink to the earth, at sight of
her ? "
  Yet a faint hope that it might be his Amazon would often
gleam through these gloomy thoughts. It was now night:
the carriage rolled into a court-yard, and halted; a ser-
vant with a link stepped out of a stately portal, and came
down the broad steps to the carriage-door. "You have
been long looked for," said he, opening it. Wilhelm dis-
mounted, took the sleeping Felix in his arms: the first ser-
vant called to a second, who was standing in the door with
a light, " Show the gentleman up to the baroness."
  Quick as lightning, it went through Wilhelm's soul, "What
a happiness! Be it by accident or of purpose, the baroness'
is here ! I shall see her first : apparently the countess has
retired to rest. Ye good spirits, grant that the moment of
deepest perplexity may pass tolerably over ! "
   He entered the house: he found himself in the most ear-
nest, and, as he almost felt, the holiest, place that he had
ever trod. A pendent, dazzling lustre threw its light upon a
broad and softly rising flight of stairs, which.lay before him,
,and which parted into two divisions at a turn above. Mar-
ble statues and busts were standing upon pedestals, and
arranged in niches: some of them seemed known to him.
The impressions of our childhood abide with us, even in their
minutest traces. He recognized a Muse, which had for-
merly belonged to his grandfather, not indeed by its form
or worth, but by an arm which had been restored, and some
new-inserted pieces of the robe. He felt as if a fairy-tale
had turned out to be true. The child was heavy in his arms :
he lingered on the stairs, and knelt down, as if to place him
more conveniently. His real want, however, was to get a
moment's breathing-time. He could scarcely raise himself
again. The servant, who was carrying the light, offered to
take Felix; but Wilhelm could not part with him. He had
now mounted to an ante-chamber, in which, to his still





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


greater astonishment, he observed the well-known picture of
the sick king's son hanging on the wall. He had scarcely
time to cast a look on it: the servant hurried him along
through two rooms into a cabinet. Here, behind a light-
screen, which threw a shadow on her, sat a young lady
reading. " Oh that it were she ! " said he within himself at
this decisive moment. He set down the boy, who seemed to
be awakening; he meant to approach the lady; but the child
sank togethei', drunk with sleep; the lady rose and came to
him. It was the Amazon ! Unable to restrain himself, he
fell upon his knee, and cried, " It is she.! "  He seized her
hand, and kissed it with unbounded rapture. The child was
lying on the carpet between them, sleeping softly.
  Felix was carried to the sofa: Natalia sat down beside
him; she directed Wilhelm to the chair which was standing
nearest them. She proposed to order some refreshments;
these our friend declined: he was altogether occupied con-
vincing himself that it was she, closely examining her
features, shaded by the screen, and accurately recognizing
them. She told him of Mignon's sickness, in general terms;
that the poor child was gradually consuming under the in-
fluence of a few deep feel;ngs; that with her extreme ex-
citability, and her endeavoring to hide it, her little heart
often suffered violent and dangerous pains; that, on any
unexpected agitation of her mind, this primary organ of life
would suddenly stop, and no trace of the vital movement
could be felt in the good child's bosom; that, when such
an agonizing cramp was past, the force of nature would
again express'itself in strong pulses, and now torment the
child by its excess, as she had before suffered by its defect.
  Wilhelm recollected one spasmodic scene of that descrip-
tion; and Natalia referred him to the doctor, who would
speak with him at large on the affair, and explain more cir-
cumstantially why he, the friend and benefactor of the child,
had been at present sent for. "One curious change," Na-
talia added, " you will find in her: she now wears women's
clothes, to which she had once such an aversion."
  " How did you succeed in this? " said Wilhelm.
  "If it was, indeed, a thing to be desired," said she, " we
owe it all to chance. Hear how it happened. Perhaps you
are aware that I have constantly about me a number of little
girls, whose opening minds I endeavor, as they grow in
strength, to train to what is good and right. From my
mouth they learn nothing but what I myself regard as true;


I8





MEISTER'S APPRE..


yet I can not and would not hinder thatn from gathering,
among other people, many fragments of the common preju-
dices and errors which are current in the world. If they
inquire of me about them, I attempt, as far as possible, to
join these alien and intrusive notions to some just one, and
thus to render them, if not useful, at least harmless. Some
time ago my girls had heard, among the peasants' children,
many tales of angels, of Knecht Rupert, and such shadowy
characters, who, they understood, appeared at certain times
in person, to give presents to good children, and to punish
naughty ones.. They had an idea that these strange visitants
were people in disguise; in this I confirmed them: and,
without entering into explanations, I determined, on the first
opportunity, to let them see a spectacle of that sort. It
chanced that the birthday of two twin-sisters, whose be-
havior had been always very good, was near: I promised,
that, on this occasion, the little present they had so well
deserved should be delivered to them by an angel. They
were on the stretch of curiosity regarding this phenomenon.
I had chosen Mignon for the part; and accordingly, at the
appointed day, I had her suitably equipped in a long, light,
snow-white dress.  She was, of course, provided with a
golden girdle round her waist, and a golden fillet on "her
hair. I at first proposed to omit the wings; but the young
ladies who were decking her insisted on a pair of large
golden pinions, in preparing which they meant to show their
highest art. Thus did the straflge apparition, with a lily in
the one hand, and a little-basket in the other, glide in among
the girls: she surprised even me. ' There comes the angel ! '
said I. The children all shrank back: at last they cried, ' It
is Mignon!' yet they durst not venture to approach the
wondrous figure.
  " ' Here are your gifts,' said she, putting down the basket.
They gathered around her, they viewed, they felt, they ques-
tioned her.
  " 'Art thou an angel? ' asked one of them.
  " ' I wish I were,' said Mignon.
  " ' Why dost thou bear a lily?'
  "' So pure and so open should my heart be: then were I
happy.'
  "' What wings are these? Let us see them?'
  "'They represent far finer ones, which are not yet un-
folded.'
  " And thus significantly did she answer all their other


-4iP.           '1





APPRENTICESIIIP.


childlike, innoc  igik . The little party having satdi-
fled their curiosity, and the impression of the show beginning
to abate, we were for proceeding to undress the little angel.
This, however, she resisted : she took her cithern ; she seated
herself here, on this high writing-table, and sang a little
song with touching grace : -

          "'Such let me seem, till such I be:
              Take not my snow-white dress away!
              Soon from this dusk of earth I flee
              Up to the glittering lands of day.
              There first a little.space I rest,
              Then wake so glad, to scenes so kind:
              Inearthly robes no longer drest,
              This band, this girdle, left behind.
            And those calm, shining sons of morn,
              They ask not who is maid or boy:
              No robes, no garments, there are worn;
              Our body pure from sin's alloy.
              Through little life not much I toiled,
              Yet anguish long this heart has wrung;
              Untimely woe my blossom spoiled:
              Make me again forever young.'

  " I immediately determined upon leaving her the dress,."
proceeded Natalia, " and procuring her some others. of a
similar kind. These she now wears; and in them, I think,
her form has quite a different expression."
  As it was already late, Natalia let the stranger go: he
parted from her not without anxiety. " Is she married, or
not?" asked he within himself. He had been afraid, at
every rustling, that the door would open, and her husband
enter. The serving-man, who showed him to his room, went
off before our friend had mustered resolution to inquire re-
garding this. His unrest held him long awake: he kept
comparing the figure of the Amazon with the figure of his
new acquaintance. The two would not combine: the former
he had, as it were, himself fashioned; the latter seemed as if
it would almost new-fashion him.


20           YE





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


                     CHAPTER III.

  NEXT morning, while all was yet quiet, he went about,
viewing the house. It was the purest, finest, stateliest piece
of architecture he had ever seen. "True art," cried he,
" is like good company: it constrains us in the most delight-
ful way to recognize the measure by which, and up to which,
our inward nature has been shaped by culture:"  The im-
pression which the busts and statues of his grandfather
made upon him was exceedingly agreeable. With a longing
mind he hastened to the picture of the sick king's son, and
he still felt it to be charming and affecting. The servant
opened to him various other chambers: he found a library,
a museum, a cabinet of philosophical instruments. In much
of this he could not help perceiving his extreme ignorance.
Meanwhile Felix had awakened, and come running after
him.   The thought of how and when he might receive
Theresa's letter gave him pain: he dreaded seeing Mignon,
and in some degree Natalia. How unlike his present state
was his state at the moment when he sealed the letter to
Theresa, and with a glad heart wholly gave himself to that
noble being !
  Natalia sent for him to breakfast. He proceeded to a
room where several tidy little girls, all apparently below ten
years, were occupied in furnishing a table; while another of
the same appearance brought in various sorts of beverage.
  Wilhelm cast his eye upon a picture hung above the sofa:
he couldynot but recognize in it the portrait of Natalia, little
as the execution satisfied him. Natalia entered, and the
likeness seemed entirely to vanish. To his comfort, it was
painted wit- the cross of a religious order on its breast; and
he now saw another such upon Natalia's.
  "I have just been looking at the portrait here," said he;
" and it seems surprising that a painter could have been at
once so true and so false. The picture resembles you, in
general, extremely well; and yet it neither has your features
nor your character."
   " It is rather matter of surprise," replied Natalia, "that
the likeness is so good. It is not my picture, but the picture
of an aunt, whom I resembled even in childhood, though she
was then advanced in years. It was painted when her age
was just about what mine is: at the first glance, every one
imagines it is meant for me. You shoud have been as-


21





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


quainted with that excellent lady. I owe her much. A very
weak state of health, perhaps too much employment with
her own thoughts, and, withal, a moral and religious scru-
pulosity, prevented her from being to the world what, in
other circumstances, she might have become. She was a
light that shone but on a few friends, and on me especially."
  " Can it be possible," said Wilhelm, after thinking for a
moment, while so many circumstances seemed to correspond
so well, " can it be possible that the fair and noble Saint,
whose meek confessions I had liberty to study, was your
aunt ?"
  ' You read the manuscript?" inquired Natalia.
  ' Yes," said Wilhelm, " with the greatest sympathy, and
not without effect upon my life. What most impressed me in
this paper was, if I may term it so, the purity of being, not
only of the writer herself, but of all that lay round her; that
self-dependence of nature, that impossibility of admitting
any thing into her soul which would not harmonize with its
own noble, lovely tone."
  " You are more tolerant to this fine spirit," said Natalia,
" nay, I will say more just, than many other men to whom
the narrative has been imparted. Every cultivated person
knows how much he has to strive against a certain coarse-
ness, bpth in himself and others; how much his -culture costs
him; how apt he is, after all, in certain cases, to recollect
himself alone, forgetting what he owes to others. How
often has a worthy person to reproach himself for having
failed to act with proper delicacy ! And when a fair nature
too delicately, too conscientiously, cultivates, nay, if you
will, overcultivates, itself, there seems to be no toleration,
no indulgence, for it in the world. Yet such persons are,
without us, what the ideal of perfection is within us,
models, not for being imitated, but for being aimed at. We
laugh at the cleanliness of the Dutch; but would our friend
Theresa be what she is, if some such notion were not always
present to her in her housekeeping ? "
  "I see before me, then," cried Wilhelm, " in Theresa's
friend, the same Natalia whom her amiable relative was so
attached to; the Natalia, who, from her youth, was so affec-
tionate, so sympathizing, and helpful! It was only out of
such a line that such a being could proceed. What a pros-
pect opens before me, while I at once survey your ancestors,
and all the circle you belong to !"
  4" Yes," replied Natalia, " in a certain sense, the story of


22





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


23


my aunt would give you the faithfullest picture of us. Her
love to me, indeed, has made her praise, the little girl too
much: in speaking of a child, we never speak of what is
present, but of what we hope for."
  Wilhelm, in the mean time, was rapidly reflecting that
Lothario's parentage and early youth were now likewise
known to him. The fair countess, too, appeared before him
in her childhood, with the aunt's pearls about her neck : he
himself had been near those pearls, when her soft, lovely
lips bent down to meet his own. These beautiful remem-
brances he sought to drive away by other thoughts. He ran
through the characters to whom that manuscript had intro-
duced him. " I am here, then," cried he, " in your worthy
uncle's house ! It is no house, it is a temple; and you are
the priestess, nay, the Genius, of it: I shall recollect for life
my impression yesternight, when I entered, and the old fig-
ures of my earliest days were again before me. I thought
of the compassionate marble statues in Mignon's song: but
these figures had not to lament about me; they looked upon
me with a lofty earnestness, they brought my first years into
immediate contact with the present moment. That ancient
treasure of our family, the joy of my grandfather, I find
here placed among so many other noble works of art; and
myself, whom nature made the darling of the good old man,
my unworthy self I find here also, Heavens ! in what society,
in what connections ! "
   The girls had, by degrees, gone out to mind their little
occupations. Natalia, left alone with Wilhelm, asked some
further explanation of his last remark. The discovery, that
a number of her finest paintings and statues had at one time
been the property of Wilhelm's grandfather, did not fail to
give a cheerful stimulus to their discourse. As by that
manuscript he had got acquainted with Natalia's house; so
now he found himself too, as it were, in his inheritance. At
length he asked for Mignon. His friend desired him to have
patience till the doctor, who had been called out into the
neighborhood, returned. It is easy to suppose that the doc-
tor was the same little, active man whom we already know,
and who was spoken of in the "Confessions of a Fair
Saint."
   " Since I am now," said Wilhelm, " in the middle of your
 family circle, I presume the abb6 whom that paper mentions
 is the strange, inexplicable person whom, after the most sin-
 gular series of events, I met with in your brother's house?





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


Perhaps you can give some more accurate conception of
him ?"
  " Of the abb6 there might much be said," replied Nata-
lia : " what I know best about him, is the influence which he
exerted on our education. He was, for a time at least, con-
vinced that education ought, in every case, to be adapted to
the inclinations: his present views of it I know not. He
maintained, that with man the first and last consideration was
activity, and that we could not act on any thing without the
proper gifts for it, without an instinct impelling us to it.
'You admit,' he used to say, ' that poets must be born such;
you admit this with regard to all professors of the fine arts;
because you must admit it, because those workings of human
nature cannot very plausibly be aped. But, if we consider
well, we shall find that every capability, however slight, is
born with us; that there is no vague, general capability in
men. It is our ambiguous, desultory education that makes
men uncertain: it awakens wishes when it should be animat-
ing tendencies; instead of forwarding our real capacities, it
turns our efforts towards objects which are frequently dis-
cordant with the mind that aims at them. I augur better of
a child, a youth, who is wandering astray on a path of his
own, than of many who are walking aright upon paths which
are not theirs. If the former, either by themselves or by
the guidance of others, ever find the right path, that is to
say, the path which suits their nature, they will never:leave
it; while the latter are in danger every moment of shaking
off a foreign yoke, and abandoning themselves to unre-
stricted license.' "
   " It is strange," said Wilhelm, " that this same extraor-
dinary man should likewise have taken charge of me ; should,
as it seems, have, in his own fashion, if not led, at least
confirmed, me in my errors, for a time. How he will answer
to the charge of having joined with others, as it were, to
make game of me, I wait patiently to see."
  " Of this whim, if it is one," said Natalia, " I have little
reason to complain: of all the family I answered best with
it. Indeed, I see not how Lothario could have got a finer
breeding : but for my sister, the countess, some other treat-
ment might have suited better; perhaps they should have
studied to infuse more earnestness and strength into her
nature. As to brother Friedrich, what is to become of him
cannot be conjectured: he will fall a sacrifice, I fear, to this
experiment in pedagogy."


24





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " You have another brother, then? " cried Wilhelm.
  "Yes," replied Natalia: " and a light, merry youth he is;
and, as they have not hindered him from roaming up and
down the world, I know not what the wild, dissipated boy
will turn to. It is a great while since I saw him. The only
thing which calms my fears is, that the abbe, and the whole
society about my brother, are receiving constant notice where
he is and what he does."
  Wilhelm was about to ask Natalia her opinion more pre-
cisely on the abb4's paradoxes, as well as to solicit informa-
tion about that mysterious society; but the physician entering
changed their conversation. After the first compliments of
welcome, he began to speak of Mignon.
  Natalia then took Felix by the hand ; saying she would lead
the child to Mignon, and prepare her for the entrance of her
friend.
  The doctor, now alone with Wilhelm, thus proceeded: " I
have wondrous things to tell you, such as you are not antici-
pating.   Natalia has retired, that we might speak with
greater liberty of certain matters, which, although I first
learned them by her means, her presence would prevent us
from discussing freely. The strange temper of the child
seems to consist almost exclusively of deep longing: the
desire of revisiting her native land, and the desire for you,
my friend, are, I might almost say, the only earthly things
about her. Both these feelings do but grasp towards an
immeasurable distance, both objects lie before her unattain-
able. The neighborhood of Milan seems to be her home: in
very early childhood she was kidnappecd from her parents by
a company of rope-dancers. A more distinct account we
cannot get from her, partly because she was then too young
to recollect the names of men and places, but especially be-
cause she has made an oath to tell no living mortal her abode
and parentage. For the strolling-party, who came up with
her when she had lost her way, and to whom she so
accurately described her dwelling, with such piercing en-
treaties to conduct her home, but carried her along with them
the faster; and at night in their quarters, when they thought
the child was sleeping, joked about their precious capture,
declaring she would never find the way home again. On this
a horrid desperation fell upon the miserable creature; but at
last the Holy Virgin rose before her eyes, and promised that
she would assist her. The child then swore within herself a
sacred oath, that she would henceforth trust no human crea-


25





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ture, would disclose her history to no one, but live and die
in hope of immediate aid from heaven. Even this, which I
am telling you, Natalia did not learn expressly from her,
but gathered it from detached expressions, songs, and child-
like inadvertencies, betraying what they meant to hide."
  Wilhelm called to memory many a song and word of this
dear child, which he could now explain. He earnestly re-
quested the physician to keep from him none of the confes.
sions or mysterious poetry of this peculiar being.
  ' Prepare yourself," said the physician, " for a strange
confession; for a story with which you, without remember-
ing it, have much to do, and which, as I greatly fear, has
been decisive for the death and life of this good creature."
   " Let me hear," said Wilhelm: ' my impatience is un-
bounded."
  " Do you recollect a secret nightly visit from a female,"
said the doctor, " after your appearance in the character of
Hamlet ? "'
  " Yes, I recollect it well," cried Wilhelm, blushing; " but
I did not look to be reminded of it at the present moment."
  " Do you know who it was? "
  " I do not ! You frighten me ! In the name of Heaven,
not Mignon, surely? Who was it? Tell me, pray."
  " I.know it not myself."
  " Not Mignon, then ? "
  " No, certainly not Mignon; but Mignon was intending at
the time to glide in to you, and saw with horror, from a
corner where she lay concealed, a rival get before her."
  " A rival ! " cried our friend. " Speak on : you more and
more confound me."
   " Be thankful," said the doctor, "that you can arrive at
the result so soon through means of me. Natalia and I, with
but a distant interest in the matter, had distress enough to
undergo before we could thus far discover the perplexed condi-
tion of the poor, dear creature, whom we wished to help. By
some wanton speeches of Philina and the other girls, by a
certain song which she had heard Philina sing, the child's
attention had been roused: she longed to pass a night beside
the man she loved, without conceiving any thing to be implied
in this beyond a happy and confiding rest. A love for you,
my friend, was already keen and powerful in her little heart'
in your arms, the child had found repose from many a
sorrow; she now desired this happiness in all its fulness.
If at one time she purposed requesting it as a favor, at


26





MISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


another a secret horror would hold her back. At last that
merry night and the excitement of abundant wine inspired
her with the courage to attempt the adventure, and glide in
to you on that occasion. Accordingly she ran before, to
hide herself in your apartment, which was standing open;
but just when she had reached the top of the stairs, having
heard a rustling, she concealed herself, and saw a female
in a white dress slip into your chamber. You yourself
arrived soon after, and she heard you push the large
bolt.
  "Mignon's agony was now unutterable: all the violent
feelings of a passionate jealousy mingled themselves with
the unacknowledged longing of obscure desire, and seized
her half-developed nature with tremendous force.  Her
heart, which hitherto had beaten violently with eagerness
and expectation, now at once began to falter and stop; it
pressed her bosom like a heap of lead: she could not draw
her breath, she knew not what to do; she heard the sound of
the old man's harp, hastened to the garret where he was,
and passed the night at his feet in horrible convulsions."
  The physician paused a moment: then, as Wilhelm still
kept silence, he proceeded, " Natalia told me, nothing in
her life had so alarmed and touched her as the state of
Mignon while relating this; indeed, our noble friend accused
herself of cruelty in having, by her questions and manage-
ment, drawn this confession from her, and renewed by recol-
lection the violent sorrows of the poor little girl.
  "' The dear creature,' said Natalia, ' had scarcely come
so far with her recital, or, rather, with her answers to my
questions, when she sank all at once before me on the ground,
and, with her hand on her bosom, piteously moaned that the
pain of that excruciating night was come back. She twisted
herself like a worm upon the floor; and I had to summon all
my composure, that I might remember and apply such means
of remedy for mind and body as were known to me.' "
  " It is a painful predicament you put me in," cried Wil-
helm, " by impressing me so vividly with the feeling of my
manifold injustice towards this unhappy and beloved being,
at the very moment when I am again to meet her. -If she is
to see me, why do you deprive me of the courage to appear
with freedom? And shall I confess it to you? Since her
mind is so affected, I perceive not how my presence can be
advantageous to her. If you, as a physician, are persuaded
that this double longing has so undermined her being as to





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHItP.


threaten death, why should I renew her sorrows by my pres.
ence, and perhaps accelerate her end ? "
   " My friend," replied the doctor, "' where we cannot cure,
it is our duty to alleviate; and how much the presence of a
loved object tends to take from the imagination its destruc.
tive power, how it changes an impetuous longing to a peace-
ful looking, I could prove by the most convincing instances
Every thing in measure and with purpose! For, in other
cases, this same presence may rekindle an affection nigh
extinguished. But do you go and see the child; behave to
her with-kindness, and let us wait the consequence."
  Natalia, at this moment coming back, bade Wilhelm follow
her to Mignon. " She appears to feel quite happy with the
boy," observed Natalia, " and I hope she will receive our
friend with mildness."  Wilhelm followed, not without re..
luctance: he was deeply moved by what he had been hear-
ing; he feared a stormy scene of passion. It was altogether
the reverse that happened on his entrance.
  Mignon, dressed in long, white, women's clothes, with her
brown, copious hair partly knotted, partly clustering out in
locks, was sitting with the boy Felix on her lap, and press-
ing him against her heart. She looked like a departed spirit,
he like life itself: it seemed as if Heaven and Earth were
clasping one another. She held out her hand to Wilhelm
with a smile, and said, " I thank thee for bringing back the
child tq me : they had taker, him away, I know not how; and
since then I could not live. So long as my heart needs any
thing on earth, thy Felix shall fill up the void."
  The quietness which Mignon had displayed on meeting
with her friend produced no little satisfaction in the party.
The doctor signified that Wilhelm should go frequently and
see her; that in body as in mind, she should be kept as
equable as possible. He himself departed, promising to re-
turn soon.
  Wilhelm could now observe Natalia in her own circle: one
would have desired nothing better than to live beside her.
Her presence had the purest influence on the girls, and young
ladies of various ages, who resided with her in the house, or
came to pay her visits from the neighborhood.
   " The progress of your life," said Wilhelm once to her,
" must always have been very even: your aunt's delineation
of you in your childhood seems, if I mistake not, still to fit.
It is easy to see that you never were entangled in your path.
You have never been compelled to retrograde."





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  6 This I owe to my uncle and the abb6," said Natalia,
"6who so well discriminated my prevailing turn of mind.
From my youth upwards, I can recollect no livelier feeling
than that I was constantly observing people's wants, and
had an irresistible desire to make them up. The child that
had not learned to stand on its feet, the old man that could
no longer stand on his; the longing of a rich family for chil-
dren, the inability of a poor one to maintain their children;
each silent wish for some particular species of employment;
the impulse towards any talent ; the natural gifts for many lit-
tle necessary arts of life, -were sure to strike me: my eyes
seemed formed by nature for detecting them. I saw such
things where no one had directed my attention: I seemed
born for seeing them alone. The charms of inanimate
nature, to which so many persons are exceedingly susceptible,
had no effect on me: the charms of art, if possible, had
less. My most delightful occupation was and is, when a
deficiency, a want, appeared before me anywhere, to set
about devising a supply, a remedy, a help for it.
   " Jf I saw a poor creature in rags, the superfluous clothes
I had noticed hanging in the wardrobes of my friends im-
mediately occurred to me; if I saw children wasting for
want of care, I was sure to recollect some lady I had found
oppressed with tedium amid riches and conveniences; if I
saw too nIany persons crammed into a narrow space,. I
thought they should be lodged in the spacious chambers of
palaces and vacant houses. This mode of viewing things
was altogether natural, without the least reflection: so that
in my childhood I often made the strangest work of it, and
more than once embarrassed people by my singular proposals.
Another of my peculiarities was this : I did not learn till late,
and after many efforts, to consider money as a means of
satisfying wants; my benefits were all distributed in kind:
and my simplicity, I know, was frequently the cause of
laughter. None but the abb4 seemed to understand me: he
met me everywhere; he made me acquainted with myself,
with these wishes, these tendencies, and taught me how to
satisfy them suitably."
   "Do you, then," said Wilhelm, " in the education of your
little female world, employ the method of these extraordinary
men? Do you, too, leave every mind to form itself? Do
you, too, leave your girls to search and wander, to pursue
delusions, happily to reach the goal, or miserably lose them-
selves in error ? "


29





80


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " No," replied Natalia: " such treatment as that would
altogether contradict my notions. To my mind, he who does
not help us at the needful moment, never helps; he who
does not counsel at the needful moment, never counsels.
I also reckon it essential, that we lay down and continually
impress on children certain laws, to operate as a kind of hold
in life. Nay, I could almost venture to assert, that it is
better to be wrong by rule, than to be wrong with nothing but
the fitful caprices of our disposition to impel us hither and
thither; and, in my way of viewing men, there always seems
to be a void in their nature, which cannot be filled up, except
by some decisive and distinctly settled law."
   "Your manner of proceeding, then," said Wilhelm, "is
entirely different from the manner of our friends ? "
   " Yes," replied Natalia; " and you may see the unexam-
pled tolerance of these men, from the fact, that they nowise
disturb me in my practice, but leave me on my own path,
simply because it is my own, and even assist me in every
thing that I require of them."
  A more minute description of Natalia's plans in mana-
ging her children we reserve for some other opportunity.
  Mignon often asked to be of their society; and this they
granted her with greater readiness, as she appeared to be
again accustoming herself to Wilhelm, to be opening her
heaxt to him, and in general to have become more cheerful,
and contented with existence. In walking, being easily
fatigued, she liked to hang upon his arm. " Mignon," she
would say, " now climbs and bounds no more; yet she still
longs to mount the summits of the hills, to skip from house
to house, from tree to tree. How enviable are the birds!
and then so prettily and socially they build their nests
too! "
  Erelong it became habitual for her to invite her friend,
more than once every day, into the garden. When Wilhelm
was engaged or absent, Felix had to take his place; and, if
poor Mignon seemed at times quite loosened from the earths
there were other moments when she would again hold fast to
father and son, and seem to dread a separation from them
more than any thing beside.
  Natalia wore a thoughtful look. " We meant," said she,
" to open her tender little heart, by sending for you hither.
I know not whether we did prudently." She stopped, and
seemed expecting Wilhelm to say something. To him also
it occurred, that, by his marriage.with Theresa, -Mignon, in





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the present circumstances, would be fearfully offended: but,
in his uncertainty, he did not venture mentioning his project;
he had no suspicion that Natalia knew of it.
  As little could he talk with freedom, when his noble friend
began to speak about her sister, to praise her good qualities,
and to. lament her hapless situation. He felt, exceedingly
embarrassed when Natalia told him he would shortly see the
countess here. "Her husband," said she, " has now no
object but replacing Zinzendorf in the Community, and, by
insight and activity, supporting and extending that establish-
ment. He is coming with his wife, to take a sort of leave:
he then purposes visiting the various spots where the" Com-
munity have settled. They appear to treat him as he wishes :
and I should not wonder if, in order to be altogether like his
predecessor, he ventured, with my sister, on a voyage to
America; for, being already well-nigh convinced that a little
more would make a saint of him, the wish to superadd the dig-
nity of martyrdom has probably enough often flitted through
his mind."




                     CHAPTER IV.

  THEY had often spoken of Theresa, often mentioned her
in passing; and Wilhelm almost every time was minded to
confess that he had offered her his heart and hand. A cer-
tain feeling, which he was not able to explain, restrained
him: he paused and wavered, till at length Natalia, with the
heavenly, modest, cheerful smile she often wore, said to him,
" It seems, then, I at last must break silence, and force my-
self into your confidence! Why, my friend, do you keep
secret from me an affair of such importance to yourself, and
so closely touching my concerns ? You have made my friend
the offer of your hand : I do not mix uncalled in the transac-
tion; here are my credentials; here is the letter which she
writes to you, which she sends you through my hands."
  " A letter from Theresa! " cried he.
  "Yes, mein Herr! Your destiny is settled: you are
happy. Let me congratulate my friend and you on your
good fortune."
  Wilhelm spoke not, but gazed out before him. Natalia
looked at him: she saw that he was pale. " Your joy is


31





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP


strong," continued she: " it takes the form of terror, it de-
prives you of the power to speak. My participation is not
the less cordial that I show it you in words. I hope you will
be grateful, for I may say my influence on the decision of
your b-ride has not been small: she asked me for advice;
and as it happened, by a singular coincidence, that you were
here just then, I was enabled to destroy the few scruples she
still entertained. Our messages went swiftly to and fro:
here is her determination; here is the conclusion of the
treaty ! And now you shall read her other letters: you shall
have a free, clear look into the fair heart of your Theresa."
  Wilhelm opened the letter, which she handed him unsealed.
It contained these friendly words: -
  "I am yours, as I am and as you know me. I call you
mine, as you are and as I know you. What in ourselves,
what in our connection, wedlock changes, we shall study to
adjust by reason, cheerfulness, and mutual good will. As it
is no passion, but trust and inclination, for each other that is
leading us together, we run less risk than thousands of others.
You will forgive me, will you not, if I still think often and
kindly of my former friend: in return, I will press your'
Felix to my heart, as if I were his mother. If you choose to
share my little mansion straightway, we are lord and master
there; and in the mean while the purchase of your land might
be conclhuded. I could wish that no new arrangements were
made in it without me. I could wish at once to prove that
I deserve the confidence you repose in me. Adieu, dear,
dear friend !   Beloved  bridegroom, honored     husband !
Theresa clasps you to her breast with hope and joy. My
friend will tell you more, will tell you all."
  Wilhelm, to whose mind this sheet recalled the image of
Theresa with the liveliest distinctness, had now recovered
his composure. While reading, thoughts had rapidly alter-
nated within his soul. With terror he discovered in his heart
the most vivid traces of an inclination to Natalia: he blamed
himself, declaring every thought of that description to be
madness; he represented to himself Theresa in her' whole
perfection: he again perused the letter, he grew cheerful, or,
rather, he so far regained his self-possession that he could
appear cheerful. Natalia handed him the letters which had
passed between Theresa and herself: out of Theresa's we
propose extracting one or two passages.
  After delineating her bridegroom in her own peculiar way,
Theresa thus proceeded : -


32





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " Such is the notion I have formed of the man who now
offers me his hand. What he thinks of himself, thou shalt
see by and by in the papers he has sent me, where he alto-
gether candidly draws his own portrait : I feel persuaded
that I shall be happy with him."

  " As for rank, thou knowest what my ideas have always
been on this point. Some people look on disagreraient -of
external circumstances as a fearful thing, and cannot remedy
it. I wish not to persuade any one, I wish to act according
to my own persuasion. I mean not to set others an example,
nor do I act without example. It is interior disagreements
only that frighten me: a frame that does not fit what it is
meant to hold, much pomp and little real enjoyment, wealth
and avarice, nobility and coarseness, youth and pedantry,
poverty and ceremonies, these are the things which would
annihilate me, however it may please the .world to stamp and
rate them."

  " If I hope that we shall suit each other, the hope is chiefly
founded upon this, that he resembles thee, my dear Natalia,
thee whom I so highly prize and reverence. Yes: he has thy
noble searching and striving for the better, whereby we of
ourselves produce the good which we suppose we find. How
often have I blamed thee, not in silence, for treating this or
that person, for acting in this or that case, otherwise than
I should have done; and yet, in general, the issue showed
that thou wert right. ' When we take people,' thou wouldst
say, 'merely as they are, we make them worse: when we
treat them as if they were what they should be, we improve
them as far as they can be improved.' To see or to act thus,
I know full well is not for me. Skill, order, discipline, di-
rection, that is my affair. I always recollect what Jarno said :
'Theresa trains her pupils, Natalia forms them.' Nay, once
he went so far as to assert that of the three fair qualities,
faith, love, and hope, I was entirely destitute. ' Instead of
faith,' said he, ' she has penetration ; instead of love, she has
steadfastness ; instead of hope, she has trust.' Indeed, I will
confess, that, till I knew thee, I knew nothing higher in the
world than clearness and prudence: it was thy presence only
that persuaded, animated, conquered me; to thy fair, lofty
soul I willingly give place. My friend, too, I honor on the
same. principle: the description of his life is a perpetual
seeking without finding, - not empty seeking, but wondrous,





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


generous seeking; he fancies others may give him what can
proceed from himself alone. So, love, the clearness of my
vision has not injured me on this occasion more than others:
I know my husband better than he knows himself, and I value
him the more. I see him, yet I see not over him : all my
skill will not enable me to judge of what he can accomplish.
When I think of him, his image always blends itself with
thine: I know not how I have deserved to belong to two
such persons. But I will deserve it, by endeavoring to do
my duty by fulfilling what is looked for from me."

  " If I recollect of Lothario? Vividly and daily. In the
company which in thought surrounds me, I cannot want him
for a moment. Oh, what a pity for this noble character, re-
lated by an error of his youth to me, that nature has related
him to thee ! A being such as thou, in truth, were worthier
of him than I. To thee I could, I would, surrender him.
Let us be to him all we can, till he find a proper wife; and
then, too, let us be, let us abide, together."

  " But what shall we say to our friends ? " began Natalia.
" Your brother does not know of it ?." - " Not a hint ; your
people know as little ; we women have, on this occasion, man-
aged the affair ourselves. Lydia had put some whims into
Theresi's head concerning Jarno and the abb6. There are
certain plans and secret combinations, with the general
scheme of which I am acquainted, and into which I never
thought of penetrating farther.  With regard to these,
Theresa has, through Lydia, taken up some shadow of sus-
picion: so in this decisive step she would not suffer any one
but me to influence her. With my brother it had been already
settled that they should merely announce their marriages to.
one another, not giving or asking counsel on the subject."
  Natalia wrote a letter to her brother: she invited Wilhelm
to subjoin a word or two, Theresa having so desired it. They
were just about to seal, when Jarno unexpectedly sent up his
name. His reception was, of course, as kind as possible: he
wore a sportful, merry air; he could not long forbear to tell
his errand. " I am come," said he, ' to give you very curi-
ous and very pleasing tidings: they concern Theresa. You
have often blamed us, fair Natalia, for troubling our heads
about so many things; but now you see how good it is to
have one's spies in every place. Guess, and let us see your
skill for once ! "





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


35


  The self-complacency with which he spoke these words, the
roguish mien with which he looked at Wilhelm and Natalia,
persuaded both of them that he had found their secret.
Natalia answered, smiling, " We are far more skilful than
you think : before we even heard your riddle, we had put the
answer to it down in black and white."
  With these words she handed him the letter to Lothario,
satisfied tit having met, in this way, the little triumph and
surprise he had meant for them. Jarno took the sheet with
some astonishment, ran it quickly over, started, let it drop
from his hands, and stared at both his friends with an expres-
sion of amazement, nay, of fright, which, on his countenance,
was rare. He spoke no word.
  Wilhelm  and Natalia were not a little struck: Jarno
stepped up and down the room. " What shall I say ?" cried
he, " or shall I say it all? But it must come out: the per-
plexity is not to be avoided. So secret for secret, surprise
against surprise ! Theresa is not the daughter of her reputed
mother ! The hinderance is removed: I came to ask you to
prepare her for a marriage with Lothario."
  Jarno saw the shock which he had given his friends: they
cast their eyes upon the ground. "1The present case," said
he, " is one of those which are worse to bear in company.
What each has to consider in it, he considers best in solitude :
I, at least, require an hour of leave." He hastened to the
garden: Wilhelm followed him mechanically, yet without
approaching near.
  At the end of an hour they were again assembled. Wil-
helm opened the conversation.     "Formerly,"    said he,
" while I was living without plan or object, in a state of
carelessness, or, I may say, of levity, friendship, love, affec-
tion, trust, came towards me with open arms, they pressed
themselves upon me; but now, when I am serious, destiny
appears to take another course with me. This resolution,
of soliciting Theresa's hand, is probably the first that has
proceeded altogether from myself.    I laid my plan con-
siderately; my reason fully joined in it: by the consent of
that noble maiden, all my hopes were crowned. But now
the strangest fate puts back my outstretched hand: Theresa
reaches hers to me, but from afar, as in a dream; I cannot
grasp it, and the lovely image leaves me forever. So fare
thee well, thou lovely image ! and all ye images of richest
happiness that gathered round it ! "
   He was silent for a moment, looking out before him : Jarno





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was about to speak. " Let me have another word," cried
Wilhelm, "for the lot is drawing which is to decide the
destiny of all my life. At this moment, I am aided and
confirmed by the impression which Lothario's presence made
upon me at the first glance, and which has ever since con-
tinued with me. That man well merits every sort of friend-
ship and affection ; and, without sacrifices, friendship cannot
be imagined. For his sake, it was easy for me to delude a
hapless girl; for his sake, it shall be possible for me to give
away the worthiest bride. Return, relate the strange occur-
rence to him, and tell him what I am prepared for."
   " In emergencies like this," said Jarno, " I hold that
every thing is done, if one do nothing rashly. Let us stake
no step till Lothario has agreed to it. I will go to him : wait
patiently for my return or for his letter."
   He rode away, and left his friends in great disquiet. They
had time to reconsider these events, to think of them ma-
turely. It now first occurred to them, that they had taken
Jarno's statement simply by itself, and without inquiring into
any of the circumstances. Wilhelm was not altogether free
from doubts; but next day their astonishment, nay, their
bewilderment, arose still higher, when a messenger, arriving
from Theresa, brought the following letter to Natalia.
   " Strange as it may seem, after all the letters I have sent,
I am obliged to send another, begging that thou wouldst
despatch my bridegroom to me instantly. He shall be my
husband, what plans soever they may lay to rob me of him.
Give him the enclosed letter, only not before witnesses,
whoever they may be !"
   The enclosed letter was as follows: " What opinion will
you form of your Theresa, when you see her all at once in-
sisting passionately on a union which calm reason alone ap-
peared to have appointed?    Let nothing hinder you from
setting out the moment you have read this letter. Come, my
dear, dear friend; now three times dearer, since they are
attempting to deprive me of you."
   "What is to be done? " cried Wilhelm, after he had read
the letter.
   " In no case that I remember," said Natalia, after some
reflection, " have my heart and judgment been so dumb as
in this: what to do or to advise I know not."
   "' Can it be," cried Wilhelm vehemently, " that Lothario
does not know of it? or, if he does, that he is but like us,
the sport of hidden plans? Has Jarno, when he saw our





IEtSTltR's APRkNTPI ESfJ4I.


letter, devised that fable on the spot? Would he have told
us something different, if we had not been so precipitate?
What can they mean?      What intentions can they have?
What plan can Theresa mean?      Yes, it must be owned,
Lothario is begirt with secret influences and combinations:
I myself have found that they are active, that they take a
certain charge of the proceedings, of the destiny, of several
people, and contrive to guide them. The ulterior objects of
these mysteries I know not; but their nearest purpose, that
of snatchipg my Theresa from me, I perceive but too dis-
tinctly. On the one hand, this prospect of Lothario's hap-
piness, which they exhibit to me, may be but a hollow show:
on the other hand, I see my dear, my honored bride inviting
me to her affection. What shall I do? What shall I for-
bear? "
  "A little patience!" said Natalia: "a little time for
thought. In these singular perplexities I know but this, that
what can never be recalled should not be done in haste. To
a fable, to an artful plan, we have steadfastness and prudence
to oppose: whether Jarno has been speaking true or false
must soon appear. If my brother has actually hopes of a
union with Theresa, it were hard to cut him off forever from
that prospect at the moment when it seems so kindly invit-
ing him. Let us wait at least till we discover whether he
himself khows any thing of it, whether he believes and
hopes."
  These prudent counsels were confirmed by a letter from
Lothario. " I do not send Jarno," he wrote: ' a line from
my hand is more to thee than the minutest narrative in the
mouth of a messenger. I am certain Theresa is not the
daughter of her reputed mother; and I cannot renounce hope
of being hers, till she, too, is persuaded, and can then decide
between my friend and me, with calm consideration. Let
him not leave thee, I entreat it ! The happiness, the life, of
a brother is .at stake. I promise thee, this uncertainty shall
not be long."
  " You see how the matter stands," said she to Wilhelm,
with a friendly air: " give me your word of honor that you
will not leave the house! "
  " I give it! " cried he, stretching out his hand: " I will
not leave this house against your will. I thank Heaven, and
my better Genius, that on this occasion I am led, and led
by you."
  Natalia wrote Theresa an account of every thing, declar-





MEISTER'S APPRElT ICESHtIP.


ing that she would not let her friend away. She sent Lo-
thario's letter also.
  Theresa answered, " I wondered not a little that Lothario
is himself convinced: to his sister he would not feign to this
extent. I am vexed, greatly vexed. It is better that I say
no more. But I will come to thee, so soon as I have got
poor Lydia settled: they are treating her cruelly. I fear we
are all betrayed, and shall be so betrayed that we shall
never reach the truth. If my friend were of my opinion,
he would give thee the slip after all, and throw himself into
the arms of his Theresa, whom none shall take away from
him. But I, as I dread, shall lose him, and not regain
Lothario. From the latter they are taking Lydia by show-
ing him, afar off, the prospect of obtaining me. I will say
no more : the entanglement will grow still deeper. Whether,
in the mean time, these delightful positions in which we
stand to each other may not be so pushed awry, so under-
mined and broken down, that, when the darkness passes off,
the mischief can no longer admit of remedy, time will show.
If my friend do not break away, in a few days I myself
will come and seek him out beside thee, and hold him fast.
Thou marvellest how this passion can have gained the
mastery of thy Theresa. It is no passion, but conviction:
it is a belief, that, since Lothario can never be mine, this new
friend will make me happy. Tell him so, in the name of
the little boy that sat with him underneath the oak, and
thanked him for his sympathy. Tell it him in the name of
Theresa, who met his offers with a hearty openness. My
first dream of living with Lotharic has wandered far away
from my soul: the dream of living with my other friend is
yet wholly present to me. Do they hold me so light as to
think that it were easy to exchange the former with the
latter ?"
   " I depend on you," said Natalia to Wilhelm, handing him
the letter : " you will not leave me. Consider that the com-
fort of my life is in your hands. My being is so intimately
bound and interwoven with my brother's, that he feels no
sorrow which I do not feel, no joy which does not likewise
gladden me. Nay, I may truly say, through him alone I have
experienced that the heart can be affected and exalted ; that
in the world there may be joy, love, and an emotion which
contents the soul beyond its utmost want."
   She stopped : Wilhelm. took her hand, and cried, " Oh,
continue ! This is the time for a true, mutual disclosure of





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


our thoughts: it never was more necessary for us to be well
acquainted with each other."
  " Yes, my friend ! " said she, smiling, with her quiet, soft,
indescribable dignity: " perhaps it is not out of season, if
I tell you that the whole of what so many books, of what the
world, holds up to us and names love, has always seemed to
me a fable."
  "You have never loved ? " cried Wilhelm.
  " Never or always ! " said Natalia.





                     CHAPTER V.

  DURING this conversation they kept walking up and down
the garden; and Natalia gathered various flowers of singular
forms, entirely unknown to Wilhelm, who began to ask their
names, and occupy himself about them.
  " You know not," said Natalia, "for whom I have been
plucking these? I intend them for my uncle, whom we are
to visit. The sun is shining even now so bright on the Hall
of the IVast, I must lead you in this moment; and I never
go to it without a few of the flowers which my uncle liked
particularly, in my hand. He was a peculiar man, suscep-
tible of very strange impressions. For certain plants and
animals, for certain neighborhoods and persons, nay, for
certain sorts of minerals, he had an especial love, which he
was rarely able to explain. ' Had I not,' he would often
say, ' from youth, withstood myself, and striven to form my
judgment upon wide and general principles, I had been the
narrowest and most intolerable person living. For nothing
can be more intolerable than circumscribed peculiarity, in
one from whom a pure and suitable activity might be re-
quired.' And yet he was obliged to confess that life and
breath would, as it were, leave him, if he did not now and
then indulge himself, not from time to time allow himself a
brief and passionate enjoyment Qf what he could not always
praise and justify. ' It is not my fault,' said he, ' if I have
not brought my inclinations and my reason into perfect har-
mony.' On such occasions he would joke with me, and say,
' Natalia may be looked upon as happy while she lives: her
nature asks nothing which the world does not wish and use.' "


39





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  So speaking, they arrived again at the house. Natalia led
him through a spacious passage to a door, before which lay
two granite sphinxes. The door itself was in the Egyptian
fashion, somewhat narrower above than below ; and its brazen
leaves prepared one for a serious or even a gloomy feeling.
Wilhelm was, in consequence, agreeably surprised, when his
expectation issued in a sentiment of pure, cheerful serenity,
as he entered a hall where art and life took away all recol-
lection of death and the grave. In the walls all round, a
series of proportionable arches had been hollowed out, and
large sarcophaguses stood in them: among the pillars in the
intervals between them smaller openings might be seen,
adorned with urns and similar vessels. The remaining spaces
of the walls and vaulted roof were regularly divided; and
between bright and variegated borders, within garlands and
other ornaments, a multitude of cheerful and significant
figures had been painted upon grounds of different sizes.
The body of the edifice was covered with that fine, yellow
marble, which passes into reddish: clear blue stripes of a
chemical substance, happily imitating azure stone, while they
satisfied the eye with contrast, gave unity and combination
to the whole. .All this pomp and decoration showed itself
in the chastest architectural forms: and thus every one who
entered felt as if exalted above himself ; while the co-operat-
ing products of art, for the first time, taught him what man
is and what he may become.
  Opposite the door, on a stately sarcophagus, lay a marble
figure of a noble-looking man, reclined upon a pillow. He
held a roll before him, and seemed to look at it with still at-
tention. It was placed so that you could read with ease
the words which stood there: Think of living.
   Natalia took away a withered bunch of flowers, and laid
the fresh one down before the figure of her uncle. For it
was her uncle whom     the marble represented.    Wilhelm
thought he recognized the features of the venerable gentle-
man whom he had seen when lying wounded in the green
of the forest. "Here he and I passed many an hour," said
Natalia, "while the hall was getting ready. In his latter
years, he had gathered several skilful artists round him ; and
his chief delight was to invent or superintend the drawings
and cartoons for these pictures."
   Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at the objects
 which surrounded him. " What a life," exclaimed he," in
 this Hall of the Past ! One might with equal justice name


40





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


41


it Hall of the Present and the Future. Such all were, -such
all will be. There is nothing transitory but the individual
who looks at and enjoys it. Here, this figure of the mother
pressing her infant to her bosom will survive many genera-
tions of happy mothers.     Centuries hence, perhaps some
father will take pleasure in contemplating this bearded man,
who has laid aside his seriousness, and is playing with nis
son. Thus shame-faced will the bride sit for ages, and, amid
her silent wishes, need that she be comforted, that she be
spoken to; thus impatient will the bridegroom listen on the
threshold whether he may enter."
  The figures Wilhelm was surveying with such rapture were
of almost boundless number and variety. From the first
jocund impulse of the child, merely to employ its every limb
in sport, up to the peaceful, sequestered earnestness of the
sage, you might, in fair and living order, see delineated how
man possesses no capacity or tendency without employing
and enjoying it. From the first soft, conscious feeling, when
the maiden lingers in pulling up her pitcher, and looks with
satisfaction at her image in the clear fountain, to those high
solemnities when kings and nations invoke the gods at the
altar to witness their alliances, all was depicted, all was
forcible and full of meaning.
   It was a world, it was a heaven, that in this abode sur-
rounded the spectator; and beside the thoughts which those
polished forms suggested, beside the feelings they awoke,
there still seemed something further to be present, something
by which the whole man felt himself laid hold of. Wilhelm,
too, observed this, though unable to account for it. "What
is this," exclaimed he, " which independently of all signi-
fication, without any sympathy that human incidents and
fortunes may inspire us with, acts on me so strongly and so
gracefully? It speaks to me from the whole, it speaks from
every part; though I have not fully understood the former,
though I do not specially apply the latter to myself. What
enchantment breathes from these surfaces, these lines, these
heights and breadths, these masses and colors! What is it
that makes these figures so delightful, even when slightly
viewed, and merely in the light of decorations? Yes, I feel
it: one might tarry here, might rest, might view the whole,
and be happy; and yet feel and think something altogether
different from aught that stood before his eyes."
   And certainly, if we were able to describe how happily
 the whole was subdivided, how every thing determined by its





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


place, by combination or by contrast, by uniformity or by
variety, appeared exactly as it should have done, producing
an effect as perfect as distinct, we should transport the reader
to a scene from which he would not be in haste to stir.
  Four large marble candelabras rose in the corners of the
hall: four smaller ones were in the midst of it, around a
very beautifully worked sarcophagus, which, judging from
its size, might once have held a young person of middle
stature.
  Natalia paused beside this monument: she laid her hand
upon it as she said, "My worthy uncle had a great attach-
ment to this fine antique. ' It is not,' he would often say,
' the first blossoms alone that drop ; such you can keep above,
in these little spaces; but fruits also, which, hanging on their
twigs, long give us the fairest hope, whilst a secret worm
is preparing their too early ripeness and their quick decay.'
I fear," continued she, " his words have been prophetic of
that dear little girl, who seems withdrawing gradually from
our cares, and bending to this peaceful dwelling."
  As they were about to go, Natalia stopped, and said, " There
is something still which merits your attention. Observe
these half-round openings aloft on both sides. Here the choir
can stand concealed while singing: these iron ornaments
below the cornice serve for fastening on the tapestry, which,
by order of my uncle, must be hung round at every burial.
Music, particularly song, was a pleasure he could not live
without; and it was one of his peculiarities, that he wished
the singer not to be in view. ' In this respect,' he would
say, 'they spoil us at the theatre: the music there is,
as it were, subservient to the eye; it accompanies move-
ments, not emotions. In oratorios and concerts, the form of
the musician constantly disturbs us; true music is intended
for the ear alone: a fine voice is the most universal thing
that can be figured; and, while the narrow individual that
uses it presents himself before the eye, he cannot fail to
trouble the effect of that pure universality. The person whom
I am to speak with, I must see; because it is a solitary man,
whose form and character give worth or worthlessness to
what he says: but, on the other hand, whoever sings to me
must be invisible; his form must not confuse me, or corrupt
my judgment. Here it is but one human organ speaking to
another: it is not spirit speaking to spirit, not a thousand-
fold world to the eye, not a heaven to the man.' On the
same principles, in respect of instrumental music, he required


42





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


that the orchestra should as much as possible be hid ; because,
by the mechanical exertions, by the mean and awkward ges-
tures of the performers, our feelings are so much dispersed
and perplexed. Accordingly, he always .used to shut his
eyes while hearing music; thereby to concentrate his whole
being on the single pure enjoyment of the ear."
  They were about to leave the hall, when they heard the
children running hastily along the passage, and Felix crying,
" No, I! No, I!"
  Mignon rushed in at the open door: she was foremost, but
out of breath, and could not speak a word. Felix, still at
some distance, shouted out, " Mamma Theresa is come! "
The children had run a race, as it seemed, to bring the news.
Mignon was lying in Natalia's arms : her heart was beating
vehemently.
  " Naughty child," said Natalia, " art thou not forbidden
to make violent exertions? See how thy heart is beating! "
  " Let it break! " said Mignon with a deep sigh: " it has
beat too long."
  They had scarcely composed themselves from this surprise,
this sort of consternation, when Theresa entered. She flew
to Natalia, clasped her and Mignon in her arms. Then,
turning round to Wilhelm, she looked at him with her clear
eyes, and said " Well, my friend, how it is with you?
You hav6 not let them cheat you ? " He made a step towards
her: she sprang to him, and hung upon his neck. "O my
Theresa! " cried he.
  " My friend, my love, my husband ! Yes, forever thine!"
cried she, amid the warmest kisses.
  Felix pulled her by the gown, and cried, "Mamma Theresa,
I am here too!"    Natalia stood, and looked before her:
Mignon on a sudden clapped her left hand on her heart, and,
stretching out the right arm violently, fell with a shriek at
Natalia's feet, as dead.
  The fright was great: no motion of the heart or pulse was
to be traced. Wilhelm took her on his arm, and hastily
carried her away : the body hung lax over his shoulders.
The presence of the doctor was of small avail: he and the
young surgeon, whom we know already, strove in vain. The
dear little creature could not be recalled to life.
  Natalia beckoned to Theresa : the latter took her friend by
the hand, and led him from the room. He was dumb, not
uttering a word : he durst not meet her eyes. He sat down
with her upon the sofa, where he had first found Natalia


43





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


He thought with great rapidity along a series of fateful in.
cidents, or, rather, he did not think, but let his soul be worked
on by the thoughts which would not leave it." There are
moments in life when past events, like winged shuttles, dart
to and fro before us, and by their incessant movements
weave a web which we ourselves, in a greater or less degree,
have spun and put upon the loom. "My friend, my love ! "
said Theresa, breaking silence, as she took him by the hand,
'let us stand together firmly in this hour, as we perhaps
shall often have to do in similar hours. These are occur-
rences which it takes two united hearts to suffer. Think,
my friend, feel, that thou art not alone : show that thou lovest
thy Theresa by imparting thy sorrows to her ! " She em-
braced him, and drew him softly to her bosom: he clasped
her in his arms, and pressed her strongly towards him.
"The poor child," cried he, " used in mournful moments to
seek shelter and protection in my unstable bosom: let the
stability of thine assist me in this heavy hour." They held
each other fast; he felt her heart beat against his breast;
but in his spirit all was desolate and void: only the figures
of Mignon and Natalia flitted like shadows across the waste
of his imagination.
   Natalia entered. " Give us thy blessing !" cried Theresa :
 ' let us, in this melancholy moment, be united before thee !"
 Wilhelm had hid his face upon Theresa's neck: he was so
 far relieved that he could weep. He did not hear Natalia
 come ; he did not see her; but, at the sound of her voice, his
 tears redoubled.  ' What God has joined I will not part,"
 she answered, smiling, " but to unite you is not in my power;
 nor am I gratified to see that sorrow and sympathy seem al-
 together to have banished from your hearts the recollection
 of my brother."    At these words, Wilhelm started from
STheresa's arms.    " Whither are you going? ' cried the
ladies. " Let me see the child," said he, " whom I have
killed! Misfortune, when we look upon it with our eyes, is
smaller than when our imagination sinks the evil down into
the recesses of the soul. Let us view the departed angel!
Her serene countenance will say to us that it is well with
her."   As his friends could not restrain the agitated youth,
they followed him; but the worthy doctor with the surgeon
met them, and prevented them from coming near the dead.
"Keep away from this mournful object," said he, " and
allow me, so far as I am able, to give some continuance to
these remains. On this dear and singular being I will now


44





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


display the beautiful art, not only of embalming bodies, but
of retaining in them a look of life. As I foresaw her death,
the preparations are already made: with these helps I shall
undoubtedly succeed. Give me but a few days, and ask not
to see the child again till I have brought her to the Hall of
the Past."
  The young surgeon had in his hands that well-known case
of instruments. " From whom can he have got it? " Wil-
helm asked the doctor. " I know it very well," replied
Natalia: " he has it from his father, who dressed your
wounds when we found you in the forest."
  " Then, I have not been mistaken ! I recognized the band
at once ! " cried Wilhelm. " Oh, get it for me ! It was this
that first gave me any hint of my unknown benefactress.
What weal and woe will such a thing survive ! Beside how
many sorrows has this band already been, and its threads
still hold together ! How many men's last moments has it
witnessed, and its colors are not yet faded ! I.t was near me
in one of the fairest hours of my existence, when I lay
wounded on the ground, and your helpful form  appeared
before me, aid the child whom we are now lamenting sat
with its bloody hair, busied with the tenderest care to save
my life! "
  It was not long that our friends could converse about this
sad occurrence, that Theresa could inquire about the child,
and the probable cause of its unexpected death ; for strangers
were announced, who, on making their appearance, proved
to be well-known strangers. Lothario, Jarno, and the abb4
entered. Natalia met her brother: among the rest there was
a momentary silence.   Theresa, smiling on- Lothario, said,
" You scarcely expected to find me here ; of course, it would
not have been advisable that we should visit one another at
the present time: however, after such an absence, take my
cordial welcome."
  Lothario took her hand, and answered, " If we are to
suffer and renounce, it may as well take place in the presence
of the object whom we love and wish for. I desire no in-
fluence on your determination: my confidence in your heart,
in your understanding, and clear sense, is still so great, that
I willngly commit to your disposal my fate and that of my
friend."
  The conversation turned immediately to general, nay, we
may say,-to trivial, topics, The company soon separated into
single pairs, for walking. Natalia was with her brother


45





MEISTER'S' APPRENTICESHIP.


Theresa with the abb : our friend was left with Jarno in
the castle.
  The appearance of the guests at the moment when a heavy
sorrow was oppressing Wilhelm had, instead of dissipating
his attention, irritated him, and made him worse: he was
fretful and suspicious, and unable or uncareful to conceal it,
when Jarno questioned him about his sulky silence. " What
is the use of saying more? " cried Wilhelm. " Lothario with
his helpers is come; and it were strange if those mysterious
watchmen of the tower, who are constantly so busy, did not
now exert their influence on us, to effect I know not what
strange purpose.   So far as I have known these saintly
gentlemen, it seems to be in every case their laudable en-
deavor to separate the united and to unite the separated.
What sort of web their weaving will produce may probably
to unholy eyes be forever a riddle."
  " You are cross and bitter," said the other: " that is as
it should, be. Would you get into a proper passion, it were
still better. "
  "That, too, might come about," said Wilhelm : " I fear
much some of you are in the mind to load my patience,
natural and acquired, beyond what it will bear."
  "I In the mean time," said the other, " till we see what is
to be the issue of the matter, I could like to tell you some-
what of the tower which you appear to view with such mis-
trust."
   " It stands with you," said Wilhelm, " whether you will
risk your eloquence on an attention so distracted. My mind
is so engaged at present, that I know not whether I can take
a proper interest in these very dignified adventures."
   " Your pleasing humor shall not hinder me," said Jarno,
" from explaining this affair to you. You reckon me a clever
fellow; I want to make you reckon me an honest one: and,
what is more, on this occasion I am bidden speak." - " I
could wish," said Wilhelm, "that you did it of yourself, and
with an honest purpose to inform me; but, as I cannot hear
without suspicion, wherefore should I hear at all? " -" If I
have nothing better to do," said Jarno, " than tell you stories,
you, too, have time to listen to me; and to this you r may
perhaps feel more inclined, when I assure you, that all you
saw in the tower was but the relics of a youthful undertak-
ing, in regard to which the greater part of the initiated were
once in deep earnest, though all of them now view it with
a smile."


46





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


47


  " So, with these pompous signs and words, you do but
mock? " cried Wilhelm. " With a solemn air, you lead us
to a place inspiring reverence by its aspect; you make the
strangest visions pass before us; you give us rolls full of
glorious mystic apothegms, of which, in truth, we understand
but little; you disclose to us, that hitherto we have been
pupils; you solemnly pronounce us free; and we are just as
wise as we were." -- " Have you not the parchment by you ?"
said the other. " It contains a deal of sense: those general
apothegms were not picked up at random, though they seem
obscure and empty to a man without experiences to recollect
while reading them. But give me the Indenture, as we call
it, if it is at hand." -" Quite at hand," cried Wilhelm:
" such an amulet well merits being worn upon one's breast."
-" Well," said Jarno, smiling, " who knows whether the
contents of it may not one day find place in your head and
heart? "
  He opened the roll, and glanced over the first half of it.
"This," said he, " regards the cultivation of our gifts for
art and science, of which let others speak : the second treats
of life; here I am more at home."
  He then began to read passages, speaking between whiles,
and connecting them with his remarks and narrative. " The
taste of youth for secrecy, for ceremonies, for imposing
words, is extraordinary, and frequently bespeaks a certain
depth of character. In those years we wish to feel our whole
nature seized and moved, even though it be but vaguely and
darkly. The youth who happens to have lofty aspirations
and forecastings thinks that secrets yield him much, that he
must depend much on secrets, and effect much by means of
them.    It was with such views that the abbe favored a
certain society of young men, partly according to his prin-
ciple of aiding every tendency of nature, partly out of habit
and inclination; for in former times he had himself been
joined to an association which appears to have accomplished
many things in secret. For this business I was least of
all adapted.   I was older than the rest; from youth I
had thought clearly; I wished in all things nothing more
than clearness; I felt no interest in men but to know them
as they were.   With the same taste I gradually infected
all the best of our associates, and this circumstance had
almost given a false direction to our plan of culture. For
we now began to look at nothing but the errors and the.iiar-
rowness of others, and to think ourselves a set of highly





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.,


gifted personages. Here the abb6 came to our assistance:
he taught us that we never should inspect the conduct of
men, unless we at the same time took an interest in improv-
ing it; and that through action only could we ever be in a
condition to inspect and watch ourselves. He advised us,
however, to retain the primary forms of the society : hence
there was still a sort of law in our proceedings; the first
mystic impressions might be traced in the constitution of the
whole. At length, as by a practical similitude, it took the
form of a corporate trade, whose business was the arts.
Hence came the names of apprentices, assistants, and
masters. We wished to see with our own eyes, and to form
for ourselves, a special record of our own experience in the
world. Hence those numerous confessions which in part we
ourselves wrote, in part made others write, and out of which
the several Apprenticeships were afterwards compiled. The
formation of his character is not the chief concern with
every man. Many merely wish to find a sort of recipe for
comfort, directions for acquiring riches, or whatever good
they aim at. All such, when they would not be instructed
in their proper duties, we were wont to mystify, to treat with
juggleries, and every sort of hocus-pocus, and at length to
shove aside. We advanced none to the rank of masters, but
such as clearly felt and recognized the purpose they were born
for, arrd had got enough of practice to proceed along their
way with a certain cheerfulness and ease."
   " In my case, then," cried Wilhelm, "your ceremony has
been very premature ; for, since the day when you pronounced
me free, what I can, will, or shall do has been more unknown
to me than ever." - " We are not to blame for this per-
plexity: perhaps good fortune will deliver us. In the mean
time, listen : ' He in whom there is much to be developed will
be later in acquiring true perceptions of himself and of the
world. There are few who at once have Thought and the
capacity of Action. Thought expands, but lames: Action
animates, but narrows.' "
   " I beg of you," cried Wilhelm, " not to read me any
 more of that surprising stuff. These phrases have sufficiently
 confused me before." --" I will stick by my story, then,"
 said Jarno, half rolling up the parchment, into which, how-
 ever, he kept casting frequent glances. " I myself have
 been of less service to the cause of our society, and of my
 fellow-men, than any other member. I am but a bad school-
 master : * cannot bear to look on people making awkward


48





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


trials; when I see a person wander from his path, I feel con-
strained to call to him, although it were a night-walker going
straight to break his neck. On this point I had a continual
struggle with the abbe, who maintains that error can never
be cured, except by erring.   About you, too, we often
argued. He had taken an especial liking to you, and it is
saying something to have caught so much of his attention.
For me, you must admit, that every time we met I told you
just the naked truth." -" Certainly, you spared me very
little," said the other ; " and I think you still continue faithful
to your principles." -" What is the use of sparing," an-
swered Jarno, " when a young man of many good endow-
ments is taking a quite false direction ? "-" Pardon me,"
said Wilhelm: " you have rigorously enough denied me
any talent for the stage; I confess to you, that, though I
have entirely renounced the art, I cannot think myself en-
tirely incapable." - " And with me,"' said Jarno, " it is well
enough decided, that a person who can only play himself is
no player. Whoever cannot change himself, in temper and
in form, into many forms, does not deserve the name. Thus
you, for example, acted Hamlet, and some other characters,
extremely well; because, in these, your form, your disposi-
tion, and the temper of the moment, suited. For an amateur
theatre, for any one who saw no other way before him, this
would, perhaps, have answered well enough. But," con-
tinued Jarno, looking on the roll, " 'we should guard against
a talent which we cannot hope to practise in perfection.
Improve it as we may, we shall always, in the end, when
the merit of the master has become apparent to us, pain-
fully lament the loss of time and strength devoted to such
botching.' "
  " Do not read ! " cried Wilhelm : " I entreat you earnestly,
speak on, tell, inform me ! So, the abbe aided me in Ham-
let: he provided me a Ghost?" -" Yes; for he asserted
that it was the only.way of curing you, if you were curable."
-" And on this account he left the veil, and bade me flee ? "
-" Yes : he hoped, that, having fairly acted Hamlet, your
desire of acting would be satiated. He maintained that you
would never go upon the stage again : I believed the contrary,
and I was right. We argued on the subject that very even-
ing, when the play was over." - " You saw me act, then ? "
- " I did indeed." -" And who was it that played the
Ghost? " --" That I cannot tell you: either the abb6 or his
twin-brother; but I think the latter, for he is a little taller."


49





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


- " You, then, have secrets from each other ? " - " Friends
may and must have secrets from, but they are not secrets to,
each other."
   " The very thought of that perplexity perplexes me. Let
 me understand the man to whom I owe so many thanks as
 well as such reproaches."
   " What gives him such a value in our estimation," answered
Jarno, " what, in some degree, secures him the dominion over
all of us, is the free, sharp eye that nature has bestowed on
him, for all the powers which dwell in man, and are suscepti-
ble of cultivation, each according to its kind. Most men, even
the most accomplished, are but limited: each prizes certain
properties in others and himself ; these alone he favors, these
alone will he have cultivated. Directly the reverse is the
procedure of our abb6 : for every gift he has a feeling; every
.gift he delights to recognize and forward. But I must look
into my roll again! ' It is all men that make up mankind,
all powers taken together that make up the world. These
are frequently at variance; and, as they endeavor to destroy
each other, Nature holds them together, and again produces
them. From the first animal tendency to handicraft attempts,
up to the highest practising of intellectual art; from the in-
articulate crowings of the happy infant, up to the polished
utterance of the orator and singer; from the first bickerings
of boys; up to the vast equipments by which countries are
conquered and retained; from the slightest kindliness, and
the most transitory love, up to the fiercest passion, and the
most earnest covenant; from the merest perception of sensi-
ble presence, up to the faintest presentiments and hopes of
the remotest spiritual future, - all this, and much more also,
lies in man, and must be cultivated, yet not in one, but in
many. Every gift is valuable, and ought to be unfolded.
When one encourages the beautiful alone, and another encour-
ages the useful alone, it takes them both to form a man. The
useful encourages itself ; for the multitude produce it, and no
one can dispense with it: the beautiful must be encouraged;
for few can set it forth, and many need it.' "
   " Hold!   old !" cried Wilhelm : " I have read it all."-
 " Yet a line or two! " said Jarno. " Here is our worthy
 abb6 to a hair's-breadth: ' One power rules another, none
 can, cultivate another: in each endowment, and not else-
 where, lies the force which must complete it; this many
 people do not understand, who yet attempt to teach and in-
 fluence.' "- " Nor do I understand it," answered Wilhelm.


50





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


--" You will often hear the abbe preach on this text; and,
therefore, 'Let us merely keep a clear and steady eye on
what is in ourselves, on what endowments of our own we
mean to cultivate : let us be just to others, for we ourselves
are only to be valued in so far as we can value.' " I-" For
Heaven's sake, no more of these wise saws ! I feel them to
be but a sorry balsam for a wounded heart. Tell me, rather,
with your cruel settledness, what you expect of me, how,
and in what manner, you intend to sacrifice me." - " For
every such suspicion, I assure you, you will afterwards beg
our pardon. It is your affair to try and choose: it is ours
to aid you. A man is never happy till his vague striving
has itself marked out its proper limitation. It is not to me
that you must look, but to the abb : it is not of yourself
that you must think, but of what surrounds you. Thus, for
instance, learn to understand Lothario's superiority ; how his
quick and comprehensive vision is inseparably united with
activity; how he constantly advances; how he expands his
influence, and carries every one along with him. Wherever
he may be, he bears a world about with him: his presence
animates and kindles. Observe our good physician, on the
other hand. His nature seems to be directly the reverse. If
the former only works upon the general whole, and at a dis-
tance, the latter turns his piercing eye upon the things that are
beside him: he rather.furnishes the means for being active,
than himself displays or stimulates activity. His conduct is
exactly like the conduct of a good domestic manager: he
is busied silently, while he provides for each in his peculiar
sphere; his knowledge is a constant gathering and expand-
ing, a taking in and giving out on a small scale. Perhaps
Lothario in a single day might overturn what the other had
for years been employed in building up ; but perhaps Lothario
also might impart to others, in a moment, strength sufficient
to restore a hundred-fold what he had overturned." " It is
but a sad employment," answered Wilhelm," to contemplate
the sublime advantages of others, at a moment when we are
at variance with ourselves. Such contemplations suit the man
at ease, not him whom passion and uncertainty are agitat-
ing." - "' Peacefully and reasonably to contemplate is at no
time hurtful," answered Jarno : " and, while we use ourselves
to think of the advantages of others, our own mind comes in-
sensibly to imitate them; and every false activity, to which
our fancy was alluring us, is then willingly abandoned. Free
your mind, if you can, from all suspicion and anxiety. Here


51





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


comes the abb6: be courteous towards him, till you have
learned still further what you owe him. The rogue ! There
he goes between Natalia and Theresa: I could bet he is con-
triving something. As in general he rather likes to act the
part of Destiny; so he does not fail to show a taste for mak-
ing matches when he finds an opportunity."
  Wilhelm, whose angry and fretful humor all the placid,
prudent words of Jarno had not bettered, thought his friend
exceedingly indelicate for mentioning marriage at a moment
like the present: he answered, with a smile indeed, but a
rather bitter one, ' I thought the taste for making matches
had been left to those that had a taste for one another."





                     CHAPTER VI.

  THE company had met again: the conversation of our
friends was necessarily interrupted. Erelong a courier was
announced, as wishing to deliver with his own hand a letter
to Lothario. The man was introduced: he had a vigorous,
sufficient look; his livery was rich and handsome. Wilhelm
thought he knew him, nor was he mistaken; for it was the
man whom he had sent to seek Philina and the fancied Mari-
ana, and who never came back. Our friend was about to
address him, when Lothario, who had read the letter, asked
the courier with a serious, almost angry, tone, "What is your
master's name ?"
   " Of all questions," said the other, with a prudent air,
" this is the one which I am least prepared to answer. I hope
the letter will communicate the necessary information: ver-
bally I have been charged with nothing."
   " Be it as it will," replied Lothario with a smile: " since
your master puts such trust in me as to indite a letter so ex-
ceedingly facetious, he shall be welcome to us."- " He will
not keep you long waiting for him," said the courier, with a
bow, and withdrew.
   " Do but hear the distracted, stupid.message," said Lotha-
 rio. " ' As of all guests, Good Humor is believed to. be the
 most agreeable wherever he appears, and as I always keep
 that gentleman beside me by way of travelling companion, I
 feel persuaded that the visit I intend to pay your noble lord-


52





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ship will not be taken ill: on the contrary, I hope the whole
of your illustrious family will witness my arrival with complete
satisfaction, and in due time also my departure ; being always,
et caetera, Count of Snailfoot.' "
   " 'Tis a new family," said the abb6.
   " A vicariat count, perhaps," said Jarno.
   " The secret is easy to unriddle," said Natalia: " I wager
it is none but brother Friedrich, who has threatened us with
a visit ever since my uncle's death."
   '~ Right, fair and skilful sister ! " cried a voice from the
nearest thicket; and immediately a pleasant, cheerful youth
stepped forward. Wilhelm could scarcely restrain a cry of
wonder. " What ! " exclaimed he : " does our fair-haired
knave, too, meet me here ?" Friedrich looked attentively, and,
recognizing Wilhelm, cried, " In truth, it would not have as-
tonished me so much to have beheld the famous pyramids,
which still stand fast in Egypt, or the grave of King Mausolus,
which, as I am told, does not exist, here placed before me in
my uncle's garden, as to find you in it, my old friend, and
frequent benefactor. Accept my best and heartiest service ! "
   After he had kissed and complimented the whole circle,
he again sprang towards Wilhelm, crying, " Use him well,
this hero, this leader of armies, and dramatical philosopher !
When we became acquainted first, I dressed his hair indiffer-
ently, I may say execrably ; yet he afterwards saved me from
a pretty load of blows. He is magnanimous as Scipio, mu-
nificent as Alexander: at times he is in love, yet he never
hates his rivals. Far from heaping coals of fire on the heads
of his enemies, - a piece of service, I am told, which we can
do for any one, - he rather, when his friends have carried off
his love, despatches good and trusty servants after them,
that they may not strike their feet against a stone."
   In the same style he ran along with a volubility which baf-
fled all attempts to restrain it; and, as no one could reply to
him in that vein, he had the conversation mostly to himself.
" Do not wonder," cried he, ' that I am so profoundly versed
in sacred and profane writers: you shall hear by and by how
I attained my learning." They wished to know how matters
stood with him, - where he had been ;but crowds of proverbs
and old stories choked his explanation.
   Natalia whispered to Theresa, " His gayety afflicts me: I
am sure at.heart he is not merry."
  As, except a few jokes which Jarno answered, Friedrich's
merriment was met by no response from those about him, he


53





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was obliged at last to say, " Well, there is nothing left for
me, but, among so many grave faces, to be grave myself.
And as, in such a solemn scene, the burden of my sins falls
heavy on my soul, I must honestly resolve upon a general
confession; for which, however, you, my worthy gentlemen
and ladies, shall not be a jot the wiser. This honorable friend
already knows a little of my walk and conversation ; he alone
shall know the rest; and this the rather, as he alone has any
cause to ask about it. Are not you," continued he to Wil-
helm, " curious about the how and where, the when and
wherefore? And how it stands with the conjugation of the
Greek verb cptl0), cptloi, and the derivatives of that very amia-
ble part of speech?"
  He then took Wilhelm by the arm, and led him off, press-
ing him and skipping round him with the liveliest air of
kindness.
  Scarcely had they entered Wilhelm's room, when Friedrich
noticed, in the window, a powder-knife, with the inscription,
" Think of me." " You keep your valuables well laid up ! "
said he. "' This is the powder-knife Philina gave you, when
I pulled your locks for you. I hope, in looking at it, you
have diligently thought of that fair damsel; I assure you,
she has not forgotten you: if I had not long ago obliterated
every trace of jealousy from my heart, I could not look on
you without envy."
  "' Talk no more of that creature," answered Wilhelm. " I
confess it was a while before I could get rid of the impres-
sion which her looks and manner made on me, but that was
all."
  " Fie, Fie ! " cried Friedrich. " Would any one deny his
deary ? You loved her as completely as a man could wish.
No day passed without your giving her some present; and,
when a German gives, you may be sure he loves. No alter..
native remained for me but whisking her away from you,
and in this the little red officer at last succeeded."
  ' What ! you were the officer whom we discovered with
her, whom she travelled off with?"
  "Yes," said Friedrich, " whom you took for Mariana.
We had sport enough at the mistake."
  "What cruelty," cried Wilhelm, "to leave me in such
suspense !"
  " And, besides, to take the courier, whom you sent to
catch us, into pay ! " said Friedrich. " He is a very active
fellow: we have kept him by us ever since. And the girl


54





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


herself I love as desperately as ever. She has managed me
in some peculiar style: I am almost in a mythologic case;
every day I tremble at the thought of being metamorphosed."
  "But tell me, pray," said Wilhelm, "where have you
acquired this stock of erudition ? It surprises me to hear the
strange way you have assumed of speaking always with a
reference to ancient histories and fables."
  c It was by a pleasant plan," said Friedrich, "that I got
my learning. Philina lives with me at present: we have got
a lease of an old, knightly castle from the farmer in whose
ground it is; and there we live, with the hobgoblins of the
place, as merrily as possible. In one of the rooms we found
a small, but choice, library, consisting of a Bible in folio,
'Gottfried's Chronicle,' two volumes of the 'Theatrum
Europaeum,' an 'Acerra Philologica,' 'Gryphius' Writ-
ings,' and some other less important works. As we now
and then, when tired of romping, felt the time hang heavy
on our hands, we proposed to read some books; and, before
we were aware, the time hung heavier than ever. At last
Philina hit upon the royal plan of laying all the tomes, opened
at once, upon a large table. We sat down opposite to one
another: we read to one another, - always in detached pas-
sages, first from this book, then from that. We had a jolly
time of it. We felt now as if we were in good society, where
it is reckoned unbecoming to dwell on any subject, or search
it to the bottom: we thought ourselves in witty, gay society,
where none will let his neighbor speak. We regularly treat
ourselves with this diversion every day, and the erudition
we obtain from it is quite surprising. Already there is noth-
ing new for us under the sun : on every thing we see or hear,
our learning offers us a hint. This method of instruction we
diversify in many ways. Frequently we read by an old, spoiled
sand-glass, which runs in a minute or two. The moment it
is down, the silent party turns it round like lightning, and
commences reading from his book; and no sooner is it down
again, than the other cuts him short, and starts the former
topic. Thus we study in a truly academic manner, with this
difference, that our hours are shorter, and our studies ex-
tremely varied."
   " This rioting is quite conceivable," said Wilhelm, " when
a pair like you two are together; but how a pair so full of
frolic stay together does not seem so easily conceivable."
   "It is our good fortune," answered Friedrich, " and our
 bad. Philina dare not let herself be seen, - she cannot bear


55





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


to see herself: she is with child. Nothing ever was so ludi-
crous and shapeless in the world. A little while before I
came away, she chanced to cast an eye upon the looking-glass
in passing. ' Faugh! ' cried she, and turned away her face:
' the living -picture of the Frau Melina ! Shocking figure !
One looks entirely deplorable! ' "
   " I confess," said Wilhelm, with a smile, "it must be
 rather farcical to see a father and a mother, such as you and
 she, together."
   " 'Tis a foolish business," answered Friedrich, " that I
 must at last be raised to the paternal dignity. But she
 asserts, and the time agrees. At first that cursed visit which
 she paid you after ' Hamlet' gave me qualms."
   " What visit ? "
   "I suppose you have not quite slept off the memory of it
 yet? The pretty, flesh-and-blood spirit of that night, if you
 do not know it, was Philina. The story was, in truth, a hard
 dower for me ; but, if we cannot be content with such things,
 we should not be in love. Fatherhood, at any rate, depends
 entirely upon conviction: I am convinced, and so I am a
 father. There, you see, I can employ my logic in the proper
 season too. And, if the brat do not laugh itself to death so
 soon as it is born, it may prove, if not a useful, at least a
 pleasant, citizen of this world."
   Whilst our friends were talking thus of mirthful subjects,
 the rest of the party had begun a serious conve'sation.
 Scarcely were Friedrich and Wilhelm gone, when the abb6
 led his friends, as if by chance, into a garden-house, and,
 having got them seated, thus addressed them: -
   " We have in general terms asserted that Friiulein Theresa
 was not the daughter of her reputed mother: it is fit that we
 should now explain ourselves on this matter, in detail. I
 shall relate the story to you, which I undertake to prove and
 to elucidate in every point.
   "Frau von     - spent the first years of her wedlock in
the utmost concord with her husband ; but they had this mis-
fortune, that the children she brought him came into the
world dead: and, on occasion of the third, the, mother was
declared by the physicians to be on the verge of death, and
to be sure of death if she should ever have another. The
parties were obliged to take their resolution : they would not
break the marriage; it was too suitable to both, in a civil
point of view. Frau von        sought in the culture of her
mind, in a certain habit of display, in the joys of vanity, a


56





57


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


compensation for the happiness of motherhood, which was
refused her. She cheerfully indulged her husband, when
she noticed in him an attachment to a young lady, who had
sole charge of their household, a person of beautiful exte-
rior, and very solid character. Frau von       herself, ere-
long, assisted in procuring an arrangement, by which the
lady yielded to the wishes of Theresa's father; continuing
to discharge her household duties, and testifying to the mis-
tress of the family, if possible, a more submissive zeal to
serve her than before.
   "After a while she declared herself with child; and both
the father and his wife, on this occasion, though from very
different causes, fell upon the same idea. Herr von
wished to have the offspring of his mistress educated in the
house as his lawful child; and Frau von -   , angry that
the indiscretion of her doctor had allowed some whisper of
her condition to go abroad, proposed by a supposititious
child to counteract this, and likewise to retain, by such com-
pliance, the superiority in her household, which otherwise
she was like to lose. However, she was more backward
than her husband: she observed his purpose, and contrived,
without any formal question, to facilitate his explanation.
She made her own terms, obtaining almost every thing that
she required  and hence the will in which so little care was
taken of the child. The old doctor was dead: they applied
to a young, active, and discreet successor; he was well
rewarded; he looked forward to the credit of exposing and
remedying the unskilfulness and premature decision of his
deceased colleague. The true mother not unwillingly con-
sented: they managed the deception very well; Theresa
came into the world, and was surrendered to a stepmother,
while her inother fell a victim to the plot; having died by
venturing out too early, and left the father inconsolable.
   "Frau von -     had thus attained her object; in the eyes
 of the world she had a lovely child, which she paraded with
 excessive vanity: and she had also been delivered from a
 rival whose fortune she envied, and whose influence, at least
 in prospect, she beheld with apprehension. The infant she
 loaded with her tenderness: and by affecting, in trustful
 hours, a lively feeling for her husband's loss, she gained a
 niastery qf his heart; so that in a manner he surrendered all
 to her, laid his own happiness and that of his child in her
 hands: nor was it till a short while prior to his death, and,
 in some degree, by the exertions of his grown-up daughter,





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


that he again assumed the rule in his own house. This, fair
Theresa, was in all probability the secret which your father,
in his last sickness, so struggled to communicate: this is
what I wished to lay circumstantially before you, at a mo-
ment when our young friend, who by a strange concurrence
has become your bridegroom, happens to be absent. Here
are the papers which will prove in the most rigorous manner
every thing that I have stated. You will also see from them
how long I have been following the trace of this discovery;
though, till now, I could never attain certainty respecting it.
I did not risk imparting to my friend the possibility of such a
happiness: it would have wounded him too deeply had this
hope a second time deceived him. You will understand poor
Lydia's suspicions: I readily confess, I nowise favored our
friend's attachment to her, when I began again to look for-
ward to his union with Theresa."
  To this recital no one replied. The ladies, some days after-
wards, returned the papers, not making any further mention
of them.
  There were other matters in abundance to engage the
party when they were together; and the scenery around was
so delightful, that our friends, singly or in company, on
horseback, in carriages, or on foot, delighted to explore it.
On one of these excursions, Jarno took an opportunity of
opening the affair to Wilhelm: he delivered him the papers;
not, however, seeming to require from him any resolution in
regard to them.
   " In this most singular position in which I am," said
our friend, " I need only repeat to you what I said at first,
in presence of Natalia, and with the clear intention to fulfil
it. Lothario and his friends may require of me every sort
of self-denial; I here abandon in their favor all pretension
to Theresa: do you procure me in return a formal discharge.
There requires no great reflection to decide. For some days
I have noticed that Theresa has to make an effort in retain-
ing any show of the vivacity with which she Welcomed me at
first. Her affection is gone from me; or, rather, I have
never had it."
   " Such affairs are more conveniently explained," said
Jarno, " by a gradual process, in silence and expectation,
than by many words, which always cause a sort of fermen-
tation and embarrassment."
   " I rather think," said Wilhelm, " that precisely this af-
fair admits of the most clear and calm decision on the spot.


58





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


I have often been reproached with hesitation and uncer-
tainty: why will you now, when I do. not hesitate, commit
against myself the fault you have often blamed in me? Do
people take such trouble with our training only to let us feel
that they themselves will not be trained ? Yes : grant me soon
the cheerful thought that I am out of a mistaken project,
into which I entered with the purest feelings in the world."'
  Notwithstanding this request, some days elapsed without
his hearing any more of the affair, or observing any further
alteration in his friends. The conversation, on the contrary,
was general, and of indifferent matters.





                    CHAPTER VII.

  JARNO and Wilhelm were sitting one day by Natalia.
"You are thoughtful, Jarno," said the lady: ' I have seen
it in your looks for some time."
  " I am so," answered Jarno: " a weighty business is be-
fore me, which we have for years been meditating, and
must now begin to execute. You already know the outline
of it: I may speak of it before our friend ; for it will de-
pend on himself whether he, too, shall not share in it. You
are going to get rid of me before long: I mean to take a
voyage to America."
  " To America?" said Wilhelm, smiling: "such an ad-
venture I did not anticipate from you, still less that you
would have selected me for a companion."
  "When you rightly understand our plan," said Jarno,
" you will give it a more honorable name, and, perhaps, your-
self be tempted to embark in it. Listen to me. It requires
but a slight acquaintance with the business of the world to
see that mighty changes are at hand, that property is almost
nowhere quite secure."
  '' Of the business of the world I have no clear notion,"
interrupted Wilhelm; " and it is but of late that I ever
thought about my property. Perhaps I had done well to
drive it out of my head still longer: the care of securing it
appears to give us hypochondria."
  "Hear me out," said Jarno. " Care beseems ripe age,
that youth may live, for a time, free from care; in the con-


59





1MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


duct of poor mortals, equilibrium cannot be restored except
by contraries. As matters go, it is any thing but prudent to
have property in only one place, to commit your money to a
single spot; and yet it is difficult to guide it well in many.
We have, therefore, thought of something else. From our
old tower there is a society to issue, which must spread it-
self through every quarter of the world, and 'to which mem-
bers from every quarter of the world shall be admissible.
We shall insure a competent subsistence to each other, in the
single case of a revolution happening, which might drive any
part of us entirely from their possessions. I am now pro-
ceeding to America to profit by the good connections which
our friend established while he staid there. The abb6 means
to go to Russia: if you like to join us, you shall have the
choice of continuing in Germany to help Lothario, or of ac-
companying me. I conjecture you will choose the latter:
to take a distant journey is extremely serviceable to a young
man."
  Wilhelm thought a moment, and replied, "The offer well
deserves consideration; for erelong the word with me must
be, The farther off, the better. .You will let me know your
plan, I hope, more perfectly. It is, perhaps, my ignorance of
life that makes me think so; but such a combination seems
to me to be attended with insuperable difficulties."
  " The most of which, till now, have been avoided," an-
swered Jarno, " by the circumstance that we have been but
few in number, honorable, discreet, determined people, ani-
mated by a certain general feeling, out of which alone the
feeling proper for societies can spring." - "And if you
speak me fair," said Friedrich, who hitherto. had only lis-
tened, " I, too, will go along with you."
  Jarno shook his head.
  " Well, what objections can you make? " cried Friedrich.
" In a new colony, young colonists will be required; these I
bring with me: merry colonists will also be required; of
these I make you certain. Besides, I recollect a certain
damsel, who is out of place on this side of the water,- the
fair, soft-hearted Lydia. What is the poor thing to do with
her sorrow and mourning, unless she get an opportunity to
throw it to the bottom of the sea, unless some brave fellow
take her by the hand? You, my benefactor," said he, turn-
ing towards Wilhelm, "you have a taste for comforting for-
saken persons: what withholds you now? Each of us might
take his girl under his arm, and trudge with Jarno,"


60





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  This proposal struck Wilhelm offensively.  He answered
with affected calmness, ' I know not whether she is unen-
gaged; and, as in general I seem to be unfortunate in court-
ship, I shall hardly think of making the attempt."
  " Brother Friedrich," said Natalia, " though thy own
conduct is so full of levity, it does not follow that such sen-
timents will answer others. Our friend deserves a heart that
shall belong to him alone, that shall not, at his side, be moved
by recollections of some previous attachment. It was only
with a character as pure and reasonable as Theresa's that
such a venture could be risked."
  " Risk ! " cried Friedrich : " in love it is all risk. In the
grove or at the altar, with a clasp of the arms or a golden
ring, by the chirping of the cricket or the sound of trumpets
and kettle-drums, it is all but a risk: chance does it all."
  "I I have often noticed," said Natalia, " that our principles
are just a supplement to our peculiar manner of existence.
We delight to clothe our errors in the garb of universal laws,
to attribute them to irresistibly appointed causes. Do but
think by what a path thy dear will lead thee, now that she
has drawn thee towards her, and holds thee fast there."
   " She herself is on a very pretty path," said Friedrich,-
" on the path to saintship. A by-path, it is true, and some-
what roupdabout, but the pleasanter and surer for that. Maria
of Magdala travelled it, and who can say how many more?
But, on the whole, sister, when the point in hand is love,
thou shouldst not mingle in it. In my opinion, thou wilt
never marry, till a bride is lacking somewhere : in that case,
thou wilt give thyself, with thy habitual charity, to be the sup-
plement of some peculiar manner of existence, not other-
wise. So let us strike a bargain with this soul-broker, and
agree about our travelling-company."
   " You come too late with your proposals," answered Jarno:
' Iydia is disposed of."
   " And how ? " cried Friedrich.
   " I myself have offered her my hand," said Jarno.
   ' Old gentleman," said Friedrich, " you have done a feat
to which, if we regard it as a substantive, various adjectives
might be appended; various predicates, if we regard it as a
subject."
   " I must honestly confess," replied Natalia, " it appears
 a dangerous experiment to make a helpmate of a woman, at
 the very moment when her love for another man is like to
 drive her to despair."


61





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


   " I have ventured," answered Jarno: " under a certain
stipulation she is to be mine. And, believe me, there is
nothing in the world more precious than a heart susceptible
of love and passion. Whether it has loved, whether it still
loves, are points which I regard not. The love of which
another is the object charms me almost more than that
which is directed to myself. I see the strength, the force, of
a tender soul ; and my self-love does not trouble the delightful
vision."
  " Have you, then, talked with Lydia of late?" inquired
Natalia.
  Jarno smiled and nodded: Natalia shook her head, and
said as he rose, " I really know not what to make of you;
but me you shall not mystify, I promise you."
  She was about retiring, when the abbe entered with a letter
in his hand. " Stay, if you please," said he to her: "I
have a proposal here, respecting which your counsel will be
welcome. The marchese, your late uncle's friend, whom for
some time we have been expecting, will be here in a day or
two. He writes to me, that German is not so familiar to him
as he had supposed; that he needs a person who possesses
this and other languages, to travel with him; that, as he
wishes to connect himself with scientific rather than political
society, he cannot do without some such interpreter. I can
think of Ao one better suited for the post than our young friend
here. He knows the language, is acquainted with many
things beside; and, for himself, it cannot but be advantageous
to travel over Germany in such society and such circum-
stances. Till we have seen our native country, we have no
scale to judge of other countries by. What say you, my
friend? What say you, Natalia? "
  Nobody objected to the scheme: Jarno seemed to think
his transatlantic project would not be a hinderance, as he
did not mean to sail directly. Natalia did not speak, and
Friedrich uttered various saws about the uses of travel.
  This new project so provoked our friend, that he could
hardly conceal his irritation. lYe saw in this proposal a
concerted plan for getting rid of him as soon as possible;
and, what was worse, they went so openly to work, and
seemed so utterly regardless of his feelings. The suspicions
Lydia had excited in him, all that he himself had witnessed,
rose again upon his mind: the simple manner in which every
thing had been explained by Jarno now appeared to him
another piece of artifice.


62





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  He constrained himself, and answered, " At all events, the
offer will require mature deliberation."
   "A quick decision may, perhaps, be necessary," said the
abb6.
   "For that I am not prepared," answered Wilhelm. "We
can wait till the marchese comes, and then observe if we
agree together. One condition must, however, be conceded
first of all, - that I take Felix with me."
  " This is a condition," said the abbe, "which will scarcely
be conceded."
  "And I do not see," cried Wilhelm, " why I should let
any man prescribe conditions to me, or why, if I choose to
view my native country, I must go in company with an
Italian."
  " Because a young man," said the abb6, with a certain
imposing earnestness, " is always called upon to form con-
nections."
  Wilhelm, feeling that he could not long retain his self-
command, as it was Natalia's presence only which, in some
degree, assuaged his indignation, hastily made answer,
"Give me a little while to think. I imagine it will not be
very hard to settle whether I am called upon to form addi-
tional connections ; or ordered irresistibly, by heart and head,
to free myself from such a multiplicity of bonds, which sqem
to threaten me with a perpetual, miserable thraldom."
  Thus he spoke, with a deeply agitated mind. A glance at
Natalia somewhat calmed him : her form and dignity, in this
impassioned moment, stamped themselves more deeply on
his mind than ever.
  " Yes," said he, so soon as he was by himself, " confess
it, thou lovest her: thou once more feelest what it means to
love with thy whole soul. Thus did I love Mariana, and
deceive myself so dreadfully; I loved Philina, and could not
help despising her; Aurelia I respected, and could not love;
Theresa I reverenced, and paternal tenderness assumed the
form of an affection for her. And now, when all the feel-
ings that can make a mortal happy meet within my heart,
now am I compelled to flee ! Ah! why should these feelings
and convictions be combined with an insuperable longing?
Why, without the hope of its fulfilment, should they utterly
subvert all other happiness? Shall the sun and the world,
society or any other gift of fortune, ever henceforth yield
me pleasure ? Wilt thou not forever say, Natalia is not here ?
And yet, alas ! Natalia will be always present to thee ! If


63





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


thou closest thy eyes, she will appear to thee: if thou openest
them, her form will flit before all outward things, like the
image which a dazzling object leaves behind it in the eye.
Did not the swiftly passing figure of the Amazon dwell con-
tinually in thy imagination? And yet thou hadst but seen
her, thou didst not know her. Now when thou knowest her,
when thou hast been so long beside her, when she has shown
such care about thee, -now are her qualities impressed as
deeply upon thy soul as her form was then upon thy fancy.
It is painful to be always seeking, but far more painful to
have found, and to be forced to leave. What now shall I
ask for further in the world? What now shall I look for
further? Is there a country, a city, that contains a treasure
such as this ? And I must travel on, and ever find inferiority ?
Is life, then, like a race-course, where a man must rapidly
return when he has reached the utmost end? Does the good,
the excellent, stand before us like a firm, unmoving goal, from
which, with fleet horses, we are forced away the instant we
appeared to have attained it? Happier are they who strive
for earthly wares ! They find what they are seeking in its
proper climate, or they buy it in the fair.
  ' Come, my darling boy ! " cried he to Felix, who now ran
frisking towards him : " be thou and remain thou all to me !
Thou wert given me as a compensation for thy loved mother ;
thou wert to reolace the second mother whom I meant for
thee; and now thou hast a loss still greater to make good.
Occupy my heart, occupy my spirit, with thy beauty, thy
loveliness, thy capabilities, and thy desire to use them ! "
  The boy was busied with a new plaything: his father tried
to put it in a better state for him ; just as he succeeded, Felix
had lost all pleasure in it. " Thou art a true son of Adam ! "
cried Wilhelm. " Come, my child ! Come, my brother ! let
us wander, playing without object, through the world, as we
best may."
  His resolution to remove, to take the boy along with him,
and recreate his mind by looking at the world, had now
assumed a settled form. He wrote to Werner for the neces-
sary cash and letters of credit; sending Friedrich's courier
on the message, with the strictest charges to return immedi-
ately. Much as the conduct of his other friends had grieved
him, his relation to Natalia remained serene and clear as ever.
   He confided to her his intention. She took it as a settled
thing that he would go; and, if this seeming carelessness in
her chagrined him, her kindly manner and her presence made


64





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


him calm. She counselled him to visit various towns, that
he might get acquainted with certain of her friends. The
courier returned, and brought the letter which our friend re-
quired; though Werner did not seem content with this new
whim. " My hope that thou wert growing reasonable," so
the letter ran, " is now again deferred. Where are you all
gadding? And where lingers the lady who thou saidst was
to assist us in arranging these affairs ? Thy other friends are
also absent. They have thrown the whole concern upon the
shoulders of the lawyer and myself. Happy that he is as
expert a jurist as I am a financier, and that both of us are
used to business. Fare thee well! Thy aberrations shall be
pardoned thee, since but for them our situation here could
not have been so favorable."
  So far as outward matters were concerned, Wilhelm might
now have entered on his journey; but there were still for his
heart two hinderances that held him fast. In the first place,
they flatly refused to show him Mignon's body till the funeral
the abb6 meant to celebrate; and, for this solemnity, the
preparations were not ready. There had also been a curious
letter from the country clergyman, in consequence of which
the doctor had gone off. It related to the harper, of whose
fate Wilhelm wanted to have further information.
  In these circumstances, day or night he found no rest for
mind or body. When all were asleep, he wandered up and
down the house. The presence of the pictures and statues,
which he knew so well of old, alternately attracted and re-
pelled him. Nothing that surrounded him could he lay hold
of or let go; all things reminded him of all: the whole ring
of his existence lay before him; but it was broken into frag-
ments, and seemed as if it would never unite again. These
works of art, which his father had sold, appeared to him an
omen that he himself was destined never to obtain a lasting,
calm possession of any thing desirable in life, or always to
be robbed of it so soon as gained, by his own or other peo-
ple's blame. He waded so deep in these strange and dreary
meditations, that often he almost thought himself a disem-
bodied spirit; and, even when he felt and handled things
without him, he could scarcely keep himself from doubting
whether he was really there and alive.
  Nothing but the piercing grief which often seized him,
but the tears he shed at being forced, by causes frivolous as
they were irresistible, to leave the good which he had found,
and found after having lost it, restored him to the feeling of


65





66


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


his earthly life. It was in vain to call before his mind his
happy state in other respects. " All is nothing, then," ex-
claimed he, " if the one blessing, which appears to us worth
all the rest, is wanting ! "
  The abb6 told the company that the marchese was arrived.
" You have determined, it appears," said he to Wilhelm,
"to set out upon your travels with your boy alone. Get
acquainted with this nobleman, however: he will be useful
to you if you meet him by the way." The marchese en-
tered. He was a person not yet very far advanced in years,
- a fine, handsome, pleasing, Lombard figure. In his youth,
while in the army and afterwards in public business, he had
known Lothario's uncle; they had subsequently travelled
through the greater part of Italy together: and many of the
works of art, which the marchese now again fell in with, had
been purchased in his presence, and under various happy
circumstances, which he still distinctly recollected.
  The Italians have in general a deeper feeling for the high
dignity of art than any other nation. In Italy, whoever fol-
lows the employment tries to pass at once for artist, master,
and professor; by which pretensions he acknowledges at
least that it is not sufficient merely to lay hold of some trans-
mitted excellency, or to acquire by practice some dexterity,
but that a man who aims at art should have the power to
think of what he does, to lay down principles, and make appar-
ent to himself and others how and wherefore he proceeds in
this way or in that.
  The stranger was affected at again beholding these produc-
tions when the owner of them was no more, and cheered to
see the spirit of his friend surviving in the gifted persons left
behind him. They discussed a series of works: they found
a lively satisfaction in the harmony of their ideas. The mar-
chese and the abbe were the speakers; Natalia felt herself
again transported to the presence of her uncle, and could
enter without difficulty into their opinions and criticisms;
Wilhelm could not understand them, except as he translated
their technology into dramatic language. Friedrich's face-
tious vein was sometimes rather difficult to keep in check.
Jarno was seldom there.
   It being observed that excellent works of art were very
rare in latter times, it was remarked by the marchese, " We
can= hardly think or estimate how many circumstances must
combine in favor of the artist : with the greatest genius, with
the most decisive talent, the demands which he must make





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


67


upon himself are infinite, the diligence required in cultivating
his endowments is unspeakable. Now, if circumstances are
not in his favor, if he observe that the world is very easy to
be satisfied, requiring but a slight, pleasing, transitory show,
it were matter of surprise if indolence and selfishness did not
keep him fixed at mediocrity: it were strange if he did not
rather think of bartering modish wares for gold and praises
than of entering on the proper path, which could not fail in
some degree to lead him to a sort of painful martyrdom.
Accordingly, the artists of our time are always offering and
never giving. They always aim at charming, and they never
satisfy: every thing is merely indicated; you can nowhere
find foundation or completion. Those for whom they labor,
it is true, are little better. If you wait a while in any gallery
of pictures, and observe what works attract the many, what
,are praised and what neglected, you have little pleasure in
the present, little hope in the future."
   " Yes," replied the abb6 : " and thus it is that artists and
 their judges mutually form each other. The latter ask for
 nothing but a general, vague enjoyment; a work of art is to
 delight them almost as a work of nature; they imagine that
 the organs for enjoying works of art may be cultivated alto-
 gether of themselves, like the tongue and the palate; they try
 a picture or a poem as they do an article of food. They do
 not understand how very different a species of culture it re-
 quires to raise one to the true enjoyment of art. The hardest
 part of it, in my opinion, is that sort of separation which a
 man that aims at perfect culture must accomplish in himself.
 It is on this account that we observe so many people partially
 cultivated, and yet every one of them attempting to pro-
 nounce upon the general whole."
   " Your last remark is not quite clear to me," said Jarno,
 who came in just then.
   " It would be difficult," replied the abb4, "' to explain it
 fully without a long detail. Thus much I may say: When
 any man pretends to mix in manifold activity or manifold
 enjoyment, he must also be enabled, as it were, to make-his
 organs manifold, and independent of each other. Whoever
 aims at doing or enjoying all and every thing with his entire
 nature, whoever tries to link together all that is without him
 by such a species of enjoyment, will only lose his time in
 efforts that can never be successful. How difficult, though
 it seems so easy, is it to contemplate a noble disposition, a
 fine picture, simply in and for itself ; to watch the music for





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


the music's sake; to admire the actor in the actor; to take
pleasure in a building for its own peculiar harmony and
durability. Most men are wont to treat a work of art,
though fixed and done, as if it were a piece of soft clay.
The hard and polished marble is again to mould itself, the
firm-walled edifice is to contract or to expand itself, accord-
ing as their inclinations, sentiments, and whims may dictate:
the picture is to be instructive, the play to make us better,-
every thing is to do all. The reason is, that most men are
themselves uninformed, they cannot give themselves and their
being any certain shape; and thus they strive to take from
other things their proper shape, that all they have to do with
may be loose and wavering like themselves. Every thing is,
in the long-run, reduced by them to what they call effect:
every thing is relative, say they; and so, indeed, it is: every
thing with them grows relative, .except absurdity and plati-
tude, which truly are. absolute enough."
  " I understand you," answered Jarno ; " or, rather, I per-
ceive how what you have been saying follows from the prin-
ciples you hold so fast by. Yet with men, poor devils, we
should not go to quest so strictly. I know enow of them
in truth, who, beside the greatest works of art and nature,
forthwith recollect their own most paltry insufficiency; who
take their conscience and their morals with them to the opera;
who bethink them of their loves and hatreds in contemplat-
ing a colonnade. The best and greatest that can be presented
to them from without, they must first, as far as possible,
diminish in their way of representing it, that they may in
any measure be enabled to combine it with their own sorry
nature."



                    CHAPTER VIII.

  THE abb4 called them in the evening to attend the exequies
of Mignon. The company proceeded to the Hall of the
Past : they found it magnificently ornamented and illuminated.
The walls were hung with azure tapestry almost from ceiling
to floor, so that nothing but the friezes and socles, above and
below, were visible. On the four candelabras in the corner
large wax-lights were burning: smaller lights were in the
four smaller candelabras placed by the sarcophagus in the


68





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


middle. Near this stood four boys, dressed in azure with
silver: they had broad fans of ostrich-feathers, which they
waved above a figure that was resting upon the sarcophagus.
The company sat down: two invisible choruses began in a
soft, musical recitative to ask, " Whom bring ye us to the
still dwelling?" The four boys replied with lovely voices,
" 'Tis a tired playmate whom we bring you: let her rest in
your still dwelling, till the songs of her heavenly sisters once
more awaken her."
                         CHORUS.
  "Firstling of youth in our circle, we welcome thee ! With
sadness welcome thee! May no boy, no maiden, follow !
Let age only, willing and composed, approach the silent hall,
and in the solemn company, repose this one dear child !

                          BOYS.
  Ah, reluctantly we brought her hither ! Ah, and she is to
remain here ! Let us, too, remain : let us weep, let us weep
upon her bier !
                         CHORUS.
  Yet look at the strong wings; look at the light, clear robe.
How glitters the golden band upon her head! Look at the
beautiful, the noble, repose.

                          BOYS.
  Ah! the wings do not raise her; in the frolic game, her
robe flutters to and fro no more; when we bound her head
with roses, her looks on us were kind and friendly.

                         CHORUS.
  Cast forward the eye of the spirit. Awake in your souls
the imaginative power, which carries forth what is fairest,
what is highest, life, away beyond the stars.

                          BOYS.
  But, ah! We find her not here; in the garden she wan-
ders not; the flowers of the meadow she plucks no longer.
Let us weep, we are leaving her here ! Let us weep, and
remain with her !
                         CHORUS.
   Children, turn back into life ! Your tears let the fresh air


69





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


dry, which plays upon the rushing water. Flee from Night!
Day and Pleasure and Continuance are the lot of the living.

                           BOYS.
  Up ! Turn back into life ! Let the day give us labor and
pleasure, till the evening brings us rest, and the nightly sleep
refreshes us.
                         CHORUS.
  Children !  Hasten into life !  In the pure garments of
beauty, may Love meet you with heavenly looks and with
the wreath of immortality ! "

  The boys had retired: the abb6 rose from his seat, and
went behind the bier. " It is the appointment," said he,
"of the man who prepared this silent abode, that each new
tenant of it shall be introduced with a solemnity. After
him, the builder of this mansion, the founder of this estab-
lishment, we have next brought a young stranger hither;
and thus already does this little space contain two alto-
gether different victims of the rigorous, arbitrary, and in-
exorable Death-goddess. By appointed laws we enter into
life: the days are numbered which make us ripe to see the
light, but for the duration of our life there is no law. The
weakest thread will spin itself to unexpected length; and
the strongest is cut suddenly asunder by the scissors of the
Fates, delighting, as it seems, in contradictions. Of the
child whom we have here committed to her final rest, we
can say but little. It is still uncertain whence she came;
her parents we know not; the years of her life we can only
conjecture.   Her deep and closely shrouded soul allowed
us scarce to guess at its interior movements: there was
nothing clear in her, nothing open but her affection for the
man who had snatched her from the hands of a barbarian.
This impassioned tenderness, this vivid gratitude, appeared
to be the flame which consumed the oil of her life: the
skill of the physician could not save that fair life, the most
anxious friendship could not lengthen it. But, if art could
not stay the departing spirit, it has done its utmost to
preserve the body, and withdraw it from decay. A balsamic
substance has been forced through all the veins, and now
tinges, in place of blood, these cheeks too early faded.
Come near, my friends, and view this wonder of art and
care 1"


70





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  He raised the veil: the child was lying in her angel's dress,
as if asleep, in the most soft and graceful posture. They
approached, and admired this show of life. Wilhelm alone
continued sitting in his place; he was not able to compose
himself: what he felt he durst not think, and every thought
seemed ready to destroy his feeling.
  For the sake of the marchese, the speech had been pro-
nounced in French. That nobleman came forward with the
rest, and viewed the figure with attention. The abb6 thus
proceeded. " With a holy confidence, this kind heart, shut
up to men, was continually turned to its God. Humility,
nay, an inclination to abase herself externally, seemed
natural to her. She clave with zeal to the Catholic religion,
in which she had been born and educated. Often she ex-
pressed a still wish to sleep on consecrated ground; and,
according to the usage of the Church, we have, therefore,
consecrated this marble coffin, and the little earth which is
hidden in the cushion that supports her head. With what
ardor did she, in her last moments, kiss the image of the
Crucified, which stood beautifully figured on her tender arm,
with many hundred points ! " So saying, he stripped up her
right sleeve; and a crucifix, with marks and letters round it,
showed itself in blue upon the white skin.
  Thet marchese looked at this with eagerness, stooping
down to view it more intensely. "' O God! " cried he, as
he stood upright, and raised his hands to heaven. " Poor
child.! Unhappy niece! Do I meet thee here? What a
painful joy to find thee, whom we had long lost hope of; to
find this dear frame, which we had long believed the prey of
fishes in the ocean, here preserved, though lifeless ! I assist
at thy funeral, splendid in its external circumstances, still
more splendid from the noble persons who attend thee to thy
place of rest. And to these," added he, with a faltering
voice, " so soon as I can speak, I will express my thanks."
  Tears hindered him from saying more. By the pressure
of a spring, the abbe sank the body into the cavity of the
marble. Four youths, dressed as the boys had been, came
out from behind the tapestry, and lifting the heavy, beauti-
fully ornamented lid upon the coffin, thus began their song.

                       THE YOUTHS.
   " Well is the treasure now laid up, - the fair image of the
Past ! Here sleeps it in the marble, undecaying: in your


11





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


hearts, too, it lives, it works. Travel, travel back into life !
Take along with you this holy earnestness, for earnestness
alone makes life eternity.".

  The invisible chorus joined in with the last words, but no
one heard the strengthening sentiment': all were too much
busied with themselves, and the emotions which these won-
derful disclosures had excited. The abb6 and Natalia con-
ducted the marchese out: Theresa and Lothario walked by
Wilhelm.   It was not till the music had altogether died
away, that their sorrows, thoughts, meditations, curiosity,
again fell on them with all their force, and made them 'long
to be transported back into that exalting scene.





                     CHAPTER IX.

  THE marchese avoided speaking of the matter, but had
long, secret conversations with the abb4. When the com-
pany was met, he often asked for music,- a request to
which they willingly assented, as each was glad to be delivered
from the charge of talking. Thus they lived for some time,
till it was observed that he was making preparations for
departure. One day he said to Wilhelm, ' I wish not to
disturb the remains of this beloved child; let her rest in the
place where she loved and suffered: but her friends must
promise to visit me in her native country, in the scene where
she was born and bred ; they must see the pillars and statues,
of which a dim idea remained with her. I will lead you to
the bays where she liked so well to roam, and gather pebbles.
You, at least, young friend, shall not escape the gratitude of
a family that stands so deeply indebted to you. To-morrow
I set out on my journey. The abbe is acquainted with the
whole history of this matter: he will tell it you again. He
could pardon me when grief interrupted my recital: as a
third party, he will be enabled to narrate the incidents with
more connection. If, as the abbe had proposed, you like to
follow me in travelling over Germany, you shall be heartily
welcome. Leave not your boy behind: at every little incon-
venience which he causes us, we will again remember your
attentive care of my poor niece."


72





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


73


  The same evening our party was surprised by the arrival
of the countess. Wilhelm trembled in every joint as she en-
tered: she herself, though forewarned, kept close by her sis-
ter, who speedily reached her a chair. How singularly simple
was her attire, how altered was her form ! Wilhelm scarcely
dared to look at her: she saluted him with a kindly air; a
few general words addressed to him did not conceal her sen-
timents and feelings. The marchese had retired betimes;
and, as the company were not disposed to part so early, the
abbd now produced a manuscript. " The singular narrative
which was intrusted to me," said he, " I forthwith put on
paper. The case where pen and ink should least of all be
spared, is in recording the particular circumstances of
remarkable events." They informed the countess of the
matter; and the abb6 read as follows, in the name of the
marchese : -
  " Many men as I have seen, I still regard my father as a
very extraordinary person. His character was noble and
upright; his ideas were enlarged, I may even say great; to
himself he was severe: in all his.plans there was a rigid
order, in all operations an unbroken perseverance. In one
sense, therefore, it was easy to transact and live with him :
yet, owing to the very qualities which made it so, he never
could accommodate himself to life; for he required from the
state, from his neighbors, from his children, and his servants,
the observance of all the laws which he had laid upon him-
self. His most moderate demands became exorbitant by his
rigor; and he never could attain to enjoyment, for nothing
ever was completed as he had forecast it. At the moment
when he was erecting a palace, laying out a garden, or ac-
quiring a large estate in the highest cultivation, I have seen
him inwardly convinced, with the sternest ire, that Fate had
doomed him to do nothing but abstain and suffer. In his
exterior he maintained the greatest dignity : if he jested, it
was but displaying the preponderancy of his understanding.
Censure was intolerable to him: the only time I ever saw
him quite transported with rage was once when he heard that
one of his establishments was spoken of as something ludi-
crous. In the same spirit he had settled the disposal of his
children and his fortune. My eldest brother was educated
as a person that had large estates to look for. I was to em-
brace the clerical profession: the youngest was to be a
soldier. I was of a lively temper, fiery, active, quick, apt
for corporeal exercises: the youngest rather seemed inclined





74


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


to an enthusiastic quietism, - devoted to the sciences, to
music, and poetry. It was not till after the hardest strug-
gle, the maturest conviction of the impossibility of his
project, that our father, still reluctantly, agreed to let us
change vocations; and, although he saw us both contented,
he could never suit himself to this arrangement, but declared
that nothing good would come of it. The older he grew, the
more isolated did he feel from all society. At last he came
to live almost entirely alone. One old friend, who had served
in the German armies, who had lost his wife in the campaign,
and brought a daughter of about ten years of age along with
him, remained his only visitor. This person bought a fine
little property beside us: he used to come and see my father
on stated days of the week, and at stated hours; his little
daughter often came along with him. He was never heard to
contradict- my father, who at length grew perfectly habity-
ated to him, and endured him as the only tolerable company
he had. After our father's death, we easily observed that this
old gentleman had not been visiting for naught, - that his
compliances had been rewarded by an ample settlement. He
enlarged his estates: his daughter might expect a handsome
portion. The girl grew up, and was extremely beautiful:
my elder brother often joked with me about her, saying I
should go and court her.
   " Meanwhile brother Augustin, in the seclusion of his
cloister, had been spending his years in the strangest state of
mind. He abandoned himself wholly to the feeling of a holy
enthusiasm, to those half-spiritual, half-physical emotions
which, as they for a time exalted him to the third heaven, ere-
long sank him down to an abyss of powerlessness and vacant
misery. While my father lived, no change could be contem-
plated : what, indeed, could we have asked for or proposed?
After the old man's death, our brother visited us frequently :
his situation, which at first afflicted us, in time became much
more tolerable; for his reason had at length prevailed. But,
the more confidently reason promised him complete recovery
and contentment on the pure path of nature, the more vehe-
mently did he require of us to free him from his vows. His
thoughts, he let us know, were turned upon Sperata, our fair
neighbor.
   ' My elder brother had experienced too much suffering
from the harshness of our father to look on the condition of
the youngest without sympathy. He spoke with the family
confessor, a worthy old man: we signified to him the double





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHI.P.


purpose of our brother, and requested him to introduce and
expedite the business. Contrary to custom he delayed; and
at last, when Augustin pressed us, and we recommended the
affair more keenly to the clergyman, he had nothing left but
to impart the strange secret to us.
  " Sperata was our sister, and that by both her parents.
Our mother had declared herself with child at a time when.
both she and our father were advanced in years: a similar
occurrence had shortly before been made the subject of some
merriment in our neighborhood ; and our father, to avoid such
ridicule, determined to conceal this late lawful fruit of love
as carefully as people use to conceal its earlier accidental
fruits. Our mother was delivered secretly: the child was
carried to the country; and the old friend of the family,
who, with the confessor, had alone been trusted with the
secret, easily engaged to give her out for his daughter. The
confessor had reserved the right of disclosing the secret in
case of extremity. The supposed father was now dead:
Sperata was living with an old lady; we were aware that a
love of song and music had already led our brother to her;
and on his again requiring us to undo his former bond, that
he might engage himself by a new one, it was necessary that
we should, as soon as possible, apprise him of the danger he
stood in.
  " He viewed us with a wild, contemptuous look. ' Spare
your idle tales,' cried he, ' for children and credulous fools:
from me, from my heart, they shall not tear Sperata; she is
mine. Recall, I pray you, instantly, your frightful spectre,
which would but harass me in vain. Sperata is not my sister :
she is my wife! ' He described to us, in rapturous terms,
how this heavenly girl had drawn him out of his unnatural
state of separation from his fellow-creatures into true life;
how their spirits accorded like their voices ; how he blessed his
sufferings and errors, since they had kept clear of him women,
till the moment when he wholly and forever gave himself to
this most amiable being. We were shocked at the discovery,
we deplored his situation, but we knew not how to help
ourselves; for he declared, with violence, that Sperata was
with a child by him. Our confessor did whatever duty could
suggest to him, but by this means he only made the evil
worse. The demands of nature and religion, moral rights
and civil laws, were vehemently attacked and spurned at by
our brother. He considered nothing holy but his relation to
Sperata, nothing dignified but the names of father and wife.


75





76


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


'These alone,' cried he, ' are suitable to nature: all else is
caprice and opinion. Were there not noble nations which
admitted marriage with a sister? Name not your gods ! You
never name them but when you wish to befool us, to lead us
from the paths of nature, and, by scandalous constraint, to
transform the noblest inclinations into crimes. Unspeakable
are the perplexities, abominable the abuses, into which you
force the victims whom you bury alive.
  "'I may speak, for I have suffered tike no other, - from
the highest, sweetest feeling of enthusiasm, to the frightful
deserts of utter powerlessness, vacancy, annihilation, and
despair; from the loftiest aspirations of preternatural exist-
ence, to the most entire unbelief, - unbelief in myself. All
these horrid grounds of the cup, so flattering at the brim, I
have drained; and my whole being was poisoned to its core.
And now, when kind Nature, by her greatest gift, by love,
has healed me; now, when in the arms of a heavenly crea-
ture I again feel that I am, that she is, that out of this living
union a third shall arise and smile in our faces, -now ye
open up the flames of your hell, of your purgatory, which
can only singe a sick imagination: ye oppose them to the
vivid, true, indestructible enjoyment of pure love. Meet
us under these cypresses, which turn their solemn tops to
heaven; visit us among those espaliers where the citrons and
pomegragates bloom beside us, where the graceful myrtle
stretches out its tender flowers to us, -- and then venture to
disturb us with your dreary, paltry nets which men have
spun!'
  "Thus for a long time he persisted in a stubborn disbelief
of our story; and when we assured him of its truth, when
the confessor himself asseverated it, he did not let it drive
him from his point. ' Ask not the echoes of your cloisters,
not your mouldering parchments, not your narrow whims
and ordinances ! Ask Nature and your heart: she will teach
you what you should recoil from; she will point out to you
with the strictest finger over what she has pronounced her
everlasting curse. Look at the lilies: do not husband and
wife shoot forth on the same stalk? Does not the flower
which bore them hold them both? And is not the lily the
type of innocence? Is not their sisterly union fruitful?
When Nature abhors, she speaks it aloud; the creature that
shall not be, is not produced; the creature that lives with a
false life, is soon destroyed. Unfruitfulness, painful exist-
ence, early destruction, these are her curses, the marks of





MEISTER'S .APPRENTICESHIP.


77


her displeasure. It is only by immediate consequences that
she punishes. Look around you; and what is prohibited,
what is accursed, will force itself upon your notice. In the
silence of the convent, in the tumult of the world, a thou-
sand practices are consecrated and revered, while her curse
rests on theim. On stagnant idleness as on overstrained toil,
on caprice and superfluity as on constraint and want, she
looks down with mournful eyes; her call is to moderation;
true are all her commandments, peaceful all her influences.
The man who has suffered as I have done, has a right to be
free. Sperata is mine: death alone shall take her from me.
How I shall retain her, how I may be happy, these are your
cares. This instant I go to her, and part from her no more.'
  "He was for proceeding to the boat, and crossing over to
her: we restrained him, entreating that he would not take
a step which might produce the most tremendous conse-
quences. He should recollect, we told him, that he was not
living in the free world of his own thoughts and ideas, but
in a constitution of affairs, the ordinances and conditions of
which had become as inflexible as laws of nature. The con-
fessor made us promise not to let him leave our sight, still
less our house: after this he went away, engaging to return
erelong. What we had foreseen took place: reason had
made our brother strong, but his heart was weak; the earlier
impressions of religion rose on him, and dreadful doubts
along with them. He passed two fearful nights and days:
the confessor came again to his assistance, but in vain. His
enfranchised understanding acquitted him: his feelings, re-
ligion, all his usual ideas, declared him guilty.
  " One morning we found his chamber empty: on the table
lay a note, in which he signified, that, as we kept him pris-
oner by force, he felt himself entitled to provide for his free-
dom; that he meant to go directly to Sperata; he expected
to escape with her, and was prepared for the most terrible
extremities should any separation be attempted.
  " The news, of course, affrighted us exceedingly; but the
confessor bade us be at rest. Our poor brother had been
narrowly enough observed : the boatman, in place of taking
him across, proceeded with him to his cloister. Fatigued
with watching for the space of four and twenty hours, he
fell asleep, as the skiff began to rock him in the moonshine;
and he did not awake till he saw himself in the hands of his
spiritual brethren: he did not recover from his amazement
till he heard the doors of the convent bolting behind him.





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " Sharply touched at the fate of our brother, we reproached
the confessor for his cruelty; but he soon silenced or con-
vinced us by the surgeon's reason, that our pity was destruc-
tive to the patient. He let us know that he was not act-
ing on his own authority, but by order of the bishop and
his chapter; that by this proceeding they intended to avoid
all public scandal, and to shroud the sad occurrence under
the veil of a secret course of discipline prescribed by the
Church. Our sister they would spare: she was not to be
told that her lover was her brother. The charge of her was
given to a priest, to whom she had before disclosed her situ-
ation. They contrived to hide her pregnancy and her deliv-
ery. As a mother she felt altogether happy in her little one.
Like most of our women, she could neither write, nor read
writing: she gave the priest many verbal messages to carry
to her lover. The latter, thinking that he owed this pious
fraud to a suckling mother, often brought pretended tidings
from our brother, whom he never saw; recommending her,
in his name, to be at peace; begging of her to be careful of
herelf and of her child, and for the rest to trust in God.
   "1Sperata was inclined by nature to religious feelings.
Her situation, her solitude, increased this tendency: the
clergyman encouraged it, in order to prepare her by degrees
for an eternal separation. Scarcely was her child weaned,
scarcely did he think her body strong enough for suffering
agony of mind, when he began to paint her fault to her in
most terrific colors, to treat the crime of being connected
with a priest as a sort of sin against nature, as a sort of in-
cest   For he had taken up the strange thought of making
her repentance equal in intensity to what it would have been
had she known the true circumstances of her error. He
thereby produced so much anxiety and sorrow in her mind;
he so exalted the idea of the Church and of its head before
her; showed her the awful consequences, for the weal of all
men's souls, should indulgence in a case like this be granted,
and the guilty pair rewarded by a lawful union; signifying,
too, how wholesome it was to expiate such sins in time, and
thereby gain the crown of immortality, - that at last, like a
poor criminal, she willingly held out her neck to the axe,
and earnestly entreated that she might forever be divided
from our brother. Having gained so much, the clergy left
her the liberty (reserving to themselves a certain distant
oversight) to live at one time in a convent, at another in
her house, according as she afterwards thought good.


78





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  " Her little girl, meanwhile, was growing: from her ear-
liest years she had displayed an extraordinary disposition.
When still very young, she could run and move with won-
derful dexterity: she sang beautifully, and learned to play
upon the cithern almost of herself. With words, however,
she could not express herself; and the impediment seemed
rather to proceed from her mode of thought than from her
organs of speech. The feelings of the poor mother to her,
in the mean thne, were of the most painful kind: the ex-
postulations of the priest had so perplexed her mind, that,
though she was not quite deranged, her state was far from
being sane. She daily thought her crime more terrible and
punishable : the clergyman's comparison of incest, frequently
repeated, had impressed itself so deeply, that her horror was
not less than if the actual circumstances had been known to
her. The priest took no small credit for his ingenuity, with
which he had contrived to tear asunder a luckless creature's
heart. It was miserable to behold maternal love, ready to
expand itself in joy at the existence of her child, contending
with the frightful feeling that this child should not exist.
The two emotions warred with each other in her soul: love
was often weaker than aversion.
   " The child had long ago been taken from her, and com-
mitted to a worthy family residing on the seashore. In the
greater freedom which the little creature enjoyed here, she
soon displayed her singular delight in climbing. To mount
the highest peaks, to run along the edges of the ships, to
imitate in all their strangest feats the rope-dancers whom
she often saw in the place, seemed a natural tendency in her.
   " To practise these things with the greater ease, she liked
to change clothes with boys; and, though her foster-parents
thought this highly blamable and unbecoming, we bade them
indulge her as much as possible. Her wild walks and leap-
ings often led her to a distance: she would lose her way,
and be long from home, but she always came back. In
general, as she returned, she used to set herself beneath the
columns in the portal of a country house in the neighbor-
hood: her people now had ceased to look for her; they
waited for her. She would there lie resting on the steps,
then run up and down the large hall, looking at the statues;
after which, if nothing specially detained her, she used to
hasten home.
   " But at last our confidence was balked, and our indul-
gence punished. The child went out, and did not come again :


79





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


her little hat was found swimming on the water near the spot
where a torrent rushes down into the sea. It was conjectured,
that, in clambering among the rocks, her foot had slipped
all our searching could not find the body.
  "The thoughtless tattle of her housemates soon com-
municated the occurrence to Sperata: she seemed calm and
cheerful when she heard it; hinting not obscurely at her
satisfaction that God had pleased to take her poor child to
himself, and thus preserved it from suffering, of causing some
more dreadful misery.
  " On this occasion all the fables which are told about our
waters came to be the common talk. The sea, it was said,
required every year an innocent child : yet it would endure
no corpse, but sooner or later throw it to the shore; nay, the
last joint, though sunk to the lowest bottom, must again
come forth. They told the story of a mother, inconsolable
because her child had perished in the sea, who prayed to God
and his saints to grant her at least the bones for burial. The
first storm threw ashore the skull, the next the spine; and,
after all was gathered, she wrapped the bones in a cloth, and
took them to the church: but, oh! miraculous to tell! as she
crossed the threshold of the temple, the packet grew heavier
and heavier; and at last, when she laid it on the steps of the
altar, the child began to cry, and issued living from the cloth.
One joint of the right-hand little finger was alone wanting:
this, too, the mother anxiously sought and found; and, in
memory of the event, it was preserved among the other
relics of the church.
  " On poor Sperata these recitals made a deep impression:
her imagination took a new flight, and favored the emotion
of her heart. She supposed that now the child had expiated,
by its death, both its own sins and the sins of its parents;
that the curse and penalty which hitherto had overhung them
all was at length wholly removed; that nothing more was
necessary could she only find the child's bones, that she
might carry them to Rome, where, upon the steps of the great
altar in St. Peter's, her little girl, again covered with its
fair, fresh skin, would stand up alive before the people.
With its own eyes it would once more look on father and
mother; and the pope, convinced that God and his saints
commanded it, would, amid the acclamations of the people,
remit the parents their sins, acquit them of their 6aths, and
join their hands in wedlock.
   " Her looks and her anxiety were henceforth constantly


80





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


directed to the sea and the beach. When at night, in the
moonshine. the waves were tossing to and fro, she thought
every glittering sheet of foam was bringing out her child;
and some one about her had to run off, as if to take it up
when it should reach the shore.
  " By day she walked unweariedly along the places where
the pebbly beach shelved slowly to the water: she gathered
in a little basket all the bones she could find. None durst
tell her that they were the bones of animals : the larger ones
she buried, the little ones she took along with her. In this
employment she incessantly persisted. The clergyman, who,
by so unremittingly discharging what he thought his duty,
had reduced her to this condition, now stood up for her with
all his might. By his influence the people in the neighbor-
hood were made to look upon her, not as a distracted person,
but as one entranced: they stood in reverent attitudes as
she walked by, and the children ran to kiss her hand.
  " To the old woman, her attendant and faithful friend, the
secret of Sperata's guilt was at length imparted by the
priest, on her solemnly engaging to watch over the unhappy
creature, with untiring care, through all her life. And she
kept this engagement to the last, with admirable conscien-
tiousness and patience.
   " Meanwhile we had always had an eye upon our brother.
Neither thh physicians nor the clergy of his convent would
allow us to be seen by him; but, in order to convince us of
his being well in some sort, we had leave to look at him as
often as we liked in the garden, the passages, or even through
a window in the roof of his apartment.
   " After many terrible and singular changes, which I shall
omit, he had passed into a strange state of mental rest and
bodily unrest.   He never sat but when he took his harp
and played upon it, and then he usually accompanied it with
singing.   At other times he kept continually in motion;
and in all things he was grown extremely guidable and pliant,
for all his passions seemed to have resolved themselves into
the single fear of death. You could persuade him to do any
thing by threatening him with dangerous sickness or with
death.
   "' Besides this singularity of walking constantly about the
cloister, a practice which he hinted it were better to exchange
for wandering over hill and dale, he talked about an ap-
parition which perpetually tormented him.  He declared,
that, on awakening at whatever hour of the night, he saw a


81





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


beautiful boy standing at the foot of his bed, with a bare
knife, and threatening to destroy him. They shifted him to
various other chambers of the convent, but he still asserted
that the boy pursued him. His wandering to and fro became
more unrestful: the people afterwards remembered, too, that
at this time they had often seen him stand at the window,
and look out upon the sea.
  " Our poor sister, on the other hand, seemed gradually
wasting under the consuming influence of her single thought,
of her narrow occupation. It was at last proposed by the
physician, that, among the bones she had gathered, the frag-
ments of a child's skeleton should by degrees be introduced,
and so the hapless mother's hopes kept up. The experiment
was dubious; but this at least seemed likely to be gained by
it, that, when all the parts were got together, she would cease
her weary search, and might be entertained with hopes of
going to Rome.
  " It was accordingly resolved on. Her attendant changed,
by imperceptible degrees, the small remains committed to
her with the bones Sperata found. An inconceivable delight
arose in the poor, sick woman's heart, when the parts began
to fit each other, and the shape of those still wanting could
be marked. She had fastened every fragment in its proper
place with threads and ribbons; filling up the vacant spaces
with embroidery and silk, as is usually done with the relics
of saints.
  " In this way nearly all the bones had been collected: none
but a few of the extremities were wanting. One morning,
while she was asleep, the physician having come to ask for
her, the old attendant, with a view to show him how his pa-
tient occupied herself, took away these dear remains from
the little chest where they lay in poor Sperata's bedroom.
A few minutes afterwards they heard her spring upon the
floor: she lifted up the cloth, and found the chest empty.
She threw herself upon her knees : they came, and listened to
her joyful, ardent prayer. 'Yes,' exclaimed she, ' it is true !
it was no dream, it is real ! Rejoice with me, my friends ! I
have seen my own beautiful, good little girl again alive. She
arose, and threw the veil from off her; her splendor enlight-
ened all the room; her beauty was transfigured to celestial
loveliness; she could not tread the ground, although she
wished it. Lightly was she borne aloft,: she had not even
time to stretch her hand to me. " There! " cried she to me,
and pointed to the road where I aim soon to go. Yes, I will


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MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


follow her, - soon follow her: my heart is light to think of
it. My sorrows are already vanished: the sight of my risen
little one has given me a foretaste of the heavenly joys.'
   " From that time her soul was wholly occupied with pros-
pects of the brightest kind; she gave no further heed to any
earthly object; she took but little food; her spirit by degrees
cast off the fetters of the body. At last this imperceptible
gradation reached its head unexpectedly: her attendants
found her pale and motionless; she opened not her eyes;
she was what we call dead.
   " The report of her vision quickly spread abroad among
the people; and the reverential feeling, which she had excited
in her lifetime, soon changed, at her death, to the thought
that she should be regarded as in bliss, -nay, as in sanc-
tity.
  "When we were bearing her to be interred, a crowd of
persons pressed with boundless violence about the bier: they
would touch her hand, they would touch her garment. In
this impassioned elevation, various sick persons ceased to
feel the pains by which at other times they were tormented:
they looked upon themselves as healed; they declared it;
they praised God and his new saint. The clergy were obliged
to lay the body in a neighboring chapel: the people called
for opportunity to offer their devotion. The concourse was
incredible : the mountaineers, at all times prone to lively and
religious feelings, crowded forward from their' valleys; the
reverence, the wonder, the adoration, daily spread, and gath-
ered strength. The ordinances of the bishop, which were
meant to limit, and in time abolish, this new worship, could
not be put in execution: every show of opposition raised the
people into tumults; every unbeliever they were ready to
assail with personal violence. ' Did not Saint Borromeus,'
cried they,' dwell among our forefathers? Did not his
mother live to taste the joy of his canonization? Was not
that great figure on the rocks at Arona meant to represent
to us, by a sensible symbol, his spiritual greatness ? Do not
the descendants of his kindred live among us to this hour?
And has not God promised ever to renew his miracles among
a people that believe?'
  "' As the body, after several days, exhibited no marks of
putrefaction, but grew whiter, and, as it were, translucent,
the general faith rose higher and higher. Among the mul-
titude were several cures which even the sceptical observer
was unable to account for, or ascribe entirely to fraud. The


83





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


whole country was in motion : those who did not go to see
it, heard at least no other topic talked of.
  " The convent where my brother lived resounded, like the
land at large, with the noise of these wonders; and the peo-
ple felt the less restraint in speaking of them in his presence,
as in general he seemed to pay no heed to any thing, and his
connection with the circumstance was known to none of them.
But on this occasion it appeared he had listened with atten-
tion. He conducted his escape with such dexterity and cun-
ning, that the manner of it still remains a mystery. We
learned afterwards, that he had crossed the water with a
number of travellers, and charged the boatmen, who ob-
served no other singularity about him, above all to have a
care lest their vessel overset. Late in the night he reached
the chapel, where his hapless loved one was resting from her
woes. Only a few devotees were kneeling in the corners of
the place: her old friend was sitting at the head of the corpse ;
he walked up to her, saluted her, and asked how her imistress
was. ' You see it,' answered she, with some embarrassment.
He looked at the corpse with a sidelong glance. After some
delay he took its hand. Frightened by its coldness, he in
the instant let it go: he looked unrestfully around him;
then, turning to the old attendant, ' I cannot stay with her at
present,' said he: 'I have a long, long way to travel; but
at the' proper time I shall be back: tell her so when she
awakens.'
   " With this he went away. It was a while before we got
intelligence of these occurrences : we searched, but all our
efforts to discover him were vain. How he worked his way
across the mountains none can say. A long time after he
was gone we came upon a trace of him among the Grisons,
but we were too late: it quickly vanished. We supposed
that he was gone to Germany, but his weak footprints had
been speedily obliterated by the war."





                     CHAPTER X.

   THE abb4 ceased to read. No one had listened without
 tears. The countess scarcely ever took her handkerchief
 from her eyes: at last she rose, and, with Natalia, left the


84





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


room. The rest were silent, till the abb6 thus began: "' The
question now arises, whether we shall let the good marchese
leave us without telling him our secret. For who can doubt
a moment that our harper and his brother Augustin are one?
Let us consider what is to be done, both for the sake of that
unhappy man himself and of his family. My advice is, not
to hurry, but to wait till we have heard what news the doctor,
who has gone to see him, brings us back."
  All were of the same opinion; and the abb6 thus pro-
ceeded: " Another question, which perhaps may be disposed
of sooner, still remains. The marchese is affected to the
bottom of his heart at the kindness which his poor niece
experienced here, particularly from our young friend. He
made me tell him again and again every circumstance con-
nected with her, and he shows the liveliest gratitude. ' Her
young benefactor,' he said, ' refused to travel with me, while
he knew not the connection that subsists between us. I am
not now a stranger, of whose manner of existence, of whose
humors, he might be uncertain: I am his associate, his rela-
tion; and, as his unwillingness to leave his boy behind was
the impediment which kept him from accompanying me, let
this child now become a fairer bond to join us still more
closely. Beyond the obligations he has already placed me
under, let him be of service to me on my present journey;
let him, then, return along with me; my elder brother will
receive him as he ought. And let him not despise the heri-
tage of his unhappy foster-child; for, by a secret stipulation
of our father with his military friend, the fortune which he
gave Sperata has returned to us: and certainly we will not
cheat our niece's benefactor of the recompense he has merited
so well.' "
  Theresa, taking Wilhelm by the hand, now said to him,
"We have here another beautiful example that disinterested
well-doing yields the highest and best return. Follow the
call which so strangely comes to you, and, while you lay a
double load of gratitude on the marchese, hasten to a fair
land, which has already often drawn your heart and your
imagination towards it."
  " I leave myself entirely to the guidance of my friends
and you," said Wilhelm : " it is vain to think, in this world,
of adhering to our individual will. What I purposed to hold
fast, I must let go; and benefits which I have not deserved
descend upon me of their own accord.''
  Pressing Theresa's hand, Wilhelm took his .own away.


85





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


" I give you full permission," said he to the abbe, "'to
decide about me as you please. Since I shall not need to
leave rny Felix, I am ready to go anywhither, and to under-
take whatever you think good."
  Thus authorized, the abb6 forthwith sketched out his
plan. The marchese, he proposed, should be allowed to de-
part: Wilhelm was to wait for tidings from the doctor; he
might then, when they had settled what was to be done, set
off with Felix. Accordingly, under the pretence that Wil-
helm's preparations for his journey would detain him, he ad-
vised the stranger to employ the mean while in examining the
curiosities of the city, which he meant to visit. The mar-
chese did in consequence depart, and.not without renewed
and strong expressions of his gratitude; of which indeed
the presents left by him, including jewels, precious stones,
embroidered stuffs, afforded a sufficient proof.
  Wilhelm, too, was at length in readiness for travelling ; and
his friends began to be distressed that the doctor sent them
no news. They feared some mischief had befallen the poor
old harper, at the very moment when they were in hopes of
radically improving his condition. They sent the courier
off; but he was scarcely gone, when the doctor in the even-
ing entered with a stranger, whose form and aspect were
expressive, earnest, striking, and whom no one knew. Both
stood silent for a space: the stranger at length went up to
Wilhelm, and, holding out his hand, said, " Do you no
longer know your old friend ?"   It was the harper's voice,
but of his form there seemed to remain no vestige. He was
in the common garb of a traveller, cleanly and genteelly
equipped; his beard had vanished; his hair was dressed with
some attention to the mode; and what particularly made him
quite irrecognizable was, that in his countenance the look of
age was no longer visible. Wilhelm embraced him with the
liveliest joy : he was presented to the rest, and behaved with
great propriety, not knowing that the party had a little while
before become so well acquainted with him. " You will
have patience with a man," continued he, with great com-
posure, " who, grown up as he appears, is entering on the
world, after long sorrows, inexperienced as a child. To this
skilful gentleman I stand indebted for the privilege of again
appearing in the company of my fellow-men."
  They bade him welcome: the doctor motioned for a walk,
to interrupt the conversation, and lead it to indifferent topics.
  In private the doctor gave the following explanation: " It


86





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


was by the strangest chance that we succeeded in the cure
of this man. We had long treated him, morally and physi-
cally, as our best consideration dictated: in some degree the
plan was efficacious; but the fear of death continued power-
ful in him, and he would not lay aside his beard and cloak.
For the rest, however, he appeared to take more interest
in external things than formerly ; and both his songs and
his conceptions seemed to be approaching nearer life. A
strange letter from the clergyman, as you already know, called
me from you. I arrived: I found our patient altogether
changed; he had voluntarily given up his beard; he had let
his locks be cut into a customary form; he asked for common
clothes; he seemed to have all at once become another man.
Though curious to penetrate the reason of this sudden alter-
ation, we did not risk inquiring of himself: at last we acci-
dentally discovered it. A glass of laudanum was missing
from the parson's private laboratory: we thought it right to
institute a strict inquiry; every one endeavored to ward off
suspicion, and the sharpest. quarrels rose among the inmates
of the house. At last this man appeared before us, and.
admitted that he had the laudanum : we asked if he had
swallowed any of it. 'No,' said he, ' but it is to this that
I owe the recovery of my reason. It is at your choice to
take the vial from me, and to drive me back, inevitably,
to my former state. The feeling, that it was desirable to see
the pains of life terminated by death, first put me on the
way of cure: before long the thought of terminating them
by voluntary death arose in me, and with this intention I took
the glass of poison. The possibility of casting off my ldad
of griefs forever gave me strength to bear them; and thus
have I, ever since this talisman came into my possession.
forced myself back into life by a contiguity with death. Be
not anxious lest I use the drug, but resolve, as men ac-
quainted with the human heart, by granting me an independ-
ence of life, to make me properly and wholesomely dependent
on it.' After mature consideration, we determined not to
meddle further with him; and he now carries with him, in a
firm little ground-glass vial, this poison, of which he has so
strangely made an antidote."
   The doctor was informed of all that had become known in
 the mean time : towards Augustin it was determined that they
 should observe the deepest silence in regard to it. The abbe
 undertook to keep beside him, and to lead him forward on
 the healthful path he had entered.


87





88


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


  Meanwhile Wilhelm was to set about his journey over
Germany with the marchese. If it should appear that
Augustin could be again excited to affection for his native
country, the circumstances were to be communicated to his
friends, and Wilhelm might conduct him thither.,
  Wilhelm had at last made every preparation for his jour-
ney. At first the abb6 -thought it strange that Augustin
rejoiced in hearing of his friend and benefactor's purpose to
depart, but he soon discovered the foundation of this curious
movement. Augustin could not subdue his fear of Felix;
and he longed, as soon as possible, to see the boy removed.
  By degrees so many people had assembled, that the castle
and adjoining buildings could scarcely accommodate them all,
and the less, as such a multitude of guests had not originally
been anticipated. They breakfasted, they dined, together:
each endeavored to persuade himself that they were living in
a comfortable harmony; but each, in secret, longed in some
degree to be away. Theresa frequently rode out, attended
by Lothario, and oftener alone: she had already, got ac-
quainted with all the landladies and landlords in the district;
for she held it as a principle of her economy, in which, per-
haps, she was not far mistaken, that it is essential to be in
good acceptance with one's neighbors, male and female, and
to maintain with them a constant interchange of civilities.
Of an intended marriage with Lothario, she appeared to have
no thought. Natalia and the countess often talked with one
another; the abb6 seemed to covet the society of Augustin;
Jarno had frequent conversations with the doctor; Friedrich
held by Wilhelm; Felix ran about wherever he could meet
with most amusement. It was thus, too, that in general they
paired themselves in walking when the company broke up:
when it was obliged to be together, recourse was quickly had
to music, to unite them all by gi.ving each back to himself.
  Unexpectedly the count increased the party; intending to
remove his lady, and, as it appeared, to take a solemn fare-
well of his worldly friends. Jarno hastened to the coach
to meet him: the count inquired what guests they had; to
which the other answered, in a fit of wild humor that would
often seize him, " We have all the nobility in nature, --mar-
cheses, marquises, milords, and barons: we wanted nothing
but a count." They came up-stairs: Wilhelm was the first
who met them in 'the ante-chamber. " Milord," said the
count to him in French, after looking at him for a moment,
" I rejoice very much in the unexpected pleasure of renewing





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


my acquaintance with your lordship: I am very much mis-
taken if I did not see you at my castle in the prince's suite."
" I had the happiness of waiting on your Excellence at that
time," answered Wilhelm; " but you do me too much honor
when you take me for an Englishman, and that of the first
quality. I am a German, and "-         And a fine young
fellow," interrupted Jarno. The count looked at Wilhelm
with a sinile, and was about to make some reply, when the
rest of the party entered, and saluted him with many a
friendly welcome. They excused themselves for being unable
at the moment to show him to a proper chamber, promising
without delay to make the necessary room for him.
  " Ay, ay ! " said he, smiling: " we have left Chance, I
see, to act as our purveyor. Yet with prudence and arrange-
ment, how much is possible ! For the present I entreat you
not to stir a slipper from its place: the disorder, I perceive,
would otherwise be great. Every one would be uncomfort-
ably lodged; and this no one shall be on my account, if
possible, not even for an hour. You can testify," said he
to Jarno, " and you, too, Meister," turning to Wilhelm,
" how many people I commodiously stowed that time in my
castle. Let me have the list of persons and servants; let me
see how they are lodged at present: I will make a plan of
dislocation, such that, with the very smallest inconvenience,
every one shall find a suitable apartment; and there shall be
room enough to hold another guest if one should accidentally
arrive.''
  Jarno at once offered the count his assistance, procured
him all the necessary information; taking great delight, as
usual, if he could now and then contrive to lead him astray,
and leave him in awkward difficulties. The old gentleman
at last, however, gained a signal triumph. The arrangement
was completed: he caused the names to be written on their
several doors, himself attending; and it could not be denied,
that, by a very few changes and substitutions, the object had
been fully gained. Jarno, among other things, had also man-
aged, that the persons who at present took an interest in each
other should be lodged together.
  " Will you help me," said the count to Jarno, after every
thing was settled, " to clear up my recollections of the young
man there, whom you call Meister, and who you tell me is a
German?"     Jarno was silent; for he knew very well that
the count was one of those people who, in asking questions,
merely wish to show their knowledge. The count, accord


89





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


ingly, continued, without waiting for an answer, " You, I
recollect, presented him to me, and warmly recommended
him in the prince's name. If his mother was a German
woman, I'll be bound for it his father is an Englishman, and
one of rank too: who can calculate the English blood that
has been flowing these last thirty years in German veins!
I will not insist on knowing more: I know you have always
family secrets of that kind, but in such cases it is in vain to
think of cheating me." He then proceeded to detail a great
variety of things as having taken place with Wilhelm at the
castle, to the whole of which Jarno, as before, made no
reply; though the count was altogether in the wrong, con-
founding Wilhelm more than once with a young Englishman
of the prince's suite. The truth was, the good old gentle-
man had in former years possessed a very excellent memory,
and was still proud of being able to remember the minutest
circumstances of his youth; but, in regard to late occurrences,
he used to settle in his mind as true, and utter with the
greatest certainty, whatever fables and fantastic combinations,
in the growing weakness of his powers, imagination might
present to him. For the rest, he was become extreniely mild
and courteous: his presence had a very favorable influence
upon the company. He would call on them to read some
useful hook together; nay, he often gave them little games,
which, without participating in them, he directed with. the
greatest care. If they wondered at his condescension, he
would reply, that it became a man who differed from the
world in weighty matters to conform to it the more anxiously
in matters of indifference.
  In these games our friend had, more than once, an angry
and unquiet feeling to endure. Friedrich, with his usual
levity, took frequent opportunity of giving hints that Wilhelm
entertained a secret passion for Natalia. How could he
have found it out ? What entitled him to say so ? And
would not his friends think, that, as they two were often to-
gether, Wilhelm must have made a disclosure to him, -- so
thoughtless and unlucky a disclosure?
  One day, while they were merrier than common at some
such joke, Augustin, dashing up the door, rushed in with
a frightful look; his countenance was pale, his eyes were
wild; he seemed about to speak, but his tongue refused its
office. The party were astounded : Lothario and Jarno, sup-
posing that his madness had returned, sprang up and seized
him. With a choked and faltering voice, then loudly and


90





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


91


violently, he spoke, and cried, " Not me ! Haste! Help !
Save the child ! Felix is poisoned! "
  They let him go; he hastened through the door: all fol-
lowed him in consternation. They called the doctor; Au-
gustin made for the abb6's chamber; they found the child,
who seemed amazed and frightened, when they called to him
from a distance, " What hast thou been doing ? "
  " Dear papa !" cried Felix, " I did not drink from the
bottle, I drank from the glass: I was very thirsty."
  Augustin struck his hands together: " He is lost ! " cried
he, then pressed through the by-standers, and hastened
away.
  They found a glass of almond-milk upon the table, with a
bottle near it more than half empty. The doctor came, was
told what they had seen and heard: with horror he observed
the well-known laudanum-vial lying empty on the table.
He called for vinegar: he summoned all his art to his assist-
ance.
  Natalia had the little patient taken to a room: she busied
herself with painful care about him. The abb6 had run out
to seek Augustin, and draw some explanation from him.
The unhappy father had been out upon the same endeavor,
but in vain: he returned, to find anxiety and fear on every
face. The doctor, in the mean time,. had been examining
the almond-milk in the glass; he found it to contain a pow-
erful mixture of opium: the child was lying on the sofa,
seeming very sick; he begged his father " not to let them
pour more stuff into him, not to let them plague him any
more."   Lothario had sent his people, and had ridden off
himself, endeavoring to find some trace of Augustin. Na-
talia sat beside the child; he took refuge in her lap, and
entreated earnestly for her protection, earnestly for a little
piece of sugar: the vinegar, he said, was biting sour. The
doctor granted his request; the child was in a frightful agi-
tation; they were obliged to let him have a moment's rest.
The doctor said that every means had been adopted: he
would continue to do his utmost. The count came near,
with an air of displeasure; his look was earnest, even sol-
emn; he laid his hands upon the child, turned his eyes to
heaven, and remained some moments in that attitude. Wil-
helm, who was lying inconsolable on a seat, sprang up, and,
casting a despairing look at Natalia, left the room. Shortly
afterwards the count, too, left it.
   " I cannot understand," said the doctor, having paused a





92


MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


little, ' how it comes that there is not the smallest trace of
danger visible about the child. At a single gulp he must
have swallowed an immense dose of opium; yet I find no
movement in his pulse but what may be ascribed to our rem-
edies, and to the terror we have put him into."
  In a few minutes Jarno entered, with intelligence that
Augustin had been discovered in the upper story, lying in his
blood: a razor had been found beside him; to all appearance
he had cut his throat. The doctor hastened out: he met the
people carrying down the body. The unhappy man was laid
upon a bed, and accurately examined: the cut had gone
across the windpipe; a copious loss of blood had been suc-
ceeded by a swoon; yet it was easy to observe that life, that
hope, was still there. The doctor put the body in a proper
posture, joined the edges of the wound, and bandaged it.
The night passed sleepless and full of care to all. Felix
would not quit Natalia; Wilhelmhn sat before her on a stool;
he had the boy's feet upon his lap; the head and breast were
lying upon hers. Thus did they divide the pleasing burden
and the painful anxiety, and continue, till the day broke, in
their uncomfortable, sad position. Natalia had given her
hand to Wilhelm; they did not speak a word; they looked
at the child, and then at one another. Lothario and Jarno
were sitting at the other end of the room, and carrying on a
most important conversation, - which, did not the pressure
of events forbid us, we would gladly lay before our readers.
The boy slept softly: he awoke quite cheerful early in the
morning, and demanded a piece of br ad and butter.
  So soon as Augustin had in some degree recovered, they
endeavored to obtain some explanation from him.  They
learned with difficulty, and by slow degrees, that having, by
the count's unlucky shifting, been appointed to the same
chamber with the abb6, he had found the manuscript in
which his story was recorded. Struck with horror on perus-
ing it, he felt that it was now impossible for him to live, on
which he had recourse, as usual, to the laudanum: this he
poured into a glass of almond-milk, and raised it to his
mouth; but he shuddered when it reached his lips: he set it
down untasted, went out to walk once more across the gar-
den, and behold the face of nature; and, on his return, he
found the child employed in filling up the glass out of which
it had been drinking.
  They entreated the unhappy creature to be calm: he seized
Wilhelm by the hand with a spasmodic grasp, and cried,





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


" Ah! why did I not leave thee long ago? I knew well that
I should kill the boy, and he me." - " The boy lives ! " said
Wilhelm. The doctor, who had listened with attention, now
inquired of Augustin.if all the drink was poisoned. " No,"
replied he, " nothing but the glass." - " By the luckiest
chance, then," cried the doctor, " the boy has drunk from
the bottle ! A benignant genius has guided his hand, that
he did not catch at death, which stood so near and ready for
him." -" No, no !" cried Wilhelm, with a groan, and clap-
pling both his hands upon his eyes. " How dreadful are the
words ! Felix said expressly that he drank, not from the
bottle, but the glass. His health is but a show: he will die
among our hands."  Wilhelm hastened out: the doctor went
below, and taking Felix up, with much caressing, asked,
" Now, did not you, my pretty boy.? You drank from the
-bottle, not the glass? " The child began to cry. The doc-
tor secretly informed Natalia how the matter stood: she also
strove in vain to get the truth from Felix, who but cried the
more, - cried till he fell asleep.
   Wilhelm watched by him: the night went peacefully away.
 Next morning Augustin was found lying dead in bed: he
 had cheated his attendants by a seeming rest, had silently
 loosened .the bandages, and bled to death. Natalia went to
 walk with.Felix: he was sportful as in his happiest days.
 " You are always good to me," said Felix, " you never
 scold, you never beat, me: I will tell you the truth, I did
 drink from the bottle. Mamma Aurelia used to rap me over
 the fingers every time I touched the bottle: father looked so
 sour, I thought he would beat me."
   With winged steps Natalia hastened to the castle: Wil-
 helm came, still overwhelmed with care, to meet her. " Hap-
 py father ! " cried she, lifting up the child, and throwing it
 into his arms: " there is thy son again ! He drank from
 the bottle: his naughtiness has saved him."
   They told the count the happy issue; but he listened with
 a smiling, silent, modest air of knowingness, like one tolerat-
 ing the error of worthy.men. Jarno, attentive to all, could
 not explain this lofty self-complacency, till, after many
 windings, he at last discovered it to be his lordship's firm
 belief, that the child had really taken poison, and that he
 himself, by prayer and the laying on of hands, had miracu-
 lously counteracted the effects of it. After such a feat, his
 lordship now determined on departing. Every thing, as usual
 with him, was made ready in a moment: the fair countess,


93





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP


when about to go, took Wilhelm's hand before parting with
her sister's ; she then pressed both their hands between her
own, turned quickly round, and stepped into the carriage.
  So many terrible and strange events, crowding one upon
the back of another, inducing an unusual mode of life, and
putting every thing into disorder and perplexity, had brought
a sort of feverish movement into all departments of the
house. The hours of sleep and waking, of eating, drinking,
and social conversation, were inverted. Except Theresa,
none of them had kept in their accustomed course. The men
endeavored, by increased potations, to recover their good-
humor; and, thus communicating to themselves an artificial
vivacity, they drove away that natural vivacity which alone
imparts to us true cheerfulness, and strength for action.
  Wilhelm, in particular, was moved and agitated by the
keenest feelings. Those unexpected, frightful incidents had
thrown him out of all condition to resist a passion which had
so forcibly seized his heart. Felix was restored to him, yet
still it seemed that he had nothing: Werner's letters, the
directions for his journey, were in readiness; there was noth-
ing wanting but the resolution to remove. Every thing con-
spired to hasten him. He could not but conjecture that
Lothario and Theresa were awaiting his departure, that they
might be wedded. Jarno was unusually silent: you would
have said that he had lost a portion of his customary cheer-
fulness. Happily the doctor helped our friend, in some de-
gree, from this embarrassment: he declared him sick, and
set about administering medicine to him.
  The company assembled always in the evening: Friedrich,
the wild madcap, who usually drank more wine than was
meet, took possession of the talk, and by a thousand frolic-
some citations, fantasies, and waggish allusions, often kept
the party laughing, often, also, threw them into awkward
difficulties, by the liberty he took to think aloud.
  In the sickness of his friend he seemed to have little faith.
Once, when they were all together, " Pray, doctor," cried he,
" how is it you call the malady our friend is laboring under?
Will none of the three thousand names with which you deco-
rate your ignorance apply to it? The disease at least is
not without examples. There is one such case," continued
he, with an emphatic tone, " in the Egyptian or Babylonian
history."
   The company looked at one another, and smiled.
   " What call you the king? "-     cried he, and stopped


94





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


short a moment. " Well, if you will not help me, I must
help myself." He threw the door-leaves up, and pointed to
the large picture in the ante-chamber. ' What call you the
goat-beard there, with the crown on, who is standing at the
foot of the bed, making such a rueful face about his sick son ?
How call you the beauty who enters, and in her modest,
roguish eyes, at once brings poison and antidote? How call
you the quack of a doctor, who at this moment catches a
glimpse of the reality, and, for the first time in his life, takes
occasion to prescribe a reasonable recipe, to give a drug which
cures to the very heart, and is at once salutiferous and
savory? "
  In this manner he continued babbling.     The company
took it with as good a face as might be, hiding their embar-
rassment behind a forced laugh. A slight blush overspread
Natalia's cheeks, and betrayed the movements of her heart.
By good fortune she was walking up and down with Jarno:
on coming to the door, with a cunning motion she slipped
out, walked once or twice across the ante-chamber, and re-
tired to her room.
  The company were silent: Friedrich began to dance and
sing, -
            "Wonders will ye see anon!
              Whatsoever's done is done,
              Said's whatever's said: straightway,
              E'er't be day,
              Wonders will be shown."
                                          - Editor's version.

  Theresa had gone out to find Natalia: Friedrich pulled the
doctor forward to the picture, pronounced a ridiculous eulo-
gium on medicine, and glided from the room.
  Lothario had been standing Al the while in the recess of a
window: he was looking, without motion, down into the gar-
den. Wilhelm was in the most dreadful state. Left alone
with his friend, he still kept silence for a time; he ran with
a hurried glance over all his history, and at last, with shud-
dering, surveyed his present situation: he started up, and
cried, " If I am to blame for what is happening, for what
you and I are suffering, punish me. In addition to my other
miseries, deprive me of your friendship, and let me wander,
without comfort, forth into the wide world, in which I should
have mingled, and withdrawn myself from notice, long ago.
But if you see in me the victim of a cruel entanglement of
chance, out of which I could not thread my way, then give





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


me the assurance of your love, of your friendship, on a
journey which I dare not now postpone. A time will come
when I may tell you what has passed of late within me.
Perhaps this is but a punishment which I am suffering,
because I did not soon enough disclose myself -to you, be-
cause I hesitated to -display myself entirely as I was: you
would have assisted me, you would have helped me out in
proper season. Again and again have my eyes been opened
to my conduct; but it was ever too late, it was ever in vain !
How richly do I merit Jarno's censure! I imagined I had
seized it: how firmly did I purpose to employ it, to com-
mence another life! Could I, might I, have done so? It
avails not for mortals to complain of fate or of themselves.
We are wretched, and appointed for wretchedness; and what
does it matter whether blame of ours, higher influence or
chance, virtue or vice, wisdom or folly, plunge us into ruin?
Farewell.! I will not stay another moment in a house where I
have so fearfully violated the rights of hospitality. Your
brother's indiscretion is unpardonable: it aggravates my suf-
fering to the highest pitch, it drives me to despair."
   " And what," replied Lothario, taking Wilhelm by the
hand, " what if your alliance with my sister were the secret
article on which depended my alliance with Theresa ? This
amends that noble maiden has appointed for you: she has
vowed t~at these two pairs should appear together at the
altar. 'His reason has made choice of me,' said she; ' his
heart demands Natalia: my reason shall assist his heart.'
We agreed to keep our eyes upon Natalia and yourself: we
told the abb4 of our plan, who made us promise not to
intermeddle with this union, or attempt to forward it, but
to suffer every thing to take its course. We have done so:
Nature has performed her palt ; our mad brother only shook
the ripe fruit from the branch. And now, since we have
come together so unusually, let us lead no common life: let
us work together in a noble manner, and for noble purposes !
It is inconceivable how much a man of true culture can ac-
complish for himself and others, if, without attempting to
rule, he can be the guardian over many; can induce them
to do that in season which they are at any rate disposed
enough to do; can guide them to their objects, which in gen-
eral they see with due distinctness, though they miss the
road to them. Let us make a league for this: it is no
enthusiasm, but an idea which may be fully executed, which,
indeed, is often executed, only with imperfect consciousness,


96





MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.


by people of benevolence and worth. Natalia is a living
instance of it. No other need attempt to rival the plan of
conduct which has been prescribed by Nature for that pure
and noble soul."
  He had more to say, but Friedrich with a shout came
jumping in. " What a garland have I earned! " cried he:
"how will you reward me? Myrtle, laurel, ivy, leaves of
oak, the freshest you can find, come twist them: I have
merits far beyond them all. Natalia is thine! I am the
conjurer who raised this treasure for thee."
  " He raves," said Wilhelm: I I must go."
  " Art thou empowered to speak?" inquired Lothario,
holding Wilhelm from retiring.
  " By my own authority," said Friedrich, " and the grace
of God. It was thus I was the wooer, thus I am the mes-
senger: I listened at the door; she told the abb, every
thing."
  " Barefaced rogue ! who bade thee listen? " said Lothario.
  "Who bade Oer bolt the door?" cried Friedrich. " I
heard it all: she was in a wondrous pucker. In the night
when Felix seemed so ill, and was lying half upon her knees,
and thou wert sitting comfortless before her, sharing the
beloved load, she made a vow, that, if .the child died, she
would confess her love to thee, and offer thee her hand.
And now, when the child lives, why should she change her
mind? What we promise under such conditions, we keep
under any. Nothing wanting but the parson! He will
come, and marvel what strange news he brings."
  The abb6 entered. "We know it all," cried Friedrich
"be as brief as possible; it is mere formality you come
for, - they never send for you or me on any other score."
  " He has listened," said the baron.     f Scandalous! "
exclaimed the abb6.
  " Now, quick !" said Friedrich. " How stands it with the
ceremonies? These we pan reckon on our fingers. You
must travel: the marchese's invitation answers to a hair's-
breadth. If we had you once beyond the Alps, it will all be
right: the people are obliged to you for 'undertaking any
thing surprising; you procure them an amusement which
they are not called to pay for. It is as if you gave a free
ball: all ranks partake in it."
  " In such popular festivities," replied the abb6, " you
have done the public much service in your time j but to-day,
it seems, you will not let me speak at all."


97





98           MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.

  "< If it is not just as I have told it," answered Friedrich,
' let us have it better. Come round, come round : we must
see them both together."
  Lothario embraced his friend, and led him to Natalia,
who, with Theresa, came to meet them. All were silent.
  "No loitering!" cried Friedrich. "In two days you
may be ready for your travels. Now, think you, friend,"
continued he, addressing Wilhelm, " when we first scraped
acquaintance, and I asked you for the pretty nosegay, who
could have supposed you were ever to receive a flower like
this from me ? "
  I Do not, at the moment of my highest happiness, remind
me of those times ! "
  " Of which you need not be ashamed, any more than one
need be ashamed of his descent. The times were very good
times: only I cannot but laugh to look at thee; to my mind
thou resemblest Saul the son of Kish, who went out to seek
his father's asses, and found a kingdom."
  " I know not the worth of a kingdom," answerd Wilhelm;
" but I know I have attained a happiness which I have not
deserved, and which I would not change with any thing in
life."

























MEISTER'S TRAVELS;

                    OR,


       THE RENUNCIANTS.



                A NOVEL.



     To travel now the Apprentice does essay,
     And every step is girt with doubt and danger:
     In truth, he uses not to sing or pray;
     But, is his path perplexed, this toilsome ranger
     Does turn an earnest eye, when mist's above him,
     To his own heart, and to the hearts that love him.
                                            99

























SCABRCE could tell you rightly
  Whether I'm the same or not,"
If you task me very tightly:
  Yes, this is my sense you've got, -
Sense that vexes, then assuages,
  Now too light, and now too dark,
But in some few hundred pages
  May again come to the mark.

















bOES Fortune try thee ? She had cause to do't:
She wished thee temperate; obey, be mute!

What, shap'st thou here at the world! 'tis shapen long ago;
The Maker shaped it, he thought it best even so :
Thy lot is appointed, go follow its hest;
Thy way is begun, thou must walk, and not rest:
For sor-yw and care cannot alter thy case;
And running, not raging, will win thee the race.

Enweri tells us, a most royal man,
The deepest heart and highest head to scan:
" In every place, at every time, thy surest chance
Lies in decision, justice, tolerance."

My inheritance, how wide and fair!
Time is my estate: to time I'm heir.

Now it is day: be doing every one;
For the night cometh, wherein work can none.
                                                   101

























       AND so I, in Tale adjoining,
       Lift old treasures into day;
       If not gold or perfect coining,
       They are metals any way:
       Thou canst sort them, thou canst sunder,
       Thou canst melt and make them one;
       Then take that with smiling wonder,
       Stamp it like thyself, my son.
�102















              MEISTER'S TRAVELS.




                     CHAPTER I.

                 THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT.

  WiHELM was sitting under the shadow of a huge crag, on
a shaggy, impressive spot, where the steep mountain path
turned abruptly round a corner, down into the chasm. The
sun was still high, and brightening the tops of the pine-trees
in the clefts at his feet. He was looking at something in
his note-book, when Felix, who had been clambering about,
came to him with a stone in his hand. " What is the name
of this stone, father? " said the boy.
  " I know not," answered Wilhelm.
  " Can this be gold that glitters in it so ? " said Felix.
  " No, no," replied Wilhelm; ' and now I remember, peo-
ple call it mica, or cat-gold."
  " Cat-gold ! " said the boy, smiling. " And why?"
  " I suppose, because it is false, and cats are reckoned
false too."
  " Well, I will note that," said the son, and put in the
stone beside the rest with which he had already filled his
pockets.
  Scarcely was this over when, adown the steep path, a
strange enough appearance came in sight. Two boys, beau-
tiful as day, in colored jackets which you might have taken
for outer shirts, came bounding down, one after the other;
and Wilhelm had opportunity of viewing them more closely,
as they faltered on observing him, and stopped for a mo-
ment. Round the elder boy's head waved rich, fair locks,
which you looked at first, on observing him; and then his
                                               103





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


clear blue eyes attracted your attention, which spread itself
with delight over his beautiful shape. The younger, more
like a friend than a brother, was decked with brown, sleek
hair, which hung down over his shoulders, and the reflection
of which appeared to be imaged in his eyes.
  These strange, and, in this wilderness, quite unexpected,
beings, Wilhelm had not time to view more narrowly; for he
heard a man's voice calling down round the corner of the
crag, in a serious, but friendly, tone, " Why do you stand
still? Don't stop the way."
  Wilhelm looked upwards; and, if the children had sur-
prised him, what he now saw filled him with astonishment.
A stout, firm-set, not too tall, young man, tucked up for
walking, of brown complexion and black hair, was stepping
firmly and carefully down the rock-way, and leading an ass
behind him, which first presented its glossy, well-trimmed
head, and then the fair burden it bore. A soft, lovely woman
was seated on a large and well-pannelled saddle : in her arms,
within a blue mantle which hung over her, lay an infant, which
she was pressing to her breast, and looking at with indescriba-
ble tenderness.  The man did as the children had done,-
faltered for a moment at sight of Wilhelm. The beast slack-
ened its step, but the descent was too precipitous: the trav-
ellers could not halt; and Wilhelm with astonishment saw
them vanish behind the contiguous wall of rocks.
  Nothing was more natural than that this singular procession
should cut short his meditations. He rose in no small curi-
osity, and looked from his position towards the chasm, to
see whether they would not again make their appearance
somewhere below. He was just about descending to salute
these strange travellers, when Felix came climbing up, and
said, "Father, may I not go home with these boys to their
house? They want to take me with them. Thou must go
too, the man said to me. Come ! They are waiting down
there. "
   " I will speak with them," answered Wilhelm.
   He found them at a place where the path was more level,
and he could not but gaze in wonder at the singular figures
which had so strongly attracted his attention. Not till now
had it been in his power to note the peculiarities of the group.
The young, stout man, he found, had a joiner's axe on his
shoulder, and a long, thin iron square. The children bore
in their hands large sedge-tufts, like palms; and if, in this
point, they resembled angels, they likewise carried little bas-


104





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


kets with shop-wares in them, thereby resembling the little
daily posts, as they pass to and fro over the mountains. The
mother also, he observed, on looking more leisurely, wore
under her blue mantle a reddish, mild-colored, lower garment :
so that " The Flight into Egypt," which our friend had so
often seen painted, he now, with amazement, saw bodied
forth before his eyes.
  The strangers exchanged salutations; and as Wilhelm,
from surprise and attention, could not speak, the young man
said, " Our children have formed a friendship in these few
moments. Will you go with us to see whether some kind
relation will not spring up between the elder parties also? "
  Wilhelm bethought himself an instant, and then answered,
"The aspect of your little family procession awakens trust
and good will, and, to confess it frankly, curiosity no less,
and a lively desire to be better acquainted with you. For,
at the first glance, one might ask himself the question,
Whether you are real travellers, or only spirits that take
pleasure in enlivening these uninhabitable mountains by
pleasant visions?"
  " Then, come home with us to our dwelling," said the other.
" Come with us! " cried the children, already drawing Felix
along with them. " Come with us ! " said the woman, turn-
ing her sqft kindliness from the suckling to the stranger.
  Without reflecting, Wilhelm answered, " I am sorry, that,
for the present moment, I cannot follow you. This night, at
least, I must spend up at the Border-house. My portman-
teau, my papers, - all is lying up there, unpacked, intrusted
to no one. But, that I may prove my wish and purpose to
satisfy your friendly invitation, take my Felix with you as a
pledge. To-morrow I shall see you. How far is it ? "
  " We shall be home before sunset," said the carpenter;
" and from the Border-house you are but a league and a half.
Your boy increases our household for this night, and to-mor-
row we expect you."
  The man and the animal set forth. Wilhelm smiled thought-
fully to see his Felix so soon received among the angels. The
boy had already seized a sedge-tuft, and taken the basket
from the younger of his companions. The procession was
again on the point of vanishing behind a ledge of rock, when
Wilhelm recollected himself, and cried, " But how shall I
inquire you out?"
  "Ask for St. Joseph!" sounded from the hqllow; and
the whole vision had sunk behind the blue, shady wall of


105





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


cliffs. A pious hymn, uplifted on a chorus of several voices,
rose echoing from the distance; and Wilhelm thought he
could distinguish the voice of his Felix among the rest.
  He ascended the path, and thus protracted the period of
sunset. The heavenly star, which he had more than once
lost sight of, illuminated him afresh as he mounted higher;
and it was still day when he reached his inn. Once more he
delighted himself with the vast mountain prospect, then with-
drew to his chamber, where immediately he seized his pen,
and passed a part of the night in writing.

                    Wilhelm to Natatia.
  Now at last I have reached the summit, - the summit of the
mountains, which will place a stronger separation betwixt us
than all the tract I had passed over before. To my feeling,
one is still in the neighborhood of those he loves, so long as
the streams run down from him towards them. To-day I
can still fancy to myself that the twig which I cast into the
forest-brook may, perhaps, float down to her, may in a few
days land at her garden ; and thus our spirit sends its images
more easily, our heart its sympathies, by the same downward
course. But over on the other side I fear there rises a wall
of division against the imagination and the feelings. Yet
this, perhaps, is but a vain anxiety; for over on the other
side, after all, it will not be otherwise than it is here. What
could part me from thee ! From thee, whose own I am for-
ever; though a strange destiny sunders me from thee, and
unexpectedly shuts the heaven to which I stood so near. I
had time to compose myself; and yet no time could have
sufficed to give me that composure, had I not gained it from
thy mouth, from thy lips, in that decisive moment. How
could I have torn myself away, if the enduring thread had
not been spun which is to unite us for time and eternity?
Yet I must not speak of all this. Thy tender commands I
will not break: on this mountain-top be it the last time that
I name the word Separation before thee ! My life is to be-
come a restless wandering. Strange duties of the wanderer
have I to fulfil, and peculiar trials to undergo. How I often
smile within myself when I read the terms which thou pre-
scribedst to me, which I prescribed to myself. Many of them
have been kept, many broken ; but, even while breaking them,
this sheet is of use to me, this testimonial of my last confes-
sion, - of my last absolution: it speaks to me as an authori-


106





                 MEISTER'S TRAVELS.                   107

tative conscience, and I agaiL turn to the right path. I watch
myself; and my faults no longer rush like mountain torrents,
one over the other.
  Yet I will confess to thee I many times wonder at those
teachers and guides of men who impose on their scholars
nothing but external, mechanical duties. They make the
task light for themselves as well as for the world. For this
very part of my obligations, which at first seemed the heavi-
est, the strangest, I now observe with greatest ease, with
greatest satisfaction.
  I am not to stay beyond three days under one roof. I am
to quit no inn without removing at least one league from it.
These regulations are, in truth, calculated to make my life a
life of travel, and to prevent the smallest thought of settle-
ment from taking hold of me. Hitherto I have fulfilled this
condition to the letter, not even using all the liberty it
grants me. This is the first time that I have paused: here,
for the first time, I sleep three nights in the same-bed. From
this spot I send thee much that I have heard, observed, laid
up for thee; and early in the morning I descend on the other
side, - in the first place, to a strange family, I might almost
say, a Holy Family, of which, in my journal, thou wilt find
further notice. For the present, farewell; and lay down
this sheet with the feeling that it has but one thing to say,
but one thing which .it would say and repeat forever; yet
will not say it, will not repeat it now, till I have once more
the happiness of lying at thy feet, and weeping over thy
hands for all that I renounce.

                                              MORNING.
  My packing is done. The porter is girding the portman-
teau on his dorsel. As yet, the sun is not up: vapors are
streaming out of all the hollows, but the upper sky is clear.
We step down into the gloomy deeps, which also will soon
brighten over our heads. Let me send my last sigh home to
thee ! Let my last look towards thee be yet blinded with
involuntary tears! I am   decided and determined. Thou
shalt hear no more complaints from me: thou shalt hear
only what happens to the wanderer. And yet now, when I
am on the point of ending, a thousand thoughts, wishes,
hopes, and purposes come crowding through my soul. Hap-
pily the people force me away. The porter calls me; and
mine host has already in my presence begun sorting the
apartment, as if I were gone: thus feelingless, imprudent





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


heirs do not hide from the departing testator their prepara.
tions for assuming management.





                     CHAPTER II.

                  ST. JOSEPH THE SECOND.

  ALREADY had the wanderer, following his porter on foot,
left the steep rocks behind and above him: already were
they traversing a softer mid-range of hills, and hastening
through many a well-pruned wood, over many a friendly
meadow, forward and forward; till at last they found them-
selves on a declivity, and looked down into a beautifully
cultivated valley, begirt on all sides with hills. A large
monastic 'edifice, half in ruins, half in repair, immediately
attracted their attention. " This is St. Joseph," said the
porter. " Pity for the fine church! Do but look how fresh
and firm it still holds up its pillars through bush and tree,
though it has lain many hundred years in decay."
   " The cloister, on the contrary," said Wilhelm, ' I ob-
serve, is kept in good state."
   "' Yes," said the other: " there is a Schaffner lives here;
he manages the husbandry, collects the dues and tithes,
which the people far and wide have to pay him."
   So speaking, they had entered through the open gate into
a spacious court, surrounded with earnest-looking, well-kept
buildings, and announcing itself as the residence of some
peaceful community. Among the children playing in the
area, Wilhelm noticed Felix : the other two were the angels
of last night. The friendly trefoil came running towards
him with salutations, and assurances that papa would soon
be back. He, in the mean while, they said, must go into the
hall, and rest himself.
  How surprised was Wilhelm when the children led him
into this apartment which they named the hall. Passing
directly from the court, through a large door, our wanderer
found himself in a very cleanly, undecayed chapel, which
however, as he saw well enough, had been fitted up for the
domestic uses of daily life. On the one side stood a table,
a settle, some chairs and benches; on the other side a neatly


108





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


carved dresser, with variegated pottery, jugs, and glasses,
Some chests and trunks were standing in suitable niches:
and, simple as the whole appeared, there was not wanting
an air of comfort; and daily household life looked forth
from it with an aspect of invitation. The light fell in from
high windows on the side. But what most roused the atten-
tion of the wanderer was a series of colored figures painted
on the wall, stretching under the windows, at a considerable
height, round three quarters of the chapel, and hanging
down to the wainscot, which covered the remainder of the
wall to the ground. The pictures represented the history of
St. Joseph. Here you might see him first employed with
his carpentry work: here he meets Mary; and a lily is
sprouting from the ground between them, while angels hover
round observing them. Here his betrothing takes place:
next comes the salutation of the angel. Here he is. sitting
disconsolate among his neglected work: he has laid by the
axe, and is thinking to put away his wife. But now appears
the angel to him in a dream, and his situation changes.
With reverence he looks on the new-born child in the stable
at Bethlehem, and prays to it. Soon after this comes a won-
derfully beautiful picture. You observe a quantity of tim-
ber lying dressed: it is just to be put together, and by
chance two of the pieces form a cross. The child has fallen
asleep one the cross; his mother sits by, and looks at him
with heartfelt love; and the foster-father pauses with his
labor, that he may not awaken him. Next follows the flight
into Egypt: it called forth a smile from the gazing traveller,
for he saw here on the walls a repetition of the living figures
he had met last night.
  He had not long pursued his contemplations, when the
landlord entered, whom he directly recognized as the leader
of the Holy Caravan. They saluted each other cordially:
much conversation followed, yet Wilhelm's chief attention
continued fixed on the pictures. The host observed the feel-
ing of his guest, and began with a smile, " No doubt you
are wondering at the strange accordance of this building
with its inhabitants, whom you last night got acquainted
with. Yet it is, perhaps, still more singular than you sup-
pose: the building has, in truth, formed the inhabitants.
For, when the inanimate has life, it can also produce what
has life."
   "Yes, indeed ! " answered Wilhelm: "-I should be sur-
prised if the spirit, which worked so powerfully in this


109





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


mountain solitude long centuries ago, and drew round it
such a mighty body of edifices, possessions, and rights, dif-
fusing in return the blessings of manifold culture over the
region, could not still, out of these ruins, manifest the force
of its life on some living being. But let us not linger on
general reflections: make me acquainted with your history;
let me know how it can possibly have happened, that, with-
out affectation and presumption, the past again represents
itself in you, and what was, again is."
  Just as Wilhelm was expecting responsive information
from the lips of his host, a friendly voice in the court cried,
"Joseph! "    The man obeyed it, and went out.
   " So he, too, is Joseph! " said Wilhelm to himself. " This
is strange enough, and yet not so strange as that in his life
he should personate his saint."  At the same time, looking
through. the door, he saw the Virgin Mother- of last night
speaking with her husband. They parted at last: the wo-
man walked towards the opposite building. " Mary," cried
he after her, " a word more."
   "So she, too, is Mary ! " said Wilhelm inwardly "Little
would make me feel as if I were transported eighteen hun-
dred years into the past ! " He thought of the solemn and
secluded valley in which he was, of the wrecks and silence
all around; and a strange, antiquarian mood came over him.
It was time for the landlord and children to come in. The
latter called for Wilhelm to go and walk, as the landlord had
still some business to do. And now came in view the ruins
of the church, with its many shafts and columns, with its
high peaks and walls; which looked as if gathering strength
in the influence of wind and weather; for strong trees from
of old had taken root in the broad backs of the walls, and
now, in company with grass, flowers, and moss in great quan-
tities, exhibited bold hanging gardens vegetating in the air.
Soft sward-paths led you up the banks of a lively brook; and
from a little elevation our wanderer could now overlook the
edifice and its site with more interest, as its occupants had
become still more singular in his eyes, and by their harmony
with their abode had awakened his liveliest curiosity.
   The promenaders returned, and found in the religious hall
 a table standing covered. At the upper end was an arm-
 chair, in which the mistress of the house took her seat. Be-
 side her she had placed a high wicker-cradle, in which lay
 the little infant: the father sat next this on her left hand,
 Wilhelm on her right.    The three children occupied the


110





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


under space of the table. An old serving-maid brought in
a well-readied meal.  Eating and drinking implements alike
pointed to the past. The children afforded matter for talk,
while Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at the
form and the bearing of his saintly hostess.
  Their repast over, the company separated. The landlord
took his guest to a shady spot in the ruin, where, from an
elevated station, the pleasant prospect down the valley lay
entire before them; and, farther off, the heights of the lower
country, with their fruitful declivities and woody backs, were
seen protruding one behind the other. I " It is fair," said the
landlord, " that I satisfy your curiosity; and the rather, as
I feel that you can view the strange with seriousness when
you find it resting on a serious ground. This religious foun-
dation, the remains of which are lying round us, was dedi-
cated to the Holy Family, and in old times noted as a place
of pilgrimage for many wonders done in it. The church
was consecrated to the Mother and the Son. It has lain
for several centuries in ruins. The chapel, dedicated to the
holy foster-father, still remains, as does likewise the service-
able part of the cloister. The revenues have for many
years belonlged to a temporal prince, who keeps a steward
or Schaffner here: this Schaffner am I, son of the last
Schaffner, who also succeeded his father in the office.
  " St. Joseph, though any regular worship of him has long
ceased here, had been so helpful to our family, that it is not
to be wondered at if they felt particularly well inclined
towards him: hence came it that they had me baptized by
the name of Joseph, and thereby, I may say, in some sense
determined my whole future way of life. I grew up; and,
if I used to help my father in managing the dues, I attached
myself as gladly, nay, still more gladly, to my mother, who
cheerfully distributed her bounty according to her fortune,
and for her kindness and good deeds was known and loved
over all the mountains. Erelong she would send me out,
now this way, now that; now to fetch, now to carry, now
direct; and I very speedily began to be at home in this sort
of pious occupation.
  "In general, our mountain life has something more hu-
mane in it than the life of Lowlanders. The inhabitants
here are nearer, and, if you will, more remote also. Our
wants are smaller, but more pressing. Each man is placed
more on his own footing: he must learn to depend on his
own hands, oil his own limbs. The laborer, the post, the


111





MEISTERS TRAVELS.


porter, all unite in one person: each of us is more connected
with the other, meets him oftener, and lives with him in joint
activity.
  " As I was still young, and my shoulders could not bear
heavy burdens, I fell upon a thought of furnishing a little
ass with panniers, which I might drive before me up and down
the steep foot-paths. In the mountains the ass is no such
despicable animal as in the plain country, where the laborer
that ploughs with horses reckons himself better than he that
turns his furrow with oxen. And I walked behind my beast
with the less hesitation, as I had before observed in the
chapel, that an animal of this same sort had been promoted
to such honor as to carry God and his Mother. This chapel
was not then, however, in the state you now see it in. It
had been treated as a cart-house, nay, almost as a stable.
Firewood, stakes, implements, barrels, and ladders, every
thing that came to hand, lay huddled together in it. Lucky
that the pictures were so high, and the wainscot could stand
some hardships. But even in my childhood I used many a
time to clamber over the wood, and delight myself with look-
ing at the pictures, which no one could properly explain to
me. However, I knew at least that the saint whose life
stood 'depicted on these walls was my patron; and I rejoiced
in him as much as if he had been my. uncle. I waxed in
stature'; and it being an express condition, that whoever
meant to aspire after this post of Schafner must practise
some handicraft, our family, desiring that I might inherit so
good a benefice, determined on putting me to learn some
trade, and such a one, at the same time, as might be useful
here in our upland way of life.
   "My father was a cooper, and had been accustomed to sup-
ply of himself whatever was required in that sort ; from which
there arose no little profit, both to himself and the country.
But I could not prevail on myself to follow him in this busi-
ness.   My inclination drew me irresistibly to the joiner
trade, the tools and materials of which I had seen, from in-
fancy upwards, so accurately and circumstantially painted
beside my patron saint. I signified my wish: nothing could
be objected to it, - the less, as in our frequent buildings the
carpenter is often wanted here; nay, if he have any sleight
in his trade, and fondness for it, especially in forest districts,
the arts of the cabinet-maker, and even of the carver, lie close
beside his province. And what still further confirmed me in
my higher purposes was a picture, which now, alas ! is almost


112





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


effaced. If once you know what it is meant to represent,
you may still be able to decipher the figures, when I take
you to look at it. St. Joseph had got no lower a commission
than to make a throne for King Herod. The royal seat was
to be erected between two given pillars. Joseph carefully
measures the breadth and height, and fashions a costly
throne. But how astonished is he, how alarmed, on carrying
his finished work to the place: the throne is too high, and
not broad enough. King Herod, as we know, was a man
that did not understand jesting: the pious wright is in
the greatest perplexity. The divine Child, accustomed to
follow him everywhere, and in childlike, humble sport to
carry his tools after him, observes his strait, and is immedi-
ately at hand with advice and assistance. He requires of
his foster-father to take hold of the throne by the one side,
he himself grasps it by the other, and both begin to pull.
Easily and pliantly, as if it had been made of leather, the
carved throne extends in breadth, contracts proportionately
in length, and fits itself to the place with the nicest accuracy,
to the great comfort of the re-assured master, and the per-
fect satisfaction of the king.
  " This throne was, in my youth, quite distinctly visible;
and by the remains of the one side you will still be able to
discern that there was no want of carving on it, - which,
indeed, must have been easier for the painter than it would
have been for the carpenter, had such a thing been required
of him.
  " That circumstance, however, raised no scruples in me;
but I looked on the handicraft to which I had devoted myself
in so honorable a light, that I was all impatience to be ap-
prenticed to it, -a longing which was the easier to fulfil, as a
master of the trade lived in our neighborhood, who worked
for the whole district, and kept several apprentices and
journeymen about him. Thus I continued in the neighbor-
hood of my parents, and to a certain extent pursued my
former way of life also; seeing I employed my leisure hours
and holidays in doing those charitable messages which my
mother still intrusted to me."


113





114              MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


                     CHAPTER III.

                        THE VISIT.

  " So passed several years," continued the narrator. "I
very soon comprehended the principles of my trade; and my
frame, expanded by labor, was equal to the undertaking of
every thing connected with the business. At the same time I
kept managing my ancient service, which my good mother,
or rather the sick and destitute, required at my hands. I
moved with my beast through the mountains, punctually dis-
tributed my lading, and brought back from shopkeepers and
merchants what we needed here at home.
  " My master was contented with me, my parents also.
Already I enjoyed the satisfaction, in my wanderings, of
seeing many a house which I had helped to raise, or had
myself decorated. For, in particular, that last notching of
the beam-ends, that carving of certain simple forms, that
branding in of pretty figures, that red painting of certain
recesses, by which a wooden house in the mountains acquires
so pleasant an aspect, - these arts were especially intrusted
to me; as I always made the best hand of such tasks, having
Herod's throne and its ornaments constantly in my head.
  "Anmong the help-needing persons Whom my mother took
peculiar charge of, were particularly young wives near the
time of their confinement, as by degrees I could well enough
remark; though, in such cases, the commissions given me
were veiled in a certain mystery. My messages, on these
occasions, never reached directly to the party concerned;
but every thing passed through the hands of a good old
woman, who lived down the dale, and was called Frau Eliza-
beth. My mother, herself skilful in the art which saves life
to so many at their very entrance into life, constantly main-
tained a good understanding with Frau Elizabeth; and I
often heard, in all quarters, that many a one of our stout
mountaineers stood indebted for his existence to these two
women. The secrecy with which Elizabeth received me at
all times, her pointed replies to my enigmatical questions,
which I myself did not understand, awoke in me a singular
reverence for her; and her house, which was extremely clean,
appeared to me to represent a sort of sanctuary.
  " Meanwhile, by my acquirements and adroitness in my
craft, I had gained considerable influence in the family. As





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


my father, in the character of cooper, had' taken charge of
the cellar and its contents, I now took charge of roof and
room, and repaired many a damaged part in the old building.
In particular, I contrived to make some fallen barns and out-
houses once more serviceable for domestic use; and scarcely
was this done when I set about cleaning and clearing out my
beloved chapel. In a few days it was put in order, almost
as you see it at present; and such pieces of the wainscot as
were damaged or altogether wanting, I had endeavored, as I
went along, to restore in the same fashion as the rest. These
door-leaves of the entrance, too, you might think, were old
enough; yet they are of my workmanship. I passed several
years in carving them at leisure hours, having first mortised
the body of them firmly together out of strong oaken planks.
Whatever of the pictures had not been effaced or injured at
that time, has since continued unimpaired; and I assisted
our glazier in a new house he was erecting, under the condi-
tion of his putting in colored windows here.
   "If these figures and thoughts on the saint's life had
hitherto,occupied my imagination, the whole impressed itself
on me with much more liveliness, now that I could again re-
gard the place as a. sanctuary, could linger in it, and muse
at leisure on what I saw or conjectured. There lay in me
an irresistible desire to follow in the footsteps of this saint:
and, as a' similar history was not to be looked for in these
times, I determined on commencing my resemblance from
the lowest point upwards; as, indeed, by the use of my
beast of burden, I had already commenced it long ago. The
small creature which I had hitherto employed would no longer
content me: I chose for myself a far more stately carrier,
and got a large, stout saddle, which was equally adapted for
riding and packing. A pair of new baskets were also procured ;
and a net of many-colored knots, flakes, and tufts, intermixed
with jingling tags of metal, decorated the neck of my long-
eared beast, which might now show itself beside its model
on the wall. No one thought of mocking me when I passed
over the mountains in this equipment: people do not quarrel
with Benevolence for putting on a strange outside.
   " Meanwhile, war, or rather its consequences, had ap-
proached our district; for dangerous bands of vagabond
deserters had more than once collected, and here and there
practised much violence and wanton mischief. By the good
order of our provincial militia, by patrolling and prompt
watchfulness, the evil was very soon remedied : but we too


115





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


quickly relapsed into our former carelessness; and, before
we thought of it, new disorders broke forth.
   " For a long time all had been quiet in our neighborhood,
 and I had travelled peacefully with my ass along the accus-
 tomed paths; till one day, passing over a newly sown glade
 of the forest, I observed a female form sitting, or rather
 lying, at the edge of the fence-ditch. She seemed to be asleep
 or in a swoon. I endeavored to recall her; and, as she opened
 her eyes and sat upright, she cried with eagerness, ' Where
 is he? Did you see him?' I asked, ' Whom?' She replied,
 'My husband.' Considering her extremely youthful appear-
 ance, I had not been expecting this reply ; yet I continued, so
 much the more kindly, to assist her, and assure her of my sym-
 pathy. I learned that the two travellers had left their carriage,
 the road being so heavy, and struck into a footpath to make
 a shorter cut. Hard by they had been overtaken by armed
 marauders; her husband had gone off fighting with them;
 she, not able to follow him far, had sunk on this spot, and
 lain there she knew not how long. She pressingly begged of
 me to leave her, and hasten after her husband. She rose to
 her feet; and the fairest, loveliest form stood before me:
 yet I could easily observe that she was in a situation in which
 she might soon require the help of my mother and Frau Eliza-
 beth. We disputed a while: for I wished, before all, to bring
 her to some place of safety; she wished, in the first place, to
 have tidings of her husband. She would not leave the trace
 of him; and all my arguments would perhaps have been
 unavailing, had not a party of our militia, which the tidings
 of fresh misdeeds had again called out into service, chanced
 to pass that way through the forest. These I informed of
 the matter: with them the necessary arrangements were
 made, the place of meeting appointed, and so the business
 settled for the time. With great expedition I hid my pan-
 niers in a neighboring cave, which had often served me
 before as a repository: I adjusted my saddle.for easy rid-
 ing, and, not without a strange emotion, lifted the fair bur-
den on my willing beast, which, knowing of itself what path
to choose, left me at liberty to walk by her side.
  "' You can figure to yourself, without my describing it at
large, in what a strange mood I was. What I had long been
seeking I had now found. I felt as if I were dreaming, and
then again as if I were awakening from a dream. That
heavenly form which I saw, as it were, hovering in the air,
and bending aside from the green branches, now seemed to


116





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


me like a dream which had risen in my soul through those
figures in the chapel. Soon those figures themselves seemed
to me to have been only dreams, which were here issuing in
a fair reality. I asked her many things: she answered me
softly and kindly, as beseemed a dignified distress. She
often desired me, when we reached any open height, to stop,
to look round, to listen. She desired me with such grace,
with such a deep, wistful look from under her long black eye-
lashes, that I could not but do whatever lay in my power;
nay, at last I climbed to the top of a high, solitary, branch-
less pine. Never had this feat of my handicraft been more
welcome to me : never had I, with greater joy, brought down
ribbons and silks from such elevations at festivals and fairs.
But for this time, alas ! I came back without booty: above,
as below, I could hear or see nothing. In the end, she her-
self called me down, and beckoned to me earnestly with her
hand: nay, at lasL, as in gliding down I quitted my hold a
considerable way up, and dropped on the ground, she gave
a scream; and a sweet kindliness spread over her face as she
saw me before her unhurt.
  " Why should I tell you in detail of the hundred attentions
with which I strove the whole way to be pleasing, to divert
her thoughts from her grief? Indeed, how could I? For it
is the very quality of true attention, that, at the moment,
it makes ca nothing all. To my feeling, the flowers which
I broke for her, the distant scenes which I showed her,
the hills, the woods, which I named to her, were so many
precious treasures which I was giving her to obtain for
myself a place among her interests, as one tries to do by
presents.
  " Already she had gained me for my whole life, when we
reached our destination, at that good old woman's door; and
I saw a painful separation close at hand. Once more I ran
over all her form ; and, as my eyes came on her feet, I stooped
as if to adjust something in my girdle, and kissed the dain-
tiest shoe that I had ever seen, yet without her noticing me.
I helped her down, sprang up the steps, and called in at the
door, 'Frau Elizabeth, here is a visitor!' The good old
woman came down : and I looked over her shoulders towards
the house, as the fair being mounted the steps with graceful
sorrow, and inward, painful self-consciousness; till she
gratefully embraced my worthy old woman, and accompanied
her into the better chamber. They shut the door; and I
was left standing outside by my ass, like a man that has


117





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


delivered a loading of precious wares, and is again as poor
a carrier as before."





                     CHAPTER IV.

                     THE LILY-STALK.

  " I WAs still lingering in my departure, for I knew not
what to do if I were gone, when Frau Elizabeth came to the
door, and desired me to send my mother down to her, and
then to go about, and, if possible, get tidings of the husband.
'Mary begs you very much to do this,' said she. 'Can I
not speak with her again myself ? ' replied I. 'That will not
do,' said Elizabeth; and we parted. In a short time I
reached our dwelling: my mother was ready that same night
to go over, and be helpful to the young stranger. I hastened
down the country, thinking I should get the surest intel-
ligence at the Amtmann's. But the Amtmann himself was
still in uncertainty; and, as I was known to him, he invited
me to pass the night there. It seemed interminably long;
and still I had the fair form before my eyes, as she sat gently
swaying in the saddle, and looking down to me so sorrowful
and friendly.  Every moment I hoped for news. To the
worthy husband I honestly wished life and safety, and yet
I liked so well to fancy her a widow ! The ranging troops by
little and little collected; and, after many variable rumors,
the certainty at last came to light, that the carriage was
saved, but the hapless traveller dead of his wounds in a
neighboring village. I learned also, that, according to our
first arrangement, some of the party had gone to communicate
the melancholy tidings to Frau Elizabeth : consequently I had
nothing more to do there. Yet a boundless impatience, an
immeasurable longing, drove me over wood and mountain
once more to her threshold. It was dark; the door was
shut; I saw light in the room, I saw shadows moving on the
curtains; and thus I sat watching on a bench opposite the
house; still on the point of knocking, and still withheld by
many considerations.
   "But why should I go on describing to you what is in
itself of no interest? In short, next morning, too, the


118





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


house was shut against me. They knew the heavy tidings,
they needed me no further; they sent me to my father, to
umy work; they would not answer my inquiries; they wanted
to be rid of me.
  " For eight days this sort of treatment had continued,
when at last Frau Elizabeth called me in. ' Step'softly, my
friend,' said she, ' but enter without scruple.' She led me
into a trim apartment, where, in the corner, through, the
half-opened curtains, I saw my fair one dressed, and sitting
upright in the bed. Frau Elizabeth went towards her as if
to announce me, lifted something from the bed, and brought
it me, - wrapped in the whitest swathings, the prettiest boy !
Frau Elizabeth held it straight betwixt the mother and me;
and just then the lily-stalk occurred to me, which, in the
picture, springs from the ground between Joseph and Mary,
as witness of the purity of their affection.   From that
moment I was certain of my cause, certain of my happiness.
I could approach her with freedom, speak with her, bear her
heavenly eye, take the boy on my arm, and imprint a warm
kiss on his brow.
  " 'How I thank you for the love you bear to that orphan
child ! ' said the mother. Unthinkingly and briskly I cried,
'It is no orphan any longer, if you like! '
   '6 Frau Elizabeth, more prudent than I, took the child from
my hands, and got me put away.
   " To this hour, when I chance to be wandering over our
mountains and forests, the remembrance of that time forms
my happiest entertainment. I can still recall the slightest
particulars; which, however, as is fit, I spare you at present.
Weeks passed on: Mary was recovered; I could see her
oftener;. my intercourse with her was a train of services and
attentions. Her family circumstances allowed her to choose
a residence according to her pleasure. She first staid with
Frau Elizabeth : then she paid us a visit, to thank my mother
and me for so many and such friendly helps. She liked to
live with us, and I flattered myself that it was partly on
my account. What I wished to tell her, however, and durst
not utter, game to words in a singular and pretty wise, when
I took her into the chapel, which I had then fitted up as a
habitual apartment.   I showed her the pictures, and ex-
plained them to her one after the other, and, so doing, un-
folded the duties of a foster-father in so vivid and cordial a
manner that the tears came into her eyes, and I could not
get to the end of my picture exhibition. I thought myself


119





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


certain of her affection, though I was not proud enough to
wish so soon to efface the memory of her husband. The
law imposes on widows a year of mourning; and, in truth,
such an epoch, which includes in it the change of all earthly
things, is necessary for a feeling heart, to alleviate the
painful impressions of a great loss.  We see the flowers
fade and the leaves fall; but we likewise see fruits ripen, and
new buds shoot forth. Life belongs to the living, and he
who lives must be prepared for vicissitudes.
  " I now spoke with my mother on the concern which lay
so near my heart.    She thereupon disclosed to me how
grievous to Mary the death of her husband had been, and
how she had borne up and gathered courage again, solely
from the thought that she must live for her child. My in-
clination was not unknown to the women, and already Mary
had accustomed herself to the idea of living with us. She
staid a while longer in the neighborhood: then she came up
to us, and wve lived for a time in the gentlest and happiest
state of betrothment. At last we wedded. That feeling
which had first drawn us together did not fade away. The
duties and joys of the father and the foster-father were
united: and so our little family, as it increased, did certainly
surpass its prototype in number of persons; but the virtues
of that pattern, in respect to faithfulness, and purity of sen-
timents, were sacredly maintained and practised by us. And
so also in friendly habitude we keep up the external appear-
ance which we, by accident, arrived at, and which fits our
internal state so well; for though all of us are good walkers,
and stout bearers of weight, the beast of burden still remains
in our company, when any business or visit takes us through
these mountains and valleys. As you met us last night, so
does the whole country know us; and we feel proud that our
walk and conversation are of such a sort as not to throw
disgrace on the saintly name and figure whose imitators we
profess to be."
                    Wilhelm to Natalia.
  I now conclude a pleasant, half-marvellous history, which
I have just written down for thee, from the mouth of a very
worthy man. If I have not always given his very words;
if here and there, in describing his sentiments, I have ex-
pressed my own, - this, considering the relationship of mind
I feel with him, was natural enough. His reverence for his
wife, does it not resemble that which I entertain for thee?


120





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


And is there not, even in the first meeting of these lovers,
something similar to ours? But that he is fortunate enough
to walk beside his animal, as it bears the doubly beautiful
burden; that he can enter at evenings, with his family pos-
session, through the old cloister-gate; that he is inseparable
from his own loved ones, - in all this, I may well secretly
envy him. Yet I must not complain of my destiny; seeing
I have promised thee that I will suffer and be silent, as thou
also hast undertaken.
  Many a fair feature in the domestic union of these devout
and cheerful persons I have been obliged to omit, for how
could it be depicted in writing? Two days have passed over
me agreeably, but the third warns me to be mindful of my
farther wayfaring.
  With Felix I had a little quarrel to-day. He was almost
for compelling me to break through one wholesome regula-
tion, for which I stand engaged to thee. It has been an
error, a misfortune, in short, an arrangement of Fate with
me hitherto, that, before I am aware, my company increases;
that I take a new burden on my shoulders, which thence-
forth I have to bear, and drag along with me. So, in my
present wanderings, no third party is to become a permanent
associate with us. We are, we will and must continue, Two;
and just now a new, and not very pleasing, connection,
seemed about to be established.
  To the children of the house, with whom Felix has gayly
passed these days in sporting, there had joined himself a
little merry beggar-boy, who, submitting to be used or mis-
used as the play required, had very soon got into favor
with Felix. By various hints and expressions, I now gath-
ered that the latter had found himself a playmate for the
next stage of our journey. The boy is known in this quar-
ter, and everywhere tolerated for his lively humor, and now
and then obtains an alms. Me, however, he did not please;
and I desired our host to get him sent away. This likewise
took place; but Felix- was angry at it, and we had a little
flaw of discord.
  In the dourse of this affair, I discovered something which
was pleasant to me. In the corner of the chapel, or hall,
stood a box of stones, which Felix, who, since our wander-
ings through the mountains, has acquired an excessive fond-
ness for minerals, eagerly drew forth and examined. Many
pretty eye-gtching things were among them. Our landlord
said the childlnight choose out what he liked : these were the


121





MEISTER'S 'TRAVELS.


remains of a large collection which a friend had despatched
thence a short while ago. He called this person Montan;
and thou wilt easily suppose how glad I was. to hear this
name, under which one of our best friends is travelling, one
to whom we owe so much. Having inquired into date and
circumstances, I can now hope to meet him erelong on my
pilgrimage.




                     CHAPTER V.

  THE news that Montan was in the neighborhood had made
Wilhelm reflect. He considered that it ought not to be left
to chance alone whether he should meet with so estimable a
friend, therefore he inquired of his landlord if they did not
know towards what quarter this traveller had turned his
course. No one had any information on this point; and
Wilhelm had determined to pursue his pilgrimage on the for-
mer plan, when Felix cried, "If father were not so strange,
we might soon find Montan."
  I What way ? " said Wilhelm.
  Felix answered, " Little Fitz told us last night that he
could trace out the stranger gentleman, who had many fine
stones with him, and understood them well."
  After some talking, Wilhelm at last resolved on making
the experiment; purposing, in the course of it, to keep so
much the sharper watch on the suspicious boy. Fitz was
soon found; and, hearing what was to be done, he soon
produced mallet and chisel, and a stout hammer, with a little
bag, and set forth, running merrily before the party, in his
mining accoutrements.
  The way went to. a side, and up the mountains.  The
children skipped on together, from crag to crag, over stock
and stone, over brook and bourn; acid, without having any
path before him, Fitz pressed rapidly upwards, now looking
to the right hand, now- to the left. As Wilhelm, and es-
pecially the laden porter, could not follow so fast, the boys
often ran back and forward, singing and whistling.  The
aspect of some new trees arrested the attention of Felix,
who now, for the first time, formed acquaintance with larches
and fir-cones, and curiously surveyed the strange gentian
shrubs. And thus, in their toilsome wandering, there lacked


122





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


not from time to time a little entertainment. But all at once
they were fronted by a barricado of trees, which a storm had
hurled together in a confused mass. "This was not in my
reckoning," said Fitz.   "Wait here till I find my way
again, only have a care of the cave up there: no one goes
into it or near it, without getting harm, or having tricks
played on him."
  The boy went off in an ascending direction: the porter,
on the other hand, grumbling at the excessive difficulty of
the way, set down his luggage, and searched sidewards and
downwards for some beaten path.
  No sooner did Felix see himself alone with his father,
than his curiosity awoke, and he glided softly toward the
cave. Wilhelm, who gave him leave, observed after some
time that the child was no longer in sight. He himself
mounted to the cave, at the mouth of which he had last
seen the boy; and, on entering, he found the place empty.
It was spacious, but could be taken in at a glance. He
searched for some other outlet, and found none. The matter
began to be serious. He took the whistle which he wore at
his button-hole: an answer to his call came sounding out of
the depth, so that he was uncertain whether he should take
it for an echo, when, shortly afterwards, Felix peeped out
of the ground; for the chink through which he looked was
scarcely wide enough to let through his head.
   " What art thou about there ? " cried his father.
   "Hush ! " said Felix: " art thou alone ?"
   "Quite alone," answered Wilhelm.
   ' Then, go quick," cried the boy, "' and fetch me a couple
of strong clubs."
  Wilhelm went to the fallen timber, and, with his hanger,
cut off a pair of thick staves : Felix took them, and vanished,
having first called to his father, " Let no one into the cave ! "
  After some time Felix cried,    Another pair of staves,
and larger ones! "   With these also his father provided
him, and waited anxiously for the solution of his riddle.
At length tlwhe boy issued rapidly from the cleft, and brought
a little box with him, not larger than an octavo volume, of
rich, antique appearance: it seemed to be of gold, decorated
with enamel. "Put it up, father," said the boy, " and let
none see it."  Wilhelm had not time to ask many questions,
for they already heard the call of the returning porter; and
scarcely had they joined him, when the little squire also
began to shout and wave from above.


123





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  On their approach he cried out," Montan is not far off:
I bet we shall soon meet him."
  " How canst thou know this," said Wilhelm, " in so wild
a forest, where no human being leaves any trace behind
him ?"
  " That is my knack," said Fitz; and, like a Will-o'-wisp,
he hopped off hither and thither, in a side direction, to lead
his masters the strangest road.
  Felix, in the mean while, highly satisfied in the treasure he
had found, highly delighted at possessing a secret, kept close
by his father, without, as formerly, skipping up and down
beside his comrade. He nodded to Wilhelm with sparkling
eyes; glancing towards his companion, and making signifi-
cant faces, to indicate how much he was above Fitz now, in
possessing a secret entirely wanting to the other. He car-
ried it so far at length, that Fitz, who often stopped and
looked about, must very soon have noticed it. Wilhelm
therefore said to Felix, " My son, whoever wishes to keep
a secret must hide from us that he possesses one. Self-
complaisance over the concealed destroys its concealment."
Felix restrained himself; but his former gay, free manner to
h's comrade he could not now attain.
  All at once little Fitz stood still. He beckoned the rest to
him. "Do you hear a beating?" said he. " It is the
sound of a hammer striking on the rock."
  " We hear it," answered they.
  " That is Montan," said he, " or some one who will tell
us of him."
  Following the sound, which was repeated from time to
time, they reached an opening in the wood, and perceived a
steep, high, naked rock, towering over all the rest, leaving
even the lofty forest deep beneath it. On the top of it they
descried a man : he was too far off to be recognized. Imme-
diately the boys set about ascending the precipitous path.
Wilhelm followed with some difficulty, nay, danger: for the
person that climbs a rock foremost always proceeds with
more safety, because he can look out for his conveniences;
he who comes after sees only whither the other has arrived,
but not how. The boys soon reached the top, and Wilhelm
heard a shout of joy. " It is Jarno," cried Felix to his
father; and Jarno immediately came forward to a rugged
spot, stretched out his hand to his friend, and drew him up.
They embraced, and welcomed each other into the free, skyey
air, with the rapture of old friends.


124





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  But scarcely had they stepped asunder, when a giddiness
came over Wilhelm, not so much on his own account, as at
seeing the boys hanging over the frightful abyss. Jarno ob-
served it, and immediately bade all sit down. " Nothing is
more natural," said he, "than that we should grow giddy
at a great sight, which comes unexpectedly before us, to
make us feel at once our littleness and our greatness. But
there is not in the world any truer enjoyment than at the
moment when we are so made giddy for the first time."
   " Are these, then, down there, the great mountains we
climbed over ?" inquired .Felix. " How little they look !
And here," continued he, loosening a crumb of stone from
the rock, " is the old cat-gold again: this is found every-
where, I suppose?"
  " It is found far and wide," answered Jarno; " and, as
thou art asking after such things, I may bid thee notice that
thou art now sitting on the oldest mountain, on the earliest
rock, of this world."
  " Was the world not made at once, then ? " said Felix.
  "Hardly," answered Jarno: " good bread needs baking."
  " Down there," said Felix, " is another sort of rock; and
there again another, and still again another," cried he, point-
ing from the nearest mountains to the more remote, and so
downward to the plain.
  It was a beautiful day, and Jarno let them survey the
lordly prospect in detail. Here and there stood several other
peaks, similar to the one our travellers were on.  A sec-
ondary moderate range of mountains seemed as if struggling
up, but did not by far attain that height. Farther off, the
surface flattened still more; yet again some strangely pro-
truding forms rose to view. At last, in the remote distance,
lakes were visible, and rivers; and a fruitful country spread
itself out like a sea. And, when the eye came back, it
pierced into frightful depths, sounding with cataracts, and
connected with each other in labyrinthic combination.
  Felix could not satisfy himself with questions, and Jarno
was kind enough to answer all of them; in which, however,
Wilhelm thought he noticed that the teacher did not always
speak quite truly and sincerely. So, after the unstaid boys
had again clambered off, Wilhelm said to his friend, " Thou
hast not spoken with the child about these matters as thou
speakest to thyself."
  " That, indeed, were a heavy requisition," answered Jarn!.
" We do not always speak, even to ourselves, as we think;


125





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


and it is not fit to tell others any thing but what they can
take up. A man understands nothing but what is commen-
surate with him. To fix a child's attention on what is pres-
ent; to give him a description, a name, - is the best thing we
can do for him. He will soon enough begin to inquire after
causes."
  " One cannot blame this- latter tendency," observed Wil-
helm. " The multiplicity of objects perplexes every one;
and it is easier, instead of investigating them, to ask di-
rectly, whence and whither?"
  " And yet," said Jarno, "as children look at what is pres-
ent only superficially, we cannot speak with them of origin
and object otherwise than superficially also."
  " Most men," answered Wilhelm, " continue all their days
in this predicament, and never reach that glorious epoch
in which the comprehensible appears to us common and in-
sipid."
  " It may well be called glorious," answered Jarno; "for
It is a middle stage between despair and deification."
   " Let us abide by the boy," said Wilhelm, " who is, at
present, my first care. He has, somehow, got a fondness
for minerals since we began this journey. Canst thou not
impart so much to me as would put it in my power to satisfy
him, at least for a time ?"
   " That will not do," said Jarno. "In every new depart-
rnent one must, in the first place, begin again as a child;
throw a passionate interest over the subject; take pleasure
in the shell till one has the happiness to arrive at the
(iernel."
   "Tell me, then," said Wilhelm, " how hast thou attained
 this knowledge? For it is not so very long, after all, since
 we parted."
   "'My friend," said Jarno, "we were forced to resign
ourselves, if not forever, at least for a long season. The
first thing that occurs to a stout-hearted man, under such
circumstances, is to begin a new life. New objects will not
suffice him; these serve only for diversion of thought: he
requires a new whole, and plants himself in the middle of
it.''
   " But why, then," interrupted Wilhelm, " choose this
 strangest and loneliest of all pursuits?"
   " Even because of its loneliness," cried Jarno. " Men
 I wished to avoid. To them we can give no help, and they
 hinder us from helping ourselves. Are they happy, we must


126





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


let them persevere in their stolidities; are they unhappy, we
must save them without disturbing these stolidities; and no
one ever asks whether Thou art happy or unhappy."
   " It is not quite so bad with them, surely," answered
Wilhelm, smiling.
  " I will not talk thee out of thy happiness," said Jarno.
" Go on thy way, thou second Diogenes! Let not thy
lamp in daylight go out! Down on that side lies a new
world before thee; but, I dare wager, things stand there as
in the old one. If thou canst not pimp, and pay debts, thou
availest nothing."
  " Yet they seem to me more entertaining than thy dead
rocks," said Wilhelm.
  "Not they! " answered Jarno, "for my rocks are at
least incomprehensible."




                     CHAPTER VI.

  THE two friends had descended, not without care and
labor, to reach the children, who were now lying in a shady
spot down below. With almost greater eagerness than their
picnic repast, the collected rock specimens were unpacked by
Montan and Felix. The latter had much to ask, the former
much to nominate. Felix was delighted that his new teacher
could give him names for all, and he speedily committed
them to memory. At length he produced another specimen,
and asked, " What do you call this, then ? "
  Montan viewed it with surprise, and said, " Where did
you get it?"
  Fitz answered promptly, " I found it myself: it is of this
country."
   " Not of this quarter," said Montan. Felix rejoiced to
see his master somewhat puzzled. " Thou shalt have a
ducat," said Montan, " if thou bring me to the spot where
it lies."
   " That is easy to earn," answered Fitz, " but not imme-
diately."
   " Then, describe the place to me accurately, that I may
not fail to find it: but the thing is impossible; for this is a
cross-stone, which comes from Santiago in Compostella, and


127





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


which some stranger has lost, --if, indeed, thou hast not
stolen it from him, for its curious look."
  "Give your ducat into my master's hands," said Fitz,
" and I will honestly confess where I got the stone. In the
ruined church at St. Joseph there is likewise a ruined altar.
Under the top-stones, which are all broken and heaped to-
gether, I discovered a layer of this rock, which has been the
foundation of the other, and broke off from it as much as I
could come at. If the upper stones were cleared away, one
might find much more of it there."
  " Take thy ducat," said Montan: " thou deservest it for
this discovery. It is pretty enough. Men naturally' rejoice
when inanimate nature produces any likeness of what they
love and reverence. Nature then appears to us in the form
of a sibyl, who has beforehand laid down a testimony of what
had been determined from eternity, and was not to be realized
till late in time. On this rock, as on a sacred, mysterious,
primeval basis, the priests had built their altar."
  Wilhelm, who had listened for a while, and observed that
many names, many designations, were repeatedly mentioned,-
again signified his former wish, that Montan would impart
to him so much as was required for the primary instruction
of the boy. " Give that up," replied Montan. " There is
nothing more frightful than a teacher who knows only what
his scholars are intended to know. He' who means to teach
others may, indeed, often suppress the best of what he
knows; but he must not be half instructed."
  " But where are such perfect teachers to be had ? '"
  " These thou wilt find very easily," replied Montan.
  " Where, then ?" said Wilhelm, with some unbelief.
  " Where the thing thou art wishing to learn is in prac-
tice," said Montan. "' Our best instruction we obtain from
complete conversance. Dost thou not learn foreign lan-
guages best in the countries where they are at home? -
where only these and no other strike thy ear?"
   " And so it was among the mountains," inquired Wilhelm,
" that thy knowledge of mountains was acquired ?"
   " Of ,course."
   "Without help from men?"
   " At least only from men who were miners. There, where
the pygmies, allured by the metallic veins, bore through the
rock, making the interior of the earth accessible, and in a
thousand ways endeavoring to solve the hardest problems, -
there is the place where an inquiring thinker ought to take


128





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


his stand. He looks on action and effort, watches the prog-
ress of enterprises, and rejoices in the successful and the
unsuccessful. What is useful forms but a part of the im-
portant. Fully to possess, to command, and rule an object,
we must first study it for its own sake."
   " Is there such a place in the neighborhood? " said Wils
helm. " I should like to take Felix thither."
   "The question I can answer in the affirmative," replied
Montan, " the project not exactly assent to. At least, I
must first tell thee, that thou hast the power of choosing
among many other branches of activity, of knowledge, of
art, for thy Felix, some of which might, perhaps, suit him
better than this sudden fancy which he has taken up at the
moment, most probably from mere imitation."
   " Explain thyself more clearly," interrupted Wilhelm.
   " Thou must know, then," said Montan, " that we are
here on the borders of a province, which I might justly call
a Pedagogic Utopia. In the conviction that only one thing
can be carried on, taught, and communicated with full ad-
vantages, several such points of active instruction have been,
as it were, sown over a large tract of country. At each of
these places thou wilt find a little world, but so complete
within its limitation, that it may represent and model any
other of these worlds, nay, the great busy world itself."
   " I do not altogether comprehend what thou canst mean
by this," interrupted Wilhelm.
   " Thou shalt soon comprehend it," said the other. ' As
 down, not far from this, among the mountains, thou wilt, in
 the first place, find collected round a mass of metalliferous
 rocks, whatever is of use for enabling man to appropriate
 these treasures of Nature, and, at the same time, to acquire
 general conceptions of moulding the ruggedness of inani-
 mate things more dexterously to his own purposes; so down
 in the lowest level, far out on the plain, where the soil
 spreads into large meadows and pastures, thou wilt find
 establishments for managing another important treasure
 which Nature has given to men."
   " And this? " inquired Wilhelm.
   " Is the horse," replied the other. ' In that last quarter
 thou art in the midst of every thing which can instruct one
 on the training, diet, growth, and likewise employment, of
 this noble animal. As in these hills all are busy digging,
 boring, climbing; so there nothing is 'more anxiously at-
 tended to than the young brood, springing, as it were, out of


129





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


the ground: and every one is occupied foddering, grazing,
driving, leading, curbing them, mounting their backs, and
in all sorts of movements, natural and artificial, coursing
with them over the plain."
  Felix, who had approached in the deepest attention, ex-
claimed, interrupting him, " Oh, thither will we ! That is the
prettiest, the best, of all."
   "It is far thither," answered Jarno; " and thou wilt find
something more agreeable and suitable, perhaps, by the way.
Any species of activity," continued he," attracts the fond-
ness of a child; for every thing looks easy that is practised
to perfection. All beginnings are hard, says the proverb.
This, in a certain sense, may be true: but we might say,
with a more universal application, All beginnings are easy;
and it is the last steps that are climbed most rarely and
with greatest difficulty."
  Wilhelm, who had been reflecting in the mean while, now
said to Montan, " Is it actually so, as thou sayest, that these
people have separated the various sorts of activity, both in
the practice and teaching of them ? "
  " They have done it,'' said Montan, ' and with reason.
Whatever any man has to effect, must emanate from him
like a second self; and how could this be possible, were not
his first self entirely pervaded by it?"
  "Yet has not a general culture been reckoned very advan-
tageous ? "
  " It may really be so," replied the other: " every thing in
its time. Now is the time of specialties. Happy he who
understands this, and works for himself and others in that
spirit."
   " In my spirit it cannot be," replied Wilhelm; " but tell
me, if I thought of sending Felix, for a while, into one of
these circles, which wouldst.thou recommend to me ?"
  ' It is all one," said Jarno. " You cannot readily tell
which way a child's capacity particularly points. For me,
I should still advise the merriest trade. Take him to those
horse-subduers. Beginning as a groom is, in truth, little
easier than beginning as an ore-beater: but the prospect is
always gayer; you can hope at least to get through the world
riding."
  It is easy to conceive that Wilhelm had many other doubts
to state, and many further explanations to require: these
Jarno settled in hisusual laconic way, but at last he broke out
as follows: " In all things, to serve from the lowest station


130





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


upwards is necessary. To restrict yourself to a trade is
best. For the narrow mind, whatever he attempts is still a
trade; for the higher, an art; and the highest, in doing one
thing, does all; or, to speak less paradoxically, in the one
thing which he does rightly, he sees the likeness of all that
is done rightly. Take thy Felix," continued he, " through
the province: let the directors see him; they will soon judge
him, and dispose of him to the best advantage. The boy
should be placed among his equals, otherwise he seeks them
for himself, and then, in his associates, finds only flatterers or
tyrants."




                     CHAPTER VII.

  THE third day being over, the friends, in conformity to
the engagement of our renunciants, had to part; and Jarno
declared he would now fly so far into the waste mountains,
that no one should be able to discover him. " There is noth-
ing more frightful," said he, " in a state like ours, than to
meet an old, true friend, to whom we can communicate our
thoughts without reserve. So long as one is by himself,
one fancies there is no end to the novelties and wonders he
is studying: but let the two talk a while together, right from
the heart; one sees how soon all this is exhausted. Nothing
is endless but inanity. Clever people soon explain them-
selves to one another, and then they have done. But now.
I will dive into the chasms of the rocks, and with them be-
gin a mute, unfathoniable conversation."
  " Have a care," said Wilhelm, smiling, ' lest Fitz come
upon thy track. This time, at least, he succeeded in finding
thee."
  " How didst thou manage that? " said Montan. " After
all, it was only chance."
  " Not in the least," answered Fitz : " I will tell you my
secret for a fair consideration. You mineralogists, wherever
you go, keep striking to the right and left; from every stone,
from every rock, breaking off a piece, as if gold and silver
were hid in them. One has but to follow this trace; and,
where any corner shows a fresh breakage, there some of you
have been. One notes and notes, forward and forward, and
at last comes upon the man."


131





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


   Fitz was praised and rewarded. The friends parted,---
 Montan alone, the little caravan in company. Wilhelm had
 settled the place they should make for. The porter proposed
 a road to it; but the children had taken a fancy for looking,
 by the way, at the Giant's Castle, of which Fitz had talked
 so much. Felix was curious about the large, black pillars,
 the great door, the cellar, the caves, and vaults, and hoped
 he might perhaps find something there, - something of even
 greater value than the box.
   How he came by this he had, in the interim, informed his
father. Creeping through the cleft, it appeared he had got
down into an open space pretty well lighted, and noticed in
the corner of it a large iron chest, the lid of which, though it
was not locked, he could not lift, but only raise a very little.
To get into this, he had called to his father for the staves,
which he had employed partly as props under the lid, partly as
levers to heave it up, and so at length forcing his way into the
chest, had found it wholly empty, except for the little box
which was lying in one of the nooks. This toy they had
shown Montan, who agreed with them in opinion, that it
should be kept unopened, and no violence done to it; for it
could not be unlocked except by a very complicated key.
  The porter declined going with the rest to the Giant's
Castle, and proceeded down the smooth footpath by himself.
The others toiled after Fitz through moss and tangle, and
at length reached the natural colonnade, which, towering
over a huge mass of fragments, rose black and wondrous
into the air. Yet, without much regarding what he saw.
before his eyes, Felix instantly began inquiring for the other
promised marvels; and, as none of them.was to be seen, Fitz
could excuse himself no otherwise than by declaring that
these things were never visible except on Sundays and
particular festivals, and then only for a few hours. The
boys remained convinced that the pillared palace was a work
of men's hands: Wilhelm saw well that it was a work of
Nature, but he could have wished for Montan to speak with
on the subject.
  They now proceeded rapidly down hill, through a wood of
high, taper larches, Which, becoming more and more trans-
parent, erelong exposed to view the fairest spot you can
imagine, lying in the clearest sunshine.
  A large garden, seemingly appropriated to use, not orna-
ment, lay richly furnished with fruit-trees, yet open before
their eyes; for the ground, sloping, on the whole, had been


182





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


138


regularly cut into a number of divisions, now raised, now
hollowed in manifold variety, and thus exhibited a complex
waving surface. Several dwelling-houses stood scattered up
and down, so that it seemed as if the space belonged to
several proprietors; yet Fitz assured them that one individ-
ual owned and directed the whole. Beyond the garden
stretched a boundless landscape, beautifully cultivated and
planted, in which lakes and rivers might be distinguished in
the distance.
  Still descending, they had approached nearer and nearer,
and were now expecting in a few moments to be in the
garden, when Wilhelm all at once stopped short, and Fitz
could not hide his roguish satisfaction; for a yawning chasm
at the foot of the mountain opened before them, and showed
on the other side a wall which had hitherto been concealed,
steep enough without, though within it was quite filled up
with soil. A deep trench, therefore, separated them from
the garden, into which they were directly looking. " We
have still .a good circuit to make," said Fitz, "before we
get the road that leads in. However, I know an entrance on
this side, which is much shorter. The vaults where the hill-
water in time of rain is let through, in regular quantities,
into the garden, open here: they are high, and broad enough
for one to walk along without difficulty." The instant Felix
heard of vaults, he insisted on taking this passage and. no
other. Wilhelm followed the children ;' and the party de-
scended the large steps of this covered aqueduct, which was
now lying quite dry. Down below they found themselves
sometimes in light, sometimes in darkness, according as the
side-openings admitted day, or the walls and pillars excluded
it. At last they reached a pretty even space, and were
slowly proceeding, when all at once a shot went off beside
them; and at the same time two secret iron-grated doors
started out, and enclosed them on both sides. Not, indeed,
the whole of them :' Wilhelm and Felix only were caught.
For Fitz, the instant he heard the shot, sprang back; and
the closing grate caught nothing but his wide sleeve : he him-
self, nimbly throwing off his jacket, had darted away without
loss of a moment.
  The two prisoners had scarcely time to recover from their
astonishment, till they heard voices, which appeared to be
slowly approaching. In a little while some armed men with
torches came forward to the grate, looking with eager eyeg
what sort of capture they had made. At the same time they





134


MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


asked if the prisoners would surrender peaceably. " Surren-
der is not the word here," said Wilhelm : " we are already in
your power. It is rather our part to ask, whether you will
spare us? The only weapon we have, I give up to you."
And with these words he handed his hanger through the
grate: this opened directly, and the two strangers were led
forward by the party with great composure. After a short
while they found themselves in a singular place: it was a
spacious, cleanly apartment, with many little windows at the
very top of the walls; and these, notwithstanding the thick
iron gratings, admitted light enough. Seats, sleeping-places,
and whatever else is expected in a middling inn, had been
provided; and it seemed as if any one placed here could
want nothing but freedom.
  Wilhelm, directly after entering, had sat down to consider
his situation : Felix, on the other hand, on recovering from
his astonishment, broke out into an incredible fury. These
large walls, these high windows, these strong doors, this
seclusion, this restriction, were entirely new to him.. He
looked round and round, he ran hither and thither, stamped
with his feet, wept, rattled the doors, struck against them with
his fists, nay, was even on the point of running at them
with his head, had not Wilhelm seized him, and held him
fast between his knees. " Do but look at the thing calmly,
my son," began he; " for impatience and violence cannot
help us. The mystery will clear up; and I must be widely
mistaken, or we are fallen into no wicked hands. Read these
inscriptions: 'To the innocent, deliverance and reparation;
to the misled, compassion; and, to the guilty, avenging jus-
tice.' All this bespeaks to us that these establishments are
works, not of cruelty, but of necessity. Men have but too
much cause to secure themselves from men. Of ill-wishers
there are many, of ill-doers not few; and, to live fitly, well-
doing will not always suffice." Felix still sobbed; but he
had pacified himself in some degree, more by the caresses
than the words of his father. " Let this experience," con-
tinued Wilhelm, " which thou gainest so early and so inno-
cently, remain a lively testimony to thy mind, in how complete
and accomplished a century thou livest. What a journey
had human nature to travel before it reached the point of
being mild, even to the guilty, merciful to the injurious, hu-
mane to the inhuman ! Doubtless they were men of godlike
souls who first taught this, who spent their lives in rendering
the practice of it possible, and recommending it to others.





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


Of the beautiful, men are seldom capable, oftener of the
good; and how highly should we value those who endeavor,
with great sacrifices, to forward that good among their
fellows !"
  Felix, in the course of this consolatory speech, had fallen
quietly asleep on his father's- bosom; and scarcely had the
latter laid him down on one of the ready-made beds, when
the door opened, and a man of prepossessing appearance
stepped in. After looking kindly at Wilhelm for some time,
he began to in.quire about the circumstances which had led
him by the private passage, and into this predicament. Wil-
helm related the affair as it stood, produced some papers
which served to explain who he was, and referred to the
porter, who, he said, must soon arrive on the other side, by
the usual road. This being so far explained, the official
person invited his guest to follow him. Felix could not be
awakened, and his father carried him asleep from the place
which had incited him to such violent passion.
  Wilhelm followed his conductor into a fair garden-apart-
ment, where refreshments were set down, which he was in-
vited to partake of; while the other went to report the state
of matters to his superior. When Felix, on awakening, per-
ceived a little covered table, fruit, wine, biscuit, and, at the
same time, the cheerful aspect of a wide-open door, he knew
not what to make of it. He ran out, he ran back ; he thought
he had been dreaming; and in a little while, with such dainty
fare and such pleasant sights, the preceding terror and all
his obstruction had vanished like an oppressive vision in the
brightness of morning.
  The porter had arrived ; the officer, with another man of a
still friendlier aspect, brought him in; and the business now
came to light, as follows: The owner of this property, chari-
table in this higher sense, that he studied to awaken all
round him to activity and effort, had, for several years, been
accustomed, from his boundless young plantations, to give
out the small wood to diligent and careful cultivators, gratis;
to the negligent, for a certain price; and to such as wished to
trade in it, likewise at a moderate valuation. But these two
latter classes, also, had required their supplies gratis, as the
meritorious were treated; and, this being refused them, they
had attempted stealing trees. Their attempt succeeded in
many ways. This vexed the owner the more, as not only
were the plantations plundered, but, by too early thinning,
often ruined. It had been discovered that the thieves en-


135





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


tered by this aqueduct: so the trap-gate had been erected in
the place, with a spring-gun, which, however, was only meant
for a signal. This little boy had, under various pretexts,
often made his appearance in the garden; and nothing was
more natural than that, out of mischief and audacity, he
should lead the stranger by a road which he had formerly
discovered for other purposes. The people could have
wished to get hold of him: meanwhile, his little jacket was
brought in, and put by among other judicial seizures.
  Wilhelm was now made acquainted with the owner and his
people, and by them received with the friendliest welcome.
Of this family we shall say nothing more here, as some fur-
ther light on them and their concerns is offered us by the
subsequent history.





                    CHAPTER VIII.

                    Wilhelm to Natalia.

  MAN is of a companionable, conversing nature: his de-
light is great when he exercises faculties that have been
given him, even though nothing further came of it. How
often in society do we hear the complaint that one will not
let the other speak; and in the same manner, also, we might
say, that one would not let the other write, were not writing
an employment commonly transacted in private and alone.
  How much people write, one could scarcely ever conjecture.
I speak not of what is printed, though that, in itself, is
abundant enough, but of all that, in the shape of letters
and memorials and narratives, anecdotes, descriptions of
present circumstances in the life of individuals, sketches,
and larger essays, circulates in secret: of this you can form
no idea, till you have lived for some time in a community of
cultivated families, as I am now doing. In the sphere where
I am moving at present, there is almost as much time em-
ployed in informing friends and relatives of what is trans-
acted as was employed in transacting it. This observation,
which for several weeks has been constantly forced on me,
I now make with the more pleasure, as the writing tendency-
of my new friends enables me, at once and perfectly, to get


136





MEISTER'S 'RAVELS.


137


acquainted with their characters and circumstances. I am
trusted: a sheaf of letters is given to me, some quires of a
travelling-journal, the confessions of some mind not yet in
unity with itself ; and thus everywhere, in a little while, I am
at home. I know the neighboring circle, I know the persons
whose acquaintance I am to obtain: I understand them bet-
ter, almost, than they do themselves; seeing they are still
implicated in their situation, while I hover lightly past them,
ever with thy hand in mine, ever speaking with thee about
all I see. Indeed, it is the first condition I make before ac-
cepting any confidence offered me, that I may impart it to
thee. Here, accordingly, are some letters which will intro-
duce thee into the circle in which, without breaking or evad-
ing my vow, I, for the present, revolve.




                  THE NUT-BROWN MAID.

                  Lenardo to his Aunt.

  AT last, dear aunt, after three years you receive my first
letter, conformably to our engagement, which, in truth, was
singular enough. I wished to see the world and mingle in it,
and wished, during that period, to forget the home whence I
had departed, whither I hoped to return. The whole impres-
sion of this home I purposed to retain, and the partial and
individual was not to confuse me at a distance. Meanwhile
the necessary tokens of life and welfare have, from time to
time, passed to and fro between us. I have regularly received
money, and little presents for my kindred have been deliv-
ered you for distribution. By the wares I sent, you would
see how and where I was. By the wines, I doubt not my
uncle has tasted out my several places of abode; then the
laces, knick-knacks, steel wares, would indicate to my fair
cousins my progress through Brabant, by Paris, to London;
and so, on their writing-desks, work-boxes, tea-tables, I shall
find many a symbol wherewith to connect the history of my
journeyings. You have accompanied me without hearing of
me, and, perhaps, may care little about knowing more. For





188              MEISTER'S TRAVELS.

me, on the other hand, it is highly desirable to learn, through
ydur kindness, how it stands with the circle into which I am
once more entering. I would, in truth, return from strange
countries as a stranger, who, that he may not be unpleasant,
first informs himself about the way and manner of the house-
hold; not fancying, that, for his fine eyes or hair, he shall be
received there quite in his own fashion. Write to me, there-
fore, of my worthy uncle, of your fair nieces, of yourself, of
our relations near and distant, of servants also, old and new.
In short, let your practised pen, which for so long a time you
have not dipped into ink for your nephew, now again tint
paper in his favor. Your letter of news shall forthwith be
my credential, with which I introduce myself so soon as I
obtain it. On you, therefore, it depends, whether you will
see me or not. We alter far less than we imagine; and cir-
cumstances, too, continue much as they were. Not only what
has altered, but what has continued, what has by degrees
waxed and waned, do I now wish instantly to recognize at
my return, and so once more to see myself in a well-known
mirror. Present my heartiest salutations to all our people,
and believe, that, in the singular manner of my absence and
my return, there may lie more true affection than is often
found in constant participation and lively intercourse. A
thousand compliments to one and all!

  Postscript. - Neglect not, also, my dear aunt, to say a
word or two about our dependants,- how it stands with our
stewards and farmers. What has become of Valerina, the
daughter of that farmer whom my uncle, with justice cer-
tainly, but also, as I thought, with some severity, ejected
from his lands when I went away? You see, I still remember
many a particular: I still know all. On the past you shall
examine me when you have told me of the present.


                  The Aunt to Julietta.

  At last, dear children, a letter from our three-years' speech-
less traveller. What strange beings these stirange men are !
He will have it that his wares and tokens were as good as so
many kind words, which friend may speak or write to friend.
He actually fancies himself our creditor, requires from us, in
the first place, the performance of that service which he so
unkindly refused. What is to be done? For me, I should





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


have met his wishes forthwith in a long letter, did not this
headache signify too clearly that the present sheet can scarcely
be filled. We all long to see him. Do you, my dears, under-
take the business. Should I be recovered before you have
done, I will contribute my share. Choose the persons and
circumstances, as you like best to describe them. Divide
the task. You will do it all far better than I. The messen-
ger will bring me back a note from you.

                   Julietta to her Aunt.

   We have read and considered, and now send you by the
 messenger our view of the matter, each in particular; having
 first jointly signified that we are not so charitable as our dear
 aunt to her ever perverse nephew. Now, when he has kept
 his cards hid from us for three years, and still keeps them
 hid, we, forsooth, are to spread ours on the table, and play
 an open against a secret game. This is not fair, and yet let
it pass; for the craftiest is often caught, simply by his own
oyer-anxious precautions. But, as to the way and manner of
transacting this commission, we are not agreed. To write
of our familiars as we think of them is for us, at least, a
very strange problem. Commonly we do not think of them
at all, except in this or that particular case, when they give us
some peculiar satisfaction or vexation. At other times, each
lets his neighbor go his way. You alone could manage it,
dear aunt; for you have both the penetration and the toler-
ance. Hersilia, who, you know, is not difficult to kindle, has
just, on the spur of the moment, given me a bird's-eye view
of the whole family in all the graces of caricature. I wish
it stood on paper, to entice a smile from yourself in your ill-
ness, but not that I would have it sent. My own project is,
to lay before him our correspondence for these three years:
then let him read, if he have the heart; or let him come and
see with his eyes, if he have not. Your letters to me, dear
aunt, are in the best order, and all at your service. Hersilia
dissents from this opinion, excuses herself with the disorder
of her papers, and so forth, as she will tell you herself.

                    Hersilia to her Aunt.

   I will and must be very brief, dear aunt; for the messenger
 is clownishly impatient. I reckon it an excess of generosity,


139





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


and not at all in season, to submit our correspondence to
Lenardo. What has he to do with knowing all the good we
have said of him, with knowing all the ill we have said of
him, and finding out from the latter, still more than from the
former, that we like him? Hold him tight, I entreat you !
There is something so precise and presumptuous in this de-
mand, in this conduct, of his, -just the fashion of your
young gentlemen when they return from foreign parts. They
can never look on those who have staid at home as full-grown
persons, like themselves. Make your headache an excuse.
He will come, doubtless ; and, if he do not come, we can wait
a little. Perhaps his next idea may be, to introduce himself
in some strange, secret way, to become acquainted with us
in disguise; and who knows what more may be included in
the plan of so deep a gentleman? How pretty and curious
this would be ! It could not fail to bring about all manner
of embroilments and developments, far grander than any
that could be produced by such a diplomatic entrance into
his family as he now purposes.
  The messenger ! The messenger ! Bring up your old peo-
ple better, or send young ones. This man is neither to be
pacified with flattery nor wine. A thousand farewells !

  Postscript for Postscript. - What does our cousin want,
will you tell me, with his postscript of Valerina ? This ques-
tion of his has struck me doubly. She is the only person
whom he mentions by name. The rest of us are nieces, aunts,
stewards, - not persons, but titles. Valerina, our lawyer's
daughter ! In truth, a pretty, fair-haired girl, that may have
glanced in our gallant cousin's eyes before he went away.
She is married well and happily: this to you is no news; but
to him it is, of course, as unknown as every thing that has
occurred here. Forget not to inform him, in a postscript,
that Valerina grew daily more and more beautiful, and so at
last made a very good match. That she is the wife of a rich
proprietor. That the lovely, fair-haired maid is married.
Make it perfectly distinct to him. But neither is this all,
dear aunt. How the man can so accurately remember his
flaxen-hdaded beauty, and yet confound her with the daughter
of that worthless farmer, with a wild humble-bee of a bru-
nette, whose name was Nachodina, and who went away,
Heaven knows whither, - this, I declare to you, remains
entirely incomprehensible, and puzzles me quite excessively.
For it seems as if our pretty cousin, who prides himself on


140





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


his good memory, could change names and persons to a very
strange degree. Perhaps he feels this obscurely himself,
and would have the faded image refreshed by your delinea-
tion. Hold him tight, I beg of you ! but try to learn, for our
own behoof, how it does stand with -these Valerinas and
Nachodinas, and how many more Inas and Trinas have re-
tained their place in his imagination, while the poor Ettas
and Ilias have vanished.  The messenger! The cursed
messenger!

                 The Aunt to her Nieces.
                       (DICTATED.)
  Why should we dissemble towards those we have to spend
our life with? Lenardo, with .all his peculiarities, deserves
confidence. I send him both your letters; from these he will
get a view of you: and the rest of us, I.hope, will erelong
unconsciously find occasion to depict ourselves before him
likewise. Farewell! My head is very painful.


                  Hersilia to her Aunt.

  Why should we dissemble towards those we have to spend
our life with? Lenardo is a spoiled nephew. It is horrible
in you to send him our letters. From these he will get no
real view of us; and I wish, with all my heart, for oppor-
tunity to let him view me in some other light. You give
pain to others, while you are in pain yourself, and blind to
boot. Quick recovery to your head! Your heart is irrecov-
erable.

                  The Aunt to Hersilia.

  Thy last note I should likewise have packed in for Le-
nardo, had I happened to continue by the purpose which my
irrecoverable heart, my sick head, and my love of ease, sug-
gested to me. Your letters are not gone. I am just parting
with the ybung man who has been for some time living in our
circle, who, by the strangest chance, has come to know us
pretty well, and is, withal, of an intelligent and kindly
nature. Him I am despatching. He undertakes the task
with great readiness.   He will prepare our nephew, and
send or bring him. Thus can your aunt recollect herself in


141





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


the course of a rash enterprise, and bend into another path.
Hersilia also will take thought, and a friendly revocation
will not long be wanting from her hand.

  Wilhelm having accurately and circumstantially fulfilled
this task, Lenardo answered with a smile, " Much as I am
obliged to you for what you tell me, I must still put another
question. Did not my aunt, in conclusion, request you also
to inform me of another, and, seemingly, an unimportant,
matter ? "
  Wilhelm thought a moment. " Yes," said he then: " I
remember. She mentioned a lady, named Valerina. Of her
I was to tell you that she is happily wedded, and every way
well."
  "You roll a stone from my heart," replied Lenardo. " I
now gladly return home, since I need not fear that my recol-
xection of this girl can reproach me there."
  " It beseems not me to inquire what relation you have had to
her," said Wilhelm: " only you may be at ease if in any way
you feel concerned for her fortunes."
  " It is the strangest relation in the world," returned Le-
nardo, -" nowise a love-matter, as you might, perhaps, con-
jecture. I may confide in you, and tell it; as, indeed, there
is next to nothing to be told. But what must you think,
when I assure you that this faltering in my return, this fear
of revisiting our family, these strange preparatives,' and
inquiries how things looked at home, had no other object
but to learn, by the way, how it stood with this young
woman ?
  "For you will believe," continued he, "I am very well
aware that we may leave people whom we know without find-
ing them, even after a considerable time, much altered; and
so I likewise expect very soon to be quite at home with my
relatives. This single being only gave me pause: her for-
tune, I knew, must have changed; and, thank Heaven, it
has changed for the better."
  " You excite my curiosity," said Wilhelm. " There must
be something singular in this."
   " I, at least, think it so," replied Lenardo, and began his
narrative as follows :
   " To accomplish, in my youth, the grand adventure of a
tour through cultivated Europe was a fixed purpose, which I
had entertained from boyhood; but the execution of which
was, as usually happens in these things, from time to time


142





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


postponed. What waS at hand attracted me, retained me;
and the distant lost more and more of its charms the more I
read of it or heard it talked of. However, at last, incited
by my uncle, allured by friends who had gone forth into the
world before me, I did form the resolution, and that more
rapidly than any one had been expecting.
  ' My uncle, who had to afford the main requisite for my
enterprise, directly made this his chief concern. You know
him, and the way he has, -how he still rushes with his
whole force on one single object, and every thing else in the
mean while must rest and be silent: by which means, indeed,
he has effected much that seemed to lie beyond the influence
of any private man. - This journey came upon him, in some
degree, unawares; yet he very soon took his measures.
Some buildings which he had planned, nay, even begun, were
abandoned; and, as he never on any account meddles with
his accumulated stock, he looked about him, as a prudent
financier, for other ways and means., The most obvious
plan was, to call in outstanding debts, especially remainders
of rent; for this, also, was one of his habits, that he was
indulgent to debtors, so long as he himself had, to a certain
degree, no need of money. He gave his steward the list,
with orders to manage the business. Of individual cases we
learned nothing: only I heard transiently, that the farmer
of one of our estates, with whom my uncle had long exercised
patience, was at last actually to be ejected; his cautionary
pledge, a scanty supplement to the produce of this prosecu-
tion, to be retained, and the land- to be let to some other
person. This man was of a religious turn, but not, like
others of his sect among us, shrewd and active withal; for
his piety and his goodness he was loved by his neighbors,
but, at the same time, censured for his weakness, as the
master of a house. After the death of his wife, a daughter,
whom we usually named the Nut-brown Maid, though already
giving promise of activity and resolution, was still too young
for taking a decisive management: in short, the man went
back in his affairs; and my uncle's indulgence had not
stayed the sinking of his fortune.
   " I had my journey in my head, and could not quarrel
with the means for accomplishing it. All was ready: pack-
ing and sorting went forward; every moment was becoming
full of business. One evening I was strolling through the
park for the last time, to take leave of my familiar trees
and bushes, when all at once Valerina stepped into my way,


143





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


- for such was the girl's name: the other was but a by.
name, occasioned by her brown complexion. She stepped
into my. way."
  Lenardo paused for a moment, as if considering. " How
is this, then ?" said he. " Was her name really Valerina?
Yes, surely," he continued; "I but the by-name was more
common. In short, the brown maid came into my path, and
pressingly entreated me to speak a good word for her father,
for herself, to my uncle. Knowing how the matter stood,
and seeing clearly that it would be difficult, nay, impossible,
to do her any service at this moment, I candidly told her so,
and set before her the blameworthiness of her father in an
unfavorable light.
  " She answered this with so much clearness, and, at the
same time, with so much filial mitigation and love, that quite
gained me; and, had it been my own money, I should
instantly have made her happy by granting her request.
But it was my uncle's income; these were his arrangements,
his orders: with such a temper as his, to attempt altering
aught that had been done was hopeless. From of old I had
looked on a promise as in the highest degree sacred. Who-
ever asked any thing of me embarrassed me. I had so ac-
customed myself to refuse, that I did not even promise
what I purposed to perform. This habit came in good stead
in the present instance. Her arguments turned on individu-
ality and affection, mine on duty and reason; and I will not
deny that at last they seemed too harsh, even to myself.
Already we had more than once repeated our topics without
convincing one another, when necessity made her more elo-
quent: the inevitable ruin which she saw before her pressed
tears from her eyes. Her collected manner she entirely lost :
she spoke with vivacity, with emotion; and, as I still kept
up a show of coldness and composure, her whole soul turned
itself outwards. I wished to end the scene; but all at once
she was loing at my feet, had seized my hand, kissed it, and
was looking up to me, so good, so gentle, with such suppli-
cating loveliness, that, in the haste of the moment, I forgot
myself: Hurriedly I said, while raising her from her kneel-
ing posture, ' I will do what is possible: compose thyself, my
child ! 'and so turned into a side-path. 'Do what is impos-
sible ! ' cried she after me. I now knew not what I was
saying, but answered, I will,' and hesitated. 'Do it!'
cried she, at once enlivened, and with a heavenly expression
of hope. I waved a salutation to her, and hastened away.


144





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


145


  " To my uncle I did not mean to apply directly; for I
knew too well that wi/h him it was vain to speak about the
partial, when his purpose was the whole. I inquired for
the steward; he had ridden off to a distance: visitors came
in the evening, friends wishing to take leave of me. They
supped and played till far in the night. They continued
next day, and their presence effaced the image of my im-
porunate petitioner. The steward returned: he was busier
and more overloaded than ever. All were asking for him:
he had no time to hear me. However, I did make an effort
to detain him; but scarcely had I named that pious farmer,
when he eagerly repelled the proposal. ' For Heaven's sake,
not a word of this to your uncle, if you would not have a
quarrel with him!' The day of my departure was fixed: I
had letters to write, guests to receive, visits in the neighbor-
hood to pay. My servants had been hitherto sufficient for
my wants, but were nowise adequate to forward the arrange-
ments of a distant journey. All lay on my own hands; and
yet, when the steward appointed me an hour in the night be-
fore my departure to settle our money concerns, I neglected
not again to solicit him for Valerina's father.
  " LDear baron,' said the unstable man, 'how can such a
thing ever come into your head? To-day already I have had
a hard piece of work with your uncle, for the sum you need
is turning out to be far higher than we reckoned on. This
is natural enough, but not the less perplexing. To the old
gentleman it is especially unwelcome, when a business seems
concluded, and yet many odds and ends are found straggling
after it. This is often the case, and I and the rest have to
take the brunt of it. As to the rigor with which the out-
standing debts were to be gathered in, he himself laid down
the law to me: he is at one with himself on this point, and
it would be no easy task to move him to indulgence. Do
not try it, I beg of you ! It is quite in vain.'
  " I let him deter me from my attempt, but not entirely. I
pressed him, since the execution of the business depended
on himself, to act with mildness and mercy. He promised
every thing, according to the fashion of such persons, for
the sake of momentary peace. He got quit of me: the
bustle, the hurry of business, increased. I was in my car-
riage, and had turned my back on all home concerns.
   " A keen impression is like any other wound: we do not
feel it in receiving it. Not till afterwards does it begin to
smart and gangrene. So was it with me in regard to this





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


occurrence in the park. Whenever I was solitary, whenever
I was unemployed, that image of the entreating maiden, with
the whole accompaniment, with every tree and bush, the place
where she knelt, the side-path I took to get rid of her, the
whole scene, rose like a fresh picture before my soul. It
was an indestructible impression, which, by other images and
interests, might indeed be shaded or overhung, but never
obliterated. Still, in every quiet hour, she came before me;
and, the longer it lasted, the more painful did I feel the blame
which I had incurred against my principles, against my cus-
tom, though not expressly, only while hesitating, and for the
first tiine caught in such a perplexity.
  " I failed not, in my earliest letters, to inquire of our
steward how the business had turned. He answered evas-
ively.  Then he engaged to explain this point; then he
wrote ambiguously; at last he became silent altogether
Distance increased ; more objects came between me and my
home; I was called to many new observations, many new
sympathies; the image faded away, the maiden herself, al-
most to the name. The remembrance of her came more
rarely before me; and my whim of keeping up my inter-
course with home, not by letters, but by tokens, tended
gradually to make my previous situation, with all its circum-
stances, nearly vanish from my mind. Now, however, when
I am again returning home, when I am purposing to repay
my family with interest what I have so long owed it, now at
last this strange repentance, strange I myself must call it,
falls on me with its whole weight. The form of the maiden
brightens up with the forms of my relatives: and I dread
nothing more deeply than to learn, that, in the misery into
which I drove her, she has sunk to ruin; for my negligence
appears in my own mind an abetting of her destruction, a
furtherance of her mournful destiny. A thousand times I
have told myself that this feeling was at bottom but a weak-
ness; that my early adoption of the principle, never to
promise, had originated-in my fear of repentance, not in any
noble sentiment. And now it seems as if Repentance, which
I had fld from, meant to avenge herself by seizing this in-
cident, instead of hundreds, to pain me. Yet is the picture,
the imagination which torments me, so agreeable withal, so
lovely, that I like to linger over it. And, when I think of
the scene, that kiss which she imprinted on my hand still
seems to burn there."
  Lenardo was silent; and Wilhelm answered quickly and


146





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


gayly, " It appears, then, I could have done you no greater
service than by that appendix to my narrative; as we often
find in the postscript the most interesting part of the letter.
In truth, I know little of Valerina, for I heard of her only
in passing: but, for certain, she is the wife of a prosperous
land-owner, and lives happily; as your aunt assured me on
taking leave."
  " Good and well," said Lenardo: " now there is nothing
to detain me. You have given me absolution : let us now to
my friends, who have already waited for me too long." To
this Wilhelm answered, " Unhappily I cannot attend you;
for a strange obligation lies on me to continue nowhere longer
than three days, and not to revisit any place in less than a
year. Pardon me, if I am not at liberty to mention the
cause of this singularity."
  " I am very sorry," said Lenardo, " that we are to lose
you so soon ; that I cannot, in my turn, do any thing for you.
But, since you are already in the way of showing me kind-
ness, you might make me very happy if you pleased to visit
Valerina, to inform yourself accurately of her situation, and
then to let me have in writing or in speech (a place of meet-
iug might easily be found,) express intelligence for my
complete composure."
   This proposal was further discussed: Valerina's place of
residence had been named to Wilhelm. He engaged to visit
her: a place of meeting was appointed, to which the baron
should come, bringing Felix with him, who in the mean while
had remained with the ladies.
   Lenardo and Wilhelm had proceeded on their way for some
time, riding together through pleasant fields, with abundance
of conversation, when at last they approached the highway,
and found the baron's coach in waiting, now ready to revisit,
with its owner, the spot it had left three years before. Here
the friends were to part; and Wilhelm, with a few kindly
words, took his leave, again promising the baron speedy
news of Valerina.
   " Now, when I bethink me," said Lenardo, " that it were
 but a small circuit if I accompanied you, why should I not
 visit Valerina myself? Why not witness with my own eyes
 her happy situation? You were so friendly as to engage to
 be my messenger, why should you not be my companion?
 For some companion I must have, some moral counsel; as
 we take legal counsel to assist us, when we think ourselves
 inadequate to the perplexities of a process."


147





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  Wilhelm's objections, that the friends at home vould be
anxiously expecting the long-absent traveller, that it would
produce a strange impression if the carriage came alone, and
other reasons of the like sort, had no weight with Lenardo;
and Wilhelm was obliged at last to resolve on acting the
companion to the baron, a task on which, considering the
consequences that might be apprehended, he entered with no
great alacrity.
  Accordingly the servants were instructed what to say on
their arrival, and the two friends now took the road for
Valerina's house. The neighborhood appeared rich and fer-
tile, the true seat of agriculture. Especially the grounds of
Valerina's husband seemed to be managed with great skill
and care. Wilhelm had leisure to survey the landscape ac-
curately, while Lenardo rode in silence beside him. At last
the latter said, "Another in my place would perhaps try
to meet Valerina undiscovered, for it is always a painful
feeling to appear before those whom we have injured; but I
had rather front this, and bear the reproach which I have to
dread from her first look, than secure myself from it by dis-
guise and untruth. Untruth may bring us into embarrass-
ment quite as well as truth; and, when we reckon up how
often the former or the latter profits us, it really seems most
prudent, once for all, to devote ourselves to what is true.
Let us go forward, therefore, with cheerful minds: I will
give my name, and introduce you as my friend and fellow-
traveller."
   They had now reached the house, and dismounted in the
court. A portly man, plainly dressed, whom you might have
taken for a farmer, came out to them, and announced him-
self as master of the family. Lenardo named himself; and
the landlord seemed highly delighted to see him, and obtain
his acquaintance.   " What will my wife say," cried he,
" when she again meets the nephew of her benefactor? She
never tires of recounting and reckoning up what her father
owes your uncle."
   What strange thoughts rushed in rapid disorder through
Lenardo's mind! " Does this man, who looks so honest-
minded, hide his bitterness under a friendly countenance
and smooth words ? Can he give his reproaches so courteous
an outside? For did not my uncle reduce that family to
misery? And can the man be ignorant of this?  Or," so
thought he to himself, with quick hope, " has the business
not been so bad as thou supposest? For no decisive intel-


148





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


ligence has ever yet reached thee." Such conjectures alter-
nated this way and that, while the landlord was ordering out
his carriage to bring home his wife, who, it appeared, was
paying a visit in the neighborhood.
  "If, in the mean while, till my wife return," said the
latter, " I might entertain you in my own way, and at the
same time carry on my duties, say you walk a few steps
with me into the fields, and look about you how I manage
my husbandry; for, no doubt, to you, as a great proprietor
of land, there is nothing of more near concernment than the
noble science, the noble art, of agriculture."
  Lenardo made no objection: Wilhelm liked to gather in-
formation. The landlord had his ground, which he pos-
sessed and ruled without restriction, under the most perfect
treatment; what he undertook was adapted to his purpose;
what he sowed and planted was always in the right place;
and he could so clearly explain his mode of procedure, and
the reasons of it, that every one comprehended him, and
thought it possible for himself to do the same, - a mistake
one is apt to fall into on looking at a master, in whose hand
all moves as it should do.
  The strangers expressed their satisfaction, and had noth-
ing but praise and approval to pronounce on every thing they
saw. He received it gratefully and kindly, and at last
added, " Now, however, I must show you my weak side, a
quality discernible in every one that yields himself exclusively
to one pursuit."   He led them to his court-yard, showed
them his implements, his store of these, and, besides this, a
store of all imaginable sorts of farm-gear, with its appurte-
nances, kept by way of specimen. " I am often blamed,"
said he, " for going too far in this matter; but I cannot
quite blame myself. Happy is he to whom his business itself
becomes a puppet, who, at length, can play with it, and
nmuse himself with what his situation makes his duty."
  The two friends were not behindhand with their questions
and examinations. Wilhelm, in particular, delighted in the
general observations which this man appeared to have a turn
for makihg, and failed not to answer them; while the baron,
more immersed in his own thoughts, took silent pleasure in
the happiness of Valerina, which, in this situation, he reck-
oned sure, yet felt underhand a certain faint shadow of dis-
satisfaction, of which he could give himself no account.
   The party had returned within doors, when the lady's car-
riage drove up. They hastened out to meet her; but what


149





1MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


was Lenardo's amazement, his fright, when she stepped
forth ! This was not the person : this was no nut-brown
maid, but directly the reverse, -a fair, slim form, in truth,
but light-haired, and possessing all the charms which be-
longed to that complexion.
  This beauty, this grace, affrighted Lenardo. His eyes had
sought the brown maiden: now quite a different figure
glanced before them. These features, too, he recollected;
her words, her manners, soon banished all uncertainty; it
was the daughter of the lawyer, a man who stood in high
favor with the uncle; for which reason also the dowry had
been so handsome, and the new pair so generously dealt
with. All this, and much more, was gayly recounted by the
young wife as an introductory salutation, and with such a
joy as the surprise of an unexpected meeting naturally gives
rise to. The question, whether they could recognize each
other, was mutually put and answered : the changes in look
were talked of, which in persons of that age are 'found
notable enough. Valerina was at all times agreeable, but
lovely in a high degree when any joyful feeling raised her
above her usual level of indifference. The company grew
talkative: the conversation became so lively that Lenardo
was enabled to compose himself and hide his confusion.
Wilhelm, to whom he had very soon given a sign of this
strange incident, did his best to help him; and Valerina's
little touch of vanity in thinking that the baron, even before
visiting his own friends, had remembered her, and come to
see her, excluded any shadow of suspicion that another pur-
pose, or a misconception, could be concerned in the affair.
  The party kept together till a late hour, though the two
friends were longing for a confidential dialogue; which,
accordingly, commenced the moment they were left alone in
their allotted chambers.
  " It appears," said Lenardo, 1 I am not to get rid of this
secret pain. A luckless confusion of names, I now observe,
redoubles it. This fair-haired beauty I have often seen play-
ing with the brunette, who could not be called a beauty;
nay, I myself have often run about with them over the fields
and gardens, though so much older than they. Neither of
them made the slightest impression on me : I have but re-
tained the name of the one and applied it to the other.
And now her who does not concern me I find happy above
measure in her own way; while the other is cast forth, who
knows whither? into the wide world.'


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  Next morning the friends were up almost sooner than their
active entertainers. The happiness of seeing her guests had
alsor awakened Valerina early. She little fancied with what
feelings they came to breakfast. Wilhelm, seeing clearly,
that, without some tidings of the nut-brown maid, Lenardo
must continue in a painful state, led the conversation to old
times, to playmates, to scenes which he himself knew, and
other such recollections; so that Valerina soon quite natu-
rally came to speak of the nut-brown maid, and to mention
her name.
  No sooner did Lenardo hear the name Nachodina, than he
perfectly remembered it; but, with the name, the figure also,
of that supplicant, returned to him with such violence that
Valerina's further narrative became quite agonizing to him,
as with warm sympathy she proceeded to describe the dis-
trainment of the pious farmer, his submissive resignation
and departure, and how he went away, leaning on his
daughter, who carried a little bundle in her hand. Lenardo
was like to sink under the earth. Unhappily and happily,
she. went into a certain circumstantiality in her details;
which, while it tortured Lenardo's heart, enabled him, with
help of his associate, to put on some appearance of com-
posure.
  The travellers departed amid warm, sincere-invitations, on
the part of the married pair, to return soon, and a faint,
hollow assent on their own part. And as a person who
stands in any favor with himself takes every thing in a favor-
able light; so Valerina explained Lenardo's silence, his visi-
ble confusion in taking leave, his hasty departure, entirely to
her own advantage, and could not, although the faithful and
loving wife of a worthy gentleman, help feeling some small
satisfaction at this re-awakening or incipient inclination, as
she reckoned it, of her former landlord.
  After this strange incident, while the friends were pro-
ceeding on their way, Lenardo thus addressed Wilhelm:
" For our shipwreck with such fair hopes, at the very en-
trance of the haven, I can still console myself in some degree
for the moinent, and go calmly to meet my people, when I
think that Heaven has brought me you, you to whom, under
your peculiar mission, it is indifferent whither or how you
direct your path. Engage to find out Nachodina, and to give
me tidings of her. If she be happy, then am I content;
if unhappy, then help her at my charges. Act without re-
serve; spare, calculate nothing. I shall return home, shall


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


endeavor to get intelligence, and send your Felix to you by
some trusty person. Place the boy, as your intention was,
where many of his equals are placed: it is almost indifferent
under what superintendence; but I am much mistaken if; in
the neighborhood, in the place where I wish you to wait for
your son and his attendant, you do not find a man that can
give you the best counsel on this point. It is he to whom I
owe the training of my youth, whom I should have liked so
much to take along with me in my travels, whom, at least, I
should many a time have wished to meet in the course of
them, had he not already devoted himself to a quiet, domes-
tic life."
   The friends had now reached the spot where they were
 actually to part. While the horses were feeding, the baron
 wrote a letter, which Wilhelm took charge of, yet, for the
 rest, could not help communicating his scruples to Lenardo.
   " In my present situation," said he, " I reckon it a desira-
ble commission to deliver a generous man from distress of
mind, and, at the same time, to free a human creature from
misery, if she happen to be miserable. Such an object one
may look upon as a star, towards which one sails, not know-
ing what awaits him, what he is to meet, by the way. Yet,
with. all this, I must not be blind to the danger which, in
every case, still hovers over you. Were you not a man who
regularly avoids engagements, I should require a promise
from you not again to see this female, who has come to be so
precious in your eyes, but to content yourself when I an-
nounce to you that all is well with her, be it that I actually
find her happy, or am enabled to make her so. But, having
neither power nor wish to extort a promise from you, I con-
jure you by all you reckon dear and sacred, for your own
sake, for that of your kindred, and of me, your new-acquired
friend, to allow yourself no approximation to that lost maiden
under what pretext soever; not to require of me that I men-
tion or describe the place where I find her, or the neighbor-
hood where I leave her; but to believe my word that she is
well, and be enfranchised and at peace."
  Lenardo gave a smile, and answered, 1" Perform this ser-
vice for me, and I shall be grateful. What you are willing
and able to do, I commit to your own hands; and, for my
self, leave me to time, to common sense, and, if possible, to
reason."
  " Pardon me," answered Wilhelm; "but whoever knows
under what strange forms love glides into our hearts, cannot


152





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


but be apprehensive on foreseeing that a friend may come
to entertain wishes, which, in his circumstances, his station,
would, of necessity, produce unhappiness and perplexity."
  " I hope," said Lenardo, " when I know the maiden happy,
I have done with her."
  The friends parted, each in his own direction.





                     CHAPTER IX.

  BY a short and pleasant road, Wilhelm had reached the
town to which his letter was directed. He found it gay and
well built; but its new aspect showed too clearly, that, not
long before, it must have suffered by a conflagration. The
address of his letter let him into the last small, uninjured
portion of the place, to a house of ancient, earnest architec-
ture, yet well kept, and of a tidy look. Dim windows,
strangely fashioned, indicated an exhilarating pomp of colors
from within. Nor, in fact, did the interior fail to correspond
with the exterior. In clean apartments, everywhere stood
furniture, which must have served several generations, inter-
mixed with very little that was new. The master of the
house received our traveller kindly in a little chamber simi-
larly fitted up. These clocks had already struck the hour of
many a birth and many a death: every thing which met the
eye reminded one that the past might, as it were, be pro-
tracted into the present.
  The stranger delivered his letter; but the landlord, with-
out opening it, laid it aside, and endeavored, in a cheerful
conversation, immediately to get acquainted with his guest.
They soon grew confidential; and as Wilhelm, contrary to
his usual habit, let his eye wander inquisitively over the
room, the good old man said to him, " My domestic equip-
ment excites your attention. You here see how long a thing
may last; and one should make such observations now and
then, by way of counterbalance to so much in the world
that rapidly changes, and passes away. This same teakettle
served my parents, and was a witness of our evening family
assemblages; this copper fire-screen still guards me from the
fire. which these stout old tongs still help me to mend; and
so it is with all throughout. I had it in my power to bestow


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my care and industry on many other things, as I did not oc-
cupy myself with changing these external necessaries, a
task which consumes so many people's time and resources.
An affectionate attention to what we possess makes us rich,
for thereby we accumulate a treasure of remembrances con-
nected with indifferent things. I knew a young man whc
got a common pin from his love while taking leave of her,
daily fastened his breast-frill with it, and brought back this
guarded and not unemployed treasure from a long journey-
ing of several years. In us little men, such little things are
to be reckoned virtue."
  "Many a one, too," answered Wilhelm, "brings back,
from such long and far travellings, a sharp pricker in his
heart, which he would fain be quit of."
  The old man seemed to know nothing of Lenardo's situa-
tion, though in the mean while he had opened the letter and
read it; for he returned to his former topics.
  "Tenacity of our possessions," continued he, "in many
cases, gives us the greatest energy. To this obstinacy in
myself I owe the saving of my house. When the town was
on fire, some people wished to begin snatching and saving
here too. I forbade this, bolted my doors and windows
and turned out, with several neighbors, to oppose the flames.
Our efforts succeeded in preserving this summit of the town.
Next morning all was standing here as you now see it, and
as it has stood for almost a hundred years."
  " Yet you will confess," said Wilhelm, " that no man
withstands the change which time produces."
   " That in truth!" said the other; < but he who holds out
longest has still done something.
   "' Yes: even beyond the limits of our being, we are able
to maintain and secure; we transmit. discoveries, we hand
down sentiments as well as property; and; as the latter was
my chief province, I have for a long time exercised the
strictest foresight, invented the most peculiar precautions;
yet not till lately have I succeeded in seeing my wish ful-
filled. .
   " Commonly the son disperses what the father has col-
lected, collects something different, or in a different way.
Yet if we can wait for the grandson, for the new genera-
tion, we find the same tendencies, the same tastes, again
making their appearance. And so at last, by the care of our
pedagogic friends, I have found an active youth, who, if
possible, pays more regard to old possession than even I, and


154





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


has, withal, a vehement attachment to every sort of curiosi-
ties. My decided confidence he gained by the violent exer-
tions with which he struggled to keep off the fire from our
dwelling. Doubly and trebly has he merited the treasure
which I mean to leave him, -nay, it is already given into
his hands; and ever since that time our store is increasing
in a wonderful way.
  "Not all, however, that you see here is ours. On the
contrary, as in the hands of pawnbrokers you find many a
foreign jewel, so with us, I can show you precious articles,
which people, under the most various circumstances, have
deposited with us for the sake of better keeping."
  Wilhelm recollected the beautiful box, which, at any rate,
he did not like to carry with him in his wanderings, and
showed it to his landlord. The old man viewed it with atten-
tion, gave the date when it was probably made, and showed
some similar things. Wilhelm asked him if he thought it
should be opened. The old man thought not. "I believe,
indeed," said he, " it could be done without special harm to
the casket; but, as you found it in so singular a way, you
must try your luck on it. For if you are born lucky, and
this little box is of any consequence, the key will doubtless
by and by be found, and in the very place where you are
least expecting it."
   " There have been such occurrences," said Wilhelm.
   " I have myself experienced such," replied the old man;
" and here you behold the strangest of them. Of this ivory
crucifix I have had, for thirty years, the body with the head
and feet in one place. For its own nature, as well as for
the glorious art displayed in it, I kept the figure laid up in
my most private drawer: nearly ten years ago I got the cross
belonging to it, with the inscription, and was then induced
to have the arms supplied by the best carver of our day.
Far, indeed, was this expert artist from equalling his prede-
cessor; yet I let his work pass, more for devout purposes
than for any admiration of its excellence.
   " Now, conceive my delight ! A little while ago the origi-
nal, genuife arms were sent me, as you see them here united
in the loveliest harmony; and I, charmed at so happy a coin-
cidence, cannot help recognizing in this crucifix the fortunes
of the Christian religion, which, often enough dismembered
and scattered abroad, will ever in the end again gather itself
together at the foot of the cross."
   Wilhelm admired the figure and its strange combination.


155





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


" I will follow your counsel," added he: 4" let the casket
continue locked till the key of it be found, though it should
lie till the end of my life."
  " One who lives long," said the old man, 1' sees much col-
lected and much cast asunder."
  The young partner in the house now chanced to enter, and
Wilhelm signified his purpose of intrusting the box to their
keeping. A large book was thereupon produced, the deposit
inscribed in it, with many ceremonies and stipulations; a
receipt granted, which applied in words to any bearer, but
was only to be honored on the giving of a certain token
agreed upon with the owner.
  So passed their hours in instructive and entertaining con-
versation, till at last Felix, mounted on a gay pony, arrived
in safety. A groom had accompanied him, and was now,
for some time, to attend and serve Wilhelm. A letter from
Lenardo, delivered at the same time, complained that he
could find no vestige of the nut-brown maid; and Wilhelm
was anew conjured to do his utmost in searching her out.
Wilhelm imparted the matter to his landlord. The latter
smiled, and said, " We must certainly make every exertion
for our friend's sake: perhaps I may succeed in learning
something of her. As I keep these old, primitive household
goods; so, likewise, have I kept some old, primitive friends.
You tell me that this maiden's father was distinguished by
his piety. The pious have a more intimate connection with
each other than the wicked, though externally it may not
always prosper so well. By this means I hope to obtain
some traces of what you are sent to seek. But, as a prepara-
tive, do you now pursue the resolution of placing your Felix
among his equals, and turning him to some fixed department
of activity. Hasten with him to the great Institution. I
will point out the way you must follow, in order to find the
chief, who resides now in one, now in another, division of his
province. You shall have a letter, with my best advice and
direction."




                      CHAPTER X.

   THE pilgrims, pursuing the way pointed out to them, had,
without difficulty, reached the limits of the province, where


156





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


they were to see so many singularities. At the very entrance
they found themselves in a district of extreme fertility, -
in its soft knolls, favorable to crops; in its higher hills, to
sheep-husbandry; in its wide bottoms, to grazing. Harvest
was near at hand, and iall was in the richest luxuriance; yet
what most surprised our travellers was, that they observed
neither men nor women, but, in all quarters, boys and youths
engaged in preparing for a happy harvest, - nay, already
making arrangements for a merry harvest-home. Our trav-
ellers saluted several of them, and inquired for the chief, of
whose abode, however, they could gain no intelligence. The
address of their letter was, " To the Chief, or the Three."
Of this, also, the boys could make nothing: however, they
referred the strangers to an overseer, who was just about
mounting his horse to ride off. Our friends disclosed their
object to this man: the frank liveliness of Felix seemed to
please him, and so they all rode along together.
  Wilhelm had already noticed, that, in the cut and color of
the young people's clothes, a variety prevailed, which gave
the whole tiny population a peculiar aspect: he was just
about to question his attendant on this point, when a still
stranger observation forced itself upon him; all the children,
how employed soever, laid down their work, and turned, with
singular, yet diverse, gestures, towards the party riding past
them, or rather, as it was easy to infer, towards the over-
seer, who was in it. The youngest laid their arms crosswise
over their breasts, and looked cheerfully up to the sky; those
of middle size held their hands on their backs, and looked
smiling on the ground; the eldest stood with a frank and
spirited air; their arms stretched down, they turned their
heads to the right, and formed themselves into a line ; whereas
the others kept separate, each where he chanced to be.
  The riders having stopped and dismounted here, as several
children, in their various modes, were standing forth to be
inspected by the overseer, Wilhelm asked the meaning of
these gestures; but Felix struck in, and cried gayly, " What
posture am I to take, then?"
  "Without doubt," said the overseer, " the first posture,
--the arms over the breast, the face earnest and cheerful
towards the sky."
  Felix obeyed, but soon cried, "This is not much to my
taste; I see nothing up there: does it last long? But yes ! "
exclaimed he joyfully: " yonder are a pair of falcons flying
from the west to hlie east; that is a good sign too."


157





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


   ' As thou takest it, as thou behavest," said the other i
" now mingle among them as they mingle."  He gave a sig-
nal; and the children left their postures, and again betook
them to work or sport as before.
  " Are you at liberty," said Wilhelm then, "to explain
this sight, which surprises me? I easily perceive that these
positions, these gestures, are salutations directed to you."
  " Just so," replied the overseer: " salutations which, at
once, indicate in what degree of culture each of these boys
is standing."
  " But can you explain to me the meaning of this grada-
tion ?" inquired Wilhelm; ' for that there is one is clear
enough."
  " This belongs to a higher quarter," said the other : " so
much, however, I may tell you, that these ceremonies are not
mere grimaces; that, on the contrary, the import of them,
not the highest, but still a directing, intelligible import, is
communicated to the children; while, at the same time, each
is enjoined to retain and consider for himself whatever expla-
nation it has been thought meet to give him: they are not
allowed to talk of these things, either to strangers or among
themselves; and thus their instruction is modified in many
ways.   Besides, secrecy itself has many advantages; for
when you tell a man at once, and straightforward, the pur-
pose of any object, he fancies there is nothing in it. Certain
secrets, -even if known to every one, men find that they must
still reverence by concealment and silence; for this works on
modesty and good morals."
  " I understand you," answered Wilhelm: ' why should
not the principle which is so necessary in material things be
applied to spiritual also? But perhaps in another point you
can satisfy my curiosity. The great variety of shape and
color in these children's clothes attracts my notice; and yet
I do not see all sorts of colors, but a few in all their shades,
from the lightest to the deepest. At the same time I observe
that by this no designation of degrees in age or merit can be
intended; for the oldest and the youngest boys may be alike,
both in cut and color, while those of similar gestures are not
similar in dress."
  "On this matter, also," said the other, " silence is pre-
scribed to me; but I am much mistaken, or you will not
leave us without receiving all the information you desire."
  Our party continued following the trace of the chief, which
they believed themselves to be upon. But now the strangers


158





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


could not fail to notice, with new surprise, that, the farther
they advanced into the district, a vocal melody more and
more frequently sounded towards them from the fields.
Whatever the boys might be engaged with, whatever labor
they were carrying on, they accompanied it with singing;
and it seemed as if the songs were specially adapted to their
various sorts of occupation, and in similar cases everywhere
the same. If there chanced to be several children in com-
pany, they sang together in alternating parts.  Towards
evening appeared dancers likewise, whose steps were enliv-
ened and directed by choruses. Felix struck in with them,
not altogether unsuccessfully, from horseback, as he passed;
and Wilhelm felt gratified in this amusement, which gave new
life to the scene.
  "Apparently," he said to his companion, "you devote
considerable care to this branch of instruction: the accom-
plishment, otherwise, could not be so widely diffused and so
completely practised."
  I We do," replied the other: " on our plan, song is the
first step in education; all the rest are connected with it, and
attained by means of it. The simplest enjoyment, as well
as the simplest instruction, we enliven and impress by song;
nay, even what religious and moral principles we lay before
our children are communicated in the way of song. Other
advantages for the excitement of activity spontaneously
arise from this practice: for, in accustoming the children to
write the tones they are to utter- in musical characters, and,
as occasion serves, again to seek these characters in the utter-
ance of their own voice; and, besides this, to subjoin the text
below the notes,- they are forced to practise hand, ear,
and eye at once, whereby they acquire the art of penmanship
sooner than you would expect; and as all this, in the long-
run, is to be effected by copying precise measurement sand
accurately settled numbers, they come to conceive the high
value of mensuration and arithmetic much sooner than in
any other way. Among all imaginable things, accordingly,
we have selected music as the element of our teaching; for
level roads run out from music towards every side."
   Wilhelm endeavored to obtain still further information,
 and expressed his surprise at hearing no instrumental music.
 " This is, by no means, neglected here," said the other,
 " but practised in a peculiar district, one of the most pleasant
 valleys among the mountains and there again we have ar-
 ranged it so that the different instruments shall be taught in


159





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


separate places. The discords of beginners, in particula,
are banished into certain solitudes, where they can drive nio
one to despair; for you will confess, that in well-regulaed
civil society there is scarcely a more melancholy suffering to
be undergone than what is forced on us by the neighborhood
of an incipient player on the flute or violin.
  "I Our learners, out of a laudable desire to be troublesome
to no one, go forth of their own accord, for a longer or a
shorter time, into the wastes, and strive in their seclusion to
attain the merit which shall again admit them into the in-
habited world. Each of them, from time to time, is allowed
to venture an attempt for admission: and the trial seldom
fails of success; for bashfulness and modesty in this, as in
all other parts of our system, we strongly endeavor to main-
tain and cherish. That your son has a good voice I am glad
to observe: all the rest is managed with so much the greater
ease."
  They had'now reached a place where Felix was to stop and
make trial of its arrangements, till a formal reception should
be granted him. From a distance they had been saluted by
a jocund sound of music: it was a game in which the boys
were, for the present, amusing themselves in their hour of
play. A general chorus mounted up; each individual of a
wide circle striking in at his time with a joyful, clear, firm
tone, as the sign was given him by the overseer. The latter
more than once took the singers by surprise, when, at a
signal, he suspended the choral song, and called on any single
boy, touching him with his rod, to catch by himself the ex-
piring tone, and adapt to it a suitable song, fitted also to
the spirit of what had preceded. Most part showed great
dexterity : a few who failed in this feat willingly gave in their
pledges without altogether being laughed at for their ill suc-
cess. Felix was child enough to mix among them instantly,
and in his new task he acquitted himself tolerably well.
The first salutation was then enjoined on him: he directly
laid his hands on his breast, looked upwards, and truly with
so roguish a countenance that it was easy to observe no
secret meaning had yet, in his mind, attached itself to this
posture. *
  The delightful spot, his kind reception, the merry play-
mates, all pleased the boy so well that lie felt no very deep
sorrow as his father moved away : the departure of the pony
was, perhaps, a heavier matter; but he yielded here also,
on learning that in this circle it could not possibly be kept:


160





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


161


and the overseer promised him, in compensation, that he
should find another horse as smart and well broken at a time
when he was not expecting it.
  As the chief, it appeared, was not to- be come at, the over-
seer turned to Wilhelm, and said, " I must now leave you,
to pursue my occupations; but first I will bring you to the
Three, who preside over our sacred things. Your letter is
addressed to them likewise, and they together represent the
chief."  Wilhelm could have wished to gain some previous
knowledge of these sacred things; but his companion an-
swered, " The Three will, doubtless, in return for the con-
fidence you show in leaving us your son, disclose to you, in
their wisdom and fairness, what is most needful for you to
learn.  The visible objects of reverence, which I named
sacred things, are collected in this separate circle; are
mixed with nothing, interfered with by nothing; at cer-
tain seasons of the year only are our pupils admitted here,
to be taught in their various degrees of culture by historical
and. sensible means; and in these short intervals they carry
off a deep enough impression to suffice them for a time, dur-
ing the performance of their other duties."
  Wilhelm had now reached the gate of a wooded vale, sur-
rounded with high walls: on a certain sign the little door
opened, and a man of earnest and imposing look received
our traveller. The latter found himself in a large, beau-
tifully umbrageous space, decked with the richest foliage,
shaded with trees and bushes of all sorts; while stately walls
and magnificent buildings were discerned only in glimpses
through this thick, natural boscage. A friendly reception
from the Three, who by and by appeared, at last turned into
a general conversation, the substance of which we now pre-
sent in an abbreviated shape.
  " Since you intrust your son to us," said they, " it is fair
that we admit you to a closer view of our procedure. Of
what is external you have seen much that does not bear its
meaning on its front. What part of this do you chiefly wish
to have explained?"
  " Dignified yet singular gestures of salutation I have
noticed, the import of which I would gladly learn: with you,
doubtless, the exterior has a reference to the interior, and
inversely; let me know what this reference is."
  "Well-formed, healthy children,"  replied the Three,
" bring much into the world along with them: Nature has
given to each whatever he requires for time and duration;





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


to.unfold this is our duty; often it unfolds itself betted of
its own accord. One thing there is, however, which no child
brings into the world with him ; and yet it is on this one thing
that all depends for making man in every point a man. If
you can discover it yourself, speak it out." Wilhelm thought
a little while, then shook his head.
  The Three, after a suitable pause, exclaimed, ' Rever-
ence! "  Wilhelm seemed to hesitate. " Reverence! "cried
they a second time. " All want it, perhaps you yourself.
  " Three kinds of gestures you have seen; and we inculcate
a threefold reverence, which, when commingled and formed
into one whole, attains its highest force and effect. The
first is, reverence for what is above us. That posture, the
arms crossed over the breast, the look turned joyfully to-
wards heaven, that is what we have enjoined on young chil-
dren; requiring from them thereby a testimony that there is
a God above, who images and reveals himself in parents,
teachers, superiors. Then comes the second, reverence for
what is under us. Those hands folded over the back, and,
as it were, tied together; that down-turned, smiling look, -
announce that we are to regard the earth with attention and
cheerfulness: from the bounty of the earth we are nourished ;
the earth affords unutterable joys, but disproportionate sor-
rows she also brings us.  Should one of our children do
himself external hurt, blamably or blamelessly ; should others
hurt him accidentally or purposely; should dead, involun-
tary matter do him hurt, - then let him well consider it; for
such dangers will attend him- all his days. But from this
posture we delay not to free our pupil the instant we become
convinced that the instruction connected with it has produced
sufficient influence on him. Then, on the contrary, we bid
him gather courage, and, turning to his comrades, range
himself along with them. Now, at last, he stands forth,
frank and bold, not selfishly isolated: only in combination
with his equals does he front the world. Further we have
nothing to add."
   "I quite understand it," said Wilhelm. "Are not the
mass of men so marred and stinted because they take pleas-
ure only in the element of evil-wishing and evil-speaking?
Whoever gives himself to this, soon comes to be indifferent
towards God, contemptuous towards the world, spiteful
towards his equals; and the true, genuine, indispensable
sentiment of self-estimation corrupts into self-conceit and
presumption. Allow me, however," continued he, " to state


162





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


one difficulty. You say that reverence is not natural to man:
now, has not the reverence or fear of barbarous nations for
violent convulsions of Nature, or other inexplicable, mysteri-
ously foreboding occurrences, been heretofore regarded as
the germ out of which a higher feeling, a purer sentiment,
was by degrees to be developed?"
   "' Fear does accord with Nature," replied they, " but rev-
erence, does not. Men fear a known or unknown powerful
being: the strong seeks to conquer it, the weak to avoid it;
both endeavor to get quit of it, and feel happy when, for a
short season, they have put it aside, and their nature has,
in some degree, regained freedom and independence. The
natural man repeats this operation millions of times in the
course of his life; from fear he struggles to freedom; from
freedom he is driven back to fear, and so makes no advance-
ment. To fear is easy, but grievous; to reverence is diffi-
cult, but satisfactory. Man does not willingly submit himself
to reverence; or, rather, he never so submits himself: it is a
higher sense, which must be communicated to his nature;
which only, in some peculiarly favored individuals, unfolds
itself spontaneously, who on this account, too, have of old
been looked upon as saints and gods. Here lies the worth,
here lies the business, of all true religions; whereof there
are, likewise, only three, according to the objects towards
which they direct our devotion."
  The men paused: Wilhelm reflected for a time in silence;
but, feeling in himself no pretension to unfold the meaning
of these strange words, he requested the sages to proceed
with their exposition. They immediately complied. "No
religion that grounds itself on fear," said they, " is regarded
among us. With the reverence to which a man should give
dominion in his mind, he can, in paying honor, keep his own
honor: he is not disunited with himself, as in the former
ease. The religion which depends on reverence for what is
above us we denominate the ethnic; it is the religion of the
nations, and the first happy deliverance from a degrading
fear: all heathen religions, as we call them, are of this sort,
whatsoever, names they may bear.     The second religion,
which founds itself on reverence for what is around us, we
denominate the philosophical; for the philosopher stations
himself in the middle, and must draw down to him all that is
higher, and up to him all that is lower: and only in this
medium condition does he merit the title of Wise. Here, as
he surveys with clear sight his relation to his equals, and


163





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


therefore to the whole human race, his relations likewise to
all other earthly circumstances and arrangements, necessary
or accidental, he alone, in a cosmic sense, lives in truth.
But now we have to speak of the third religion, grounded
on reverence for what is ,beneath us; this we name the
Christian, as in the Christian religion such a temper is with
most distinctness manifested. it is a last step to which man-
kind were fitted and destined to attain. But what a task was
it, not only to be patient with the earth, and let it lie beneath
us, we appealing to a higher birthplace, but also to recognize
humility and poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and
wretchedness, suffering and death, - to recognize these things
as divine, - nay, even on sin and crime to look, not as hin-
derances, but to honor and love them as furtherances of
what is holy. Of this, indeed, we find some traces in all
ages: but the trace is not the goal; and, this being now
attained, the human species cannot retrograde: and we may
say, that the Christian religion, having once appeared, can-
not again vanish; having once assumed its divine shape, can
be subject to no dissolution."
  "To which of these religions do you specially adhere?"
inquired Wilhelm.
  " To all the three," replied they ; " for in their union they
produce what may properly be called the true religion. Out
of those three reverences springs the highest reverence,
reverence for one's self ; and those again unfold themselves
from this: so that man attains the highest elevation of which
he is capable, that of being justified in reckoning himself the
best that God and Nature have produced, - nay, of being
able to continue on this lofty eminence, without being again,
by self-conceit and presumption, drawn down from it into
the vulgar level."
   " Such a confession of faith, developed in this manner.
does not repulse me," answered Wilhelm: " it agrees with
much that one hears now and then in the course of life; only
you unite what others separate."
  To this they replied, " Our confession has already been
adopted, though unconsciously, by a great part of the
world."
   "How, then, and where ? " said Wilhelm.
   ' In the creed ! " exclaimed they; " for the first article
is ethnic, and belongs to all nations; the second, Christian,
for those struggling with affliction and glorified in affliction;
the third, in fine, teaches an inspired communion of saints,


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16h


that is, of men in the highest degree good and wise. And
should not, therefore, the Three Divine Persons, under the
similitudes and names of which these threefold doctrines and
commands are promulgated, justly be considered as in the
highest sense One?"
  "I thank you," said Wilhelm, " for having pleased to lay
all this before me in such clearness and combination, as be-
fore a grown-up person, to whom your three modes of feeling
are not altogether foreign. And now, when I reflect that
you communicate this high doctrine to your children, in the
first place as a sensible sign, then with some symbolical
accompaniment attached to it, and at last unfold to them its
deepest meaning, I cannot but warmly approve of your
method."
  " Right," answered they; " but now we must show you
more, and so convince you the better that your son is in no
bad hands.    This, however, may remain for the morrow:
rest and refresh yourself, that you may attend us in the
morning, as a man satisfied and unimpeded, into the interior
of our sanctuary."





                     CHAPTER XI.

  AT the hand of the eldest, our friend now proceeded
through a stately portal into a round, or rather octagonal,
hall, so richly decked with pictures, that it struck him with
astonishment as he entered. All this, he easily conceived,
must have a significant import; though at the moment he
saw not s. clearly what it was. While about to question
his guide on this subject, the latter invited him to step for-
ward into a gallery, open on the one side, and stretching
round a spacious, gay, flowery garden. The wall, however,
not the flowers, attracted the eyes of the stranger: it was
covered with paintings, and Wilhelm  could not walk far
without observing that the Sacred Books of the Israelites
had furnished the materials for these figures.
   " It is here," said the eldest, " that we teach our first
religion, -- the religion which, for the sake of brevity, I
named the ethnic. The spirit of it is to be sought for in
the history of the world; its outward form, in the.events of





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


that history. Only in the return of similar destinies on whole
nations can it properly be apprehended."
   " I observe," said Wilhelm, "you have done the Israelites
the honor to select their history as the groundwork of this
delineation; or, rather, you have made it the leading object
there."
   " As you see," replied the eldest: " for you will remark,
that on the socles and friezes we have introduced another
series of transactions and occurrences, not so much of a syn
chronistic as of a symphronistic kind; since, among all na-
tions, we discover records of a similar import, and grounded
on the same facts. Thus you perceive here, while in the
main field of the picture, Abraham receives a visit from his
gods in the form of fair youths, Apollo, among the herds-
men of Admetus, is painted above on the frieze.      From
which we may learn, that the gods, when they appear to
men, are commonly unrecognized of them."
  The friends walked on. Wilhelm, for the most part, met
with well-known objects; but they were here exhibited in, a
livelier and more expressive manner than he had been used
to see them. On some few matters he requested explanation,
and at last could not help returning to his former question,
Why the Israelitish history had been chosen in preference to
all others ?
  The eldest answered, " Among all heathen religions, - for
such also is the Israelitish, - this has the most distinguished
advantages, of which I shall mention only a few. At the
ethnic judgment-seat, at the judgment-seat of the God of
nations, it is not asked, Whether this is the best, the most
excellent nation, but whether it lasts, whether it has contin-
ued. The Israelitish people never was good for much, as its
own leaders, judges, rulers, prophets, have a thousand times
reproachfully declared: it possesses few virtues, and most
of the faults of other nations; -but in cohesion, steadfast-
ness, valor, and, when all this would not serve, in obstinate
toughness, it has no match. It is the most perseverant na-
tion in the world: it is, it was, and will be, to glorify the
name of Jehovah through all ages. We have set it up,
therefore, as the pattern-figure, - as the main figure, to
which the others only serve as a frame."
  " It becomes not me to dispute with you," said Wilhelm,
"since you have instruction to impart. Open to me, there-
fore, the other advantages of this people, or, rather, of its
history, of its religion."


166





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


   " One chief advantage," said the other, I is its excellent
 collection of Sacred Books. These stand so happily com-
 bined together, that, even out of the most diverse elements,
 the feeling of a whole still rises before us. They are com-
 plete enough to satisfy, fragmentary enough to excite, bar-
 barous enough to rouse, tender enough to appease; and for
 how many other contradicting merits might not these books,
 might not this one book, be praised ! "
   The series of main figures, as well as their relations to the
smaller which above and below accompanied them, gave the
guest so much to think of, that he scarcely heard the perti-
nent remarks of his guide, who, by what he said, seemed
desirous rather to divert our friend's attention than to fix it
on the paintings. Once, however, the old man said, on some
occasion, " Another advantage of the Israelitish religion I
must here mention : it has not embodied its God in any form,
and so has left us at liberty to represent him in a worthy
human shape, and likewise, by way of contrast, to designate
idolatry by forms of beasts and monsters."
   Our friend had now, in his short wandering through this
hall, again brought the spirit of universal history before his
mind: in regard to the events, he had not failed to meet with
something new. So likewise, by the simultaneous present-
ment of the pictures, by the reflections of his guide, many
new views had risen on him; and he could not but rejoice in
thinking that his Felix was, by so dignified a visible represen-
tation, to seize and appropriate for his whole life those great,
significant, and exemplary events, as if they had actually
been present, and transacted beside him. He came at length
to regard the exhibition altogether with the eyes of the child,
and in this point of view it perfectly contented him. Thus
wandering on, they had now reached the gloomy and per--
plexed periods of the history, the destruction of the city
and the temple, the murder, exile, slavery of whole masses
of this stiff-necked people. Its subsequent fortunes were
delineated in a cunning allegorical way : a real historical de-
lineation of them would have lain without the limits of true art.
  At this point the gallery abruptly terminated in a closed
door, and Wilhelm was surprised to see himself already at
the end. " In your historical series," said he, " I find a
chasm. You have destroyed the Temple of Jerusalem, and
dispersed the people; yet you have not introduced the divine
Man who taught there shortly before, to whom, shortly be-
fore, they would give no ear."


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


   " To have done this, as you require it, would have been an
error. The life of that divine Man, whom you allude to,
stands in no connection with the general history of the world
in his time. It was a private life, his teaching was a teach-
ing for individuals. What has publicly befallen vast masses
of people, and the minor parts which compose them, belongs
to the general history of the world, to the general religion of
the world, -- the religion we have named the first. What in-
wardly befalls individuals belongs to the second religion, the
philosophical: such a religion was it that Christ taught and
practised, so long as he went about on earth. For this
reason the external here closes, and I now open to you the
internal."
   A door went back; and they entered a similar gallery,
where Wilhelm soon recognized a corresponding series of
pictures from the New Testament. They seemed as if by
another hand than the first: all was softer, - forms, move-
ments, accompaniments, light, and coloring.
   " Here," said the guide, after they had looked over a few
pictures, " you behold neither actions nor events, but mir-
acles and similitudes. There is here a new world, a new ex-
terior, different from the former; and an interior, which was
altogether wanting there. By miracles and similitudes a new
world is opened up. Those make the common extraordinary,
these the extraordinary common."
  ' You will have the goodness," said Wilhelm, " to ex-
plain these few words more minutely; for, by my own light,
I cannot."
   " They have a natural meaning," said the other, " though
a deep one. Examples will bring it out most easily and
soonest.  There is nothing more common and customary
than eating and drinking; but it is extraordinary to trans-
form a drink into another of more noble sort, to multiply a
portion of food that it suffice a multitude. Nothing is more
common than sickness and corporeal diseases; but to re-
move, to mitigate these by spiritual or spiritual-like means,
is extraordinary; and even in this lies the wonder of the
miracle, that the common and the extraordinary, the possible
and the impossible, become one. With the similitude again,
with the parable, the converse is the case; here it is 'the
sense, the view, the idea, that forms the high, the unattain-
able, the extraordinary. When this embodies itself into
common, customary, comprehensible figure, so that it meets
us as if alive, present, actual, so that we can seize it, ap-


168





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


169


propriate, retain it, live with it as with our equal, this is a
second sort of miracle, and is justly placed beside the first
sort, - nay, perhaps preferred to it. Here a living doctrine
is pronounced, a doctrine which can cause no argument: it
is not an opinion about what is right and wrong; it is right
and wrong themselves, and indisputably."
  This part of the gallery was shorter; indeed, it formed
but the fourth part of the circuit enclosing the interior court.
Yet, if in the former part you merely walked along, you here
liked to linger, you here walked to and fro. The objects
were not so striking, not so varied; yet they invited you the
more to penetrate their deep, still meaning. Our two friends,
accordingly, turned round at the end of the space; Wilhelm
at the same time expressing some surprise that these delinea-
tions went no farther than the Supper, than the scene where
the Master and his disciples part. He inquired for the re-
maining portion of the history.
   "In all sorts of instruction," said the eldest, " in all
sorts of communication, we are fond of separating whatever
it is possible to separate; for by this means alone can the
notion of importance and peculiar significance arise in the
young mind. Actual experience of itself mingles and mixes
all things together: here, accordingly, we have entirely dis-
joined that sublime Man's life from its termination. In life,
he appears as a true philosopher, - let not the expression
stagger you, -as a wise man in the highest sense.    He
stands firm to his point; he goes on his way inflexibly; and
while he exalts the lower to himself, while he makes the ig-
norant, the poor, the sick, partakers of his wisdom, of his
riches, of his strength, he, on the other hand, in no wise
conceals his divine origin; he dares to equal himself with
God, - nay, to declare that he himself is God. In this man
ner is he wont, from youth upwards, to astound his familiai
friends; of these he gains a part to his own cause, irritates
the rest against him, and shows to all men, who are aiming
at a certain elevation in doctrine and life, what they have to
look for from the world. And thus, for the noble portion of
mankind, 'his walk and conversation are even more instruc-
tive and profitable than his death; for to those trials every
one is called, to this trial but a few. Now, omitting all that
results from this consideration, do but look at the touch-
ing scene of the Last Supper. Here the wise Man, as it
ever is, leaves those that are his own utterly orphaned behind
him; and, while he is careful for the good, he feeds along





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


with them a traitor by whom he and the better are to be de-
stroyed."
  With these words the eldest opened a door, and Wil-
helm faltered in surprise as he found himself again in
the first hall at the entrance.   They had in the mean
while, as he now saw, passed round the whole circuit
of the court.    " I hoped," said Wilhelm, " you were
leading me to the conclusion; and you take me back to
the beginning."
  " For the present," said the eldest, " I can show you
nothing further: more we do not lay before our pupils, more
we do not explain to them, than what you have now gone
through. All that is external, worldly, universal, we com-
municate to each from youth upwards; what is more particu-
larly spiritual, and conversant with the heart, to those only
who grow up with some thoughtfulness of tenper; and the
rest, which is opened only once a year, cannot be imparted
save to those whom we are sending forth as finished. That
last religion which arises from the reverence of what is be-
neath us; that veneration of the contradictory, the hated,
the avoided, - we give each of our pupils in small portions,
by way of outfit, along with him into the world, merely that
he may know where more is to be had should such a want
spring up within him. I invite you to return hither at the
end of a year, to visit our general festival, and see how far
your son is advanced: then shall you be admitted into the
sanctuary of sorrow."
  "' Permit me one question," said Wilhelm: " as you have
set up the life of this divine Man for a pattern and example,
have you likewise selected his sufferings, his death, as a
model of exalted patience? "
   " Undoubtedly we have," replied the eldest. " Of this
we make no secret; but we draw a veil over those sufferings,
even because we reverence them so highly. We hold it a
damnable audacity to bring forth that torturing cross and the
Holy One who suffers on it, or to expose them to the light of
the sun, which hid its face when a reckless world forced such
a sight .on it, to take these mysterious secrets, in which the
divine depth of sorrow lies hid, and play with them, fondle
them, trick them out, and rest not till the most reverend of
all solemnities appears vulgar and paltry. Let so much, for
the present, suffice to put your mind at peace respecting your
son, and to convince you, that, on meeting him again, you
will find him trained, more or less, in one department or


170





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


another, but at least in a proper way, and, at all events, not
wavering, perplexed, and unstable."
  Wilhelm still lingered, looking at the pictures in this en-
trance-hall, and wishing to get explanation of their meaning.
" This, too," said the eldest, " we must still owe you for a
twelvemonth. The instruction which, in the interim, we give
the children, no stranger is allowed to witness: then, how-
ever, come to us; and you will hear what our best speaker s
think it serviceable to make public on these matters."
  Shortly after this conversation a knocking was heard at
the little gate. The overseer of last night announced him-
self; he had brought out Wilhelm's horse: and so our
friend took leave of the Three, who, as he set out, consigned
him to the overseer with these words: "' This man is now
numbered among the trusted, and thou understandest what
thou hast to tell him in answer to his questions; for, doubt-
less, he still wishes to be informed on much that he has seen
and heard while here: purpose and circumstance are known
to thee."
  Wilhelm had, in fact, some more questions on his mind;
and these he erelong put into words. As they rode along they
were saluted by the children as on the preceding evening;
but to-day, though rarely, he now and then observed a boy
who did not pause in his work to salute the overseer, but
let him pass unheeded. Wilhelm asked the cause of this,
and what such an exception meant. His companion an-
swered, " It is full of meaning, for it is the highest pun-
ishment we inflict on our pupils: they are declared unworthy
to show reverence, and obliged to exhibit themselves as rude
and uncultivated natures; but they do their utmost to get
free of this situation, and in general adapt themselves with
great rapidity to any duty. Should a young creature, on the
other hand, obdurately make no attempt at return and
amendment, he is then sent back to his parents with a brief
but pointed statement of his case. Whoever cannot suit
himself to the regulations must leave the district where they
are in force."
  Another circumstance excited Wilhelm's curiosity to-day
as it had done yesterday, - the variety of color and shape
apparent in the dress of the pupils. Hereby no gradation
could be indicated; for children who saluted differently were
sometimes clothed alike, and others agreeing in salutation
differed in apparel. Wilhelm inquired the reason of this
seeming contradiction. " It will be explained," said the


171





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


other, " when I tell you, that, by this means, we endeavor to
find out the children's several characters. With all our gen-
eral strictness and regularity, we allow in this point a certain
latitude of choice. Within the limits of our own stores of
cloths and garnitures the pupils are permitted to select what
color they please; and so, likewise, within moderate limits,
in regard to shape and cut. Their procedure in these mat-
ters we accurately note; for, by the color, we discover their
turn of thinking; by the cut, their turn of acting. How-
ever, a decisive judgment in this is rendered difficult by one
peculiar property of human nature, - by the tendency to
imitate, the inclination to unite with something. It is very
seldom that a pupil fancies any dress that has not been
already there: for most part, they select something known,
something which they see before their eyes. Yet this also
we find worth observing: by such external circumstances
they declare themselves of one party or another; they unite
with this or that; and thus some general features of their
characters are indicated; we perceive whither each tends,
what example he follows.
   " We have had cases where the dispositions of our chil-
dren verged to generality, where one fashion threatened to
extend over all, and any deviation from it to dwindle into
the state of exception. Such a turn of matters we endeavor
softly to stop : we let our stores run out; this and that sort
of stuff, this and that sort of decoration, is no longer to be
had : we introduce something new and attractive; by bright
colors, and short, smart shape, we allure the lively; by grave
shadings, by commodious, many-folded make, the thought-
ful, - and thus, by degrees, restore the equilibrium.
  " For to uniform we are altogether disinclined : it conceals
the character, and, more than any other species of distor-
tion, withdraws the peculiarities of children from the eye of
their superiors."
  Amid this and other conversation, Wilhelm reached the
border of the province, and this at the point where, by the
direction of his antiquarian friend, he was to leave it, to pur-
sue his' next special object.
  At parting, it was now settled with the overseer, that, after
the space of a twelvemonth, Wilhelm should return, when the
grand triennial festival was to be celebrated, on which occa-
sion all the parents were invited, and finished pupils were
sent forth into the tasks of chanceful life. Then, too, so he
was informed, he might visit at his pleasure all the other


172





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


districts, where, on peculiar principles, each branch of edu-
cation was communicated, and reduced to practice, in com-
plete isolation and with every furtherance.




                     CHAPTER XII.

                     Hersilia to Wilhelm.

  MY valued, and, to speak it plainly, dear friend, you are
wrong, and yet, as acting on your own conviction, not wrong
either. So the nut-brown maid is found, then, - found,
seen, spoken to, known, and acknowledged! And you tell
us further, that it is impossible to wish this strange person,
in her own way, any happier condition, or, in her present
one, to be of any real advantage to her.
  And now you make it a point of conscience not to tell us
where that wondrous being lives. This you may settle with
your own conscience, but to us it is unconscionable. You
think to calm Lenardo by assuring him that she is well, He
had said, almost promised, that he would content himself
with this; but what will not the passionate promise for
others and themselves! Know, then, that the matter is not
in the least concluded as it yet stands. She is happy, you
tell us,-happy by her own activity and merit: but the youth
would like to learn the How, the When, and the Where;
and, what is worse than this, his sisters, too, would like to
learn. Half a year is gone since your departure: till the
end of another half-year we cannot hope to see you. Could
not you, like a shrewd and knowing man, contrive to play
your eternal Rouge-et-Noir in our neighborhood? I have
seen people that could make the knight skip over all the
chess-board without ever lighting twice on one spot. You
should learn this feat: your friends would not have to want
you so long.
  But, to set my good will to you in the clearest light, I
now tell you in confidence, that there are two most enchant-
ing creatures on the road: whence I say not, nor whither;
described they cannot be, and no eulogy will do them
justice. A younger and an elder lady, between whom it
always grieves one to make choice,-the former so lovely,


173





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


that all must wish to be loved by her; the latter so attrace
tive, that you must wish to live beside her, though she did
not love you. I could like, with all my heart, to see you
hemmed in for three days between these two splendors:
on the morning of the fourth, your rigorous vow would
stand you in excellent stead.
  By way of foretaste I send you a story, which, in some
degree, refers to them: what of it is true or fictitious you
can try to learn from themselves.


                    THE MAN OF FIFTY.

  The major came riding into the court of the mansion;
and Hilaria, his niece, was already standing without, to
receive him at the bottom of the stairs which led up to the
apartments. Scarcely could he recognize her; for she had
grown, both in stature and beauty.      She flew to meet
him: he pressed her to his breast with the feeling of a
father.
  To the baroness, his sister, he was likewise welcome;
and, as Hilaria hastily retired to prepare breakfast, the
major said with a joyful air, " For this time I can come to
the point at once, and say that our business is finished.
Our brother, the chief marshal, has at last convinced him-
self that he can neither manage farmers nor stewards. In
his lifetime he makes over the estates to us and our chil-
dren: the annuity he bargains for is high, indeed, but we
can still pay it; we gain something for the present, and
for the future all. This new arrangement is to be completed
forthwith. And, as I very soon expect my discharge, I can
again look forward to an active life, which may secure
decided advantages to us and ours. We shall calmly see
our children growing up beside us; and it will depend on
us, on them, to hasten their union."
   "All this were well," said the baroness, L"had not I a
 secret to inform thee of, which I myself discovered first.
 Hilaria�s heart is no longer free: on her side thy son has
 little or nothing to hope for."
   "What sayest thou?"     cried the major. " Is it possi-
 ble? While we have been taking all pains to settle eco-
 nomical concerns, does inclination play us such a trick?
 Tell me, love, quick, tell me, who is it that has fettered
 Hilaria's heart? Or is it, then, so bad as this? Is it not,


174





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175


perhaps, some transient impression we may hope to efface
again? "
  "Thou must think and guesh a little first," replied the
baroness, and thereby heightened his impatience. It had
mounted to the utmost pitch, when the entrance of Hilaria,
with the servants bringing in breakfast, put a negative on
any quick solution of the riddle.
  The major himself thought he saw the fair girl with
other eyes than a little while before. He almost felt as if
jealous of the happy man whose image had been able to
imprint itself on a soul so lovely. The breakfast he could
not relish; and he noticed not that all was ordered as he
liked to have it, and as he had used to wish and require it.
  In this silence and stagnation Hilaria herself almost lost
her liveliness. The mother felt embarrassed, and led her
daughter to the harpsichord; but Hilaria's sprightly and
expressive playing scarcely extorted any approbation from
the major. He wished the breakfast and the lovely girl
fairly out of the way; and the baroness was at last obliged
to resolve on breaking up, and proposed to her brother a
walk in the garden.
  No sooner were they by themselves, than the major press-
ingly repeated his question, to which, after a pause, his
sister answered, smiling, " If thou wouldst find the happy
man whom she loves, thou hast not far to go: he is quite
at hand; she loves thee!"
  The major stopped in astonishment, then cried, '' It were
a most unseasonable jest to trick me into such a thought,
which, if true, would make me so embarrassed and unhappy.
For, though I need time to recover from my amazement, I
see at one glance how grievously our circumstances would
be disturbed by so unlooked-for an accident. The only
thing that comforts me, is my persuasion that attachments
of this sort are apparent merely, that a self-deception lurks
behind them, and that a good, true soul will undoubtedly
return from such mistakes, either by its own strength, or
at least by a little help from judicious friends."
   " I am' not of that opinion," said the baroness: "by
all the symptoms, Hilaria's present feeling is a very serious
one."
   "A thing so unnatural I should not have expected from
so natural a character," replied the major.
   " So unnatural it is not, after all," said his sister. '"I
 myself recollect having, in my own youth, an attachment





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


to a man still older than thou. Thou art fifty, - not so very
great an age for a German, if, perhaps, other livelier nations
do fail sooner."
  "But how dost thou support thy conjecture? " said the
major.
  " It is no conjecture, it is certainty. The details thou
shalt learn by and by."
  Hilaria joined them; and the major felt himself, against
his will, a second time altered. Her presence seemed to
him still dearer and more precious than before, her manner
more affectionate and tender: already he began to put some
faith in his sister's statement.  The feeling was highly
delightful, though he neither would permit nor confess this
to his mind. Hilaria was, in truth, peculiarly interesting:
her manner blended in closest union a soft shyness as
towards a lover, and a trustful frankness as towards an
uncle; for she really, and with her whole soul, loved him.
The garden lay in all the pomp of spring; and the major,
who saw so many old trees again putting on their vesture,
might also believe in the returning of his own spring. And
who would not have been tempted to it, at the side of this
most lovely maiden.
   So passed the day with them; the various household
epochs were gone through in high cheerfulness: in the
evening, after supper, Hilaria returned to her harpischord;
the major listened with other ears than in the morning:
one melody winded into another, one song produced a sec-
ond; and scarcely could midnight separate the little party.
   On retiring to his room, the major found every thing
arranged to suit his old habitual conveniences: some copper-
plates, even, which lie liked to look at, had been shifted
from other apartments; and, his eyes being at last opened,
he saw himself attended to and flattered in the most minute
particulars.
   A few hours' sleep sufficed on this occasion: his buoyant
spirits aroused him early. But now lie soon found occasion
to observe that a new order of things carries many incon-
veniences along with it.  His old groom, who also dis-
charged the functions of lackey and valet, lie had not once
reproved during many years, for all went its usual course
in the most rigid order; the horses were dressed and the
clothes brushed at the proper moment: but to-day the mas-
ter had risen earlier, and nothing suited as it used to do.
   Erelong a new circumstance combined with this to ruffle


176





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


177


him still further. At other times all had been right, as his
servant had prepared it for him: now, however, on advan-
cing to the glass, he found himself not at all as he wished to
be. Some gray hairs he could not deny, and of wrinkles
also there appears to have been a trace or two. He wiped
and powdered more than usual, and was fain at last to
let matters stand as they could. Then it seemed there were
still creases in his coat, and still dust on his boots. The
old groom knew not what to make of this, and was amazed
to see so altered a master before him.
  In spite of all these hinderances, the major got down to the
garden in good time. Hilaria, whom he hoped to find there,
he actually found. She brought him a nosegay; and he had
not the heart to kiss her as usual, and press her to his breast.
He felt himself in the most delightful embarrassment, and
yielded to his feelings without reflecting whither they might
carry him.
  The baroness soon joined them and, directing her brother
to a note which had just been brought her by a special mes-
senger, she cried," Thou wilt not guess whom this announces
to us ! "
   " Tell us at once, then," said the major; and it now
appeared that an old theatrical friend was travelling by a
road not far off, and purposing to call for a moment. " I
am anxious to see him again," said the major: " he is no
chicken now, and I hear he still plays young parts."
   " He must be ten years older than thou," replied the
baroness.
   " He must," said the major, " from all that I remem-
 ber."
   They had not waited long, when a lively, handsome, cour-
 teous man stepped forward to them. Yet the friends soon
 recognized each other, and recollections of all sorts enliv-
 ened the conversation.  They proceeded to questions, to
 answers, to narratives: they mutually made known their
 present situations, and in a short time felt as if they had
 never been separated.
   Secret history informs us that this person had, in former
 days, being then a very elegant and graceful youth, the good
 or bad fortune to attract the favor of a lady of rank; that,
 by this means, he had come into perplexity and danger, out
 of which the major, at the very moment when the saddest
 fate seemed impending, had happily delivered him. From
 that hour he continued grateful to the brother as well as to





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


the sister; for it was she that, by timeful warning, had ori-
ginated their precautions.
  For a while before dinner the men were left alone. Not
without surprise, nay, in some measure with amazement, had
the major viewed, as a whole and in detail, the exterior
condition of his old friend. He seemed not in the smallest
altered, and it was not to be wondered at that he could still
appear on the stage as an actor of youthful parts. " Thou
inspectest me more strictly than is fair," said he at last to
the major : " I fear thou findest the difference between this
and by-gone times but too great."
  " Not at all," replied the major: " on the contrary, it
fills me with astonishment to find thy look fresher and
younger than mine; though I know thou wert a firm-set man
at the time when I, with the boldness of a callow desperado,
stood by thee in certain straits."
   " It is thy own fault," replied the other: " it is the fault
of all like thee; and, though you are not to be loudly cen-
sured for it, you are still to be blamed. You think only of
the needful: you wish to be, not to seem. This is very well
so long as one is any thing. But when, at last, being comes
to recommend itself by seeming, and this seeming is found to
be even more transient than the being, then every one of
you discovers that he should not have done amiss, if, in his
care for what was inward, he had not entirely neglected what
was outward."
   " Thou art right," replied the major, and could scarcely
suppress a sigh.
   "Perhaps not altogether right," said the aged youth;
" for though in my trade it were unpardonable if one did
not try to parget up the outward man as long as possible,
you people need to think of other things, which are more
important and profitable."
   " Yet there are occasions,"- said the major, ' when a man
feels fresh internally, and could wish, with all his heart, that
he were fresh externally too."
  As the stranger could not have the slightest suspicion of
the major's real state of mind, he took these words in a
soldierly sense, and copiously explained how much depended
on externals in the art military, and how the officer who had
so much attention to bestow on dress might apply a little
also to skin and hair.
   " For example," continued he, " it is inexcusable that
your temples are already gray, that wrinkles are here and


178





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


there gathering together, and that your crown threatens to
grow bald. Now look at me, old fellow as I am ! See how
I have held out ! And all this without witchcraft, and with
far-less pains and care than others take, day after day, in
spoiling, or at least wearying, themselves."
  The major found this accidental conversation too precious
an affair to think of ending it soon, but he went to work
softly and with precaution towards even an old acquaint-
ance. " This opportunity, alas! I have lost," cried he;
" and it is past recalling now: I must even content myself
as I am, and you will not think worse of me on that ac-
count."
  "Lost it is not," said the other, "were not you grave
gentlemen so stiff and stubborn, did you not directly call
one vain if he thinks about his person, and cast away from
you the happiness of being in pleasant company, and pleas-
ing there yourselves."
  " If it is not magic," smiled the major, " that you people
use for keeping yourselves young, it is, at all events, a
secret: or, at least, you have arcana, such as one often sees
bepraised in newspapers; and from these you pick out the
best."
  "Joke or earnest," said the other, " thou hast spoken
truth. Among the many things that have been tried for
giving some repair to the exterior, which often fails far
sooner than the interior, there are, in fact, certain invaluable
recipes, simple as well as compound; which, as imparted to
me by brethren of the craft, purchased for ready money, or
hit upon by chance, I have proved, and found effectual. By
these I now hold fast and persevere, yet without abandoning
my further researches. So much I may tell thee, and with-
out exaggeration: a dressing-box I carry with me beyond all
price ! A box whose influences I could like to try on thee, if
we chanced any time to be a fortnight together."
  The thought that such a thing was possible, and that this
possibility was held out to him so accidentally at the very
moment of need, enlivened the spirit of the major to such a
degree that he actually appeared much fresher and brisker
already: at table, excited by the hope of bringing head and
face into harmony with his heart, and by eagerness to get
acquainted with the methods of doing so, he was quite
another man; he met Hilaria's graceful attentions with alac-
rity of soul, and even looked at her with a certain confidence,
which, in the morning, he was far from feeling.





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  If the dramatic stranger had contrived, by many recollec-
tions, stories, and happy hits, to keep up the cheerful humor
once excited, he so much the more alarmed the major, on
signifying, when the cloth was removed, that he must now
think of setting forth, and continuing his journey. By every
scheme in his power the major strove to facilitate his friend's
stay, at least for the night; he pressingly engaged to have
horses and relays in readiness next morning: in a word, the
healing toilet was absolutely not to get out of the premises,
till once he had obtained more light on its contents and use.
  The major saw very well that here no time must be lost
he accordingly endeavored, soon after dinner, to take his old
favorite aside and speak with him in private. Not having
the heart to proceed directly to the point, he steered towards
it from afar off, and, taking up the former conversation, sig-
nified that he, for his part, would willingly bestow more
care on his exterior, were it not that people, the moment
they observed a man making such an attempt, marked him
down for vain, and so deducted from him, in regard to moral
esteem, what they felt obliged to yield him in regard to
sensible.
  " Do not vex me with such phrases! " said his friend:
" these are words to which society has got accustomed with-
out attaching any meaning to them, or, if we take it up
more strictly, by which it indicates its unfriendly and spiteful
nature. If thou consider it rightly, what, after all, is this
same vanity they make so much ado about?       Every man
should feel some pleasure in himself, and happy he who feels
it. But, if he does feel it, how can he help letting others
notice it? How shall he hide, in the midst of life, that it
gives him joy to be alive? If good society, and I mean this
exclusively here, only blamed such indications when they
became too violent; when the joy of one man over his exist-
ence hindered others to have joy and to show it over theirs,-
it were good and well; and from this excess the censure has,
in fact, originally sprung. But what are we to make of that
strange, prim, abnegating rigor against a thing which can-
not be avoided? Why should not a display of feeling on
the part of others be considered innocent and tolerable,
which, more or less, we from time to time allow ourselves?
For it is the pleasure one has in himself, the desire to com-
municate this consciousness of his to others, that makes a
man agreeable, - the feeling of his own grace that makes him
graceful. Would to Heaven all men were vain ! that is, were


180





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


vain with clear perception, with moderation, and in a proper
sense: we should then, in the cultivated world, have happy
times of it. Women, it is told us, are vain from the very
cradle; yet does it not become them, do they not please us
the more? How can a youth form himself if he is not vain ?
An empty, hollow nature will, by this means, at least con-
trive to give itself an outward show; and a proper man
will soon train himself from the outside inwards. As to my
own share, I have reason to consider myself, in this point, a
most happy man: for my trade justifies me in being vain;
and, the vainer I am, the more satisfaction I give. I am
praised when others are blamed, and have still, in this very
way, the happiness and the right to gratify and charm the
public at an age when others are constrained to retire from
the scene, or linger on it only with disgrace."
  The major heard with no great joy the issue of these reflec-
tions. The little word vanity, as he pronounced it, had been
meant to serve as a transition for enabling him to introduce,
with some propriety, the statement of his own wish. But
now he was afraid, if their dialogue proceeded thus, he
should be led still farther from his aim: so he hastened to
the point directly.
   " For my own part," said he, " I should by no means
disincline to enlist under thy flag, since thou still holdest it
to be in time, and thinkest I might yet in some degree make
up for what is lost. Impart to me somewhat of thy tinctures,
pomades, and balsams; and I will make a trial of them."
  " Imparting," said the other, "' is a harder task than you
suppose. Here, for example, it were still to small purpose
that I poured thee out some liquors from my vials, and left
the half of the best ingredients in my toilet: the appliance
is the hardest. You cannot, on the instant, appropriate what
is given you. How this and that suit together; under what
circumstances, in what sequence, things are to be used,-all
this requires practice and study,  nay, study and practice
themselves will scarcely profit, if one bring not to the busi-
ness a natural genius for it."
  "Thou' art now, it seems, for drawing back," said the
major. " Thou raisest difficulties when I would have thy
truly somewhat fabulous assertions rendered certain. Thou
hast no mind to let me try thy words by the test of action."
  " By such banterings, my friend," replied the other, " thou
wouldst not prevail on me to gratify thy wish, if it were not
that I entertain such affection for thee, and, indeed, first made


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


the proposal myself. Besides, if we consider it, man has
quite a peculiar pleasure in making proselytes; in bringing
what he values in himself into view also, without himself, on
others; causing others to enjoy what he enjoys; finding in
others his own likeness, represented and reflected back to
him. In sooth, if this is selfishness, it is of the most laud-
able and lovable sort, - that selfishness which has made us
men and keeps us so. From this universal feeling, then,
apart from my friendship to thee, I shall be happy in having
such a scholar in the great youth-renewing art. But, as from
a master it may be expected that he shall produce no botcher
by his training, I confess myself a little at a loss how to set
about it. I told thee already that neither recipes nor instruc-
tions would avail: the practice cannot be taught by universal-
rules. For thy sake, and from the wish to propagate my
doctrine, I am ready to make any sacrifice. The greatest
my power for the present moment I will now propose to
thee. I shall leave my servant here, -a sort of waiting-
man and conjurer, -who, if he does not understand prepar-
ing every thing, if he has not yet been initiated into all the
mysteries, can apply.my preparations perfectly, and, in the
first stage of the attempt, will be of great use to thee, till
once thou have worked thy way so far into the art, that I
may reveal to thee the higher secrets also."
  " How ! " cried the major, " thou hast stages and degrees
in thy art of making young? Thou hast secrets, even for
the initiated ? "
  " No doubt of it," replied the other. '" That were but
a sorry art which could be comprehended all at once, the
last point of which could be seen by one just entering its
;precincts."
  Without loss of time the waiting-man was formally con-
signed to the major, who engaged to treat him handsomely.
The baroness was called on for drawers, boxes, glasses, to
what purpose she knew not; the partition of the toilet-store
went forward; the friends kept together in a gay and
sprightly mood till after nightfall. At moonrise, some time
later, the guest took his leave, promising erelong to return.
  Th major reached his chamber pretty much fatigued. He
had risen early, had'not spared himself throughout the day,
and now hoped very soon to get to bed. But here, instead of
one servant, he found two. The old groom, in his old way,
rapidly undressed him; but now the waiting-man stepped
forth, and signified, that, for appliances of a renovating and


182





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


cosmetic nature, the peculiar season was night, that so their
effects, assisted by a peaceful sleep, might be stronger and
safer. The major was obliged to content himself, and let
his head be anointed, his face painted, his eyebrows pen-
cilled, and his lips tipped with salve. Besides all this, there
were various ceremonies still required; nay, the very night-
cap was not to be put on immediately, not till a net, or even
a fine-leather cap, had been drawn on next the head.
  The major laid himself in bed with a sort of unpleasant
feeling, which, however, he had no time to investigate the
nature of; as he very soon fell asleep. But, if we might
speak with.his spirit, we should say he felt a little mummy-
like, somewhat between a sick man and a man embalmed.
Yet the sweet image of Hilaria, encircled with the gayest
hopes, soon led him into a refreshing sleep.
  In the morning, at the proper hour, the groom was ready
in his place. All that pertained to his master's equipment
lay in wonted order on the chairs; and the major was just
on the point of rising, when the new attendant entered, and
strongly protested against any such precipitation. He must
rest, he must wait, if their enterprise were to prosper, if they
were to be rewarded for their pains and labor. The major
now learned that he had to rise by and by, to take a slight
breakfast, and then go into a bath, which was already pre-
pared for him. The regulations were inflexible, they required
a strict observance; and some hours passed away under these
occupations.
   The major abridged the resting-time after his bath, and
thought to get his clothes about him: for he was by nature
expeditious, and at present he longed to see Hilaria ; but in
this point also his new servant thwarted him, and signified,
that in all cases he must drop the thought of being in a hurry.
Whatever he did, it appeared, must be done leisurely and
pleasurably; but the time of dressing was especially to be
considered as a cheerful hour for conversation with one's
self.
   The valet's manner of proceeding completely agreed with
 his words. But, in return, the major, when, on stepping
 forward to the glass, he saw himself trimmed out in the
 neatest fashion, really thought that he was better dressed
 than formerly. Without many words the conjurer had
 changed the very uniform into a newer cut, having spent
 the night in working at it. An apparently so quick rejuve-
 nescence put the major in his liveliest mood; so that he felt


183





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


himself as if renovated, both without and within, and has-
tened with impatient longing to his friends.
  He found his sister engaged in looking at the pedigree
which she had caused to be hung up; the conversation last
night having turned on some collateral relations, unmarried
persons, or resident in foreign countries, or entirely gone
out of sight, from all of whom the baroness and her brother
had more or less hope of heritages for themselves or their
families. They conversed a while on these matters, without
mentioning the circumstance that all their economical cares
and exertions had hitherto been solely directed to their chil-
dren. By Hilaria's attachment the whole of this prospect
had altered, yet neither the major nor his sister could sum-
mon courage to mention it further at this moment.
  The baroness left the room: the major was standing alone
before this laconic history of his family; Hilaria stepped in
to him; she leaned herself on him in a kind, childlike way,
looked at the parchment, and asked him whom of all these
he had known, and who of them were still left and living.
  The major began his delineation with the oldest of whom
any dim recollection remained with him from childhood.
Then he proceeded farther; painted the characters of sev-
eral fathers, the likeness or unlikeness of their children to
them; remarked that the grandfather often re-appeared in
the grandson; spoke, by.the way, of the influence of certain
women, wedded out of stranger families, and sometimes
changing the character of whole branches. He eulogized
the virtue of many an ancestor and relative, nor did he hide
their failings. Such as had brought shame on their lineage
he passed in silence. At length he reached the lowest lines.
Here stood his brother, the chief marshal himself, and his
sister, and beneath him his son with Hilaria at his side.
  " These two look each other straight enough in the face,"
said the major; not adding what he thought of the matter
in his heart.
  After a pause Hilaria answered, in a meek, small tone,
and almost with a sigh, " Yet those, surely, are not to blame
who lobk upwards." At the same time she looked up to
him with a pair of eyes out of which her whole love was
speaking.
  " Do I understand thee rightly ?" said the major, turning
round to her.
  "I can say nothing," answered she, with a smile, " which
you do not know already."


184





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  " Thou makest me the happiest man under the sun," cried
he, and fell at her feet. " Wilt thou be mine? "
  " For Heaven's sake, rise ! I am thine forever."
  The baroness entered. Though not surprised, she rather
hesitated. " If it be wrong, sister," said the major, " the
blame is thine: if it be right, we will thank thee forever."
  The baroness from youth upwards had so loved her brother
that she preferred him to all men; and perhaps Hilaria's
attachment itself had, if not arisen from this sisterly par-
tiality, at least been cherished by it. All three now united
in one love, in one delight; and thus the happiest hours flew
over them. Yet, at last, their eyes re-opened to the world
around them likewise; and this rarely stands in unison with
such emotions.
  They now again bethought them of the son. For him
Hilaria had been destined : this he himself well knew.
Directly after finishing the business with the chief marshal,
the major had appointed his son to expect him in the garrison,
that they might settle every thing together, and conduct these
purposes to a happy issue. But now, by an unexpected
occurrence, the whole state of matters had been thrown out
of joint; the circumstances which before plied into one
another so kindly, now seemed to be assuming a hostile
aspect; and it was not easy to foresee what turn the affair
would take, what temper would seize the individuals con-
cerned in it.
  Meanwhile the major was obliged to resolve on visiting
his son, to whom he had already announced himself. Not
without reluctance, not without singular forecastings, not
without pain at even for a short time leaving Hilaria, he at
last, after much lingering, took the road, and, leaving groom
and horses behind him, proceeded with his cosmetic valet,
who had now become an indispensable appendage, towards
the town where his son resided.
  Both saluted and embraced each other cordially after so
long a separation. They had much to communicate, yet
they did not just commence with what lay nearest their
hearts. The son went into copious talk about his hopes of
speedy advancement: in return for which the father gave
him precise accounts of what had been discussed and deter-
mined between the elder members of the family, both in
regard to fortune in general, to the individual estates, and
every thing pertaining to them.
  The conversation was, in some degree, beginning to flag,


185





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


when the son took heart, and said to his father, with a smile,
" You treat me very tenderly, dear father; and I thank you
for it. You tell me of properties and fortune, and mention
not the terms under which, at least in part, they are to be
mine: you keep back the name of Hilaria ; you expect that
I should bring it forth, that I should express my desire to be
speedily united with that amiable maiden."
  At these words the major felt in great perplexity; but as,
partly by nature, partly by old habit, it was his way to col-
lect the purpose of the man he had to treat with before stat-
ing his own, he now said nothing, and looked at the son
with an ambiguous smile. " You will not guess, father,
what I have to say," continued the lieutenant : "I will
speak it out briefly, and once for all. I can depend on your
affection, which, amid such manifold care for me, has had
due regard for my true happiness as well as my fortune.
Some time or other it must be said: be it said, then, even
now, Hilaria cannot make me happy ! I think of Hilaria as
of a lovely relative, towards whom I would live all my days
with the friendliest feelings; but another has awakened my
affection, another has found my heart. The attachment is
irresistible: you will not make me miserable."
  Not without effort did the major conceal the cheerfulness
which was rising over his face, and, in a tone of mild seri-
ousness, inquire of the son, Who the person was that had
so entirely subdued him? -" You must see her yourself,
father," said the other; " for she can as little be described
as comprehended. I have but one fear, - that you yourself
will be led away by her, like every one that approaches her.
By Heaven, it will be so; and I shall see you the rival of
your son_! "
   " But who is she? " inquired the major. " If it is not in
thy power to delineate her personal characteristics, tell me, at
least, of her outward circumstances: these, at least, may be
described."
   " Well, then, father," replied the son; " and yet these
outward circumstances, too, would be different in a different
person; would act otherwise on another. She is a young
widow, heiress of an old, rich man lately deceased; inde-
pendent, and well meriting to be so; acquainted with many,
loved by just as many, courted by just as many; yet, if I
mistake not very greatly, in her heart wholly mine."
   With joyful vivacity, as the father kept silence, and gave
no sign of disapproval, the son proceeded to describe the


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


conduct of the fair widow towards him; told of her all-con-
quering grace; recounted one by one her tender expressions
of favor; in which the father truly could see nothing but
the light friendliness of a univesally courted woman, who,
among so many, may indeed prefer some dne, yet without
on that account entirely deciding for him. Under any other
circumstances he would doubtless have endeavored to warn
a son, nay, even a friend, of the self-deception which might
probably enough be at work here; but, in the present case,
he himself was so anxious for his son's being right, for the
fair widow's really loving him, and as soon as possible
deciding in his favor, that he either felt no scruple of this
sort, or banished any such from his mind, perhaps even only
concealed it.
  " Thou placest me in great perplexity," began the father,
after some pause. " The whole arrangement between the sur-
viving members of our family depends on the understanding
that thou wed Hilaria. If she wed a stranger, the whole
fair, careful combination of a fine fortune falls to the ground
again; and thou thyself art not too well provided for.
There is certainly another way still, but one which sounds
rather strange, and by which thou wouldst gain very little:
I, in my old days, might wed Hilaria, - a plan which could
hardly give thee any very high satisfaction."
  ' The highest in the world ! " exclaimed the lieutenant;
" for who can feel a true attachment, who can enjoy or
anticipate the happiness of love, without wishing every
friend, every one whom he values, the like supreme felicity?
You are not old, father; and how lovely is Hilaria! Even
the transient thought of offering her your hand bespeaks
a youthful heart, an unimpaired spirit. Let us take up
this thought, this project, on the spot, and consider and
investigate it thoroughly. My own happiness would be com-
plete if I knew you happy: I could then rejoice in good
earnest, that the care you had bestowed on my destiny was
repaid on your own by so fair and high a recompense. I
can now with confidence and frankness, and true openness
of heart, conduct you to my fair one. You will approve of
my feelings, since you yourself feel: you will not impede
the happiness of your son, since you are advancing to your
own happiness."
  With these and other importunate words the lieutenant
repressed many a scruple which his father was for introdu-
cing, left him no time to calculate, but hurried off with him


187





1MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


to the fair widow, whom they found in a commodious and
splendid house, with a select rather than numerous party, all
engaged in cheerful conversation. She was one of those
female souls whom no man can escape. With incredible ad-
dress she contrived to make our major the hero of this even-
ing. The rest of the party seemed to be her family : the
major alone was her guest. His circumstances she aheady
knew very well ; yet she had the skill to ask about them, as if
she were wishing, now at last, to get right information on the
subject from himself: and so, likewise, every individual of
the company was made to show some interest in the stranger.
One must have known his brother, a second his estates, a
third something else concerned with him; so that the major,
in the midst of a lively conversation, still. felt himself to be
the centre. Moreover, he was sitting next the fair one ; her
eyes were on him, her smile was directed to him: in a word,
he felt himself so comfortable, that he almost forgot the
cause which had brought him. She herself scarcely ever
mentioned his son, though the young man took a keen share
in the conversation: it seemed as if, in her eyes, he, like all
the rest, was present only on his father's account.
  The guests strolled up and down the rooms, and grouped
themselves into accidental knots.  The lieutenant stepped
up to his fair one, and asked, "IWhat say you to my
father ?"
  With a smile she replied, " Methinks you might well take
him as a pattern. Do but look how neatly he is dressed!
If his manner and bearing are not better than his gentle
son's! " And thus she continued to cry up and praise the
father at the son's expense; awakening, by this means, a
very mixed feeling, of contentment and jealousy in the
young man's heart.
  Erelong the lieutenant came in contact with his father,
and recounted all this to him. It made the major's manner
to his fair hostess so much the more friendly; and she, on
her side, began to treat him on a more lively and trustful
footing. In short, we may say, that, when the company
broke up, the major, as well as the rest, already belonged
to her and to her circle.
  A heavy rain prevented the guests from returning home
as they had come. Some coaches drove up, into which the
walkers arranged themselves: only the lieutenant, under
the pretext that the carriage was already too crowded, let
his father drive away, itnd staid behind.


188





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


   The major, on entering his apartment, felt actually con-
 fused and giddy in mind, uncertain of himself; as is the
 case with us on passing rapidly from one state to the oppo-
Ssite. The land still seems in motion to a man who steps
from shipboard, and the light still quivers in the eye of
him who comes at once into darkness. So did the major
still feel himself encircled with the presence of that fair
being. He wished still to see, to hear her, again to see,
again to hear her: and, after some consideration, he forgave
his son; nay, he thought him happy that he might pretend
to the appropriation of such loveliness.
   From these feelings he was roused by the lieutenant,
 who, with lively expressions of rapture, rushed into the
 room, embraced his father, and exclaimed, " I am the hap-
 piest man in the world ! " After several more of such pre-
 liminary phrases, the two at last came to an explanation.
 The father remarked, that the fair 'lady in conversing with
 him had not mentioned the son, or hinted at him by a single
 syllable. "That is just her soft, silent, half-concealing,
 half-discovering way, by which you become certain of your
 wishes, and yet can never altogether get rid of doubt. So
 was she wont to treat me hitherto; but your presence,
 father, has done wonders. I confess it, I staid behind,
 that I might see her one moment longer. I found her walk-
 ing to and fro in her still shining rooms; for I know it is
 her custom, when the company is gone, no light must be
 extinguished. She walks alone up and down in her magic
 halls, when the spirits are dismissed which she had sum-
 moned thither. She accepted the pretext under cover of
 which I came back. She spoke with kind grace, though of
 indifferent matters. We walked to and fro through the
 open doors, along the whole suite of chambers. We had
 wandered several times to the end, into the little cabinet,
 which is lighted only by a dim lamp. If she was beauti-
 ful while moving under the blaze of the lustres, she was
 infinitely more so when illuminated by the soft gleam of the
 lamp. We had again reached the cabinet; and, in turning,
 we paused for an instant.   I know not what it s: that
 forced this audacity on me: I know not how I could ven-
 ture, in the midst of the most ordinary conversation, all at
 once to seize her hand, to kiss that soft hand, and to press
 it to my heart. It was not drawn away. ' Heavenly crea-
 ture ! ' cried I,' conceal thyself no longer from me. If in
 this fair heart dwells favor for the happy man who stands


189





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


before thee, disclose it, confess it ! The present is the best,
the highest time. Banish me, or take me to thy arms!'
  "' I know not what all I said, what I looked and expressed.
She withdrew not, she resisted not, she answered not. I
ventured to clasp her in my arms, to ask her if she would
be mine. I kissed her with rapture; she pushed me away:
'Well, yes, then: yes!' or some such words, said she, in
a faint tone, as if embarrassed. I retired, and cried, ' I will
send my father: he shall speak for me.' -' Not a word to
him of this!' replied she, following me some steps. 'Go
away: forget what has happened.' "
  What the major thought we shall not attempt to unfold.
He said, however, to his son, " What is to be done now,
thinkest thou? To my mind the affair is, by accident, so
well introduced, that we may now go to work a little more
formally; that perhaps it were well if I called there to-mor-
row, and proposed in thy name."
  " For Heaven's sake, no, father!" cried the son: " it
would spoil the whole business. That look, that tone, must
be disturbed and deranged by no formality. It is enough,
father, that your presence accelerates this union without
your uttering a word on the subject. Yes, it is to you that
I owe my happiness! The respect which my loved one
entertains for you has conquered every scruple, and never
would your son have found so good a moment had not his
father prepared it for him."
  These and such disclosures occupied them till far in the
night. They mutually settled their plans: the major, simply
for form's sake, was to make a parting call, and then set
out to arrange his marriage with Hilaria; the son was to
forward and accelerate his, as he should find it possible.


                   Hersilia's Postscript.

  Here I break off, partly because I can write no more at
present, but partly also to fix a thorn in your heart. Now,
answer the question for yourself: How strangely, from all
that you have read, must matters stand with these ladies at
present ! Till now they had no mutual relation to each
other: they were strangers, though each seemed to have
the prospect of a marriage which was to approximate them.
And now we find them in company, but by themselves,
without male attendance, and wandering .over the world.


190





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


What can have passed, what can be to follow? You, my
worthy sir, will doubtless get quit of the difficulty by mourn-
fully exclaiming to yourself, "These, also, are renunci-
ants ! " And here you are perfectly right: but expectants
too? This I durst not discover, even if I knew it.
  To show you the way how this amiable pair may be met
with on your wandering, I adopt a singular expedient.' You
herewith receive a little clipping of a map: when you lay
this in its place on the full map of the country, the mag-
netic needle painted here will point with its barb to the spot
whither the desirable are moving.   This riddle is not so
very hard to read: but I could wish, that, from time to time,
you would do the like for us, and send a little snip of chart
over hither; we should then, in some measure, understand
to what quarter our thoughts were to be directed: and how
glad should we be if the needle were at last attracted by
ourselves. May all good be given you, and all errors for-
given !

  It is said of women, that they cannot send away a letter
without tacking postscripts to the end of it. Whatever
inferences you may draw from the fact, I cannot deny that
this is my second postscript, and the place, after all, where
I am to tell you the flower of the whole matter. This arrow-
shaft, on the little patch of map, Hilaria herself was at the
pains to draw and to decorate with such dainty plumagee:
the sharp point, however, was the fair widow's work. Have
a care that it do not scratch, or perhaps pierce you. Our
bargain is, that whenever you meet, be this where it may,
you are forthwith to present the small shred of paper, and
so be the sooner and more heartily admitted into trust.


           A WORD FROM THE EDITOR.

  THAT a certain deficiency, perhaps discernible in the parts,
certainly discernible here and there in the whole, can-
not, henoeforth, be avoided, we ourselves take courage to
forewarn the reader, without fearing thereby to thwart his
enjoyment. In the present task, undertaken truly with fore-
thought and good heart, we still meet with all the inconven-
iences which have delayed the publication of these little
volumes for twenty years. This period has altered nothing
for the better. We still find ourselves in more than one way


191





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


impeded, at this or that place threatened with one obstruc-
tion or another. For we have to solve the uncertain problem
of selecting from those most multifarious papers what is
worthiest and most important, so that it be grateful to think-
ing and cultivated minds, and refresh and forward them in
many a province of life. Now, here are the journals, more
or less complete, lying before us; sometimes communicable
without scruple; sometimes, again by reason of their unim-
portant, and likewise of their too important contents, seem-
ingly unfit for insertion.
  There are not even wanting sections devoted to the actual
world, on statistic, technical, and other practical external
subjects. To cut these off as incongruous, we do not deter-
mine without reluctance; as life and inclination, knowledge
and passion, strangely combining together, go on here in the
straitest union.
  Then we come on sketches written with clear views and
for glorious objects, but not so consequent and deep search-
ing that we can fully approve of them, or suppose, that, in
this new and so far advanced time, they could be readable
and influential.
  So likewise we fall in with little anecdotes, destitute of con-
nection, difficult to arrange under heads, some of them, when
closely examined, not altogether unobjectionable. Here and
there we discover more.complete narratives, several of which,
though already known to the world, nevertheless demand a
place here, and at the same time require exposition and con-
clusion. Of poems, also, there is no want; and yet it is not
always easy, not always possible, to decide where they should
be introduced with best regard to the preserving and assist-
ing of their true tone, which is but too easily disturbed and
overturned. If we are not, therefore, as we have too often
done in by-gone years, again to stop in the middle of this
business, nothing will remain for us but to impart what we
possess, to give out what has been preserved. Some chap-
ters, accordingly, the completion of which might have been
desirable, we now offer in their first hurried form, that so
the reader may not only feel the existence of a want here,
but also be informed what this want is, and complete in his
own mind whatever, partly from the nature of the object,
partly from the intervening circumstances, cannot be pre-
sented to him perfectly completed in itself, or furnished
with all its requisite accompaniments.


192





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


                    CHAPTER XIII.

  THE proposed riddle raised some scruples in Wilhelm's
mind; yet erelong he began to feel a still attraction in the
matter, an impulse of longing to reach that appointed line,
and follow its direction: as, indeed, we are wont to seize
with eagerness any specific object that excites our imagina-
tion, our active faculties, and to wish that we might accom-
plish it and partake of it.
  A child that, in asking alms of us, puts into our hand a
card with five lottery numbers written on it, we do not lightly
turn away unserved; and it depends on the moment, es-
pecially if it be shortly before the drawing, whether we shall
not, with accidentally stimulated hope, quite against our
usual custom, stake heavy shares upon these very num-
bers.
  The wanderer now tried on a large map the little fragment
which had beefi sent him, and stood surprised, amazed, af-
frighted, as he saw the needle pointing straight to Mignon's
native place, to the houses where she had lived. What his
peculiar feelings were, we do not find declared; but whoever
can bring back to memory the end of the Apprenticeship, will
in his own heart and mind, without difficulty, call forth the
like.
  The chief cause, however, why we meet with scantier rec-
ords of this excursion than we could have wished, may
probably be this: that Wilhelm chanced to fall in with a
young, lively companion of his journey, by means of whom
it became easy to retain for himself and his friends a vivid
and strong remembrance of this pious pilgrimage without
any aid of writing. Unexpectedly he finds himself beside a
painter, -one of that class of persons whom we often see
wandering about the world, and still oftener figuring in ro-
mances and dramas, but, in this case, an individual who
showed himself at once to be really a distinguished artist.
The two very soon got acquainted, mutually communicated
their desires, projects, purposes. And now it appears that
this skilful artist, who delights in painting aquatical land-
scapes, and can decorate his pieces with rich, well-imagined,
well-executed additions and accompaniments, has been pas-
sionately attracted by Mignon's form, destiny, and being.
He has often painted her already, and is now going forth to
copy from nature the scenes where she passed her early


198





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


years; amid these to represent the dear child in happy and
unhappy circumstances and moments, and thus to make her
image, which lives in all tender hearts, present also to the
sense of the eye.

  The friends soon reach the Lago Maggiore: Wilhelm en-
deavors by degrees to find out the places indicated. Rural
palaces, spacious monasteries, ferries and bays, capes and
landings, are visited; nor are the dwellings of courageous
and kind-hearted fishermen forgotten, or the cheerfully built
villages along the shore, or the gay mansions on the neigh-
boring heights. All this the artist can seize, to all of it
communicate, by light and coloring, the feeling suitable for
each scene; so that Wilhelm passes his days and his hours
in heart-searching emotion.
  In several of the leaves stood Mignon represented on the
foreground, as she had looked and lived: Wilhelm striving
by correct description to assist the happy imagination of his
friend, and reduce these general conceptions within the
stricter limits of individuality.
  And thus you might see the boy-girl set forth in various
attitudes and manifold expression. Beneath the lofty portal
of the splendid country-house she is standing, thoughtfully
contemplating the marble statues in the hall. Here she rocks
herself, plashing to and fro among the waters, in the fastened
boat: there she climbs the mast, and shows herself as a
fearless sailor.
  But distinguished beyond all the other pictures was one
which the artist, on his journey hither, and prior to his meet-
ing with Wilhelm, had combined and painted with all its
characteristic features. In the heart of the rude mountains
shines the graceful seeming-boy, encircled with toppling
cliffs, besprayed with cataracts, in the middle of a motley
horde. Never, perhaps, was a grim, precipitous, primeval
mountain-pass more beautifully or expressively relieved with
living figures. The party-colored, gypsy-looking group, at
once rude and fantastic, strange and common, too loose to
cause fear, too singular to awaken confidence. Stout beasts
of burden are bearing along, now over paths made of trees,
now down by steps hewn in the rock, a tawdry, chaotic heap
of luggage, round which all the instruments of a deafening
music hang dangling to and fro, to affright the ear from time
to time with rude tones. Amid all this the lovely child, self-
collected without defiance, indignant without resistance, led,


194





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


195


but not dragged. Who would not have looked with pleasure
at this singular and impressive picture? Given in strong
characters, frowned the stern obstruction of these rock-
masses, riven asunder by gloomy chasms, towered up to-
gether, threatening to hinder all outgate, had not a bold
bridge betokened the possibility of again coming into union
with the rest of the world. Nor had the artist, with his
quick feeling of fictitious truth, forgot to indicate- the en-
trance of a cave, which you might equally regard as the
natural laboratory of huge crystals, or as the abode of a
fabulously frightful brood of dragons.
  Not without a holy fear did our friends visit the marchese's
palace. The old man was still absent on his travels; but, in
this circle also, the two wanderers, knowing well how to apply
and conduct themselves, both towards spiritual and temporal
authorities, were kindly received and entertained.
  The absence of the owner also was to Wilhelm very pleas-
ant; for although he could have wished to see the worthy
gentleman, and would have heartily saluted him, he felt
afraid of the marchese's thankful generosity, and of any
forced recompense of that true, loving conduct for which he
had already obtained the fairest reward.
  And thus our friends went floating in gay boats from shore
to shore, cruising the lake in every direction. It was the
fairest season of the year: and they missed neither sunrise
nor sunset, nor any of the thousand shadings which the heav
enly light first bounteously dispenses over its own firmament,
and from thence over lake and land; not appearing itself in
its perfect glory till imaged back from the waters.
  A luxuriant vegetable world, planted by Nature, watched
over and forwarded by Art, on every side surrounded them.
The first chestnut forests they had already greeted with wel-
come; and now they could not restrain a mournful smile, as,
lying under the shade of cypresses, they saw the laurel
mounting up, the pomegranates reddening, orange and citron
trees unfolding themselves in blossoms, and fruit at the
same time glowing forth from the dark foliage.
  Through neans of his vivid associate, Wilhelm had an-
other enjoyment prepared for him. Our old friend had not
been favored by Nature with the eye of a painter. Suscep-
tible of visual beauty only in the human form, he now felt,
that by the presence of a companion, alike disposed, but
trained to quite different enjoyments and activities, the sur-
rounding world also was opened to his sight.





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  By viewing, under conversational direction, the changing
glories of the region, and still more by concentrated imita-
tion, his eyes were opened, and his mind freed from all its
once obstinate doubts. Hitherto all copies of Italian scenery
had seemed to him suspicious: the sky, he thought, was too
blue; the violet tone of those charming distances was lovely,
but untrue; and the abundant, fresh green too bright and
gay; but now he united in his inmost perceptions with his
new friend, and learned, susceptible as he was, to look at
the earth with that friend's eyes: and, while Nature unfolded
the open secret of her beauty, he could not but feel an
irresistible attraction towards Art as towards her most fit
expositor.
  But his pictorial friend quite unexpectedly anticipated his
wishes in another point. The artist had already many times
started some gay song, and thus, in hours of rest, delight-
fully enlivened and accompanied their movement when out
in long voyages over the water. But now it happened, that,
in one of the palaces they were visiting, he found a curious,
peculiar stringed instrument, - a lute of small size, strong,
well toned, convenient, and portable: he soon contrived to
tune it, and then handled the strings so pleasantly, and so
well entertained those about him, that, like a new Orpheus,
he subdued by soft harmonies the usually rigorous and dry
castellan, and kindly constrained him to lend the instrument
for a time, under the condition, that, before departing, the
singer should faithfully return it, and, in the interim, should
come back some Sunday or holiday, and again gratify them
by his music.
   Quite another spirit now enlivened lake and shore: boat
and skiff strove which should be nearest our friends; even
freight and market barges lingered in their neighborhood;
rows of people on the beach followed their course; when
landing they were encircled by a gay-minded throng; when
departing each blessed them with a heart contented, yet full
of longing.
   And now, at last, to any third party who had watched our
 friends, it must have been apparent enough that their mission
 was, in fact, accomplished: all scenes and localities referring
 to Mignon had been, not only sketched, but partly brought
 into light, shade, and color, partly in warm, mid-day hours,
 finished with the utmost fidelity. In effecting this they had
 shifted from place to place in a peculiar way, as Wilhelm's
 vow frequently impeded them: this, however, they had now


196





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


and then contrived to evade by explaining it as valid only on
land, and on water not applicable.
  Indeed, Wilhelm himself now felt that their special pur-
pose was attained; yet he could not deny that the wish to
see Hilaria and the fair widow must also be satisfied if he
wished to leave this country with a free mind. His friend, to
whom he had imparted their story, was no less curious, and
already prided himself in the thought, that, in one of his
paintings, there was a vacant space, which, as an artist, he
might decorate with the forms of these gentle persons.
  Accordingly, they now cruised to and fro, watching the
points where strangers are wont first to enter this paradise.
Their hope of meeting friends here had already been made
known to the boatmen; and the search had not lasted long
when there came in sight a splendid barge, which they in-
stantly made chase of, and forbore not passionately to
grapple with on reaching it. The dames, in some degree
alarmed at this movement, soon recovered their composure
as Wilhelm produced his little piece of chart; and the two,
without hesitation, recognized the arrow which themselves
had drawn on it. The friends were then kindly invited to
come on board the ladies' barge, which they did without an
instant's delay.
  And now let us figure to ourselves these four, as-they sit
together in the daintiest apartment, the most blissful world
lying round them, looking in each other's faces, fanned by
soft airs, rocked on glittering waves. Imagine the female
pair, as we lately saw them described; the male, as they
have together for weeks been leading a wayfaring life; and
after a little reflection we behold them all in the most delight-
ful, but also the most dangerous situation.
  For the three who have before, willingly or unwillingly,
ranked themselves in the number of renunciants, we have
not the worst to fear: the fourth, however, may, probably
enough,,too soon see himself admitted into that order, like
the others.
  After crossing the lake several times, and pointing out the
most interesting spots, both on the shore and the islands,
our two wanderers conducted their fair friends to the place
they were to pass the night in; where a dexterous guide,
selected for this voyage, had taken care to provide all pos-
sible conveniences. Wilhelm's vow was now a harsh but
suitable master of the ceremonies; for he and his compan-
ion had already passed three das in this very station, and


197





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


exhausted all that was remarkable in the environs. The
artist, not restrained by any vow, begged permission to
attend the dames on shore: this, however, they declined,
and so the party separated at some distance from the harbor.
  Scarcely had the singer stepped into his skiff, which hastily
drew back from the beach, when he seized his lute, and grace-
fully began raising that strangely plaintive song which the
Venetian gondoliers send forth in clear melody from land to
yea, and from sea to land. Expert enough in this feat,
which in the present instance proceeded with peculiar ten-
derness and expression, he strengthened his voice in propor-
tion to the increasing distance; so that on the shore you
would have thought you heard him still singing in the same
place. He at last laid his lute aside, trusting to his voice
alone, and had the satisfaction to observe that the dames,
instead of retiring into their house, were pleased to linger on
the shore. He felt so inspired that he could not cease, not
even when night and remoteness had withdrawn every thing
from view; till at last his calmer friend reminded him, that,
if darkness did favor his tones, the skiff had already long
passed the limits within which these could take effect.
  According to promise, the two parties again met next day
on the open lake. Flying along, they formed acquaintance
with the lovely series of prospects, now standing forth in
separate distinction, then gathering into rows, and seen
behind each other, and at last fading away, as the higher
eclipsed the lower; all which, repeating itself in the waters,
affords in such excursions the most varied entertainment.
Nor, in the course of these sights, did the copies of them,
from our artist's portfolio, fail to awaken thoughts and an-
ticipations of what, in the present hour, was not imparted.
For all such matters the still Hilaria seemed to have a free
and fair feeling.
  But, towards noon, singularity again came into play: the
ladies landed alone; the men cruised before the harbor. And
now the singer endeavored to accommodate his music to a
shorter distance, where not only the general, soft, and quickly
warbling tone of desire, but likewise a certain gay, graceful
importunity might be expected to tell. And here now and
then some one or other of the songs, for which we stand in-
debted to our friends in the " Apprenticeship," would come
hovering over his strings, over his lips; but out of well-
meant regard to the feelings of his hearers, as well as to his
own, he restrained himself in this particular, and roved at


198





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


large in foreign images and emotions, whereby his perform-
ance gained in effect, and reached the ear with so much the
more insinuating blandishment. The two friends, blockad-
ing the harbor in this way, would not have recollected the
trivial concern of eating and drinking, had not the more
provident fair ones sent them over a supply of dainty bits,
to which an accompanying draught of wine had the best
possible relish.
  Every separation, every stipulation, that comes in the way
of our gathering passions, sharpens instead of stifling them;
and in this case, as in others, it may be presumed that the
short absence had awakened equal longing in both parties.
At all events, the dames in their gay, dazzling gondola were
very soon to be seen coming back.
  This word gondola, however, let us not take up in the
melancholy Venetian meaning: here it signifies a cheerful,
commodious, social bark; which, had our little company
been twice as large, would still have been spacious enough
for them.
  Some days were spent in this peculiar way, between meet-
ing and parting, between separation and social union; but,
amid the enjoyment of the most delightful intercourse, de-
parture and bereavement still hovered before the agitated
soul. In presence of the new friends the old came back into
the mind : were these new ones absent, each could not but
admit that already they had taken deep root in his remem-
brance. None but a composed and tried spirit, like our fair
widow, could in such moments have maintained herself in
complete equilibrium.
  Hilaria's heart had been too deeply wounded to admit of
any new entire impression: but as the grace of a fair scene
encircles us of itself with soothing influences; so, when the
mildness of tender-hearted friends conspires with it, there
comes over sense and soul a peculiar mood of softness, that
recalls to us, as in dreaming visions, the past and the absent,
and withdraws the present, as if it were but a show, into
spiritual remoteness. Thus, alternately rocked this way and
that, attracted and repelled, approximated and removed, they
wavered and wended for several days.
  Without more narrowly investigating these circumstances,
the shrewd, experienced guide imagined he observed some
alteration in the calm demeanor of his heroines; and when
at last the whimsical part of their predicament became known
to him, he contrived here also to devise the most grateful


199





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


expedient. For, as our two shipmen were again conducting
the ladies to their usual place of dinner, they were met by
another gay bark, which, falling alongside of theirs, exhib-
ited a well-covered table, with all the cheerful invitations of
a festive repast: the friends could now wait in company the
lapse of several hours, and only night decided the customary
separation.
  Happily the artist and Wilhelm had, in their former voya-
gings, neglected, out of a certain natural caprice, to visit the
most highly ornamented of all the islands, and had even yet
never thought of showing to their fair friends the many arti-
ficial and somewhat dilapidated curiosities of the place, before
these glorious scenes of creation were entirely gone through.
At last, however, new light rose on their minds. They took
counsel with the guide: he contrived forthwith to expedite
their voyage, and all looked on it as the most blissful they
had yet undertaken. They could now hope and expect, after
so many interrupted joys, to spend three whole heavenly
days assembled together in a sequestered abode.
  And here we cannot but bestow on this guide our high
commendation: he belonged to that nimble, active, dexter-
ous class, who, in attendance on successive parties, Qften
travel the same roads; perfectly acquainted with the conven-
iences and inconveniences on all of them, they understand
how to use the one and evade the other, and, without leav-
ing their own profit out of sight, still to conduct their patrons
more cheaply and pleasantly through the country than with-
out such aid would have been possible.
   At this time, also, a sufficient female train, belonging to
 our dames, for the first time stepped forth in decided ac-
 tivity; and the fair widow could now make it one of her con-
 ditions, that the friends were to remain with her as guests,
 and content themselves with what she called her moderate
 entertainment. In this point, too, all prospered; for the
 cunning functionary had, on this occasion as on others, con-
 trived to make so good a use of the letters and introductions
 which his heroines had brought with them, that, the owner of
 the place they were now about to visit being absent, both
 castle and garden, kitchen included, were thrown open for
 the service of the strangers, - nay, some prospect was held
 out, even of the cellar. All things co-operated so harmoni-
 ously, that our wanderers from the very first moment felt
 themselves as if at home, as if born lords of this paradise.
   The whole luggage of the party was now carried to the


200





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


island, an arrangement producing much convenience to all;
though the chief advantage aimed at was, that the portfolios
of our artist, now for the first time all collected together,
might afford him means to exhibit in continuous sequence to
his fair hostesses the route he had followed. This task was
undertaken by all parties with delight. Not that they pro-
ceeded in the common style of amateur and artist, mutually
eulogizing: here was a gifted man, rewarded by the most
sincere and judicious praise. But that we fall not into the
suspicion of attempting, with general phrases, to palm on
credulous readers what we could not openly show them, let
us here insert the judgment of a critic, who some years after-
wards viewed with studious admiration both the pieces here
in question, and the others of a like or similar sort by the
same hand.
  " He succeeds in representing the cheerful repose of lake-
prospects, where houses in friendly approximation, imaging
themselves in the clear wave, seem as if bathing in its depths;
shores encircled with green hills, behind which rise forest
mountains, and icy peaks of glaciers. The tone of coloring
in such scenes is gay, mirthfully clear; the distances, as if
overflowed with softening vapor, which, from watered hol-
lows and river valleys, mounts up grayer and mistier, and
indicates their windings. No less is the master's art to be
praised in views from valleys lying nearer the high Alpine
ranges, where declivities slope down, luxuriantly overgrown,
and fresh streams roll hastily along by the foot of rocks.
   " With exquisite skill, in the deep, shady trees of the fore-
ground, he gives the distinctive character of 'the several
species; satisfying us in the form of the whole, as in the
structure of the branches and the details of the leaves, - no
less so in the fresh green, with its manifold shadings, where
soft airs appear as if fanning us with benignant breath, and
the lights as if thereby put in motion.
   " In the middle ground his lively green tone grows fainter
by degrees, and at last, on the more distant mountain tops,
passing into weak violet, weds itself with the blue of the sky.
But our artist' is, above all, happy in his paintings of high
Alpine regions; in seizing the simple greatness and stillness
of their character; the wide pastures on the slopes, clothed
with the freshest green, where dark, solitary firs stand forth
from the grassy carpet; and from high cliffs foaming brooks
rush down. Whether he relieve his pasturages with grazing
cattle, or the narrow, winding, rocky path with mules and


201





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


laden pack-horses, he paints all with equal truth and rich-
ness: still introduced in the proper place, and not in too
great copiousness, they decorate and enliven these scenes
without interrupting, without lessening, their peaceful soli-
tude. The execution testifies a master's hand, - easy with
a few sure strokes, and yet complete. In his later pieces he
employed glittering English, permanent colors on paper:
these pictures, accordingly, are of pre-eminently blooming
tone, cheerful, yet, at the same time, strong and sated.
   " His views of deep mountain chasms, where round and
round nothing fronts us but dead rock; where, in the abyss,
overspanned by its bold arch, the wild stream rages, - are,
indeed, of less attraction than the former; yet their truth
excites us: we admire the great effect of the whole, pro-
duced at so little cost, by a few expressive strokes, and
masses of local colors.
   " With no less accuracy of character can he represent the
regions of the topmost Alpine ranges, where neither tree nor
shrub any more appears; but only, amid the rocky teeth and
snow summits, a few sunny spots clothe themselves with a
soft sward. Beautiful and balmy and inviting as he colors
these spots, he has here wisely forborne to introduce grazing
herds; for these regions give food only to the chamois, and
a perilous employment to the wild-hay-men."
   " We shall not deviate from our purpose of bringing the
condition of these waste scenes as close as possible to the
conception of our readers, if to this word, wild-hay-man,
or Wildheuer, we subjoin a short explanation. It is a name
given to the poorer inhabitants of the upland Alpine ranges,
who occupy themselves in making hay from such grassy spots
as are inaccessible to cattle. For this purpose they climb,
with cramps on their feet, the steepest and rhost dangerous
cliffs; or from high crags let themselves down by ropes when
this is necessary, and so reach these grassy patches. The
grass once cut and dried to hay, they throw it down from the
heights into the deeper valleys; where, being collected to-
gether, it is sold to cattle-owners, with whom, on account of
its superior quality, it finds a ready market."

   These paintings, which must have gratified and attracted
 any eye, were viewed by Hilaria, in particular, with great
 attention; and from her observations it became clear, that,
 in this department, she herself was no stranger.  To the
 artist, least of all, did this continue secret: nor could ap-


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


proval from aly one have been more precious to him than
from this most graceful of all persons. Her companion,
therefore, kept silence no longer, but blamed Hilaria for not
coming forward with her own accomplishment, but lingering
in -this case as she always did, - now where the question was
not of being praised or blamed, but of being instructed. A
fairer opportunity, she said, might not easily occur.
   And now it came to light, when she was thus forced to
exhibit her portfolios, what a talent was lying hid behind this
still and most lovely nature: the capacity had been derived
from birth, and diligently cultivated by practice. She pos-
sessed a true eye; a delicate hand, such as women, accus-
tomed to use it in their dressing and decorating operations,
find available in higher art. You might, doubtless, observe
unsureness in the strokes, and, in consequence, a too un-
decided character in the objects: but you could not help
admiring the most faithful execution; though the whole was
not seized in its happiest effect, not grouped and adjusted
with the skill of an artist. She is afraid, you would say, of
profaning her object, if she keep not completely true to it:
hence she becomes precise and stiff, and loses herself in
details.
   But now, by the great, free talent, by the bold hand of
 the artist, she feels rising, awakening within her, whatever
 genuine feeling and taste had till now slumbered in her
 mind: she perceives that she has but to take heart, and
 earnestly and punctually to follow some fundamental maxims
 which the artist, with penetrating judgment and friendly
 importunity, is repeating, and impressing on her.  That
 sureness of stroke comes of its own accord; she by degrees
 dwells less on the parts than on the whole: and thus the
 fairest capability rises on a sudden to fulfilment; as a rose-
 bud, which in the evening we passed by unobservant, breaks
 forth in the morning at sunrise before our face; and the
 living, quivering movement of this lordly blossom, struggling
 out to the light, seems almost visible before our eyes.
   Nor did this intellectual culture remain without moral
 effects; for, on a pure spirit, it produces a magic impression
 to be conscious of that heartfelt thankfulness natural towards
 any one to whom it stands indebted for decisive instruction.
 In this case it was the first glad emotion which had risen in
 Hilaria's soul for many a week. To see this lordly world
 lying round her day after day, and now at once to feel the
 instantly acquired, more perfect gift of representing it!


203





MEI STER'S TRAVELS.


What delight in figures and tints, to be approachi6, nearer
the Unspeakable ! She felt herself surprised as with a new
youth, and could not refuse a peculiar kindliness to the man
who had procured for her such happiness.
  Thus did the two sit together: you could scarcely have
determined whether he were readier in communicating secret
advantages in art, or she in seizing them and turning them
to practice. The happiest rivalry, such as too seldom rises
between scholar and master, here took place. Many a time
you might observe the friend preparing with some decisive
stroke to influence her drawing; which she, on the other
hand, would gently decline, hastening to do the wished, the
necessary, of her own accord, and always to her master's
astonishment.
  The fair widow, in the mean while, walked along the ter-
races with Wilhelm, under cypresses and pines, now under
vine, now under orange groves, and at last could not but
fulfil the eFintly indicated wish of her new friend, and disclose
to him the strange entanglement by which the two fair pil-
grims, cut off from their former ties, and straitly united to
one another, had been sent forth to wander over the world.
  Wilhelm, who wanted not the gift of accurately noting
what he saw, took down her narrative some time afterwards
in writing: this, as he compiled it and transmitted it by
Hersilia to Natalia, we purpose by and by communicating to
our readers.
  The last evening was now come; and a rising, most clear,
full moon concealed the transition from day to night. The
party had assembled and seated themselves on one of the
highest terraces, to see distinct and unimpeded, and glitter-
ing in the sheen of east and west, the peaceful lake, hidden
partly in its length, but visible over all its breadth.
  Whatever in such circumstances might be talked of, it was
natural once more to repeat the hundred times repeated;
to mention the beauties of this sky, of this water, of this
land, under the influences of a strong sun and milder moon,
- nay, exclusively and lyrically to recognize and describe
them. *
  But what none of them uttered, what each durst scarcely
avow to himself, was the deep, mournful feeling which,
stronger or weaker, but with equal truth and tenderness, was
beating in every bosom:. The presentiment of parting dif-
fused itself over present union: a gradual stagnation was
becoming almost painful.


204





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  Then at last the singer roused himself, summoned up his
resolution; with strong tones, preluding on his instrument;
heedless of the former well-meant reserve. Mignon's figure,
with the first soft song of the gentle child, were hovering
before him. Passionately hurried over the limits, with long-
ing touch awakening the sweetly sounding strings, he began to
raise, -
         " Dost know the land where citrons, lemons, grow,
           Gold oranges 'neath dusky foliage " .

Hersilia rose in deepest agitation, and hurried away, veiling
her face: our fair widow, with a motion of refusal, waved
her hand towards the singer; while she caught Wilhelm's arm
with the other. The perplexed and half-unconscious youth
followed Hilaria: Wilhelm, by his more considerate guide,
was led after them. And now, when they stood all four under
the high moonshine, the general emotion was no longer to
be concealed. The women threw themselves into each other's
arms; the men embraced each other; and Luna was witness
of the noblest, chastest tears. Some recollection slowly re-
turned; they forced themselves asunder, silent, under strange
feelings and wishes, from which hope was already cut off.
And now our artist, whom his friend dragged with him, felt
himself here under the void heaven, in the solemn, lovely
hour of night, initiated in the first stage of renunciation,
which those friends had already passed through, though they
now saw themselves again in danger of being sharply tried.
   Not till late had the young men gone to rest; awakening
in the early morning, they took heart; thought themselves
now strong enough for a farewell to this paradise ; devised
many plans for still, without violation of duty, at least lin-
gering in the pleasant neighborhood.
  While purposing to introduce their projects to this effect,
they were cut short by intelligence, that, with the earliest
break of day, the ladies had departed. A letter from the
hand of our Queen of Hearts gave them more precise in-
formation. You might have doubted whether sense rather
than goodness, love rather than friendship, acknowledgment
of merit rather than soft, bashful favor, was expressed in it.
But, alas! in the conclusion stood the hard request, that our
two wanderers were neither to follow their heroines, nor any-
where to seek them; nay, if they chanced to see each other,
they were faithfully to avoid meeting.
  And now the paradise, as if by the touch of an enchanter's


205





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


rod, was changed for our friends into an utter desert; and
certainly they would have smiled at themselves had they per-
ceived at this moment how unjust and unthankful they were
on a sudden become to so fair and remarkable a scene. No
self-seeking hypochondriac could so sharply and spitefully
have rated and censured the decay of the buildings, the neg-
lected condition of the walls, the weathered aspect of the
towers, the grassy obstruction of the walks, the perishing of
the trees, the mossiness and mouldering of the artificial
grottos, and whatever else of that sort was to be observed,
as our two travellers now did. By degrees, however, they
settled themselves as circumstances would admit: the artist
carefully packed up his work; they both set sail; Wilhelm
accompanying him to the upper quarter of the lake, where,
by previous agreement, the former set forth on his way to
Natalia, to introduce her by his fair landscape-papers into
scenes which, perhaps, she might not soon have an opportunity
of viewing with her eyes. He was at the same time com-
missioned to inform her confessionally of the late incident,
which had reduced him to a state such that he might be re-
ceived with hearty kindness by the confederates in the vow
of renunciation, and with soft, friendly treatment in the
midst of them, be comforted if he could not be healed.





                    CHAPTER XIV.

  IN this division of our work, the exculpatory " Word from
the Editor" might have been.more requisite than even in the
foregoing chapter; for there, though we had not the paint-
ings of the master and his fair scholar, on which all de-
pended, to exhibit before our readers, and could neither
make the perfection of the finished artist, nor the commen-
cing stintedness nor rapid development of the art-loving
beauty, visible to their eyes, yet still the description might
not be altogether inefficient, and many genial and thought-
exalting matters remained to be imparted. But here, where
the business in hand is a great object, which one could have
wished to see treated in the most precise manner, there is,
unhappily, too little noted down; and we cannot hope that a
complete view will be attained from our cQmmunications.


206





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


207


  Again, it is to be observed, that in the novel, as in uni-
versal history, we have to struggle with uncertain computa-
tions of time, and cannot always decisively fix what has
happened sooner, and what later. We shall hold, therefore,
by the surest points.

  That a year inust have passed since Wilhelm left the
pedagogic province is rendered certain by the circumstance
that we now meet him at the festival to which he had been
invited: but as our wandering renunciants sometimes unex-
pectedly dive down and vanish from our sight, and then
again emerge into view at a place where they were not
looked for, it cannot be determined with certainty what track
they have followed in the interim.
  Now, however, the traveller advances from the side of
the plain country into the pedagogic province: he comes
over fields and pasturages; skirts, on the dry lea, many a
little freshet; sees bushy rather than woody hills; a free
prospect on all sides, over a surface but little undulated.
On such tracks, he did not long doubt that he was in the
horse-producing region; and accordingly he failed not here
and there to observe greater or smaller herds of mares and
foals. But all at once the horizon darkens with a fierce
cloud of dust, which, rapidly swelling nearer and nearer,
covers all the breadth of the space, yet at last, rent asunder
by a sharp side wind, is forced to disclose its interior
tumult.
  At full gallop rushes forward a vast multitude of these
noble animals, guided and held together by mounted keep-
ers. The monstrous hurly-burly whirls past the wanderer:
a fair boy among the keepers looks at him with surprise,
pulls in, leaps down, and embraces his father.
  Now commences a questioning and answering : the boy re-
lates that an agricultural life had not agreed with him; the
harvest-home he had, indeed, found delightful, but the subse-
quent arrangements, the ploughing and digging, by no means
so. This the superiors remark, and observe at the same
time that' he likes to employ himself with animals: they
direct him to the useful and necessary domestic breeds, try
him as a sequestered herdsman and keeper, and at last pro-
mote him to the more lively equestrian occupation, where
accordingly he now, himself a young foal, has to watch over
foals, and to forward their good nourishment and training
under the oversight of .skilful comrades.





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  Father and son, following the herd by various lone-lying
spacious farm-yards, reached the town, or hamlet, near which
the great annual market was held. Here rages an incredible
confusion, in which it is hard to determine whether mer-
chants or wares raise more dust. From all countries, pur-
chasers assemble here to procure animals of noble blood and
careful training: all the languages of the earth, you would
fancy, meet your ear. Amid all this hubbub, too, rises the
lively sound of powerful wind instruments: every thing be-
speaks motion, vigor, and life.
  The wanderer meets his overseer of last year, who presents
him to the others: he is even introduced to one of the Three,
and by him, though only in passing, paternally and expres-
sively saluted.
  Wilhelm, here again observing an example of exclusive
culture and life-leading, expresses a desire to know in what
else the pupils are practised, by way of counterpoise, that
so in this wild, and, to a certain degree, savage occupation
of feeding animals, the youth may not himself roughen into
an animal. And, in answer, he is gratified to learn, that pre-
cisely with this violent and rugged-looking occupation the
softest in the world is united, - the learning and practising
of languages.
  ' To this," it was said, "we have been induced by the
circumstance, that there are youths from all quarters of the
world assembled here : now, to prevent them from uniting, as
usually happens when abroad, into national knots, and form-
ing exclusive parties, we endeavor by a free communication
of speech to approximate them.
  "Indeed, a general acquaintance with languages is here
in some degree rendered necessary; since, in our yearly
market festivals, every foreigner wishes to converse in his
own tones and idiom, and, in the course of cheapening and
purchasing, to proceed with all possible convenience. That
no Babylonish confusion of tongues, however, no corruption
of speech, may arise from this practice, we employ a differ-
ent language month by month, throughout the year; accord-
ing to the maxim, that, in learning any thing, its first princi-
ples alone should be taught by constraint.
  " We look upon our scholars," said the overseer, " as so
many swimmers, who, in the element which threatened to
swallow them, feel with astonishment that they are lighter,
that it bears and carries them forward;- and so it is w'ith
every thing that man undertakes.


208





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  ' However, if any one of our young men show a special
inclination for this or the other language, we neglect not, in
the midst of this tumultuous-looking life, which nevertheless
offers very many quiet, idly solitary, nay, tedious hours, to
provide for his true and substantial instruction. Our riding
grammarians, among whom there are even some pedagogues
you would be surprised to discover among these bearded and
beardless centaurs.   Your Felix has turned himself to
Italian; and, in the monotonous solitude of his herdsman
life, you shall hear him send forth many a dainty song with
proper feeling and taste. Practical activity and expertness
are far more compatible with sufficient intellectual culture
than is generally supposed."
  Each of these districts was celebrating its peculiar festi-
val, so the guest was now conducted to the instrumental
music department. This tract, skirted by the level country,
began from its very border to exhibit kind and beautifully
changing valleys; little trim woods; soft brooks, by the side
of which, among the sward, here and there a mossy crag
modestly stood forth. Scattered, bush-encircled dwellings
you might see on the hillsides: in soft hollows, the houses
clustered nearer together. Those gracefully separated cot-
tages lay so far apart, that neither tones nor mistones could
be heard from one to the other.
  They now approached a wide space, begirt with buildings
and shady trees, where crowded, man on man, all seemed on
the stretch of expectation and attention.     Just as the
stranger entered, there was sent forth from all the instru-
ments a grand symphony, the full, rich power and tenderness
of which he could not but admire. Opposite the spacious
main orchestra was a smaller one, which failed not to attract
his notice: here stood various younger and elder scholars;
each held his instrument in readiness without playing: these
were they who as yet could not, or durst not, join in with
the whole. It was interesting to observe how they stood, as
it were, on the start; and our friend was informed that such
a festival seldom passed over without some one or other of
them suddenly developing his talent.
  As, among the instrumental, music singing was now intro-
duced, no doubt could remain that this also was favored.
To the question, What other sort of culture was here
blended in kind union with the chief employment, our wan-
derer learned, in reply, that it was poetry, and of the
lyrical kind. In this matter it appeared their main concern


209





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


was, that both arts should be developed, each for itself and
from itself, but then also in contrast and combination with
each other.   The scholars were first instructed in each
according to its own limitations, then taught how the two
reciprocally limit, and again reciprocally free each other.
  To poetical rhythm the musical artist opposes measure
of tone, and movement of tone. But here the mastery of
Music over Poesy soon shows itself; for if the latter, as
is fit and necessary, keep her quantities never so steadily
in view, still for the musician few syllables are decidedly
short or long : at his pleasure he can overset the most consci-
entious procedure of the rhythmer, - nay, change prose itself
into song; from which, in truth, the richest possibilities
present themselves : and the poet would soon feel himself
annihilated if he could not, on his own side, by lyrical
tenderness and boldness, inspire the musician with rever-
ence, and, now in the softest sequence, now by the most
abrupt transitions, awaken new feelings in the mind.
   The singers to be met with here are mostly poets them-
selves. Dancing also is taught in its fundamental princi-
ples, that so all these accomplishments may regularly spread
themselves into every district.
   The guest, on being led across the next boundary, at
once perceived an altogether different mode of building.
The houses were no longer scattered into separation, no
longer in the shape of cottages: they stood regularly united,
beautiful in their exterior, spacious, convenient, and elegant
within; you here saw an unconfined, well-built, stately town,
corresponding to the scene it stood in. Here the plastic
arts, and the trades akin to them have their home; and a
peculiar silence reigns over these spaces.
   The plastic artist, it is true, must still figure himself as
 standing in relation to all that lives and moves among men;
 but his occupation is solitary: and yet, by the strangest
 contradiction, there is, perhaps, no other that so decidedly
 requires a living accompaniment and society. Now, here,
 in that circle, is each in silence forming shapes that are
 forever' to engage the eyes of men: a holiday stillness
 reigns over the whole scene; and did you not here and
 there catch the picking of stone-hewers, and the measured
 stroke of carpenters, who are now busily employed in finish-
 ing a lordly edifice, the air were unmoved by any sound.
   Our wanderer was struck, moveover, by the earnestness,
 the singular rigor, with which beginners: as well as more


210





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


advanced pupils, were treated: it seemed as if no one, by
his own power and judgment, accomplished any thing, but
as if a secret spirit, striving towards one single great aim,
pervaded and vivified them all. Nowhere did you observe a
scheme or sketch: every stroke was drawn with forethought.
As the wanderer inquired of his guide the reason of this
peculiar procedure, he was told, " That imagination was,
in itself, a vague, unstable power, which the whole merit of
the plastic artist consisted in more and more determining,
fixing, nay, at last exalting to visible presence."
  The necessity for sure principles in other arts was men-
tioned. "Would the musician," it was said, " permit his
scholar to dash wildly over the strings, --nay, to invent bars
and intervals for himself at his own good pleasure? Here
it is palpable that nothing can be left to the caprice of the
learner: the element he is to work in is irrevocably given;
the implement he is to wield is put into his hands; nay, the
very way and manner of his using it, I mean the changing
of the fingers, he finds prescribed to him; so ordered that
the one part of his hand shall give place to the other, and
each prepare the proper path for its follower: by such
determinate co-operation only can the. impossible at last
become possible.
   " But what chiefly vindicates the practice of strict requi-
sitions, of decided laws, is that genius, that native talent,
is precisely the*readiest to seize them, and yield them willing
obedience. It is only the half-gifted that would wish to
put his own contracted singularity in the place of the uncon-
ditional whole, and justify his false attempts under cover
of an unconstrainable originality and independence.  To
this we grant no currency: we guard our scholars from all
such misconceptions, whereby a large portion of life, nay,
often the whole of life, is apt to be perplexed and dis-
jointed.
   "With genius we love most to be concerned, for this is
animated just by that good spirit of quickly recognizing
what is profitable for it. Genius understands that Art is
called Art,. because it is not Nature. Genius bends itself
to respect even towards what may be named conventional;
for what is this but agreeing, as the most distinguished men
have agreed, to regard the unalterable, the indispensable,
as the best? And does not such submission always turn to
good account?
   "Here, too, as in all our departments, to the great assist-


211





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


ance of the teachers, our three reverences and their signs,
with some changes suitable to the nature of the main em-
ployment, have been introduced and inculcated."
  The wanderer, in his further survey, was surprised to
observe that the town seemed still extending; street unfold-
ing itself from street, and so offering the most varied pros-
pects. The exterior of the edifices corresponded to their
destination: they were dignified and stately, not so much
magnificent as beautiful. To the nobler and more earnest
buildings in the centre of the town the more 'cheerful were
harmoniously appended; till, farther out, gay, decorated
suburbs, in graceful style, stretched forth into the country,
and at last separated into garden-houses.
  The stranger could not fail to remark that the dwellings
of the musicians in the preceding district were by no
means to be compared, in beauty or size, with the present,
which painters, statuaries, and architects inhabited. He.
was told that this arose from the nature of the thing. The
musician, ever shrouded in himself, must cultivate his in-
most being, that so he may turn it outwards. The sense
of the eye he may not flatter. The eye easily corrupts
the judgment of the ear, and allures the spirit from the
inward to the outward. Inversely, again, the plastic artist
has to live in- the external world, and to manifest his
inward being, as it were, unconsciously, in and upon what
is outward.   Plastic artists should dwell like kings and
gods: how else are they to build and decorate for kings
and gods? They must at last so raise themselves above
the common that the whole mass of a people may feel
itself ennobled in and by their works.
  Our friend then begged an explanation of another para-
dox. Why, at this time, so festive, so enlivening, so
tumultuously excited, in the other regions, the great-
est stillness prevailed  here, and all labors were con-
tinued ?
  "A plastic artist," it was answered, "needs no festival.
When he has accomplished something excellent it stands,
as it h'as long done before his own eye, now at last before
the eye of the world. In his task he needed no repetition,
no new effort, no fresh success; whereas the musician con-
stantly afflicts himself with all this: and to him, therefore,
the most splendid festival, in the most numerous assem-
blage, should not be refused."
   "Yet, at such a season," replied Wilhelm, "something


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


like an exhibition might be desirable, in which it would be
pleasant to inspect and judge the triennial progress of your
best pupils."
  " In other places," it was answered, " an exhibition may
be necessary: with us it is not. Our whole being and
nature is exhibition. Look round you at these buildings
of every sort, all erected by our pupils, and this not with-
out plans, a hundred times talked of and meditated; for
the builder must not grope and experiment: what is to
continue standing must stand rightly, and satisfy, if not
forever, yet at least for a long space of time. If we
cannot help committing errors, we must build none.
  "With statuaries we proceed more laxly, most so of all
with painters : to both we give liberty to try this and that, each
in his own way. It staids in their power to select, in the
interior or exterior compartments of edifices in public places,
some space which they nay incline to decorate. They give
forth their ideas; and, if these are in some degree to be ap-
proved of, the completion of them is permitted, and this in
two ways: either with liberty, sooner or later, to remove the
work, should it come to displease the artist; or with the con-
dition that what is once set up shall remain unalterable in its
place. Most part choose the first of these offers, retaining
in their own hands this power of removal; and in the per-
formance they constantly avail themselves of the best advice.
The second case occurs seldomer; and we then observe that
the artist trusts less to himself, holds long conferences with
companions and critics, and by this means produces works
really estimable, and deserving to endure."
  After all this our traveller neglected not to ask, What
other species of instruction was combined with the main one
here? and received for answer, that it was poetry, and of
the epic sort.
  This to our friend must have seemed a little singular, when
he heard further that the pupils were not allowed to read or
hear any finished poems by ancient or modern poets. " We
merely impart to them," it was said, " a series of mythuses,
traditions, and legends, in the most laconic form. And now,
from the pictorial or poetic execution of these subjects, we
at once discover the peculiar productive gift of the genius
devoted to the one or the other art. Both poet and painter
thus labor at the same fountain; and each endeavors to draw
off the water to his own side to his own advantage, and at-
tain his own required objects with it; in which he succeeds


213





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


much better than if he attempted again to fashion something
that has been fashioned already."
  The traveller himself had an opportunity of seeing how
this was accomplished: several painters were busy in a room.;
a gay young friend was relating with great minuteness a very
simple story; so that he employed almost as many words as
the others did pencil-strokes, to complete the same exhibi-
tion, and round it fully off.
  He was told, that, in working together, the friends were
wont to carry on much pleasant conversation; and that in
this way several improvisatori had unfolded their gifts, and
succeeded in exciting great enthusiasm for this twofold mode
of representation.
  Our friend now reverted his inquiries to the subject of
plastic art. " You have no exhibition," said he, "and
therefore, I suppose, give no prize either? "
  " No," said the other, " we do not; but here, close by,
we can show you something which we reckon more useful."
  They entered a large hall, appropriately lighted from
above : a wide circle of busy artists first attracted the eye;
and from the midst of these rose a colossal group of figures,
elevated with pleasing effect in the centre of the place. Male
and female forms, of gigantic power, in violent postures, re-
minded one of that lordly fight between heroic youths and
Amazons, wherein hate and enmity at last issue in mutually
regretful alliance. This strikingly intertwisted piece of art
presented an equally favorable aspect from every point of
its circuit. In a wide ring round it were many artists sitting
and standing, each occupied in his own way, "the painter at
his easel, the drawer at his sketch-board: some were model-
ling it in full, others in bas-relief: there were even architects
engaged in planning the pedestal, on which a similar group,
when wrought in marble, was to be erected. Each individ-
ual was proceeding by his own method in this task: painters
and drawers were bringing out the group to a plain surface,
careful, however, not to destroy its figures, but to retain as
much of it as possible. In the same manner were works in
bas-relief going forward. One man only had repeated the
whole group in a miniature scale, and in certain movements
and arrangements of limbs he really seemed to have sur-
passed his model.
  And now it came out that this man was the maker of the
model; who, before working it in marble, had here submit-
ted his performance, not to a critical, but to a practical trial,


214





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


and by accurately observing whatever any of his fellow-artists
in his special department and way of thought mnight notice,
retain, or alter in the group, was purposing, in subsequent
consideration, to turn all this to his own profit: so that,
when at length the grand work stood finished in marble,
though undertaken, planned, and executed by one, it might
seem to belong to all.
  The greatest silence reigned throughout this apartment
also; but the superior raised his voice, and cried, " Is there
any of you, then, who, in presence of this stationary work,
can, With gifted words, so awaken our imagination, that all
we here see concreted shall again become fluid, without losing
its character, and so convince us that what our artist has
here laid hold of was indeed the worthiest?"
  Called forth on all sides by name, a fair youth laid down
his work, and, as he stepped forward, began a quiet speech,
seemingly intended merely to describe the present group of
figures; but erelong he cast himself into the region of poetry,
plunged into the middle of the action, and ruled this element
like a master: by degrees his representation so swelled and
mounted by lordly words and gestures, that the rigid group
seemed actually to move about its axis, and the number of
its figures to be doubled and trebled. Wilhelm stood en-
raptured, and at last exclaimed, " Can we now forbear pass-
ing over into song itself, into rhythmic melody ? "
   "This I should wish to deprecate," said the overseer;
" for, if our excellent statuary will be candid, he will confess
to us that our poet scarcely pleases him; and this because
their arts lie in the most opposite regions : on the other hand,
I durst bet, that here and there a painter has not failed to
appropriate some living touches from the speech.
   " A soft, kindly song, however, I could wish our friend to
hear: there is ofie, for instance, which you sing to an air so
lovely and earnest; it turns on art in general, and I myself
never listen to it without pleasure."
  After a pause, in which they beckoned to each other, and
settled their arrangements by signs, the following heart and
spirit stirring song resounded in stately melody from all
sides :-


              " While inventing and effecting,
                 Artist by thyself continue long:
               The result art thou expecting,
                 Haste and see it in the throng.





216               MEISTER'S TRAVELS.

            Here in others look, discover
            What thy own life's course has been;
            And thy deeds of years past over,
              In thy fellow-man be seen.

            The devising, the uniting,
            What and how the forms shall be,
            One thing will the other lighten,
              And at last comes joy to thee!
            Wise and true what thou impartest,
              Fairly shaped, and softly done:
            Thus of old the cunning artist
              Artist-like his glory won.

            As all Nature's thousand changes
              But one changeless God proclaim;
            So in Art's wide kingdoms ranges
              One sole meaning still the same:
            This is Truth, eternal Reason,
              Which from Beauty takes its dress,
            And, serene through time and season,
              Stands for aye in loveliness.

            While the orator, the singer,
              Pour their hearts in rhyme and prose,
            'Neath the painter's busy finger
              Shall bloom forth Life's cheerful rose,
            Girt with sisters, in the middle,
              And with Autumn's fruitage blent;
            That of life's mysterious riddle
              Sore short glimpses may be hent.

            Thousand-fold and graceful, show thou
              Form from forms evolving fair;
            And of man's bright image know thou
              That a God once tarried there:
            And, whate'er your tasks or prizes,
              Stand as brethren one and all;
            While, like song, sweet incense rises
              From the altar at your call."

   All this Wilhelm could not but let pass, though it must
 have seemed paradoxical enough, and, had he not seen it
 with his eyes, might even have appeared impossible. But
 now, when it was explained and pointed out to him, openly
 and freely, and in fair sequence, he scarcely needed to put
 any further question on the subject. However, he at last
 addressed his conductor as follows: " I see here a most pru-
 dent provision made for much that is desirable in life; but
 tell me further, which of your regions exhibits a similar at-
 tention to dramatic poetry, and where could I instruct my-
 self in that matter? I have looked round over all your





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


edifices, and observed none that seemed destined for such an
object."
   " In reply to this question, we must not hide from you,
that, in our whole province, there is no such edifice to be
seen. The drama presupposes the existence of an idle mul-
titude, perhaps even of a populace; and no such class finds
harbor with us: for birds of that feather, when they do not
in spleen forsake us of their own accord, we soon take care
to conduct over the marches. Doubt not, however, that in
our Institution, so universal in its character, this point was
carefully meditated; but no region could be found for the
purpose, everywhere some important scruple came in the way.
Indeed, who among our pupils could readily determine, with
pretended mirth or hypocritical sorrow, to excite in the rest
a feeling untrue in itself, and alien to the moment, for the
sake of calling forth an always dubious satisfaction? Such
juggleries we reckoned in all cases dangerous, and could not
reconcile with our earnest objects."
   " It is said, however," answered Wilhelm, ' that this far-
stretching art promotes all the rest of whatever sort."
   " Nowise," answered the other: " it employs the rest, but
spoils them. I do not blame a player for uniting himself
with a painter; but the painter, in. such society, is lost.
Without any conscience, the player will lay hold of whatever
art or life presents him, and use it for his fugitive objects,
indeed, with no small profit: the painter, again, who could
wish in return to extract advantage from the theatre, will
constantly find himself a loser by it; and so also in the like
case will the musician. The combined arts appear to m'e
like a family of sisters, of whom the greater part were in-
clined to good economy, but one was light-headed, and desir-
ous to appropriate and squander the whole goods and chattels
of the household. The theatre is this wasteful sister: it has
an ambiguous origin, which in no case, whether as art or
trade or amusement, it can wholly conceal."
  Wilhelm cast his eyes on the ground with a deep sigh: for
all that he had enjoyed or suffered on the stage rose at once
before his mind; and he blessed the good men who were wise
enough to spare their pupils such pain, and, out of principle
and conviction, to banish such errors from their sphere.
  His attendant, however, did not leave him long in these
meditations, but continued, " As it is our highest and holiest
principle, that no talent, no capacity, be misdirected, we can-
not hide from ourselves, that, among so large a number, here


217





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


and there a minimical gift will sometimes decidedly come to
light; exhibiting itself in an irresistible desire to ape the
characters, forms, movements, speech, of others. This we
certainly do not encourage: but we observe our pupil
strictly; and, if he continue faithful to his nature, then we
have already established an intercourse with the great
theatres of all nations; and so thither we send any youth
of tried capability, that, as the duck on the pond, so he on
the boards, may be forthwith conducted, full speed, to the
future quack-quacking, and gibble-gabbling, of his life."
  Wilhelm heard this with patience, but only with half con-
viction, perhaps with some spleen: for so strangely is man
tempered, that he may be persuaded of the worthlessness of
any darling object, may turn away from it, nay, even exe-
crate it, but yet will not see it treated in this way by others;
and perhaps the spirit of Contradiction, which dwells in all
men, never rouses itself more vehemently and stoutly than
in such cases.
  And the editor of these sheets may himself confess that he
lets not this strange passage through his hands without some
touch of anger. Has not he, too, in many senses, expended
more life and faculty than was right on the theatre? And
would these men convince him that this has been an unpar-
donable error, a fruitless toil?
   But we have no time for appending, in splenetic mood,
such remembrances and after-feelings to the narrative; for
our friend now finds himself agreeably surprised, as one of
the Three, and this a particularly prepossessing one, again
comes before his eyes. Kind, open meekness, announcing
the purest peace of soul, came in its refreshing effluences
along with him. Trustfully the wanderer could approach,
and feel his trust returned.
   Here he now learned that the chief was at present in the
 sanctuary, instructing, teaching, blessing; while the Three
 had separated to visit all the regions, and everywhere, after
 most thorough information obtained, and conferences with
 the subordinate overseers, to forward what was in progress,
 to found what was newly planned, and thereby faithfully dis,
 charge their high duty.
   This same excellent person now gave him a more compre-
 hensive view of their internal situation and external connec-
 tions; explained to him the mutual influences of one region
 on another; and also by what steps, after a longer or a
 shorter date, a pupil could be transferred from the one to


218





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


the other.   All this harmonized completely with what he
already knew. At the same time he was much gratified by
the description given of his son, and their further plan of
education met with his entire approval.
  He was now, by the assistants and overseer, invited to a
miners' festival, which was forthwith to be celebrated. The
ascent of the mountains was difficult; and Wilhelm fancied
he observed that his guide walked even slower towards even-
ing, as if the darkness had not been likely to obstruct their
path still more. But, when deep night came round them, this
enigma was solved: our wanderer observed little flames come
glimmering and wavering forth from many dells and chasms,
gradually stretch themselves into lines, and roll over the sum-
mits of the mountains. Much kindlier than when a volcano
opens, and its belching roar threatens whole countries with
destruction, did this fair light appear; and yet, by degrees,
it glowed with new brightness ; grew stronger, broader, more
continuous; glittered like a stream of stars, soft and lovely
indeed, yet spreading boldly over all the scene.
  After the attendant had a little while enjoyed the surprise
of his guest, - for they could clearly enough observe each
other, their faces and forms, as well as their path, being illu-
minated by the light from the distance, - he began, " You
see here, in truth, a curious spectacle: these lights which,
day and night, the whole year over, gleam and work under
ground, forwarding the acquisition of concealed and scarcely
attainable treasures, these now mount and .well forth from
their abysses, and gladden the upper night. Scarcely could
one anywhere enjoy so brave a review as here, where this most
useful occupation, which, in its subterranean concealment, is
dispersed and hidden from the eye, rises before us in its full
completeness, and bespeaks a great secret combination."
  Amid such speeches and thoughts they had reached the
spot where these fire-brooks poured themselves into a sea of
flame surrounding a well-lighted insular space. The wan-
derer placed himself in the dazzling circle, within which glit-
tering lights by thousands formed an imposing contrast with
the miners, ranked round it like a dark wall. Forthwith
arose the gayest music as accompaniment to becoming songs.
Hollow masses of rock came forward on machinery, and
opened a resplendent interior to the eye of the delighted
spectator. Mimetic exhibitions, and whatever else at such a
moment can gratify the multitude, combined with all this at
once to excite and to satisfy a cheerful attention.


219





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  But with what astonishment was Wilhelm filled when, on
being introduced to the superiors, he observed friend Jarno
in solemn, stately robes among the number. " Not in vain,"
cried Jarno, " have I changed my former name with the
more expressive title of Montan : thou findest me here initi-
ated in mountain and cave; and now, if questioned, I could
disclose and explain to thee much that a year ago was still a
riddle to myself."

  At this point our manuscripts forsake us: of the conver-
sation of these friends there is nothing specified; as little
can we discover the connection of what follows next, - an
incident of which in the same bundle, in the same paper, we
find brief notice: That a meeting had taken place between
our wanderer and Lothario and the abb6. Unhappily, in this,
as in so many other leaves, the date has been neglected.
  Some passages, introduced rather in the way of exclama-
tion than of narrative, point to the high meaning of renun-
ciation, by which alone the first real entrance into life is
conceivable. Then we come upon a map, marked with sev-
eral arrows pointing towards one another; and along with
this we find, in a certain sequence, several days of the month
written down : so that we might fancy ourselves again walk-
ing in the real world, and moderately certain as to the next
part of our friend's route, were it not that here also various
marks and ciphers, appended in differeit ways, awoke some
fear that a secret meaning at the bottom of it would forever
lie hid from us.
- But what drives us out of all historical composure is the
strange circumstance, that, immediately on all this, there
comes in the most improbable narration, of a sort like those
tales whereby you long keep the hearer's curiosity on the
stretch with a series of wonders, and at last explain, That
you were talking of a dream. However, we shall communi-
cate without change what lies before us: -

  "If ,hitherto we had continued in the metalliferous part of
the mountains, which, externally, is soft, and by no means
of a wild aspect, I was now conducted through precipitous
and scarcely passable rocks and chasms: at last I gained the
topmost summit, - a cliff, the peak of which afforded room
only for a single person, who, if he looked down from it
into the horrid depth, might see furious mountain torrents
foaming through black abysses. In the present case I looked


:220





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


down without giddiness or terror, for I was light of heart;
but now my attention fixed itself on some huge crags rising
opposite me, precipitous like my own, yet offering on their
summits a larger space of level. Though parted by a mon-
strous chasm, the jutting masses came so near together that
I could distinctly enough, with the naked eye, observe sev-
eral persons assembled on the summit. They were, for most
part, ladies, one of whom, coming forward to the very
verge, awakened in me double and treble anxiety; as I be-
came completely convinced that it was Natalia herself. The
danger of such an unexpected interview increased every
moment; but it grew boundless when a perspective came
before my eyes, and brought me over to her, and her over to
me. There is something magical at all times in perspectives.
Were we not accustomed from youth to look through them,
we should shudder and tremble every time we put them to
our eyes. It is we who are looking, and it is not we: a
being it is whose organs are raised to a higher pitch, whose
limitations are done away, who has become entitled to
stretch forth into infinitude.
  I" When, for example, we observe far-distant persons, by
means of such an instrument, and see them in unsuspicious
thoughtlessness following their business as if they were
solitary and unwatched, we could almostfeel afraid lest they
might discover us, and indignantly upbraid us for our treach-
erous curiosity.
  1" And so likewise did I, hemmed in by a strange feeling,
waver between proximity and distance, and from instant to
instant alternate between the two.
  " Those others in their turn had observed us, as a signal
with a white handkerchief put beyond a doubt. For a mo-
ment I delayed in my answer to it, finding myself thus close
beside the being whom I adored. This is her pure, benign
form: these are her taper arms, which once so helpfully ap-
peared before me, after unblessed sorrows and perplexities,
and at last, too, though but for moments, sympathizingly
embraced me.
  " I saw distinctly enough that she, too, had a perspective,
and was looking over to me; and I failed not, by such
tokens as stood at my command, to express the profession of
a true and heartfelt attachment.
  " And as experience teaches that remote objects, which we
have once clearly recognized through a perspective, after-
wards appear, even to the naked eye, as if standing shaped


221





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


in distinct nearness, be it that more accurate knowledge
sharpens the sense, or that imagination supplies what is
wanting; so now did I see this beloved being as accurately
and distinctly as if I could have touched her, though her
company continued still irrecognizable. And as I was
trampling round my narrow station, struggling towards her
the more, the abyss was like to swallow me, had not a help-
ful hand laid hold of mine, and snatched me at once from
my danger and my fairest happiness."





                     CHAPTER XV.

  HERE at last we again step on firmer ground, the localities
of which we can settle with some probability; though still
here and there on our way there occur a few uncertainties,
which it is not in our power altogether to clear up.
  As Wilhelm, in order to reach any point of the line marked
out by the first arrow, had to proceed obliquely through the
country, he found himself necessitated to perform the jour-
ney on foot, leaving his luggage to be carried after him.
For this walk of his, however, he was richly rewarded ; meet-
ing at every step, quite unexpectedly, with loveliest tracts of
scenery. They were of that sort which the last slope of a
mountain region forms in its.meeting with the plain country;
bushy hills, their soft declivities employed in domestic use;
all level spaces green; nowhere aught steep, unfruitful, or
unploughed to be noticed. Erelong he reached the main
valley, into which the side-waters flowed; and this, too, was
carefully cultivated, graceful when you looked over it, with
taper trees marking the bends of the river, and of the brooks
which poured into it. On looking at his map, his indicator,
he observed with surprise that the line drawn for him cut
directly through this valley; so that, in the first place, he
was at least on the right road.
   An old castle, in good repair, and seemingly built at differ-
ent periods, stood forth on a bushy hill, at the foot of which
a gay hamlet stretched along, with its large inn rising promi-
nent among the other houses. Hither he proceeded, and
was received by the landlord kindly enough, yet with an ex-
cuse that he could not be admitted, unless by the permission


222





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


of a party who had hired the whole establishment for a time;
on which account he, the landlord, was under the necessity
of sending all his guests to the older inn, which lay farther
up the hamlet. After a short conference, the man' seemed
to bethink himself, and said, " Indeed, there is no one of
them at home even now: but this is Saturday, and the
bailiff will not fail to be here soon; he comes every week to
settle the accounts of the last, and make arrangements" for
the next. Truly, there is a fair order reigns among these
men, and a pleasure in having to do with them, though they
are strict enough; for, if they yield one no great profit, it is
sure and constant."    He then desired his new guest to
amuse himself in the large upper hall, and await what further
might occur.
  Here Wilhelm, on entering, found a large, clean apart-
ment, except for benches and tables altogether empty. So
much the more was he surprised to see a large tablet inserted
above one of the doors, with these words marked on it in
golden letters, Ubi homines sunt modi suet; which in modern
tongue may signify, that, where men combine in society, the
way and manner in which they like to be and to continue
together is directly established. This motto made our
wanderer think: he took it as a good omen ; finding here,
expressed and confirmed, a principle which he had often, in
the course of life, perceived for himself to be furthersome
and reasonable. He had not waited long when the bailiff
made his appearance; who, being forewarned by the landlord,
after a short conversation, and no very special scrutiny, ad-
mitted Wilhelm on the following terms: To continue three
days; to participate quietly in whatever should occur; and,
happen what might, to ask. no questions about the reason;
and, at taking leave, to ask none about the score. All this
our traveller was obliged to comply with, the deputy not be-
ing allowed to yield in a single point.
  The :bailiff was about retiring, when a sound of vocal
music rolled up the stairs: two pretty young men entered
singing; and these the bailiff, by a simple sign, gave to
understand that their guest was accepted. Without inter-
rupting their song, they kindly saluted the stranger, and
continued their duet with the finest grace; showing clearly
enough that they were well trained, and complete masters of
their art. As Wilhelm testified the most attentive interest,
they paused, and inquired, If in his own pedestrian wander-
ings no song ever occurred to him, which he went along


223





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


singing by himself? " A good voice," answered Wilhelm,
" Nature has in truth denied the: yet I often feel as if a
secret Genius were whispering some rhythmic words in my
ear; so that, in walking, I move to musical measure; fancy-
ing, at the same time, that I hear low tones accompanying
some song, which, in one way or another, has pleasantly
risen before me."
  "If you recollect such a song, write it down for us," said
they : "we shall see if we have skill to accompany your
inging-demon."    He took a leaf from his note-book, and
handed them the following lines :--

            "' From the mountains to the champaign,
               By the glens and hills along,
               Comes a rustling and a tramping,
               Comes a motion as of song ;
               And this undetermined roving
               Brings delight, and brings good heed:
               And thy striving, be 't with loving,
               And thy living, be 't in deed!"

   After brief study, there arose at once a gay, marching
melody, which, in its repetition and restriction still stepping
forward, hurried on the hearer with it: he was in doubt
whether this was his own tune; his former theme, or one
now for the first time so fitted to the words, that no other
movement was conceivable. The singers had for some time
pleasantly proceeded in this manner, when two stout young
fellows came in, whom, by their accoutrements, you directly
recognized as masons; two others, who followed them, being
as evidently carpenters. These four, softly laying down
their tools, listened to the music, and soon struck in with
sure and decided voices; so that to the mind it seemed as if
a real wayfaring company were stepping along over hill and
valley: and Wilhelm thought he had never heard any thing so
graceful, so enlivening to heart and mind. This enjoyment,
however, was to be increased yet further, and raised to the
highest pitch, by the entrance of a gigantic figure, mounting
the stairs with a hard, firm tread, which, with all his efforts,
he could scarcely moderate. A heavy-laden dorsel he directly
placed in the corner: himself he seated on a bench, which
beginning to creak under his weight, the others laughed, yet
without going wrong in their music. Wilhelm, however, was
exceedingly surprised, when, with a huge bass voice, this
son of Anak joined in also. The hall quivered; and it


224





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


was to be observed, that in his part he altered the burden
and sang it thus:-

                " Life 's no resting, but a moving:
                  Let thy life be deed on deed!"

Further, you could very soon perceive that he was drawing
down the time to a slower step, and forcing the Test to follow
him. Of this, when at last they were satisfied and had con-
cluded, they accused him; declaring he had tried to set them
wrong.
  " Not at all ! " cried he: " it is you who tried to set me
wrong, to put me out of my own step, which must be meas.
ured and sure, if I am to walk with my loading up hill and
down dale, and yet, in the end, arrive at my appointed hour,
to satisfy your wants."
  One after the other these persons now passed into an ad-
joining room to the bailiff, and Wilhelm easily observed that
they were occupied in settling accounts,- a point, however,
as to which he was not allowed at present to inquire further.
Two fair, lively boys in the mean while entered, and began
covering a table in all speed, moderately furnishing it with
meat and wine; and the bailiff, coming out, invited them all
to sit down along with him. The boys waited, yet forgot
not their own concern, but enjoyed their share in a standing
posture. Wilhelm recollected witnessing similar scenes dur-
ing his abode among the players; yet the present company
seemed to be of t much more serious cast, constituted, not
out of sport, for show, but with a view to important concerns
of life.
  The conversation of the craftsmen with the bailiff added
strength to this conviction. These four active young people,
it appeared, were busy in the neighborhood, where a violent
conflagration had destroyed the fairest village in the country;
nor did Wilhelm fail to learn that the worthy bailiff was em-
ployed in getting timber and other building materials: all
which looked the more enigmatical, as none of these persons
seemed to 'be resident here, but in all other points announced
themselves as transitory strangers. By way of conclusion
to the meal, St. Christopher - such was the name they gave
the giant --brought out, for good-night, a dainty glass of
wine, which had before been set aside: a gay choral song
kept the party still some time together, after they were out
of sight; and then Wilhelm was at last conducted to a chainm-


225





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


ber of the loveliest aspect and situation. The full moon, en-
lightening a rich plain, was already up; and in the bosom
of our wanderer it awoke remembrances of similar scenes.
The spirits of all dear friends hovered past him: especially
the image of Lenardo rose in him so vividly, that he might
have fancied the man himself was standing before his eyes.
All this had prepared him with its kind influences for nightly
rest, when, on a sudden, there arose a tone of so strange a
nature, that it almost frightened him. It sounded as from
a distance, and yet seemed to be in the house itself ; for the
building quivered many times, and the floors. reverberated
when the sound rose to its highest pitch. Wilhelm, though
his ear was usually delicate in discriminating tones, could
make nothing of this: he compared it to the droning roar of
a huge organ-pipe, which, for sheer compass, produces no
determinate note. Whether this nocturnal terror passed away
towards morning, or Wilhelm by degrees became accustomed
to the sound, and no longer heeded it, is difficult to discover:
at any rate, he fell asleep, and was in due time pleasantly
awakened by the rising sun.
   Scarcely had one of the boys, who were in waiting, brought
him breakfast, when a figure entered, whom he had already
noticed last night at supper, without clearly ascertaining his
quality. A well-formed, broad-shouldered, yet nimble man,
who now, by the implements which he spread out, announced
himself as barber, and forthwith prepared for performing his
much-desired office on Wilhelm. For the rest, he was quite
silent; and with a light hand he went through his task, with-
out once having opened his lips. Wilhelm, therefore, began,
and said, " Of your art you are completely master, and I
know not that I have ever had a softer razor on my cheeks :
at the same time, however, you appear to be a strict observer
of the laws of the society."
   Roguishly smiling, laying his finger on his lips, the taciturn
 shaver glided through the door. " By my sooth! " cried
 Wilhelm after him, " I think you must be old Redcloak; if
 not himself, at least a descendant of his : it is lucky for you
 that you. ask no counter service.of me; your turn would have
 been but sorrily done."
   No sooner had this curious personage retired than the well-
 known bailiff came in, inviting our friend to dinner for this
 day, in words which sounded pretty strange: the BOND, SO
 said the speaker, expressly, gave the stranger welcome, re-
 quested his company at dinner, and took pleasure in the


226





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


227


hope of being more closely connected with him. Inquiries
were then made as to the guest's health, and how he was
contented with his entertainment; to all which he could only
answer in terms of satisfaction. He would, in truth, have
liked much to ask of this man, as previously of the silent
barber, some information touching the horrid sound which
throughout the night had, if not tormented, at least discom-
posed him: but, mindful of his engagement, he forbore all
questions; hoping, that without importunity, from the good
will of the society, or in some other accidental way, he
might be informed according to his wishes.
  Our friend now, when left alone, began to reflect on the
strange person who had sent him this invitation, and knew
not well what to make of the matter. To designate one or
more superiors by a neuter noun seemed to him a somewhat
precarious mode of speech. For the rest, there was such a
stillness all round that he could not recollect of ever having
passed a stiller Sunday. He went out of doors, and, hear-
ing a sound of bells, walked towards the village. Mass was
just over; and, among the villagers and country people
crowding out of church, he observed three acquaintances of
last night, - a mason, a carpenter, and a boy. Farther on he
met among the Protestant worshippers the other correspond-
ing three. How the rest managed their devotion was un-
known to him; but so much he thought himself entitled to
conclude, that in this society a full religious toleration was
pract4sed.
   About mid-day, at the castle-gate, he was met by the
bailiff, who then conducted him through various halls into
a large ante-chamber, and there desired him to take a seat.
Many persons passed through into an adjoining hall. Those
already known were to be seen among them; St. Christopher
himself went by; all saluted the bailiff and the stranger.
But what struck our friend most in this affair was, that the
whole party seemed to consist of artisans, all dressed in
the usual fashion, though extremely neat and clean: a few
among the number you might at most, perhaps, have reckoned
of the clerk' species.
   No more guests now making their appearance, the bailiff
 led our friend through the stately door into a spacious hall.
 Here a table of immense length had been covered, past the
 lower end of which he was conducted towards the head, where
 he saw three persons standing in a cross direction. But what
 was his astonishment when he approached, and Lenardo,





228              MEISTER'S TRAVELS.

scarcely yet recognized, fell upon his neck. From this sur-
prise he had not recovered when another person, with no less
warmth and vivacity, likewise embraced him; announcing
himself as our strange Friedrich, Natalia's brother. The
rapture of these friends diffused itself over all present: an
exclamation of joy and blessing sounded along the whole
table. But in a moment, the company being seated, all again
became silent; and the repast, served up with a certain so-
lemnity, was enjoyed in like manner.
  Towards the conclusion of the ceremony Lenardo gave a
sign: two singers rose, and Wilhelm was exceedingly sur-
prised to hear in this place his yesternight's song; which
we, for the sake of what follows, shall beg permission to
insert once more :

           "From the mountains to the champaign,
              By the glens and hills along,
              Comes a rustling and a tramping,
              Comes a motion as of song;
              And this undetermined roving
              Brings delight, and brings good heed:
            And thy striving, be 't with loving,
              And thy living, be 't in deed  "

  Scarcely had this duet, accompanied by a chorus of agree-
able number, approached its conclusion, when two other
singers on the opposite side started up impetuously, and,
with earnest vehemence, inverted rather than continued the
song; to Wilhelm's astonishment, proceeding thus : -
           "For the tie is snapped asunder,
              Trust and loving hope are fled!
            Can I tell, in fear and wonder,
              With what dangers now bested?
            I, cut off from friend and brother,
              Like the widow in her woe,
            With the one and not the other,
              On and on, my way must go! "

  The chorus, taking up this strophe, grew more and more
numerous, more and more vociferous; and yet the voice of
St. Christopher, from the bottom of the table, could still be
distinctly recognized among them. The lamentation in the
end rose almost to be frightful: a spirit of dispiritment,
combining with the skilful execution of the singers, intro-
duced something unnatural into the whole ; so that it pained
our friend, and almost made him shudder. In truth, they all





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


seemed perfectly of one mind; and as if lamenting their own
fate on the eve of a separation. The strange repetitions, the
frequent resuscitation of a fatiguing song, at length became
dangerous in the eyes of the Bond itself: Lenardo rose; and
all instantly sat down, abruptly breaking off their hymn.
The other, with friendly words, thus began: --
   " Indeed, I cannot blame you for continually recalling to
your minds the destiny which stands before us all, that so,
at any hour, you may be ready for it. If aged and life-
weary men have called to their neighbors, Think of dying!
we younger and life-loving men may well keep encouraging
and reminding one another with the cheerful words, Think
of wandering! Yet, withal, of a thing which we either vol-
untarily undertake, or believe ourselves constrained to, it
were well to speak with cheerfulness and moderation. You
yourselves know best what, in our situation, is fixed, and
what is movable: let us enjoy the former, too, in sprightly
and gay tones; and to its success be this parting cup now
drunk ! "  He emptied his glass and sat down: the four
singers instantly rose, and in flowing, connected tones, thus
began:-
           "Keep not standing, fixed and rooted,
              Briskly venture, briskly roam:
            Head and hand, where'er thou foot it,
              And stout heart, are still at home.
            In each land the sun does visit:
              We are gay whate'er betide.
            To give room for wand'ring is it
              That the world was made so wide."
  As the chorus struck in with its repetition of these lines,
Lenardo rose, with him all the rest. His nod set the whole
company into singing movement: those at the lower end
marched out, St. Christopher at their head, in pairs through
the hall; and the uplifted wanderers' song grew clearer and
freer the farther they proceeded; producing at last a partic-
ularly good effect when from the terraces of the castle garden
you looked down over the broad valley, in whose fulness and
beauty you might well have liked to lose yourself. While
the multitude were dispersing this way and that, according
to their pleasure, Wilhelm was made acquainted with the
third superior. This was the Amtmann, by whose kind in-
fluence many favors had been done the society ; in particular,
the castle of his patron, the count, situated among several
families of rank, had been given up t6 their use so long as
they might think fit to tarry here.


229





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  Towards evening, while the friends were in a far-seeing
grove, there came a portly figure over the threshold, whom
Wilhelm at once recognized as the barber of this morning.
To a low, mute bow of the man, Lenardo answered, " You
now come, as always, at the right season, and will not delay
to entertain us with your talent. I may be allowed," con-
tinued he, turning towards Wilhelm, " to give you some
knowledge of our society, the Bond of which I may flatter
myself that I am. No one enters our circle unless he have
some talents to show, which may contribute to the use or
enjoyment of society in general. This man is an excellent
surgeon; of his skill as a beard-artist you yourself can tes-
tify : for these reasons, he is no less welcome than necessary
to us. Now, as his employment usually brings with it a great
and often burdensome garrulity, he has engaged, for the sake
of his own culture, to comply with a certain condition; as,
indeed, every one that means to live with us must agree to
constrain himself in some particular point, if the greater
freedom be left him in all other points. Accordingly, our
barber has renounced the use of his tongue, in so far as
aught common or casual is to be expressed by it: but, by
this means, another gift of speech has been unfolded in him,
which acts by forethought, cunningly and pleasurably; I
mean the gift of narration.
  " His life is rich in wonderful experiences, which he used
to split in pieces, babbling of them at wrong times ; but which
he now, constrained by silence, repeats and arranges in his
quiet thought. This also his power of imagination now for-
wards, lending life and movement to past occurrences. With
no common art and skill, he can relate to us genuine antique
tales, or modern stories of the same fabulous cast; thereby,
at the right hour, affording us a most pleasant entertainment,
when I loose his tongue for him, - which I now do; giving
him, at the same time, this praise, that, in the considerable
period during which I have known him, he has never once
been guilty of a repetition. I cannot but hope, that in the
present case, for love and respect to our dear guest, he will
especially distinguish himself."
  A sprightly cheerfulness spread over Redeloak's face ; and,
without delay, he began speaking as follows.


230





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


                    CHAPTER XVI.

                    THE NEW MELUSINA.

   " RESPECTED gentlemen ! Being aware that preliminary
speeches and introductions are not much to your taste, I shall
without further talk assure you, that, in the present instance,
I hope to fulfil your commission moderately well. From me
has many a true history gone forth already, to the high and
universal satisfaction of hearers; but to-day I may assert,
that I have one to tell which far surpasses the former, and
which, though it happened to me several years ago, still dis-
quiets me in recollecting it, nay, still gives hope of some
further development.
   "' By way of introduction, let me confess, that I have not
always so arranged my scheme of life as to be certain of the
next period in it, or even of the next day. In my youth,
I was no first-rate economist, and often found myself in
manifold perplexity. At one time I undertook a journey,
thinking to derive good profit in the course of it; but the
scale I went upon was too liberal: and after having com-
menced my travel with extra-post, and then prosecuted it for
a time in the diligence, I at last found myself obliged to front
the end of it on foot.

   "Like a gay young blade, it had been from of old my
custom, on entering any inn, to look round for the landlady,
or even the cook, and wheedle .myself into favor with her;
whereby, for most part, my shot Was somewhat reduced.
   1" One night at dusk, as I was entering the post-house of
a little town, and purposing to set about my customary opera-
tions, there came a fair double-seated coach with four horses
rattling up to the door behind me.   I turned round, and
observed in it a young lady, without maid, without servants.
I hastened to open the carriage for her, and to ask if I could
help her in any thing. On stepping out, a fair form displayed
itself; ahd her lovely countenance, if you looked at it nar-
rowly, was adorned with a slight shade of sorrow. I again
asked if there was aught I could do for her. 'Oh, yes !'
said she, L if you will lift that little box carefully, which
you will find standing on the seat, and bring it in; but I beg
very much of you to carry it with all steadiness, and not to
move or shake it in the least.' I took out the box with


231





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


great care: she shut the coach-door; we walked up-stairs
together, and she told the servants that she was to stay here
for the night.
  " We were now alone in the chamber: she desired me to
put the box on the table, which was standing at the wall;
and as, by several of her movements, I observed that she
wished to be alone, I took my leave, reverently but warmly
kissing her hand.
  " ' Order supper for us two,' said she then: and you may
well conceive with what pleasure I executed the commission;
scarcely deigning, in my pride of heart, to cast even a side-
look on landlady and menials. With impatience I expected
the moment that was to lead me back to her. Supper was
served: we took our seats oplposite each other; I refreshed
my heart, for the first time during a considerable while, with
a good meal, and no less with so desirable a sight beside
me: nay, it seemed as if she were growing fairer and fairer
every moment.
  " Her conversation was pleasant, yet she carefully waived
whatever had reference to affection and love. The cloth was
removed: I still lingered, I tried all sorts of manoeuvres to
get near her, but in vain; she kept me at my distance, by
a certain dignity which I could not withstand: nay, against
my will, I had to part from her at a rather early hour.
  " After a night passed in waking or unrestfully dreaming.
I rose early, inquired whether she had ordered horses; and,
learning that she had not, I walked into the garden, saw her
standing dressed at the window, and hastened up to her.
Here, as she looked so fair, and fairer than ever, love,
roguery, and audacity all at once started into motion within
me: I rushed towards her, and clasped her in my arms.
' Angelic, irresistible being,' cried I, 'pardon ! but it is im-
possible !' -  With incredible dexterity she whisked herself
out of my arms, and I had not even time to imprint a kiss
on her cheek. ' Forbear such outbreakings of a sudden fool-
ish passion,' said she, ' if you would not scare away a happi-
ness which lies close beside you, but which cannot be laid
hold of till after some trials.'
  " ' Ask of me what thou pleasest, angelic spirit! ' cried I,
'but do not drive me to despair.'   She answered, with a
smile, ' If you mean to devote yourself to my service, hear
the terms. I am come hither to visit a lady of my friends,
and with her I purpose to continue for a time: in the mean
while, I could wish that my carriage and this box were taken


232





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


233


forward. Will you engage with it? You have nothing to
do but carefully to lift the box into the carriage and out,
to sit down beside it, and punctually take charge that it re-
ceive no harm. When you enter an inn, it is put upon a
table, in a chamber by itself, in which you must neither sit
nor sleep. You lock the chamber-door with this key, which
will open and shut any lock, and has the peculiar property,
that no lock shut by it can be opened in the interim.'
   "I looked at her; I felt strangely enough at *heart; I
promised to do all, if I might hope to see her soon, and if
she would seal this hope to me with a kiss. She did so, and
from that moment I had become entirely her bondman. I
was now to order horses, she said.  We settled the way
I was to take, the places where I was to wait, and expect
her. She at last pressed a purse of gold into my hand, and
I pressed my lips on the fair hand that gave it me. She
seemed moved at parting; and, for me, I no longer knew
what I was doing or was to do.
   " On my return from giving my orders, I found the room-
door locked.   I directly tried my master-key, and it per-
formed its duty perfectly. The door flew up : I found the
chamber empty, only the box standing on the table where I
had laid it.
   " The carriage drove up : I carried the box carefully down
with me, and placed it by my side. The hostess asked, ' But
where is the lady?' A child answered, ' She is gone into
the town.' I nodded to the people, and rolled off in triumph
from the door which I had last night entered with dusty
gaiters. That in my hours of leisure I diligently meditated
on this adventure, counted my money, laid many schemes,
and still now'and then kept glancing at the box, you will
readily imagine.   I posted right forward, passed several
stages without alighting, and rested not till I had reached a
considerable town, where my fair one had appointed me to
wait. Her commands had been pointedly obeyed, - the box
always carried to a separate room, and two wax candles
tighted beside it; for such, also, had been her ordei'. I
would then lock the chamber, establish myself in my own,
and take such comfort as the place afforded.
   "For a while I was able to employ myself with thinking
of her, but by degrees the time began to hang heavy on my
hands. I was not used to live without companions: these I
soon found, at tables-d'h6te, in coffee-houses, and public
places, altogether to my wish. In such a mode of living, my





1MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


money began to melt away; and one night it vanished en-
tirely from my purse in a fit of passionate gaming, which I
had not ,had the prudence to abandon.  Void of money,
with the appearance of a rich man, expecting a heavy bill
of charges, uncertain whether and when my fair one would
again make her appearance, I felt myself in the deepest em-
barrassment. Doubly did I now long for her, and believe,
that, without her and her gold, it was quite impossible for
me to live.
   " After supper, which I had relished very little, being
forced for this time to consume it in solitude, I took to walk-
ing violently up and down my room: I spoke aloud to my-
self, cursed my folly with horrid execrations, threw myself
on the floor, tore my hair, and indeed behaved in the most
outrageous fashion.   Suddenly, in the adjoining chamber
where the box was, I heard a slight movement, and then a
soft knocking at the well-bolted door, which entered from
my apartment. I gather myself, grope for my master-key;
but the door-leaves fly up of themselves, and in the light of
those burning wax candles enters my beauty. I cast myself
at her feet, kiss her robe, her hands; she raises me; I ven-
ture not to clasp her, scarcely to look at her, but candidly
and repentantly confess to her my fault. ' It is pardonable,'
said she : ' only it postpones your happiness and mine. You
must now make another tour into the world before we can
meet again. Here is more money,' continued she, ' sufficient
if you husband it with any kind of reason. But, as wine and
play have brought you into this perplexity, be on your guard
in future against wine and women, and let me hope for a
glad meeting when the time comes.'
  " She retired over the threshold; the door-leaves flew to-
gether: I knocked, I entreated ; but nothing further stirred.
Next morning, while presenting his bill, the waiter smiled,
and said, ' So we have found out at last, then, why you lock
your door in so artful and incomprehensible a way, that no
master-key can open it. We supposed you must have much
money and precious ware laid up by you: but now we have
seen your treasure walking down-stairs; and, in good truth,
it seemed worthy of being well kept.'
  " To this I answered nothing, but paid my reckoning, and
mounted with my box into the carriage.  I again rolled
forth into the world, with the firmest resolution to be heedful
in future of the warning given me by my fair and mysterious
friend. Scarcely, however, had I once more reached a large


234





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


town, when forthwith I got acquainted with certain interest-
ing ladies, from whom I absolutely could not tear myself
away. They seemed inclined to make me pay dear for their
favor: for, while they still kept me at a certain distance, they
led me into one expense after the other; and I, being anx-
ious only to promote their satisfaction, once more ceased to
think of my purse, but paid and spent straightforward, as
occasion needed. But how great was my astonishment and
joy, when, after some weeks, I observed that the fulness of
my store was not in the least diminished, that my purse was
still as round and crammed as ever! Wishing to obtain
more strict knowledge of this pretty quality, I set myself
down to count: I accurately marked the sum, and again
proceeded in my joyous life as before. We had no want of
excursions by land, and excursions by water; of dancing,
singing, and other recreations. But now it required small
attention to observe that the purse was actually diminishing,
as if by my cursed counting I had robbed it of the property
of being uncountable. However, this gay mode of existence
had been once entered on: I could not draw back,. and yet
my ready money soon verged to a close. I execrated my
situation; upbraided my fair friend for having so led me into
temptation; took it as an offence that she did not again
show herself to me ; renounced in my spleen all duties
towards her; and resolved to break open the box, and see
if peradventure any help might be found there. I was just
about proceeding with my purpose: but I put it off till night,
that I might go through the business with full,composure;
and, in the mean time, I hastened off to a banquet, for which
this was the appointed hour. Here again -we got into a high
key : the wine and trumpet-sounding had flushed me not a
little, when by the most villanous luck it chanced, that, dur-
ing the dessert, a former friend of my dearest fair one, re-
turning from a journey, entered unexpectedly, placed himself
beside her, and, without much ceremony, set about asserting
his old privileges. Hence, very soon arose ill-humor, quar-
relling, and battle: we plucked out our spits, -and I was
carried home half. dead of several wounds.
  " The surgeon had bandaged me and gone away; it was
far in the night; my sick-nurse had fallen asleep; the door
of the side-room went up; my fair, mysterious friend came
in, and sat down by me on the bed. She asked how I was.
I answered not, for I was faint and sullen. She continued
speaking with. much sympathy: she rubbed my temples with


285





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


a certain balsam, whereby I felt myself rapidly and decidedly
strengthened, - so strengthened that I could now get angry
and upbraid her. In a violent speech I threw all the blame
of my misfortune on her; on the passion she had inspired
me with; on her appearing and vanishing; and.the tedium,
the longing, which, in such a case, I could not but feel. I
waxed more and more vehement, as if a fever had been
coming on; and I swore to her at last, that if she would
not be mine, would not now abide with me and wed me,
I had no wish to live any longer: to all which I required a
peremptory answer. As she lingered and held back with
her explanation, I got altogether beside myself, and tore off
my double and triple bandages in the firmest resolution to
bleed to death. But what was my amazement when I found
all my wounds healed, my skin smooth and entire, and this
fair friend in my arms !
  "Henceforth we were the happiest pair in the world. We
both begged pardon of each other without either of us rightly
knowing why. She now promised to travel on along with
me; and soon we were sitting side by side in the carriage,
the little box lying opposite us on the other seat. Of this
I had never spoken to her, nor did I now think of speaking,
though it lay there before our eyes: and both of us, by tacit
agreement, took charge of it, as circumstances might require ;
I, however, still carrying it to and from the carriage, and
busying myself, as formerly, with the locking of the doors.
  " So long as aught remained in my purse I had continued
to pay; butt when my cash went down, I signified the fact to
her. ' That is easily helped,' said she, pointing to a couple
of little pouches fixed at the top, to the sides of the carriage.
These I had often observed before, but never turned to use.
She put her hand into the one, and pulled out some gold
pieces, as from the other some coins of silver; thereby
showing me the possibility of meeting any scale of expen-
diture which we might choose to adopt. And thus we jour-
neyed on from town to town, from land to land, contented
with each other and with the world; and I fancied not that
she would again leave me, the less so that for some time she
had evidently been as loving wives wish to be, a circumstance
by which our happiness and mutual affection was increased
still further. But one morning, alas ! she could not be found ;
and as my actual residence, without her company, became
displeasing, I again took the road with my box, tried the
virtue of the two pouches, and found it still unimpaired,


236





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  "My journey proceeded without accident. But if I had
hitherto paid little heed to the mysteries of my adventure,
expecting a natural solution of the whole, there now occurred
something which threw me into astonishment, into anxiety,
nay, into fear. Being wont, in my impatience for change
of place, to hurry forward day and night, it was often my
hap to be travelling in the dark, and, when the lamps by any
chance went out, to be left in utter obscurity. Once, in the
dead of such a night, I had fallen asleep; and on awakening
I observed the glimmer of a light on the covering of my
carriage. I examined this more strictly, and found that it
was issuing from the box, in which there seemed to be a
chink, as if it had been chapped by the warm and dry weather
of summer, which was now come on. My thoughts of jewels
again came, into my head: I supposed there must be some
carbuncle lying in the box, and this point I forthwith set
about investigating. I postured myself as well as might be,
so that my eye was in immediate contact with the chink.
But how great was my surprise when a fair apartment, well
lighted, and furnished with much taste and even costliness,
met my inspection; just as if I had been looking down
through the opening of a dome into a royal saloon ! A fire
was burning in the grate, and before it stood an arm-chair.
I held my breath, and continued to observe. And now there
entered from the other side of the apartment a lady with a
book in her hand, whom I at once recognized for my wife;
though her figure was contracted into the extreme of dimi-
nution. She sat down in the chair by the fire to read; she
trimmed the coals with the most dainty pair of tongs; and,
in the course of her movements, I could clearly perceive that
this fairest little creature was also in the family way. But
now I was obliged to shift my constrained posture a little;
and the next moment, when I bent down to look in again,
and convince myself that it was no dream, the light had
vanished, and my eye rested on empty darkness.
  " How amazed, nay, terrified, I was, you may easily con-
ceive. I started a thousand thoughts on this discovery, and
yet in truth could think nothing. In the midst of this I fell
asleep, and on awakening I fancied that it must have been
a m.ere dream: yet I felt myself in some degree estranged
from my fair one; and, though I watched over the box but
so much the more carefully, I knew not whether the event of
her re-appearance in human size was a thing which I should
wish or dread.


237





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  " After some time she did actually re-appear. One even-
ing in a white robe she came gliding in; and, as it was just
then growing dusky in my room, she seemed to me taller
than when I had seen her last: and I remembered having
heard that all beings of the mermaid and gnome species
increased in stature very perceptibly at the fall of night.
She flew as usual to my arms, but I could not with right
gladness press her to my obstructed breast.
  I" ' My dearest,' said she, ' I now feel, by thy reception of
me, what, alas ! I already knew too well. Thou hast seen me
in the interim; thou art acquainted with the state in which,
at certain times, I find myself: thy happiness and mine is
interrupted, -nay, it stands on the brink of being annihilated
altogether. I must leave thee, and I know not whether I
shall ever see thee again.' Her presence, the grace with
which she spoke, directly banished from my memory almost
every trace of that vision, which, indeed, had already hov-
ered before me as little more than a dream. I addressed her
with kind vivacity, convinced her of my passion, assured
her that I was innocent, that my discovery was accidental,
- in short, I so managed it that she appeared composed,
and endeavored to compose me.
  " ' Try thyself strictly,' said she,' whether this discovery
has not hurt thy love; whether thou canst forget that I live
in two forms beside thee; whether the diminution of my
being will not also contract thy affection.'
  ' I looked at her; she was fairer than ever: and I thought
within myself, Is it so great a misfortune, after all, to have
a wife who from time to time becomes a dwarf, so that one
can carry her about with him in a casket? Were it not much
worse if she became a giantess, and put her husband in the
box? My gayety of heart had returned. I would not foi
the whole world have let her go. ' Best heart,' said I, ' let
us be and continue ever as we have been. Could either of
us wish to be better? Enjoy thy conveniency, and I promise
thee to guard the box with so much the more faithfulness.
Why should the prettiest sight I have ever seen in my life
make a. bad impression on me? How happy would lovers
be, could they but procure such miniature pictures ! And,
after all, it was but a picture, a little sleight-of-hand decep-
tion. Thou art trying and teasing me, but thou shalt see
how I will stand it.'
   " ' The matter is more serious than thou thinkest,' said the
fair one: 'however, I am truly glad to see thee take it so


238





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


239


lightly; for much good may still be awaiting us both. I will
trust in thee, and for my own part do my utmost: only
promise me that thou wilt never mention this discovery by
way of reproach. Another prayer likewise I most earnestly
make to thee: Be more than ever on thy guard against wine
and anger.'
   " I promised what she required; I could have gone on
promising to all lengths : but she herself turned aside the con'-
versation, and thenceforth all proceeded in its former rou-
tine. We had no inducement to alter our place of residence :
the town was large, the society various; and the fine season
gave rise to many an excursion and garden festival.
   " In all such amusements the presence of my wife was
welcome, nay, eagerly desired, by women as well as men. A
kind, insinuating manner, joined with a certain dignity of
bearing, secured to her on all hands praise and estimation.
Besides, she could play beautifully on the lute, accompanying
it with her voice ; and no social night could be perfect unless
crowned by the graces of this talent.
   " I will be free to confess that I never cared much for
music: on the contrary, it has always rather had a disa-
greeable effect on me. My fair one soon noticed this; and
accordingly, when by ourselves, she never tried to entertain
me by such means: in return, however, she appeared to in-
demnify herself while in society, where, indeed, she always
found a crowd of admirers.
   " And now, why should I deny it? our late dialogue, in
 spite of my best intentions, had by no means sufficed to
 settle the matter within me: on the contrary, my temper of
 mind had by degrees got into the strangest tune, almost
 without my being conscious of it. One night, in a large
 company, this hidden grudge broke loose, and, by its conse-
 quences, produced to myself the greatest damage.
   ' When I look back on it now, I, in fact, loved my beauty
 far less after that unlucky discovery: I was also growing
 jealous of her, - a whim that had never struck me before.
 This night at table, I found myself placed very much to my
 mind beside my two neighbors, a couple of ladies, who, for
 some time, had appeared to me very charming. Amid jesting
 and soft small talk, I was not sparing of my wine; while, on
 the other side, a pair of musical dilettanti had got hold of my
 wife, and at last contrived to lead the company into singing
 separately, and by way of chorus. This put me into ill-hu-
 mor. The two amateurs appeared to me impertinent; the





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


singing vexed me; and when, as my turn came, they even re.
quested a solo-strophe from me, I grew truly indignant : I emp.
tied my glass, and set it down again with no soft movement.
  " The grace of my two fair neighbors soon pacified me,
but there is an evil nature in wrath when once it is set a-go-
ing. It went on fermenting within me, though all things
were of a kind to induce joy and complaisance. On the con-
trary, I waxed more splenetic than ever when a lute was
produced, and my fair one began fingering it and singing, to
the admiration of all the rest. Unhappily a general silence
was requested. So, then, I was not even to talk any more:
and these tones were going through me like a toothache. Was
it any wonder that, at last, the smallest spark should blow
up the mine ?
   " The songstress had just ended a song amid the loudest
applauses, when she looked over to me; and this truly with
the most loving face in the world. Unluckily, its lovingness
could not penetrate so far. She perceived that I had just
gulped down a cup of wine, and was pouring out a fresh one.
With her right forefinger she beckoned to me in kind threat-
ening. ' Consider that it is wine ! ' said she, not louder than
for myself to hear it. L Water is for mermaids ! ' cried I.
' My ladies,' said she to my neighbors, ' crown the cup with
all your gracefulness, that it be not too often emptied.'--
'You will not let yourself be tutored? ' whispered one of
them in my ear. ' What ails the dwarf?' cried I, with a
more violent gesture, in which I overset the glass. 'Ah,
what you have spilt ! ' cried the paragon of women; at the
same time twanging her strings, as if to lead back the atten-
tion of the company from this disturbance to herself. Her
attempt succeeded; the more completely as she rose to her
feet, seemingly that she might play with greater convenience,
and in this attitude continued preluding.
   " At sight of the red wine running over the tablecloth, I
returned to myself. I perceived the great fault I had been
guilty of, and it cut me through the very heart. Never till
now had music had an effect on me: the first verse she sang
was a friendly good-night to the company, here as they were,
as they might still feel themselves together. With the next
verse they became as if scattered asunder: each felt himself
solitary, separated, no one could fancy that he was present
any longer. But what shall I say of the last verse? It was
directed to me alone, the voice of injured love bidding fare-
well to moroseness and caprice.


240





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  " In silence I conducted her home, foreboding no good.
Scarcely, however, had we reached our chamber, when she
began to show herself exceedingly kind and graceful, - nay,
even roguish: she made me the happiest of all men.
  Next morning, in high spirits and full of love, I said to
her, I Thou hast so often sung, when asked in company;
as, for example, thy touching farewell song last night. Come
now, for my sake, and sing me a dainty, gay welcome to this
morning hour, that we may feel as if we were meeting for
the first time.'
  "' That I cannot do, my friend,' said she seriously.
'The song of last night referred to our parting, which must
now forthwith take place; for I can only tell thee, the vio-
lation of thy promise and oath will have the worst conse-
quences for us both: thou hast scoffed away a great felicity;
and I, too, must renounce my dearest wishes.'
  1" As I now pressed and entreated her to explain herself
more clearly, she answered, ' That, alas ! I can well do; for,
at all events, my continuance with thee is over. Hear, then,
what I would rather have concealed to the latest times. The
form under which thou sawest me in the box is my natural
and proper form; for I am of the race of King Eckwald, the
dread sovereign of the dwarfs, concerning whom authentic
history has recorded so much. Our people are still, as of
old, laborious and busy, and therefore easy to govern. Thou
mut not fancy that the dwarfs are behindhand in their
manufacturing skill. Swords which followed the foe, when
youl cast them after him; invisible and mysteriously binding
chains; impenetrable shields, and such like ware, in old
times, - formed their staple produce. But now they chiefly
en.ploy themselves with articles of convenience and orna-
ment, in which truly they surpass all people of the earth. I
may well say, it would astonish thee to walk through out
workshops and warehouses. All this would be right and
good,, were it not that with the whole nation in general, but
more particularly with the royal family, there is one peculiar
circumstance connected.'
  " She paused for a moment, and I again begged further
light on these wonderful secrets; which, accordingly, she
forthwith proceeded to grant.
  "' It is well known,' said she, ' that God, so soon as he
had created the world, and the ground was dry, and-the
mountains were standing bright and glorious, that God, I
say, thereupon, in the very first place, created the dwarfs,


241





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


to the end that there might be reasonable beings also, who,
in their passages and chasms, might contemplate and adore
his wonders in the inward parts of the earth. It is further
well known, that this little race by degrees became uplifted
in heart, and attempted to acquire the dominion of the earth;
for which reason God then created the dragons, in order to
drive back the dwarfs into their mountains. Now, as the
dragons themselves were wont to nestle in the large caverns
and clefts, and dwell there; and many of them, too, were in
the habit of spitting fire, and working much other mischief, -
the poor little dwarfs were by this means thrown into exceed-
ing straits and distress: so that, not knowing what in the
world to do, they humbly and fervently turned to God, and
called to him in prayer, that he would vouchsafe to abolish
this unclean dragon generation. But though it consisted not
with his wisdom to destroy his own creatures, yet the heavy
sufferings of the poor dwarfs so moved his compassion, that
anon he created the giants, ordaining them to fight these drag-
ons, and, if not root them out, at least lessen their numbers.
   "'Now, no sooner had- the giants got moderately well
through with the dragons, than their hearts also began to
wax wanton: and, in their presumption, they practised
much tyranny, especially on the good little dwarfs, who
then once more in their need turned to the Lord; and he,
by the power of his hand, created the knights, who were
to make war on the giants and dragons, and to live in
concord with the dwarfs. Hereby was the work of creation
completed on this side; and it is plain, that henceforth
giants and dragons, as well as knights and dwarfs, have
always maintained themselves in being.     From this, my
friend, it will be clear to thee that we are of the oldest race
on the earth, - a circumstance which does us honor, but at
the same time brings great disadvantage along with it.
   1 ' For as there is nothing in the world that can endure
forever, but all that has once been great must become little
and fade, it is our lot, also, that, ever since the creation of
the world, we have been waning, and growing smaller, - espe-
cially the royal family, on whom, by reason of their pure
blood, this destiny presses with the heaviest force.  To
remedy this evil, our wise teachers shave many years ago
devised the expedient of sending forth a princess of the
royal house from time to time into the world, to wed some
honorable knight, that so the dwarf progeny may be re.
fected, and saved from entire decay.'


242





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  " Though my fair one related these things with an air of
the utmost sincerity, I looked at her hesitatingly; for it
seemed as if she meant to palm some fable on me. As to
her own dainty lineage I had not the smallest doubt; but
that she should have laid hold of me in place of a knight
occasioned some mistrust, seeing I knew myself too well to
suppose that my ancestors had come into the world by an
immediate act of creation.
  " I concealed my wonder and scepticism, and asked her
kindly, 6 But tell me, my dear child, how hast thou attained
this large and stately shape? For I know few women that
in richness of form can compare with thee.' -' Thou shalt
hear,' replied she. ' It is a settled maxim in the council
of the dwarf kings, that this extraordinary step be forborne
as long as it possibly can; which, indeed, I cannot but
say is quite natural and proper. Perhaps they might have
hesitated still longer had not my brother, born after me,
come into the world so exceedingly small that the nurses
actually lost him out of his swaddling-clothes ; and no crea-
ture yet knows whither he is gone. On this occurrence,
unexampled in the annals of dwarfdom, the sages were
assembled; and, without more ado, the resolution was taken,
and I sent out in quest of a husband.'
  "' The resolution!' exclaimed I, 'that is all extremely
well. One can resolve, one can take his resolution; but, to
give a dwarf this heavenly shape, how did your sages man-
age that?'
  ' It had been provided for already,' said she, 'by our
ancestors. In the royal treasury lay a monstrous gold ring.
I speak of it as it then appeared to me,   when 1 saw it
in my childhood; for it was this same ring which I have
here on my finger. We now went to work as follows.
  " I was informed of all that awaited me, and instructed
what I had to do and to forbear. A splendid palace, after
the pattern of my father's favorite summer residence, was
then got ready,--a main edifice, wings, and whatever else
you could think of. It stood at the entrance of a large
rock-cleft; which it decorated in the handsomest style. On
the appointed day our court moved thither, my parents,
also, and myself. The army paraded; and four and twenty
priests, not without difficulty, carried on a costly litter the
mysterious ring. It was placed on the threshold of the
lbuilding, just within the spot where you entered. Many
ceremonies were observed; and, after a pathetic farewell, I


245





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


proceeded to my task. I stepped forward to the ring, laid
my finger on it, and that instant began perceptibly to wax
in stature. In a few moments I had reached my present
size, and then I put the ring on my finger. But now, in
the twinkling of an eye, the doors, windows, gates, flapped
to; the wings drew up into the body of the edifice; instead
of a palace stood a little box beside me, which I forthwith
lifted, and carried off with me, not without a pleasant feel-
ing in being so tall and strong. Still, indeed, a dwarf to
trees and mountains, to streams, and tracts of land, yet a
giant to grass and herbs, and, above all, to ants, from whom
we dwarfs, not being always on the best terms with them,
often suffer considerable annoyance.
   ' 1 How it fared with me on my pilgrimage, I might tell
thee at great length. Suffice it to say I tried many, but no
one save thou seemed worthy of being honored to renovate
and perpetuate the line of the glorious Eckwald.'
   " In the course of these narrations my head had now and
then kept wagging, without myself having absolutely shaken
it. I put several questions, to which I received no very
satisfactory answers: on the contrary, I learned, to my
great affliction, that after what had happened she must
needs return to her parents. She had hopes still, she said,
of getting back to me: but, for the present, it was indis-
pensably necessary to present herself at court; as other-
wise, both for her and me, there was nothing but utter
ruin. The purses would soon cease to pay, and who knew
what all would be the consequences?
   I On hearing that our money would run short, I inquired
no further into consequences; I shrugged my shoulders; I
was silent, and she seemed to understand me.
   " We now packed up, and got into our carriage, the box
standing opposite us; in which, however, I could still see
-no symptoms of a palace. In this way we proceeded sev-
eral stages. Post-money and drink-money were readily and
richly paid from the pouches to the right and left, till: at
last we reached a mountainous district; and no sooner had
we alighted here than my fair one walked forward, directing
me to follow her with the box. She led me by rathei' steep
paths to a narrow plot of green ground, through which a
clear brook now gushed in little falls, now ran in quiet
windings. She pointed to a little knoll, bade me set the
box down there, then said, 'Farewell! Thou wilt easily
find the way back ; remember me ; I hope to see thee again.'


244





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  ' At this moment I felt as if I could not leave her. She
was just now in one of her fine days, or, if you will, her
fine hours. Alone with so fair a being, on the greensward,
among grass and flowers, girt in by rocks, waters murmur-
irg round you, what heart could have remained insensible!
I came forward to seize her hand, to clasp her in my arms;
but she motioned me back, threatening me, though still
kindly enough, with great danger if I did not instantly
withdraw.
  " 'Is there not any possibility,' exclaimed I, 'of my
staying with thee, of -thy keeping me beside thee ? ' These
words I uttered with such rueful tones and gestures, that
she seemed touched by them, and after some thought con-
fessed to me that a continuance of our union was not
entirely impossible. Who happier than I! My importu-
nity, which increased every moment, compelled her at last
to come out with her scheme, and inform me, that if I, too,
could resolve on becoming as little as I had once seen her,
I might still remain with her, be admitted to her house, her
kingdom, her family. The proposal was not altogether to
my mind, yet at this .moment I positively could not tear
myself away : so, having already for a good while been
accustomed to the marvellous, and being at all times prone
to bold enterprises, I closed with her offer, and said she
might do with me as she pleased.
  "I was thereupon directed to hold out the little finger
of my right hand: she placed her own against it; then, with
her left hand, she quite softly pulled the ring from her fin-
ger, and let it run along mine. That instant I felt a violent
twinge on my finger: the ring shrunk together, and tor-
tured me horribly. I gave a loud cry, and caught round
me for my fair one; but she had disappeared. What state
of mind I was in during this moment, I find no words to
express: so I have nothing more to say but that I very
soon, in my miniature size, found myself beside my fair
one in a wood of grass-stalks. The joy of meeting after
this short yet most strange separation, or, if you will, of
this re-union without separation, exceeds all conception. I
fell on her neck: she replied to my caresses, and the little
pair was as happy as the large one.
  ' With some difficulty we now mounted a hill : I say dif-
ficulty, because the sward had become for us an almost im-
penetrable forest. Yet at length we reached a bare space;
and how surprised was I at perceiving there a large, bolted


245





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


mass, which, erelong, I could not bat recognize for the box,
in the same state as when I had set it down.
  1 ' Go up to it, my friend,' said she, 'and do but knock
with the ring: thou shalt see wonders.' I went up accord-
ingly; and no sooner had I rapped, than I did, in fact, wit-
ness the greatest wonder.   Two wings came jutting out;
and at the same time there fell, like scales and chips, various
pieces this way and that: while doors, windows, colonnades,
and all that belongs to a complete palace, at once came into
view.
  " If ever you have seen one of Rintgen's desks, - how, at
one pull, a multitude of springs and latches get in metion,
and writing-board and writing materials, letter and money
compartments, all at once, or in quick succession, start for-
ward, -you will partly conceive how this palace unfolded it-
self, into which my sweet attendant now introduced me. In
the large saloon I directly recognized the fireplace which I
had formerly seen from above, and the chair in which she had
then been sitting. And, on looking up, I actually fancied I
could still see something of the chink in the dome, through
which I had peeped in. I spare you the description of the
rest: in a word, all was spacious, splendid, and tasteful.
Scarcely had I recovered from my astonishment, when I
heard afar off a sound of military music. My better half
sprang up, and with rapture announced to me the approach
of his Majesty her father. We stepped out to the threshold,
and here beheld a magnificent procession moving towards us
from a considerable cleft in the rock. Soldiers, servants,
officers of state, and glittering courtiers, followed in order.
At last you observed a golden throng, and in the midst of it
the -king himself. So soon as the whole procession had
drawn up before the palace, the king, with his nearest retinue,
stepped forward. His loving daughter hastened out to him,
pulling me along with her. We threw ourselves at his feet:
he raised me very graciously ; and, on coming to stand before
him, I perceived, that in this little world I was still the most
considerable figure. We proceeded together to the palace,
where his Majesty, in presence of his whole court, was
pleased to welcome me with a well-studied oration, in which
he expressed his surprise at finding us here, acknowledged
me as his son-in-law, and appointed the nuptial ceremony to
take place on the morrow.
  " A cold sweat went over me as I heard him speak of
marriage; for I dreaded this even more than music, which


246





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


had, of old, appeared to me the most hateful thing on earth.
Your music-makers, I used to say, enjoy at least the conceit
of being in unison with each other, and working in concord;
for when they have tweaked and tuned long enough, grating
our ears with all manner of screeches, they believe in their
hearts that the matter is now adjusted, and one instrument
accurately suited to the other. The band-master himself is
in this happy delusion; and so they set forth joyfully, though
still tearing our nerves to pieces. In the marriage state,
even this is not the case; for although it is but a duet, and
you might think two voices, or even two instruments, might
in some degree be attuned to each other, yet this happens
very seldom : for while the man gives out one tone, the wife
directly takes a higher one, and the man again a higher; and
so it rises from the chamber to the choral pitch, and farther
and farther, till at last not even wind-instruments can reach
it. And now, as I loathe harmonical music, it cannot be
surprising that disharmonical should be a thing which I can-
not endure.
  " Of all the festivities in which the day was spent, I shall
and can not give an account; for I paid small heed to them.
The sumptuous victuals, the generous wine, the royal amuse-
ments, I could not relish. I kept thinking and considering
what I was to do. Here, however, there was but little to be
considered. I determined, once for all, to take myself away,
and hide somewhere. Accordingly, I succeeded in reaching
the chink of .a stone, where I intrenched and concealed my-
self as well as might be. My first care after this was to get
the unhappy ring off my finger, - an enterprise, however,
which would by no means prosper; for, on the contrary, I
felt that every pull I gave, the metal grew straiter, and
cramped me with violent pains, which again abated so soon
as I desisted from my purpose.
  " Early in the morning I awoke (for my little person had
slept, and very soundly), and was just stepping out to look
farther about me, when I felt a kind of rain coming on.,
Through the grass, flowers, and leaves, there fell, as it were,
something like sand and grit in large quantities; but what
was my horror when the whole of it became alive, and an
innumerable host of ants rushed down on me! No sooner
did they observe me than they made an attack on all sides;
and, though I defended myself stoutly and gallantly enough,
they at last so hemmed me in, so nipped and pinched
me, that I was glad to hear them calling to surrender. I


247





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


surrendered instantly and wholly, whereupon an ant of re-
spectable stature approached me with courtesy, nay, with
reverence, and even recommended itself to my good graces.
I learned that the ants had now become allies of my father-
in-law, and by him been called out in the present emergency,
and commissioned to fetch me back. Here, then, was little I
in the hands of creatures still less. I had nothing for it but
looking forward to the marriage; nay, I must now thank
Heaven if my father-in-law were not wroth, if my fair one
had not taken the sullens.
   " Let me skip over the whole train of ceremonies: in a
word, we were wedded. Gayly and joyously as matters
went, there were, nevertheless, solitary hours in which you
were led astray into reflection; and now there happened to
me something which had never happened before, - what, and
how, you shall learn.
   "Every thing about me was completely adapted to my
present form and 'wants: the bottles and glasses were in a fit
ratio to a little toper, - nay, if you will, better measure in pro-
portion than with us. In my tiny palate the dainty tidbits
tasted excellently; a kiss from the little mouth of my spouse
was still the most charming thing in nature; and I will not
deny that novelty made all these circumstances highly agree-
able. Unhappily, however, I had not forgotten my former
situation. I felt within me a scale of by-gone greatness, and
it rendered me restless and cheerless. Now, for the first
time, did I understand what the philosophers might mean by
their ideal, which they say so plagues the mind of man. I
had an ideal of myself, and often in dreams I appeared as
a giant. In short, my wife, my ring, my dwarf figure, and
so many other bonds and restrictions, made me utterly un-
happy; so that I began to think seriously about obtaining
my deliverance.
   " Being persuaded that the whole magic lay in the ring, I
 resolved on filing this asunder. From the court-jeweller,
 accordingly, I borrowed some files. By good luck I was left-
 handed; as, indeed, throughout my whole life I had never
 done aught in the right-handed way. I stood tightly to the
 work: it was not small; for the golden hoop, so thin as it
 appeared, had grown proportionately thicker in contracting
 from its former length. All vacant hours I privately applied
 to this task; and at last, the metal being nearly through, I
 was provident enough to step out of doors. This was a
 wise measure ; for all at once the golden hoop started sharply


248





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


from my finger, and my frame shot aloft with such violence
that I actually fancied I should dash against the sky: and,
at all events, I must have bolted through the dome of our
palace, - nay, perhaps, in my new awkwardness, have de-
stroyed this summer residence altogether.
   " Here, then, was I standing again, - in truth, so much the
larger, but also, as it seemed to me, so much the more stupid
and helpless. On recovering from my stupefaction, I ob-
served the royal strong-box lying near me, which I found to
be moderately heavy, as I lifted it, and carried it down the
footpath to the next stage, where I directly ordered horses
and set forth. By the road I soon made trial of the two
side-pouches. Instead of money, which appeared to be run
out, I found a little key: it belonged to the strong-box, in
which I got some moderate compensation. So long as this
held out, I made use of the carriage: by and by I sold it,
and proceeded by the diligence. The strong-box, too, I at
length cast from me ; having no hope of its ever filling again.
And thus in the end, though after a considerable circuit, I
again returned to the kitchen-hearth, to the landlady and the
cook, where you were first introduced to me."




                    CHAPTER XVII.

   LENARDO was overwhelmed with business, his writing-
office in the greatest activity; clerks and secretaries finding
no moment's rest: while Wilhelm and Friedrich, strolling
over field and meadow, were entertaining each other with
the most pleasant conversation.
  And here, first of all, as necessarily happens between
friends meeting after some separation, the question was
started, How far they had altered in the interim ? Friedrich
would have it that Wilhelm was exactly the same as before :
to Wilhelin, again, it seemed that his young friend, though no
whit abated in mirth and discursiveness, was somewhat more
staid in his manner. " It were pity," interrupted Friedrich,
"if the father of three children, the husband of an exem-
plary matron, had not likewise gained a little in dignity of
bearing."
   Now, also, it came to fght, that all the persons whom we


249





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


got acquainted with in the " Apprenticeship " were still living
and well, --nay, better than before, being now in full and
decisive activity; each, in his own way, associated with
many fellow-laborers, and striving towards the noblest aim.
Of this, however, it is not for the present permitted us to
impart any more precise information; as, in a little book
like ours, reserve and secrecy may be no unseemly qualities.
  But whatever, in the course of this confidential conversa-
tion, transpired respecting the society in which we now are,
as their more intimate relations, maxims, and objects, by
little and little, came to view, it is our duty and opportunity
to disclose in this place.
   " The whim of emigration," - such was the substance of
Friedrich's talk on this matter, - " the whim of emigration
may, in straitened and painful circumstances, very naturally
lay hold of men: if particular cases chance to be favored
by a happy issue, this whim will, in the general mind, rise
to the rank of passion; as we have seen, as we still see, and,
withal, cannot deny that we, in our time, have been befooled
by such a delusion ourselves.
   " Emigration takes place in the treacherous hope of an
improvement in our circumstances, and it is too often coun-
terbalanced by a subsequent emigration ; since, go where you
may, you still find yourself in a conditional world, and, if
not constrained to a new emigration, are yet inclined in se-
cret to cherish such a desire.
   " We have, therefore, bound ourselves to renounce all
emigration, and to devote ourselves to migration. Here
one does not turn his back on his native country forever,
but hopes, even after the greatest circuit, to arrive there
again, richer, wiser, cleverer, better, and whatever else such
a way of life can make him. Now, in society, all things are
easier, more certain in their accomplishment, than to an in-
dividual; in which sense, my friend, consider what thou
shalt observe here: for whatever thou mayest see, all and
every part of it is meant to forward a great, movable con-
nection among active and sufficient men of all classes.
   " But' as where men are, manners are too, I may explain
 thus much of our constitution by way of preliminary: When
 two of- our number anywhere by accident meet, they conduct
 themselves towards each other according to their rank and
 fashion, according to custom of handicraft or art, or by some
 other such mode adapted to their mutual relations. Three
 meeting together are considered as a unity, which governs


250





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


itself; but, if a fourth join them, they instantly elect the
BOND, one chief and three subjects. This Bond, however
many more combine with them, can still only be a single
newly elected person; for, in the great as in the small scale,
co-regents are found to be mutually obstructive.
  " Thou mayest observe that Lenardo unites, in this way,
more than a hundred active and able men, - unites, employs,
calls home, sends forth; as to-morrow, an important day
with us, thou wilt perceive and understand. Thou wilt then
see the Bond dissolved, the multitude divided into smaller
societies, and the Bond multiplied: all the rest will at the
same time become clear to thee.
   " But for the present I invite thee to a short bout of read-
ing. Here, under the shadow of, these whispering trees, by
the side of this' still-flowing water, let us peruse a story,
this little paper which Lenardo, from the rich treasures of
his collection, has intrusted to me; that so both of us may
see thoroughly what a difference there is between a mad
pilgrimage, such as many lead in the world, and a well-med-
itated, happily commenced undertaking like ours, of which
I shall at this time say no more in praise."

   The quaint, fitful, and most dainty story of " The Foolish
Pilgrimess," with which our two friends now occupied their
morning, we feel ourselves constrained, not unreluctantly, by
certain grave calculations, to reserve for some future and
better season.




                    CHAPTER XVIII.

   LENARDO, having freed himself from business for an hour,
 took dinner with his friends; and at table he began to ex-
 plain to them his family circumstances. His eldest sister
 was married. A rich brother-in-law, to the great satisfac-
 tion of the uncle, had undertaken the management of all the
 estates; with him Valerina's husband was stoutly co-operat-
 ing: they were laboring on the great scale, strengthening
 their enterprises by connection with distant countries and
 places.
   Here, likewise, our oldest friends once more make their


251





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


appearance: Lothario, Werner, the abb6, are on their side
proceeding in the highest diligence; while Jarno occupies
himself with mining. A general insurance has been insti-
tuted: we discern a vast property in land; and on this
depends the existence of a large wandering society, the indi-
vidual members of which, under the condition of the greatest
possible usefulness, are recommended to all the world, are
forwarded in every undertaking, and secured against all mis-
chances: while they again, as scattered colonists, may be
supposed to re-act on their mother country with favorable
influences.
  Throughout all this we observe Lenardo recognized as the
wandering Bond: in smaller and greater combinations, he,
for most part, is elected; on him is placed the most unre-
stricted confidence'.
  So far had the disclosure, partly from Lenardo, partly
from Friedrich, proceeded without let, when both of them on
a sudden became silent; each seeming to have scruples about
communicating more. After a short pause, Wilhelm ad-
dressed them, and cried, " What new secret again suddenly
overshadows the friendliest explanation? Will you again
leave me in the lurch?"
  "' Not at all ! " exclaimed Friedrich. " Do but hear me !
He has found the nut-brown maid, and for her sake "--
  " Not for her sake," interrupted Lenardo.
  "And just for her sake ! " persisted Friedrich. " Do
not deceive yourself: for her sake you are changing your-
self into a lawful vagabond; as some others of us, not, in
truth, for the most praiseworthy purposes, have, in times
past, changed ourselves into lawless vagrants."
  " Let us go along calmly," said Lenardo: " our friend
here must be made acquainted with the state of our affairs;
but, in the first place, let him have a little touch of discipline
for himself. You had found the nut-brown maid, but to
me you refused the knowledge of her abode. For this I
will not blame you, but what good did it do? To discover
this secret I was passionately incited; and, notwithstanding
your sagacious caution, I at length came upon the right trace.
You have seen the good maiden yourself: her circumstances
you have accurately investigated, and yet you did not judge
them rightly. It is only the loving who feels and discovers
what the beloved wishes and wants : he can read it in her from
her deepest heart. Let this at present suffice : for explanation
we have no time left to-day. To-morrow I have the hottest


252





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


press of business to front: next day we part. But for your
information, composure, and participating interest, accept
this copy of a week from my journal: it is the best legacy
which I can leave you. By reading it you will not, indeed,
become wiser than you are and than I am; but let this for
the present suffice. The nearest future, or a more remote
one, will arrange and direct: that is to say, in this case, as
in so many others, we know not what is to become of us."
  By way of dessert Lenardo received a packet, at the open-
ing of which he, with some tokens of surprise, handed a let-
ter to Wilhelm. " What secrets, what speedy concerns, can
sister Hersilia have with our friend? ' To be delivered in-
stantly and opened privately, without the presence of any
one, friend or stranger! ' Let us give him all possible con-
venience, Friedrich : let us withdraw ! " Wilhelm  hastily
broke open the sheet, and read, -


                   Hersilia to Wilhelm.

  Wherever this letter may reach you, my noble friend, to a
certainty it will find you in some nook where'you are striving
in vain to hide from yourself. By making you acquainted
with my two fair dames, I have done you a sorry service.
  But wherever you may be lurking, and doubtless it will
search you out, my promise is, that if, after reading this
letter, you do not forthwith leap from your seat, and, like a
pious pilgrim, appear in my presence without delay, I must
declare you to be the manliest of all men; that is to say, the
one most completely void of the finest property belonging to
our sex : I mean curiosity, which at this moment is afflicting
me in its sharpest concentration.
   In one word, then, your casket has now got its key: this,
however, none but you and I are to know. How it came
into my hands let me now tell you.
   Some days ago our man of law gets despatches from a
distant tribunal; wherein he was asked if, at such and such
a time, there had not been a boy prowling about our neigh-
borhood who had played all manner of tricks, and at length,
in a rash enterprise, lost his jacket.
   By the way this brat was described, no doubt remained with
us but he was Fitz, - the gay comrade whom Felix talked so
much of, and so often wished back to play with him.
   Now, for the present, those authorities request that said


253





254


MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


article of dress may be sent to them if it is still in existence;
as the boy, at last involved in judicial examinations, refers
to it. Of. this demand our lawyer chances to make mention:
he shows us the little frock before sending it off.
  Some good or evil spirit whispers me to grope the breast-
pocket: a little, angular, prickly something comes into my
hand; I, so timorous, ticklish, and startlish as I usually am,
clinch my hand, clinch it, hold my peace; and the jerkin is
sent away. Directly, of all feelings, the strangest seizes me.
At the first stolen glance I saw, I guessed, that it was the key
of your little box. And now came wondrous scruples of con-
science, and all sorts of moral doubts. To discover, to give
back my windfall, was impossible; what have those long-
wigged judges to do with it when it may be so useful to my
friend ? And then, again, all manner of questions about right
and duty begin lifting up their voices; but I would not let
them outvote me.
  From this you perceive into what a situation my friendship
for you has reduced me: a choice faculty develops itself all
on a sudden for your sake ; what an occurrence ! May it not
be something more than friendship that so holds the balance
of my conscience? Between guilt and curiosity I am won-
derfully discomposed ; I have a hundred whims and stories
about what may follow : law and judgment will not be trifled
with. Hersilia, the careless, and, as occasion served, capri-
cious Hersilia, entangled in a criminal process ; for this is the
scope and tendency of it ! And what can I do but think of
the friend for whose sake I suffer all this ? I thought of you
before, yet with pauses; but now I think of you incessantly :
now when my heart throbs, and I think of the eighth com-
mandment, I must turn to you as to the saint who has caused
this sin, and will also procure me an absolution; thus the
opening of the casket is the only thing that can compose me.
My curiosity is growing stronger and doubly strong: come,
and bring the casket with you.    To what judgment-seat
it properly belongs we will make out between us: till then
let it remain between us; no one must know of it, be who
he will. .
  But now, in conclusion, look here, my friend. And tell
me, what say you to this picture of the riddle? Does it not
remind you of arrows with barbs? God help us! But the
box must first stand unopened between you and me, and
then, when opened, tell us further what we have to do. I
wish there were nothing whatever in it; and who knows what





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


all I wish, and what all I could tell? but do you look at this,
and hasten so much the faster to get upon the road.













  Friedrich returned more gay and lively than he had gone.
" Good news ! " cried he : " good luck ! Lenardo has re-
ceived some pretty letters to facilitate the parting: credit
more than sufficient; and thou, too, shalt have thy share in it.
Fortune herself surely knows not what she is about; for once
in her time she has done wise, worthy fellows a favor."
  Hereupon he handed to his friend some clipped fragments
of maps, with directions where they were to be produced,
and changed for hard cash or bills, as he might choose.
Wilhelm was obliged to accept them ; though he kept assuring
his companion, that for the present he had no need of such
things. " Then, others will need them !" cried Friedrich:
" constrain not thy good feelings, and, wherever thou art,
appear as a benefactor. But now come along, let us have
a look at this manuscript: it is long till night; one tires of
talking and listening, so I have begged some writing for our
entertainment. Every leaf in Lenardo's archives is penned
in the spirit of the whole: in giving me this, he said, ' Well,
take it and read it: our friend will acquire more confidence
in our society and Bond, the more good members he becomes
acquainted with.' "
  The two then retired to a cheerful spot; and Friedrich
read, enlivening with much natural energy and mirth, what
he found set down for him.





6                MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


                WHO CAN THE TRAITOR BE?

  " No, no! " exclaimed he, violently and hastily rushing
into the chamber allotted him, and setting down his candle,
--" no ! it is impossible ! But whither shall I turn? For
the first time I think otherwise than he: for the first time I
feel, I wish, otherwise.  0 father! couldst thou but be
present invisibly, couldst thou but look through and through
me, thou wouldst see that I am still the same, still thy true,
obedient, affectionate son. Yet to say no ! To contradict
my father's dearest, long-cherished wish! How shall I dis-
close it? How shall I express it? No: I cannot marry
Julia! While I speak of it, I shudder. And how shall I
appear before him, tell him this, him, the good, kind father ?
He looks at me with astonishment: without speaking: the
prudent, clear-sighted, gifted man can find no words.
Woe is me! Ah ! I know well to whom I would confide
this pain, this perplexity, who it is I would choose for my
advocate. Before all others, thou, Lucinda ! And I would
first tell thee how I love thee, how I give myself to thee,
and pressingly entreat thee to speak for me, and if thou
canst love me again, if thou wilt be mine, to speak for us
both."
  To explain this short, pithy monologue will require some
details.
  Professor N. of N. had an only boy of singular beauty,
whom, till the child's eighth year, he had left entirely in
charge of his wife. This excellent woman had directed the
hours and days of her son in living, learning, and all good
behavior. She died; and the father instantly felt, that to
prosecute this parental tutelage was impossible.  In their
lifetime, all had been harmony between the parents: they
had labored for a common aim, had determined in concert
what was next to be done; and the mother had not wanted
skill to execute wisely, by herself, what the two had planned
together. Double and treble was now the widower's anxiety;
seeing, as he could not but daily see, that for the sons of
professors, even in universities, it was only by a sort
of miracle that a happy education could be expected.
   In this strait he applied to his friend, the Oberamtmann of
R., with whom he had already been treating of plans for a
closer alliance between their families. The Oberamtmann
gave him counsel and assistance: so the son was established





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


in one of those institutions which still flourish in Germany,
and where charge is taken of the whole man, and body, soul,
and spirit are trained with all attention.
  The son was thus provided for: the .father, however, felt
himself very lonely, robbed of his wife, shut out from the
cheerful presence of the boy, whom he had seen, without
effort of his, growing up in such desirable culture. But
here, again, the friendship of the Oberartmann served him in
good stead: the distance of their abodes vanished before his
affection, his desire for movement, for diversion of thought.
In this hospitable home the widowed man of letters found, in
a family circle, motherless like his own, two beautiful little
daughters growing up in diverse loveliness: a state of things
which more and more confirmed the fathers in their purpose,
in their hope, of one day seeing their families united in the
most joyful bonds.
  They lived under the sway of a mild, good prince: the
meritorious Oberamtmann was certain of his post during life ;
and, in the appointment of a successor, his recommendation
was likely to go far. And now. according to the' wise fam-
ily arrangement, sanctioned also by the minister, Lucidor
was to train himself for the important office of his future
father-in-law. This in consequence he did, from step to
step. Nothing was neglected in communicating to him all
sorts of knowledge, in developing in him all sorts of activity,
which the state in any case requires, -practice in rigorous
judicial law, and also in the laxer sort, where prudence and
address find their proper field; foresight for daily ways and
means; not excluding higher and more comprehensive views,
yet all tending towards practical life, and so as with effect.
and certainty to be employed in its concerns.
  With such purposes had Lucidor spent his school years:
by his father and his patron he was now warned to make
ready for the university. In all departments he already
showed the fairest talents; and to nature he was further in-
debted for the singular happiness of inclining, out of love
for his father, out of respect for his friend, to turn his capa-
bilities, fifst from obedience, then from conviction, on that
very object to which he was directed. He was placed in a
foreign university; and here, both by his own account in his
letters, and by the testimony of his teachers and overseers,
he continued walking in the path that led towards his ap-
pointed goal. It was only objected to him, that in certain
cases he had been too impetuously brave. The father shook


257





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


his head at this: the Oberamtmann nodded. Who would
not have been proud of such a son ?
  Meanwhile the two daughters, Julia and Lucinda, were
waxing in stature and graces. Julia, the younger, waggish,
lovely, unstable, highly entertaining; the other difficult to
portray, for in her sincerity and purity she represented all
that we prize most in woman. Visits were paid and repaid;
and, in the professor's house, Julia found the most inex-
haustible amusement.
   Geography, which he failed not to enliven by topography.
belonged to his province; and no sooner did Julia cast hei
eyes on any of the volumes, of which a whole series from
Homann's warehouse were standing there, than the cities, all
and sundry, had to be mustered, judged, preferred, or re-
jected : all havens especially obtained her favor ; other towns,
to acquire even a slight approval from her, must stand forth
well supplied with steeples, domes, and minarets.
   Julia's father often left her for weeks to the care of his
tried friend. She was actually advancing in knowledge of
her scienee; and already the inhabited world, in its main
features, in its chief points and places, stood before her with
some accuracy and distinctness. The garbs of foreign na-
tions attracted her peculiar attention; and often when her
foster-father asked her in jest, If among the many young,
handsome men who were passing to and fro before her win-
dow, there was not some one or other whom she liked? she
would answer, " Yes, indeed ! if he do but look odd enough."
And, as our young students are seldom behindhand in this
particular, she had often occasion to take notice of individu-
.als among them; they brought to her mind the costume of
foreign nations: however, she declared in the end, that, if
she was to bestow her undivided attention on any one, he
must be at least a Greek, equipped in the complete fashion
of his country; on which account, also, she longed to be at
some Leipzig fair, where, as she understood, such persons
were to be seen walking the streets.
   After his dry and often irksome labors, our teacher had
 now no happier moments than those he spent in mirthfully
 instructing her; triumphing withal, in secret, that a being
 so attractive, ever entertaining, ever entertained, was in the
 end to be his own daughter. For the rest, the two fathers
 had mutually agreed, that no hint of their purpose should
 be communicated to the girls: from Lucidor, also, it was
 kept secret.


258





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  Thus had years passed away, as, indeed, they very lightly
pass: Lucidor presented himself completed, having stood all
trials to the joy, even of the superior overseers, who wished
nothing more heartily than being able, with a good con-
science, to fulfil the hopes of old, worthy, favored, and de-
serving servants.
  And so the business had at length by quiet, regular steps
come so far, that Lucidor, after having demeaned himself in
subordinate stations to universal satisfaction, was now to be
placed in a very advantageous post, suitable to his wishes
and merits, and lying just midway between the university
and the Oberamtmann-ship.
  The father now spoke with his son about Julia, of whom
he had hitherto only hinted, as about his bride and wife,
without any doubt or condition; congratulating him on the
happiness of having appropriated such a jewel to himself.
The professor saw in fancy his daughter-in-law again from
time to time in his house, occupied with charts, plans, and
views of cities: the son recalled to mind the gay and most
lovely creature, who, in times of childhood, had, by her
rogueries as by her kindliness, always delighted him. Luci-
dor was now to ride over to the Oberamtmann's, to take a
closer view of the full-grown fair one, and, for a few weeks,
to surrender himself to the habitudes and familiarity of her
household. If the young people, as was to be hoped, should
speedily agree, the professor was forthwith to appear, that
so a solemn betrothment might forever secure the anticipated
happiness.
  Lucidor arrives, is received with the friendliest welcome:
a chamber is allotted him; he arranges himself there, and
appears. And now he finds, besides the members of the
family already known to us, a grown-up son, - misbred cer-
tainly, yet shrewd and good-natured; so that, if you like to
take him as the jesting counsellor of the party, he fitted not
ill with the rest. There belonged, moreover, to the house a
very old, but healthy and gay-hearted, man, quiet, wise, dis-
creet; completing his life, as it were, and here and there re-
quiring a little help. Directly after Lucidor, too, there had
arrived another stranger, no longer young, of an impressive
aspect, dignified, thoroughly well-bred, and, by his acquaint-
ance with the most distant quarters of the world, extremely
entertaining. He was called Antoni.
  Julia received her announced bridegroom in fit order, yet
with an excess rather than a defect of frankness: Lucinda,


259





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


on the other hand, did the honors of the house; as her sister
did'those of herself. So passed the day, peculiarly agree-
able to all, only to Lucidor not: he, at all times silent, had
been forced, that he might avoid sinking dumb entirely, to
employ himself in asking questions; and in this attitude no
one appears to advantage.
  Throughout he had been absent-minded; for at the first
glance he had felt, not aversion or repugnance, yet estrange-
ment, towards Julia: Lucinda, on the contrary, attracted
him; so that he trembled every time she looked at him with
her full, pure, peaceful eyes.
  Thus hard bested, he reached his chamber the first night,-
and gave vent to his heart in that soliloquy with which we
began. But to explain this sufficiently, to show how the
violence of such an emphatic speech agrees with what we
know of him already, another little statement will be neces-
sary.
  Lucidor was of a deep character, and for most part had
something' else in his mind than what the present scene
required: hence talk and social conversation would never
prosper rightly with him; he felt this, and was wont to con-
tinue silent, except when the topic happened to be particu-
lar, on some department which he had completely studied,
and of which, whatever he needed was at all times ready.
Besides this, in his early years at school, and later at the
university, he had been deceived in friends, and had wasted
the effusions of his heart unhappily: hence every communi-
cation of his feelings seemed to him a doubtful step, and
doubting destroys all such communication. With his father
he was used to speak only in unison : therefore his full heart
poured itself out in monologues, as soon as he was by him-
self.
  Next morning he had summoned up his resolution; and
yet he almost lost heart and composure again, when Julia
met him with still more friendliness, gayety, and frankness
than ever. She had much to ask, - about his journey by
land and journeys by water; how, when a student, with his
knapsa'ck on his back, he had roamed and climbed through
Switzerland, - nay, crossed the Alps themselves. And now
of those fair islands on the great Southern Lake she had
much to say: and then backwards, the Rhine must be ac-
companied from his primary origin; at first, through most
undelicious regions, and so downwards through many an
alternation, till at length, between Maynz and Coblenz,


260





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


you find it still worth while respectfully to dismiss the old
River from his last confinement, into the wide world, into
the sea.
  Lucidor, in the course of this recital, felt much lightened
in heart; he narrated willingly and well: so that Julia at
last exclaimed in rapture, " It is thus that our other self
should be!" At which phrase Lucidor again felt startled
and frightened, thinking he saw in it an allusion to their
future pilgrimage in common through life.
  From his narrative duty, however, he was soon relieved;
for .the stranger, A ntoni, very speedily overshadowed all
mountain streams, and rocky banks, and rivers, whether
hemmed in or left at liberty. Under his guidance you now
went forward to Genoa; Livorno lay at no great distance;
whatever was most interesting in the country you took with
you as fair spoil; Naples, too, was a place you should see
before you died; and then, in truth, remained Constantino-
ple, which also was by no means to be neglected. Antoni's
descriptions of the wide world carried the imagination of
every hearer along with him, though Antoni himself intro-
duced little fire into the subject. Julia, quite enraptured,
was still nowise satisfied: she longed for Alexandria, Cairo,
and, above all, for the pyramids; of which, by the lessons
of her intended father-in-law, she had gained some mod-
erate knowledge.
  Lucidor, next night (he had scarcely shut his door, the can-
dle he had not put down), exclaimed, " Now, bethink thee,
then: it is growing serious ! Thou hast studied and medi-
tated many serious things: what avails thy law-learning if
thou canst not act like a man of law? View thyself as a
delegate, forget thy own feelings, and do what it would be-
hoove thee to do for another. It thickens and closes round
me horribly ! The stranger is plainly come for the sake of
Lucinda; she shows him the fairest, noblest social and hos-
pitable attentions: that little fool would run through the
world with any one for any thing or nothing. Besides, she
is a wag :.her interest in cities and countries is a farce, by
which she keeps us in silence. But why do I look at the
affair so perplexedly, so narrowly? Is not the Oberamt-
mann himself the most judicious, the clearest, the kindest
mediator? . Thou wilt tell him how thou feelest and think-
est; and he will think with thee, if not likewise feel. With
thy father he has all influence. And is not the one as well
as the other his daughter ?   li hat would this Antoni the


261





262


MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


traveller with Lucinda, who is born for home, to be happy
and to make happy? Let the wavering quicksilver fasten
itself to the Wandering Jew : that will be a right match."
  Next morning Lucidor came down with the firm purpose
of speaking with the father, and waiting on him expressly
to that end, at the hour when he knew him to be disen-
gaged. How great was his vexation, his perplexity, on
learning that the Oberamtmann had been called away on
business, and was not expected till the day after the mor-
row ! Julia, on this occasion, seemed to be expressly in
her travelling-fit; she kept by the world wanderer, and,
with some sportive hits at domestic economy, gave up Luci-
dor to Lucinda. If our friend, viewing this noble maiden
from a certain distance, and under one general impression,
had already, with his whole heart, loved her, he failed not
now in this nearest nearness to discover with double and
treble vividness in detail all that had before as a whole
attracted him.
  The good old friend of the family now brought himself fot-
ward in place of the absent father: he, too, had lived, had
loved, and was now, after many hard buffetings and bruises
of life, resting at last, refreshed and cheerful, beside the
friend of his youth. He enlivened the conversation, and
especially expatiated on perplexities in choice of wives;
relating several remarkable examples of explanations, both
in time and too late. Lucinda appeared in all her splendor.
She admitted, that accident in all departments of life, and
so likewise in the business of marriage, often produced the
best result; yet that it was finer and prouder when one could
say he owed his happiness to himself, to the silent, calm
conviction of his heart, to a noble purpose and a quick de-
termination. Tears stood in Lucidor's eyes as he applauded
this sentiment: directly afterward sthe two ladies went out.
The old president liked well to deal in illustrative histories;
and so the conversation expanded itself into details of pleas-
ant instances, which, however, touched our hero so closely
that none but a youth of as delicate manners as his could
have refrained from breaking out with his secret. He did
break out so soon as he was by himself.
  " I have constrained myself ! " exclaimed he : " with such
perplexities I will not vex my good father; I have forborne
to speak, for I see in this worthy old man the substitute of
both fathers. To him will I speak, to him disclose the
whole: he will surely bring it about; he has already almost





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


spoken what I wish. Will he censure in the individual case
what he praises in general? To-morrow I visit him: I must
give vent to this oppression."
  At breakfast the old man was not present: last night he
had spoken, it appeared, too much, had .sat too long, and
likewise drunk a drop or two of wine beyond his custom.
Much was said in his praise: many anecdotes were related,
and precisely of such sayings and doings as brought Lucidor
to despair for not having forthwith applied to him. This
unpleasant feeling was but aggravated when he learned, that,
in such attacks of disorder, the good old man would often not
make his re-appearance for a week.
  For social converse a country residence has many advan-
tages, especially when the owners of it have, for a course
of years, been induced, as thinking and feeling persons, to
improve the natural capabilities of their environs. Such
had been the good fortune of this spot. The Oberamt-
mann, at first unwedded, then in a long, happy marriage,
himself a man of fortune, and occupying a lucrative post,
had, according to his own judgment and perception, accord-
ing to the taste of his wife, - nay, at last according to the
wishes and whims of his children, - laid out and forwarded
many larger and smaller decorations; which, by degrees, be-
ing skilfully connected with plantations and paths, afforded to
the promenader a very beautiful, continually varying, charac-
teristic series of scenes. A pilgrimage through these our
young hosts now proposed to their guest; as in general we
take pleasure in showing our improvements to a stranger,
that so what has become habitual in our eyes may appear
with the charm of novelty in his, and leave with him, in per-
manent remembrance, its first favorable impression.
   The nearest, as well as the most distant, part of the
grounds was peculiarly appropriate for modest decorations,
and altogether rural individualities. Fertile hills alternated
with well-watered meadows, so that the whole was visible
from time to time without being flat; and, if the land seemed
chiefly devoted to purposes of utility, the graceful, the at-
tractive, Wvas by no means excluded.
   To the dwelling and office houses were united various
 gardens, orchards, and green spaces; out of which you
 imperceptibly passed into a little wood with a broad, clear
 carriage-road, winding up and down through the midst of
 it. Here, in a central spot, on the most considerable ele-
 vation, there had been a hall erected, with side-chambera


263





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


entering from it. On coming through the main door you
saw, in a large mirror, the most favorable prospect which
the country afforded, and were sure to turn round that in-
stant, to recover yourself on the reality from the effect of
this its unexpected image; for the approach was artfully
enough contrived, and all that could excite surprise was
carefully hid till the last moment. No one entered but felt
pleasurably tempted to turn from the mirror to nature, and
from nature to the mirror.
  Once in motion in this fairest, brightest, longest day, our
party made a spiritual campaign of it, over and through thei
whole. Here the daughters pointed out the evening-seat of
their good mother, where a stately box-tree had kept clear
space all round it. A little farther on Lucinda's place of
morning prayer was half-roguishly exhibited by Julia, close
to a little brook, between poplars and alders, with meadows
sloping down from it, and fields stretching upwards. It
was indescribably pretty. You thought you had seen such
a spot everywhere, but nowhere so impressive and so per-
fect in its simplicity. In return for this the young master,
also half against Julia's will, pointed out the tiny groves,
and child's gardens which, close by a snug-lying mill, were
now scarcely discernible : they dated from a time when Julia,
perhaps in her tenth year, had taken it into her head to be-
come a milleress; intending, after the decease of the two old
occupants, to assume the management herself, and choose
some brave millman for her husband.
  " That was at a time," cried Julia, ' when I knew nothing
of towns lying on rivers, or even on the sea, -nothing of
Genoa, of Naples, and the like. Your worthy father, Luci-
dor, has converted me: of late I come seldom hither." She
sat down with a roguish air, and on a little bench, that was
now scarcely large enough for her, under an elder-bough,
which had bent deeply towards the ground. " Fie on this
cowering ! " cried she, then started up, and ran off with her
gay brother.
  The remaining pair kept up a rational conversation, and
in these cases reason approaches close to the borders of feel-
ing. Wandering over changeful, simple, natural objects, to
contemplate at leisure how cunning, scheming man contrives
to gain some profit from them; how his perception of what
is laid before him, combining with the feeling of his wants,
does wonders, first in rendering the world inhabitable, then
in peopling it, and at last in over-peopling it,-- all this


264





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


could here be talked of in detail. Lucinda gave account
of every thing; and, modest as she was, she could not
hide that these pleasant and convenient combinations of
distant parts by roads had been her work, under the pro-
posal, direction, or favor of her revered mother.
  But as, the longest day at last bends down to evening, our
party were at last forced to think of returning: and, while
devising some pleasant circuit, the merry brother proposed
that they should take the short road; though it commanded
no fine prospects, and was even in some places more difficult
to get over. " For," cried he, " you have preached all day
about your decorations and .reparations, and how you have
improved and beautified the scene for pictorial eyes and feel-
ing hearts: let me, also, have my turn."
  Accordingly, they now set forth over ploughed grounds, by
coarse paths, nay, sometimes picking their way by stepping-
stones in boggy places; till at last they perceived, at some
distance, a pile of machinery towering up in manifold com-
bination. More closely examined, it turned out to be a
large apparatus for sport and games, arranged, not without
judgment, and in a certain popular spirit. Here, fixed at
suitable distances, stood a large swing-wheel, on which the
ascending and the descending riders might still sit horizon-
tally and at their ease; other seesaws, swing-ropes, leaping-
poles, bowling and ninepins courses, and whatever can be
fancied for variedly and equally employing and diverting a
crowd of people gathered on a large common. " This," cried
he, " is my invention, my decoration ! And though my father
found the money, and a shrewd fellow the brain necessary
for it, yet without me, whom you often call a person of no
judgment, money and brain would not have come together."
  In this cheerful mood the whole four reached home by
sunset. Antoni also joined them; but the little Julia, not
yet satisfied with this unresting travel, ordered her coach,
and set forth on a visit to a lady of her friends, in utter
despair at not having seen her for two days. The party left
behind began to feel embarrassed before they were aware:
it was evefl mentioned in words that the father's absence
distressed them. The conversation was about to stagnate,
when all at once the madcap sprang from his seat, and in a
few moments returned with a book, proposing to read to the
company. Lucinda forbore not to inquire how this notion
had occurred to him, now for the first time in a twelvemonth.
".Every thing occurs to me," said he, " at the proper


265





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


season: this is more than you can say for yourself." He
read them a series of genuine antique tales, such as lead
man away from himself, flattering his wishes, and making
him forget all those restrictions between which, even in the
happiest moments, we are still hemmed in.
  " What shall I do now? " cried Lucidor, when at last he
saw himself alone. " The hour presses on: in Antoni I
have no trust; he is an utter stranger; I know not who
he is, how he comes to be here, nor what he wants: Lucinda
seems to be his object; and, if so, what can I expect of him?
Nothing remains for me but applying to Lucinda herself:
she must know of it, she before all others. This was my
first feeling: why do we stray into side-paths and subter-
fuges? My first thought shall be my last, and I hope to
reach my aim."
  On Saturday morning Lucidor, dressed at an early hour,
was walking to and fro in his chamber, thinking and con-
ning over his projected address to Lucinda, when he heard a
sort of jestful contention before his door; and the door
itself directly afterwards went up. The mad younker was
shoving in a boy before him with coffee and baked ware
for the guest: he himself carried cold meats and wine.
"Go thou foremost," cried the younker, "for the guest
must be first served: I am used to serve myself. My
friend, to-day I am entering somewhat early and tumul-
tuously: but let us take our breakfast in peace; then we
shall see what is to be done, for of our company there is
nothing to be hoped. The little one is not yet back from
her friend : they two have to pour out their hearts together
every fortnight, otherwise the poor, dear hearts would burst.
On Saturdays Lucinda is good for nothing: she balances
her household accounts for my father; she would have had
me taking share in the concern, but Heaven forbid ! When
I know the price of any thing, no morsel of it can I relish.
Guests are expected to-morrow; the old man has not yet got
refitted: Antoni is gone to hunt; we will do the same.
   Guns, pouches, and dogs were ready as our pair stepped
 down into the court; and now they set forth over field and
 hill, shooting at best a leveret or so, and perhaps here
 and there a. poor, indifferent, undeserving bird. Mean-
 while they kept talking of domestic affairs, of the house-
 hold, and company at present assembled in it. Antoni was
 mentioned, and Lucidor failed not to inquire more narrowly
 about him. The gay younker, with some self-complaisance;


2686





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


asserted, that strange as the man was, and much mystery
as he made about himself, he, the gay younker, had already
seen through him and through him. " Without doubt,"
continued he, " Antoni is the son of a rich mercantile
family, whose large partnership concern fell to ruin at the
very time when he, in the full vigor of youth, was preparing
to take a cheerful and active hand in their great under-
takings, and, withal, to share in their abundant profits.
Dashed down from the summit of his hopes, he gathered
himself together, and undertook to perform for strangers
what he was no longer in a case to perform for his relatives.
And so he travelled through the world, became thoroughly
acquainted with it and its mutual traffickings; in the mean
while not forgetting his own advantage. Unwearied dili-
gence and tried fidelity obtained and secured for him un-
bounded confidence from many.      Thus in all places he
acquired connections and friends: nay, it is easy to see
that his fortune is as widely scattered abroad as his ac-
quaintance; and, accordingly, his presence is from time to
time required in all quarters of the world."
  These things the merry younker told in a more circum-
stantial and simple style, introducing many farcical obser-
vations, as if he meant to spin out his story to full length.
  " How long, for instance," cried he, " has this Antoni
been connected with my father? They think I see nothing
because I trouble myself about nothing; but for this very
reason I see it better, as I take no interest in it. To my
father he has intrusted large sums, who, again, has deposited
them securely and to advantage. It was but last night that
he gave our old dietetic friend a casket of jewels; a finer,
simpler, costlier piece of ware I never cast my eyes on:
though I saw this only with a single glance, for they make
a secret of it. Most probably it is to be consigned to the
bride for her pleasure, satisfaction, and future security.
Antoni has set his heart on Lucinda ! Yet, when I see them
together, I cannot think it a well-assorted match. The hop-
skip would have suited him better: I believe, too, she would
take him sooner than the elder would. Many a time I see
her looking over to the old curmudgeon, so gay and sympa-
thetic, as if she could find in her heart to spring into the
coach with him, and fly off at full gallop."  Lucidor col-
lected himself; he knew not what to answer; all that he
heard obtained his internal approbation. The younker pro-
ceeded, ",All along the girl has had a perverted liking for


267





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


old people: I believe, of a truth, she would have skipped
away and wedded your father as briskly as she would his
son."'
   Lucidor followed his companion over stock and stone, as
it pleased the gay youth to lead him: both forgot the chase,
which, at any rate, could not be productive. They called at a
farmhouse, where, being hospitably received, the one friend
entertained himself with eating, drinking, and tattling; the
other again plunged into meditations and projects for turn-
ing this new discovery to his own profit.
   From all these narrations and disclosures Lucidor had
acquired so much confidence in Antoni, that, immediately on
their return, he asked for him, and hastened into the garden
where he was said to be. In vain! No soul was to be seen
anywhere. At last he entered the door of the great hall:
and strange enough the setting sun, reflected from the mirror,
so dazzled him that he could not recognize the two persons
who were sitting on the sofa; though he saw distinctly that
it was a lady and a man, which latter was that instant
warmly kissing the hand of his companion.      How great,
accordingly, was Lucidor's astonishment when, on recov-
ering his clearness of vision, he beheld Antoni sitting by
Lucinda. He was like to sink through the ground; he
stood, however, as if rooted to the spot, till Lucinda, in
the kindest, most unembarrassed manner, shifted a little to
a side, and invited him to take a seat on her right hand.
Unconsciously he obeyed her; and while she addressed him,
inquiring after his present day's history, asking pardon for
her absence on domestic engagements, he could scarcely
hear her voice. Antoni rose, and took his leave: Lucinda,
resting herself from her toil as the others were doing, invited
Lucidor to a short stroll. Walking by her side lihe was silent
and embarrassed: she, too, seemed ill at ease; and, had he
been in the slightest degree self-collected, her deep-drawn
breathing must have disclosed to him that she had 'heartfelt
sighs to suppress.  She at last took her leave as they
approached the house: he, on the other hand, turned round
at first, slowly, then at a violent pace, to the open country.
The park was too narrow for him: he hastened through the
fields, listening only to the voice of his heart, and without
eyes for the beauties of this loveliest evening. When he
found himself alone, and his feelings were relieving their
violence in a shower of tears, he exclaimed, -
   " Already in my life, but never with such fierceness, have


268





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


I felt the agony which now makes me altogether wretched, -
to see the .long-wished-for happiness at length reach me,
hand in hand and arm in arm unite with me, and at the
same moment announce its eternal departure! I was sit-
ting by her, I was walking by her, her fluttering garment
touched me; and I have lost her! Reckon it not over,;
torture not thy heart with it, be silent and determine!"
  He laid a prohibition on his lips : he held his peace, and
planned and meditated; stepping over field and meadow
and bush, not always by the smoothest paths. Late at
night, on returning to his chamber, he gave voice to his
thoughts for a moment, and cried, "To-morrow morning I
am gone: another such day I will not front."
  And so, without undressing, he threw himself on the bed.
Happy, healthy season of youth ! He was already asleep:
the fatiguing motion of the day had earned for him the
sweetest rest. Out of bright morning dreams, however, the
earliest sun awoke him: this was the longest day in the year,
and for him it threatened to be too long. If the grace of the
peaceful evening star had passed over him unnoticed, he felt
the awakening beauty of the morning only to despair. The
world was lying here as glorious as ever; to his eyes it was
still so, but his soul contradicted it: all this belonged to him
no longer; he had lost Lucinda.
  His travelling-bag was soon packed; this he was to leave
behind him; he left no letter with it: a verbal message in
excuse of absence from dinner, perhaps also from supper,
might be left with the groom, whom, at any rate, he must
awaken. The groom, however, was awake already: Lucidor
found him in the yard, walking with large strides before the
stable-door. " You do not mean to ride ? " cried the usually
good-natured man, with a tone of some spleen. " To you I
may say it, but young master is growing worse and worse.
There was he driving about far and near yesterday: you
might have thought he would thank God for a Sunday to rest
in. And see if he does not come this morning before day-
break, rummages about in the stable, and, while I am getting
up, saddles 'and bridles your horse, flings himself on it, and
cries, 'Do but consider the good work I am doing! This
beast keeps jogging on at a staid, juridical trot: I must see
and rouse him into a smart life-gallop.' He said something
just so, and other strange speeches besides."
  Lucidor was doubly and trebly vexed: he liked the horse,
as corresponding to his own character, his own mode of life;


269





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


it grieved him to figure his good, sensible beast in the hands
of a madcap. His plan, too, was overturned, --his purpose
of flying to a college friend with whom he had lived in cheer-
ful, cordial union, and in this crisis seeking refuge beside
him. His old confidence had been awakened, the interven-
ing miles were not counted: he had fancied himself already
at the side of his true-hearted and judicious friend, finding
counsel and assuagement from his words and looks. This
prospect was now cut off, yet not entirely, if he could ven-
ture with the fresh, pedestrian limbs which still stood at his
command to set forth towards the goal.
  First of all, accordingly, he struck through the park;
making for the open country, and the road which was to lead
him to his friend. Of his direction he was not quite certain,
when, looking to the left, his eye fell upon the hermitage,
which had hitherto been kept secret from him, - a strange
edifice, rising with grotesque joinery through bush and tree;
and here, to his extreme astonishment, he observed the good
old man, who for some days had been considered sick, stand-
ing in the gallery under the Chinese roof, and looking blithely
through the soft morning. The friendliest salutation, the
most pressing entreaties to come up, Lucidor resisted with
excuses and gestures of haste. Nothing but sympathy with
the good old man, who, hastening down with infirm step,
seemed every moment in danger of falling to the bottom,
could induce him to turn thither, and then suffer himself to
be conducted up. With surprise he entered the pretty little
hall; it had only three windows, turned towards the park, -
a most graceful prospect: the other sides were decorated, or,
rather, covered, with hundreds of portraits, copper-plate or
painted, which were fixed in a certain order to the wall, and
separated by colored borders and interstices.
  " I favor you, my friend, more than I do every one: this
is the sanctuary in which I peacefully spend my last days.
Here I recover myself from all the mistakes which society
tempts me to commit: here my dietetic errors are corrected,
and my old being is again restored to equilibrium."
  Lucidor looked over the place; and, being well read in
history, he easily observed -that an historical taste had pre-
sided in its arrangement.
   "Above, there, in the frieze," said the old virtuoso," you
will find the names of distinguished men in the primitive
ages; then those of later antiquity; yet still only their
names, for how they looked would now be difficult to dis-


270





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


271


cover. But here, in the main field, comes my own life into
play : here are the men whose names I used to hear men-
tioned in my boyhood. For some fifty years or so the name
of a distinguished man continues in the remembrance of the
people: then it vanishes, or becomes fabulous. Though of
German parentage, I was born in Holland; and, for me,
William of Orange, Stadtholder, and King of England, is the
patriarch of all common great men and heroes.
  " Now, close by William, you observe Louis Fourteenth
as the person who " - How gladly would Lucidor have cut
short the good old man, had it but been permitted him, as it
is to us the narrators: for the whole late and latest history
of the world seemed impending; as from the portraits of
Frederick the Great and his generals, towards which he was
glancing, was but too clearly to be gathered.
  And though the kindly young man could not but respect
his old friend's lively sympathy in these things, nor deny that
some individual features and views in this exhibitory dis-
course might be interesting; yet at college he had heard the
late and latest history of Europe already: and, what a man
has once heard, he fancies himself to know forever. Luci-
dor's thoughts were wandering far away : he heard not, he
scarcely saw, and was just on the point, in spite of all
politeness, of flinging himself out, and tumbling down the
long, fatal stair, when a loud clapping of hands was heard
from below.
  While Lucidor restrained his movement, the old man
looked over through the window; and a well-known voice
resounded from beneath, ' Come down, for Heaven's sake,
out of your historic picture-gallery, old gentleman! Con-
clude your fasts and humiliations, and help me to appease
our young friend, when he learns it. Lucidor's horse I have
ridden somewhat hard: it has lost a shoe, and I was obliged
to leave the beast behind me. What will he say? He is too
absurd, when one behaves absurdly."
  " Come up," said the old man, and turned in to Lucidor.
"Now what say you ? " Lucidor was silent, and the wild
blade entered. The discussion of the business lasted long:
at length it was determined to despatch the groom forthwith,
that he might seek the horse, and take charge of it.
  Leaving the old man, the two younkers hastened to the
house; Lucidor, not quite unwillingly, submitting to this ar-
rangement. Come of it what might, within these walls the
sole wish of his heart was included. In such desperate





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


cases, we are, at any rate, cut off from the assistance of our
free will; and we feel ourselves relieved for a moment,
when, from any quarter, direction and constraint take hold
of us. Yet, on entering his chamber, he found himself in
the strangest mood, - like a man who, having just left an
apartment of an inn, is forced to return to it by the break-
ing of an axle.
  The gay younker fell upon the travelling-bag, unpacking it
all in due order; especially selecting every article of holiday
apparel, which, though only on the travelling scale, was to
be found there. He forced Lucidor to put on fresh shoes
and stockings: he dressed for him his clustering brown
locks, and decked him at all points with his best skill. Then
stepping back, and surveying our friend and his own handi-
work from head to foot, he exclaimed, " Now, then, my
good fellow, you do look like a man that has some preten-
sions to pretty damsels, and serious enough, moreover, to
spy about you for a bride ! Wait one moment! You shall
see how I, too, can produce myself, when the hour strikes.
This knack I learned from your military officers, the girls
are always glancing at them: so I likewise have enrolled my-
self among a certain soldiery ; and now they look at me, too,
and look again; and no soul of them knows what to make of
it. And so, from this looking and re-looking, from this sur-
prise and attention, a pretty enough result now and. then
arises; which, though it were not lasting, is worth enjoying
for the moment.
  " But ccme along, my friend, and do the like service for
me. When you have seen me case myself by piecemeal in
my equipment, you will not say that wit and invention have
been denied me." He now led his friend through several
long, spacious passages of the old castle. " I have quite
nestled myself here," cried he. ' Though I care not for
hiding, I like to be alone: you can do no good with other
people."
  They were passing by the office-rooms just as a servant
came out with a patriarchal writing apparatus, black, mas-
sive, ahd complete: paper, too, was not forgotten.
   " I know what it is to be blotted here again," cried the
younker: " go thy ways, and leave me the key. Take a look
of the place, Lucidor: it will amuse you till I am dressed.
To a friend of justice, such a spot is not odious, as to a
tamer of horses."   And, with this, he pushed Lucidor into
the hall of judgrent.


272





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


   Lucidor felt himself directly in a well-known and friendly
element: he thought of the days when he, fixed down to
business, had sat at such a table, and, listening and writing,
had trained himself to his art. Nor did he fail to observe,
that in this case an old, stately, domestic chapel had, under
the change of religious ideas, been converted to the service
of Themis. In the repositories he found some titles and acts
already familiar to him: in these very matters he had co-
operated while laboring in the capital. Opening a biundle of
papers, there came into his hands a rescript which he himself
had dictated; another of which he had been the originator.
Handwriting and paper, signet and president's signature,
every thing recalled to him that season of juridical effort, of
youthful hope. And here, when he looked round, and saw
the Oberamtmann's chair, appointed and intended for him-
self; so fair a place, so dignified a circle of activity, which
he was now like to cast away and utterly lose, -all this op-
pressed him doubly and trebly, as the form of Lucinda
seemed to retire from him at the same time.
  He turned to go out into the open air, but found himself a
prisoner. His gay friend, heedlessly or roguishly, had left
the door locked. Lucidor, however, did not long continue
in this durance; for the other returned, apologized for his
oversight, and really called forth gobd-humor by his singular
appearance. A    certain audacity of color and cut in his
clothes was softened by natural taste, as even to tattooed
Indians we refuse not a certain approbation. L To-day,"
cried he, " the tedium of by-gone days shall be made good to
us. Worthy friends, merry friends, are come; pretty girls,
roguish and fond; and my father, to boot; and, wonder on
wonder ! your father too. This will be a festival truly : they
are all assembled for breakfast in the parlor."
  With Lucidor, at this piece of information, it was as if he
were looking into deep fog : all the figures, known and un-
known, which the words announced to him, assumed a spec-
tral aspect; yet his resolution, and the consciousness of a
pure heart, sustained him : and in a few seconds he felt him-
self prepafed for every thing. He followed his hastening
friend with a steady step, firmly determined to await the
issue, be what it might, and explain his own purposes, come
what come might.
  And yet, at the very threshold of the hall, he was struck
with some alarm. In a large half-circle, ranged round by
the windows, he immediately descried his father with the





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


Oberamtmann, both splendidly attired. The two sisters, An-
toni, and others known and unknown, he hurried over with
a glance, which was threatening to grow dim. Half waver-
ing, he approached his father, who bade him welcome with
the utmost kindness, yet in a certain style of formality which
scarcely invited any trustful application. Standing before
so many persons, he looked round to find a place among them
for a moment; he might have arranged himself beside Lu-
cinda: but Julia, contrary to the rigor of etiquette, made
room for him; so that he was forced to step to her side.
Antoni continued by Lucinda.
  At this important moment Lucidor again felt as if he were
a delegate; and, steeled by his whole juridical science, he
called up in his own favor the fine maxim, That we should
transact affairs delegated to us by a stranger as if they were
our own; why not our own, therefore, in the same spirit?
Well practised in official orations, he speedily ran over what
he had to say. But the company, ranged in a formal semi-
circle, seemed to outflank him. The purport of his speech he
knew well: the beginning of it he could not find. At this
crisis he observed on a table, in the corner, the large ink-
glass, and several clerks sitting round it: the Oberamtmann
made a movement as if to solicit attention for a speech;
Lucidor wished to anticipate him: and, at that very moment,
Julia pressed his hand. This threw him out of all self-pos-
session, convinced him that all was decided, all lost for
him.
  With the whole of these negotiations, these family alli-
ances, with social conventions, and rules of good manners, he
had now nothing more to do: he snatched his hand from
Julia's, and vanished so rapidly from the room, that the
company lost him unawares; and he out of doors could not
find himself again.
  Shrinking from the light of day, which shone down upon
him in its highest splendor ; avoiding the eyes of men ; dread-
ing search and pursuit, - he hurried forwards, and reached
the large garden-hall. Here his knees were like to fail him:
he rushed in, and threw himself, utterly comfortless, upon the
sofa beneath the mirror. Amid the polished arrangements
of society, to be caught in such unspeakable perplexity ! It
dashed to and fro like waves about him and within him.
His past existence was struggling with his present: it was a
frightful moment.
  And so he lay for a time, with his face hid in the cushion


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


on which last night Lucinda's arm had rested. Altogether
sunk in his sorrow, he had heard no footsteps approach:
feeling some one touch him, he started up, and perceived
Lucinda standing by his side.
  Fancying they had sent her to bring him back, had com-
missioned her to lead him with fit, sisterly words into the as-
semblage to front his hated doom, he exclaimed, " You they
should not have sent, Lucinda ; for it was you that drove me
away. I will not return. Give me, if you are capable of
any pity, procure me, convenience and means of flight. For,
that you yourself may testify how impossible it was to bring
me back, listen to the explanation of my conduct, which to
you and all of them must seem insane. Hear now the oath
which I have sworn in my soul, and which I incessantly re-
peat in words : with you only did I wish to live, with you to
enjoy, to employ my days, from youth to old age, in true,
honorable union. And let this be as firm and sure as aught
ever sworn before the altar, - this, which I now swear, now
when I leave you, the most pitiable of all men."
  He made a movement to glide past her, as she stood close
before him; but she caught him softly in her arms. " What
is this ?" exclaimed he.
  " Lucidor !" cried she, " not pitiable as you think: you
are mine, I am yours; I hold you in my arms; delay not to
throw your arms about me. Your father has agreed to all:
Antoni marries my sister."
  In astonishment he recoiled from her. " Can it be ? " Lu-
cinda smiled and nodded: he drew back from her arms.
" Let me view once more, at a distance, what is to be mine
so nearly, so inseparably ! "  He grasped her hands: " Lu-
cinda, are you mine?"
  She answered, "'Well, then, yes," the sweetest tears in
the truest eyes: he clasped her to his breast, and threw his
head behind hers; he hung like a shipwrecked mariner on
the cliffs of the coast; the ground still shook under him.
And now his enraptured eye, again opening, lighted on the
mirror. He saw her there in his arms, himself clasped in
hers: he looked down and again to the image. Such emo-
tions accompany man throughout his life. In the mirror,
also, he beheld the landscape, which last night had appeared
to him so baleful and ominous, now lying fairer and brighter
than ever; and himself in such a posture, on such a back-
ground ! Abundant recompense for all sorrows !
   "' We are not alone," said Lucinda; and scarcely had he


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


recovered from his rapture, when, all decked and garlanded,
a company of girls and boys came forward, carrying wreaths
of flowers, and crowding the entrance of the hall. " This is
not the way," cried Lucinda : " how prettily it was arranged,
and now it is all running into tumult!"  A gay march
sounded from a distance, and the company were seen com-
ing on by the large road in stately procession. Lucidor hesi-
tated to advance towards them : only on her arm did he seem
certain of his steps. She staid beside him; expecting from
moment to moment the solemn scene of meeting, of thanks
for pardon already given.
  But by the capricious gods it was otherwise determined.
The gay, clanging sound of a postilion's horn from the oppo-
site side seemed to throw the whole ceremony into rout.
" Who can be coming? " cried Lucinda. The thought of a
strange presence was frightful to Lucidor, and the carriage
seemed entirely unknown to him. A double-seated, new,
spick-and-span new, travelling-chaise ! It rolled up to the
hall. A well-dressed, handsome boy sprang down, opened
the door; but no one dismounted; the chaise was empty.
The boy stepped into it: with a dexterous touch or two
he threw Lack the tilts; and there, in a twinkling, stood
the daintiest vehicle in readiness for the gayest drive, before
the eyes of the whole party, who were now advancing to the
spot. Antoni, outhastening the rest, led Julia to the car-
riage. "Try if this machine," said he, " will please you;
if you can sit in it, and, over the smoothest roads, roll
through the world beside me: I will lead you by no other
but the smoothest; and, when a strait comes, we shall know
how to help ourselves. Over the mountains sumpters shall
carry us, and our coach also."
  "You are a dear creature ! " cried Julia. The boy came
forward, and, with the quickness of a conjurer, exhibited all
the conveniences, little advantages, comforts, and celerities
of the whole light edifice.
  " On earth I have no thanks," cried Julia; "but from this
little moving heaven, from this cloud, into which you raise
me, I will heartily thank you." She had already bounded
in, throwing him kind looks, and a kiss of the hand. " For
the present you come not hither; but there is another whom
I mean to take along with me in this proof-excursion, - he
himself has still a proof to undergo."  She called to Luci-
dor, who, just then occupied in mute conversation with his
father and father-in-law, willingly took refuge in the light


276





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


vehicle, feeling an irresistible necessity to dissipate his
thoughts in some way or other, though it were but for a
moment. He placed himself beside her: she directed the
postilion where he was to drive. Instantly they darted off,
enveloped in a cloud of dust, and vanished from the eyes
of the amazed spectators.
  Julia fixed herself in the corner as firmly and commodi-
ously as she could wish. " Now do you shift into that one,
too, good brother; so that we may look each other rightly in
the face."
  Lucidor. You feel my confusion, my embarrassment. I
am still as if in a dream. Help me out of it.
  Julia. Look at these gay peasants. How kindly they sa-
lute us ! You have never seen the Upper Hamlet yet, since
you came hither. All good, substantial people there, and
all thoroughly devoted to me. No one of them so rich that
you cannot, by a time, do a little kind service to him. This
road, which we whirl along so smoothly, is my father's doing,
- another of his benefits to the community.
  Lucidor. I believe it, and willingly admit it; but what
have these external things to do with the perplexity of my
internal feelings ?
  Julia. Patience a little ! I will show you the riches of
this world, and the glory thereof. Here now we are at the
top. Do but look how clear the level country lies all round
us, leaning against the mountains. All these villages are
much, much indebted to my father; to mother and daughters
too. The grounds of yon little hamlet are the border.
  Lucidor. Surely you are in a very strange mood: you do
not seem to be saying what you meant to say.
  Julia. But now look down to the left. How beautifully
all this unfolds itself! The church, with its high lindens;
the Amthaus, with its poplars, behind the village knoll.
Here, too, are the garden and the park.
  The postilion drove faster.
  Julia. The Hall up yonder you know. It looks almost
as well here as this scene does from it. Here, at the tree,
we shall stop a moment. Now, in this very spot our image
is reflected in the large mirror: there they see us full well,
but we cannot see ourselves. - Go along, postilion ! There,
some little while ago, two people, I believe, were reflected at
a shorter distance, and, if I am not exceedingly mistaken,
to their great mutual satisfaction.
  Lucidor, in ill-humor, answered nothing. They went on


277





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


for some time in silence, driving very hard. ' Here," said
Julia, " the bad road begins, -a service left for you to do
some day. Before we go lower, look down once more. My
mother's box-tree rises with its royal summit over all the
rest. Thou wilt drive," continued she, to the postilion,
" down this rough road: we shall take the footpath through
the dale, and so be sooner at the other side than thou." In
dismounting, she cried, " Well, now, you will confess the
Wandering Jew, this restless Antoni the Traveller, can
arrange his pilgrimages prettily enough for himself and his
companions. It is a very beautiful and commodious car-
riage."
  And with this she tripped away down hill. Lucidor fol-
lowed her in deep thought: she was sitting on a pleasant
seat; it was Lucinda's little spot. She invited him to sit by
her.
  Julia. So now we are sitting here, and one is nothing to
the other. Thus it was destined to be. The little Quicksilver
would not suit you. Love it you could not: it was hateful
to you.
  Lucidor's astonishment increased.
  Julia. But Lucinda, indeed ! She is the paragon of all
perfections, and the pretty sister was once for all cast out.
I see it': the question hovers on your lips, Who has told us
all so accurately?
  Lucidor. There is treachery in it !
  Julia. Yes, truly ! There has been a traitor at work in
the matter.
   Lucidor. Name him.
   Julia. He is soon unmasked : You ! You have the praise-
worthy or blameworthy custom of talking to yourself; and
now, in the name of all, I must confess that in turn we have
overheard you.
   Lucidor (starting up). A sorry piece of hospitality, to
lay snares for a stranger in this way !
   Julia. By no means. We thought not of watching you
more than any other. But you know your bed stands in the
recess of the wall: on the opposite side is another alcove,
commonly employed for laying up household articles. Hither,
some days before, we had shifted our old man's bed, being
anxious about him in his remote hermitage; and here, the
first night, you started some such passionate soliloquy, which
he next morning took his opportunity of rehearsing.
   Lucidor had not the heart to interrupt her. He withdrew.


278





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


  Julia (rising and following him). What a service this
discovery did us all! For I will confess, if you were not
positively disagreeable, the situation which awaited me was
not by any means to my mind. To be Frau Oberamtmannin,
-what a dreadful state! To have a brave, gallant hus-
band, who is to pass judgment on the people, and, for sheer
judgment, cannot get to justice; who can please neither
high nor low, and, what is worst, not even himself. I know
what my poor mother suffered from the incorruptibility,
the inflexibility, of my father. At last, indeed, but not till
her death; a certain meekness took possession of him: he
seemed to suit himself to the world, to make a truce with
those evils which till then he had vainly striven to con-
quer.
  Lucidor (stopping short, extremely discontented with the
incident, -vexed at this light mode of treating it). For the
sport of an evening this might pass, but to practise such a
disgracing mystification day and night against an unsuspi-
cious stranger is not pardonable.
  Julia. We are all equally deep in the crime, we all heark-
ened you; yet I alone pay the penalty of eavesdropping.
  Lucidor. All ! So much the more unpardonable. And
how could you look at me, throughout the day, without
blushing, whom at night you were so contemptuously over-
reaching? But I see clearly with a glance that your arrange-
ments by day were planned to make mockery of me. A
fine family ! And where was your father's love of justice all
this while ? - And Lucinda
  Julia. And Lucinda! What a tone was that! You
meant to say, did not you, how deeply it grieved your heart
to think ill of Lucinda, to rank her in a class with the rest
of us?
  Lucidor. I cannot understand Lucinda.
  Julia. In other words, this pure, noble soul; this peace-
fully composed nature, benevolence, goodness itself; this
woman as she should be, - unites with a light-minded com-
pany, with a freakish sister, a spoiled brother, and certair
mysterious persons. That is incomprehensible !
  Lucidor. Yes, indeed, it is incomprehensible !
  Julia. Comprehend it, then ! Lucinda, like the rest of
us, had her hands bound. Could you have seen her perplex-
ity, how fain she would have told you all, how often she was
on the very eve of doing it, you would now love her doubly
and trebly, if, indeed, true love were not always tenfold and


279





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


hundred-fold of itself. I can assure you, moreover, that all
of us at length thought the joke too long.
  Lucidor. Why did you not end it, then ?
  Julia. That, too, I must explain. No sooner had my
father got intelligence of your first monologue, and seen, as
was easy to do, that none of his children would object to
such an exchange, than he determined on visiting your father.
The importance of the business gave him much anxiety. A
father alone can feel the respect which is due to a father.
" He must be informed of it in the first place," said mine,
"that he may not in the end, when we are all agreed, be
reduced to give a forced and displeased consent. I know
him well: I know how any thought, any wish, any purpose,
cleaves to him; and I have my own fears about the issue.
Julia, his maps and pictures, he has long viewed as one thing;
he has it in his eye to transport all this hither, when the
young pair are once settled here, and his old pupil cannot
change her abode so readily: on us he is to bestow his holi-
days; and who knows what other kind, friendly things he
has projected? He must forthwith be informed what a trick
Nature has played us, while yet nothing is declared, nothing
is determined." And, with this, he exacted from us all the
most solemn promise that we should observe you, and, come
what might, retain you here till his return. How this return
has been protracted; what art, toil, and perseverance it has
cost to gain your father's consent, - he himself will inform
you. In short, the business is adjusted: Lucinda is yours.
  And thus had the two promenaders, sharply removing from
their first resting-place, then pausing by the way, then speak-
ing, and walking slowly through the green fields, at last
reached the height, where another well-levelled road received
them. The carriage came whirling up: Julia in the mean
while turned her friend's attention to a strange sight. The
whole machinery, of which her "gay brother had bragged so
much, was now alive and in motion: the wheels were already
heaving up and down a multitude of people; the seesaws
were flying; maypoles had their climbers; and many a bold.
artful 'swing and spring over the heads of an innumerable
multitude you might see ventured. The younker had set all
a-going, that so the guests, after dinner, might have a gay
spectacle awaiting them. "Thou wilt drive through the
Nether Hamlet," cried Julia: " the people wish me well, and
they shall see how well I am off."
  The hamlet was empty: the young people had all run to


280





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


the swings and seesaws; old men and women, roused by
the driver's horn, appeared at doors and windows'; every one
gave salutations and blessings, exclaiming, " Oh, what a
lovely pair ! "
  Julia. There, do you hear? We should have suited well
enough together after all: you may rue it yet.
  Lucidor. But now, dear sister -
  Julia. Ha ! Now dear, when you are rid of me!
  Lucidor. One single word. On you rests a heavy accusa-
tion: what did you mean by that squeeze of the hand, when
you knew and felt my dreadful situation? A thing so radi-
cally wicked I have never met with in my life before.
  Julia. Thank Heaven, we are now quits; now all is par-
doned: I had no mind for you, that is certain ; but that you
had utterly and absolutely no mind for me, this was a thing
which no young women could forgive: and the squeeze of
the hand, observe you, was for the rogue. I do confess it
was almost too roguish: and I forgive myself, because I for-
give you; and so let all be forgotten and forgiven ! Here
is my hand.
  He took it: she cried, " Here we are again ! In our park
again; and so, in a trice, we whirl through the wide world,
and back too: we shall meet again."
  They had reached the garden-hall; it seemed empty: the
company, tired of waiting, had gone out to walk. Antoni,
however, and Lucinda, came forth. Julia, stepping from the
carriage, flew to her friend: she thanked him ina cordial em-
brace, and restrained not the most joyful tears. The brave
man's cheeks reddened, his features looked forth unfolded;
his eye glanced moist; and a fair, imposing youth shone
through the veil.
   And so both pairs moved off to join the company, with
feelings which the finest dream could not have given them.





                   CHAPTER LAST.

   " Tus, my friends," said Lenardo, after a short pre-
amble, " if we survey the most populous, provinces and king-
doms of the firm earth, we observe on all sides, that wher-
ever an available soil appears, it is cultivated, planted.


281





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


shaped, beautified, and, in the same proportion, coveted,
taken into *possession, fortified, and defended. Hereby we
bring home to our conceptions the high worth of property in
land, and are obliged to consider it as the first and best
acquirement that can be allotted to man. And if, on closer
inspection, we find parental and filial love, the union of coun-
trymen and townsmen, and therefore the universal feeling of
patriotism, founded immediately on this same interest in the
soil, we cannot but regard that seizing and retaining o
space, in the great or the small scale, as a thing still more im.
portant and venerable. Yes, Nature herself has so ordered it !
A man born on the glebe comes by habit to belong to it: the
two grow together, and the fairest ties are spun from their
union. Who is there, then, that would spitefully disturb this
foundation-stone of all existence; that would blindly deny
the worth and dignity of such precious and peculiar gifts of
Heaven?
  "And yet we may assert, that if what man possesses is of
great worth, what he does and accomplishes must be of still
greater. In a wide view of things, therefore, we must look
on property in land as one small part of the possessions
that have been given us. Of these the greatest and the
most precious part consists especially in what is movable,
and in what is gained by a moving life.
  "Towards this quarter we younger men are peculiarly
constrained to turn; for, though we had inherited from our
fathers the desire of abiding and continuing, we find our-
selves called by a thousand causes nowise to shut our eyes
against a wider out-look and survey. Let us hasten, then,
to the shore of the ocean, and convince ourselves what
boundless spaces are still lying open to activity, and confess,
that, by the bare thought of this, we are roused to new
vigor.
  " Yet, not to lose ourselves in these vast expanses, let us
direct our attention to the long and large surface of so many
countries and kingdoms combined together on the face of
the earth. Here we behold great tracts of land tenanted by
Nomades, whose towns are movable, whose life-support-
ing household goods can be transferred from place to .place.
We see them in the middle of the deserts, on wide green
pasturages, lying, as it were, at anchor in their desired
haven. Such movement, such wandering, becomes a habit
with them, a necessity: in the end they grow to regard the
surface of the world as if it were not bulwarked by moun-


282





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


tains, were not cut asunder by streams. Have we not seen
the North-east flow towards the South-west ; one people driv-
ing another before it, and lordship and property altogether
changed?
  " From over-populous countries, a similar calamity may
again, in the great circle of vicissitudes, occur more than
once. What we have to dread from foreigners, it may be
difficult to say; but it is curious enough, that, by our own
over-population, we ourselves are thronging one another in
our own domains, and, without waiting to be driven, are driv-
ing one another forth, passing sentence of banishment each
against his fellow.
  " Here now is the place and season for giving scope in
our bosoms, without spleen or anger, to a love of movement;
for unfettering that impatient wish which excites us to
change our abode. Yet whatever we may purpose and in-
tend, let it be accomplished, not from passion, or from any
other influence of force, but from a conviction correspond-
ing to the wisest judgment and deliberation.
  " It has been said, and over again said, Where I am well
is my country ! But this consolatory saw were better worded,
Where I am useful is my country ! At home you may be
useless, and the fact not instantly observed: abroad in the
world, the useless man is speedily convicted. And now, if I
say, Let each endeavor everywhere to be of use to himself
and others, this is not a precept or a counsel, but the utter-
ance of life itself.
  " Cast a glance over the terrestrial ball, and for the pres-
ent leave the ocean out of sight: let not its hurrying fleets
distract your thoughts, but fix your eye on the firm earth,
and be amazed to see how it is overflowed with a swarming
ant-tribe, jostling and crossing, and running to and fro for-
ever ! So was it ordained of the Lord himself, when, ob-
structing the Tower of Babel, he scattered the human race
abroad into all the world. Let us praise his name on this
account, for the blessing has extended to all generations.
  " Observe now, and cheerfully, how the young, on every
side, instantly get into movement. As instruction is not
offered them within doors, and knocks not at their gates,
they hasten forthwith to those countries and cities whither the
call of science and wisdom allures them. Here, no sooner have
they gained a rapid and scanty training, than they feel them-
selves impelled to look round in the world, whether here and
there some profitable experience, applicable to their objects,


288





284


MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


may not be met with and appropriated. Let these try their
fortune! We turn from them to those completed and dis-
tinguished men, those noble inquirers into nature, who wit-
tingly encounter every difficulty, every peril, that to the
world they may lay the world open, and, through the most
impassable, pave easy roads.
  " But observe also, on beaten highways, how dust on dust,
in long, cloudy trains, mounts up, betokening the track of
commodious, top-laden carriages, in which the rich, the
noble, and so many others, are whirled along; whose vary-
ing purposes and dispositions Yorick has most daintily ex-
plained to us.
  " These the stout craftsman, on foot, may cheerily gaze
after; for whom his country has made it a duty to appro-
priate foreign skill, and not, till this has been accomplished,
to revisit his paternal hearth. In still greater numbers do
traffickers and dealers meet us on our road: the little trader
must not neglect, from time to time, to forsake his shop,
that he may visit fairs and markets, may approach the great
merchant, and increase his own small profit, by example and
participation of the boundless. But yet more restlessly do
we descry cruising on horseback, singly, on all high and by
ways, that multitude of persons whose business it is, in law-
ful wise, to make forcible pretension to our purses. Samples
of all sorts, prize catalogues, invitations to purchase, pursue
us into town-houses and country-houses, and wherever we
may seek refuge : diligently they assault us and surprise us;
themselves offering the opportunity, which it would have en-
tered no man's mind to seek. And what shall I say of that
people which, before all others, arrogates to itself the bless-
ing of perpetual wandering, and, by its movable activity, con-
trives to overreach the resting and to overstep the walking
Of them we must say neither ill nor good, - no good, because
our League stands on its guard against them; no ill, because
the wanderer, mindful of reciprocal advantage, is bound to
treat with friendliness whomsoever he may meet.
   I But now, above all, we must mention with peculiar affec-
tion the 'whole race of artists; for they, too, are thoroughly
involved in this universal movement. Does not the painter
wander, with palette and easel, from face to face? and are
not his kindred laborers summoned now this way, now that,
bcause in all places there is something to be built and to be
fashioned? More briskly, however, paces the musician on
his way ; for he peculiarly it is that for a new ear has pro-





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


vided new surprise, for a fresh mind fresh astonishment.
Players, too, though they now despise the cart of Thespis,
still rove about in little choirs; and their moving world,
wherever they appear, is speedily enough built up. So like-
wise, individually, renouncing serious, profitable engage-
ments, these men delight to change place with place, according
as rising talents, combined with rising wants, furnish pretext
and occasion. For this success they commonly prepare them-
selves by leaving no important stage in their native land
untrodden.
  " Nor let us forget to cast a glance over the professorial
class: these, too, you find in continual motion, occupying
and forsaking one chair after the other, to scatter richly
abroad on every side the seeds of a hasty culture. More
assiduous, however, and of wider aim, are those pious souls
who disperse themselves through all quarters of the world to
bring salvation to their brethren. Others, on the contrary,
are pilgriming to seek salvation for themselves: they march
in hosts to consecrated, wonder-working places, there to ask
and receive what was denied their souls at home.
   " And if all these sorts of men surprise us less by their
wandering, as, for most part, without wandering, the busi-
ness of their life were impossible, of those, again, who dedi-
cate their diligence to the soil, we should certainly expect
that they, at least, were fixed. By no means ! Even without
possession, occupation is conceivable; and we behold the
eager farmer forsaking the ground which for years had
yielded him profit and enjoyment: impatiently he searches
after similar or greater profit, be it far or near. Nay, the
owner himself will abandon his new-grubbed clearage so soon
as, by his cultivation, he has rendered it commodious for a
less enterprising husbandman : once more he presses into the
wilderness., again makes space for himself in the forests, - in
recompense of that first toiling a doublei and treble space;
on which also, it may be, he thinks not to continue.
   " There we shall leave him, bickering with bears and other
monsters, and turn back into the polished world, where we
find the state of things no whit more stationary. Do but
view any great and regulated kingdom: the ablest man is
also the man who moves the oftenest; at the beck of his
prince, at the order of his minister, the Serviceable is trans-
ferred' from place to place. To him also our precept will
apply, Everywhere endeavor to be useful, everywhere you
are at home. Yet if we observe important statesmen leaving,


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MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


though reluctantly, their high stations, we have reason to de-
plore their fate; for we can neither recognize them as emi-
grators, nor as migrators, - not as emigrators, because they
forego a covetable situation without any prospect of a better
even seeming to open; not as migrators,: because to be use-
ful in other places is a fortune seldom granted them.
  " For the soldier, again, a life of peculiar wandering is ap-
pointed: even in peace, now this, now that, post is intrusted
to him; to fight, at hand or afar off, for his native country,
he must keep himself perpetually in motion, or readiness to
move; and not for immediate defence alone, but also to ful-
fil the remote purposes of nations and rulers, he turns his
steps towards all quarters of the world; and to few of his
craft is it given to find any resting-place. And as in the
soldier courage is his first and highest quality, so this must
always be considered as united with fidelity ; and, accordingly,
we find certain nations famous for trustworthiness, called
forth from their home, and serving spiritual or temporal re-
gents as body-guards.
   " Another class of persons indispensable to governments,
and also of extreme mobility, we see in those negotiators
who, despatched from court to court, beleaguer princes and
ministers, and overnet the whole inhabited world with their
invisible threads. Of these men, also, no one is certain of
his place for a moment. In peace, the ablest of them are
sent from country to country; in war, they march behind the
army when victorious, prepare the way for it when fugitive:
and thus are they appointed still to be changing 'place for
place; on which account, indeed, they at all times carry with
them a stock of farewell cards.
   " If hitherto at every step we have contrived to do our-
selves' some honor, declaring, as we have done, the most
distinguished portion of active men to be our mates and
fellows in destiny, there now remains for you, my beloved
friends, by way of termination, a glory higher than all the
rest, seeing you findyourselves united in brotherhood with
princes, kings, and emperors. Think first, with blessings and
reverence, of the imperial wanderer Hadrian, who on foot,
at the head of his army, paced out the circle of the world
which was subject to him, and thus in very deed took posses-
sion of it. Think then with horror of the Conqueror, that
armed wanderer, against whom no resistance availed, no
wall or bulwark could shelter armed nations. In fine, accom-
pany with honest sympathy those hapless exiled princes who,


286





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


descending from the summit of the height, cannot even be
received into the modest guild of active wanderers.
  " And now, while we call forth and illustrate all this to
one another, no narrow despondency, no passionate perver-
sion, can rule over us. The time is past when people rushed
forth at random into the wide world: by the labors of scien-
tific travellers, describing wisely and copying like artists, we
have become sufficiently acquainted with the earth to know
moderately well what is to be looked for everywhere.
  " Yet, for obtaining perfect information, an individual will
not suffice.  Our society is founded on the principle that
each in his degree, for his purposes, be thoroughly informed.
Has any one of us some country in his eye, towards which
his wishes are tending, we endeavor to make clear to him,
in special detail, what was hovering before his imagination
as a whole: to afford each other a survey of the inhabited
and inhabitable world is a most pleasant and most profitable
kind of conversation.
   I Under this aspect we can look upon ourselves as mem-
bers of a Union belonging to the world. Simple and grand
is the thought, easy is its execution by understanding and
strength. Unity is all-powerful; no division, therefore, no
contention, among us ! Let a man learn, we say, to figure
himself as without permanent external relation: let him seek
consistency and sequence, not in circumstances, but in him-
self ; there will he find it; there let him cherish and nourish
it. He who devotes himself to the most needful will, in all
cases, advance to his purpose with greatest certainty : others,
again, aiming at the higher, the more delicate, require greater
prudence even, in the choice of their path. But let a man be
attempting or treating what he will, he is not, as an indi-
vidual, sufficient for himself ; and, to an honest mind, society
remains the highest want. All serviceable persons ought to
be related with each other; as the building proprietor looks
out for an architect, and the architect for masons and car-
penters.
   " How and on what principle this Union of ours has been
 fixed and .founded is known to all. There is no man among
 us who at any moment could not to proper purpose employ
 his faculty of action, who is not assured that in all places
 whither chance, inclination, or even passion may conduct
 him, he will be received, employed, assisted, - nay, in ad-
 verse accidents, as far as possible, refitted and indemnified.
   " Two duties we have most rigorously undertaken, - first,


287





MEISTER'S TRAVELS.


to honor every species of religious worship; for all of them
are comprehended more or less directly in the Creed: sec-
ondly, in like manner to respect all forms of government,
and, since every one of them induces and promotes a calcu-
lated activity, to labor according to the wish and will of con-
stituted authorities, in whatever place it may be our lot to
sojourn, and for whatever time. Finally, we reckon it our
duty, without pedantry or rigor, to practise and forward de-
corum of manners and morals, as required by that reverence
for ourselves which arises from the three reverences, whereto
we universally profess our adherence; having all had the
joy and good fortune, some of us from youth upwards, to
be initiated likewise in the higher general wisdom taught in
certain cases by those venerable men. All this, in the solemn
hour of parting, we have thought good once more to recount,
to unfold, to hear and acknowledge, as also to seal with a
trustful farewell.

            "Keep not standing, fixed and rooted,
               Briskly venture, briskly roam:
             Head and hand, where'er thou foot it,
               And stout heart, are still at home.
             In each land the sun does visit:
               We are gay whate'er betide.
             To give space for wand'ring is it
               That the world was made so wide."


288




















     THE RECREATIONS

           OF

THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.
















THE   RECREATIONS OF       THE   GERMAN     ]MIGRANTS.




  AT that unhappy period, so fruitful in disasters to Ger-
many, to Europe, and, indeed, to the whole world, when the
French army overran the Continent, a family of distinction
was compelled to forsake their property on the first invasion,
and to flee across the Rhine. They sought to escape those
calamities to which persons of noble birth were inevitably
exposed, in whom it was considered criminal to be descended
from an honorable line of ancestors, and to inherit those
privileges and possessions which the virtues or the valor of
their forefathers had bequeathed to them.
  The Baroness of C-     , a widow lady of middle age, dis-
tinguished for every domestic virtue which could promote the
comfort or independence of her family, evinced, upon the oc-
casion of this unforeseen calamity, the most noble spirit of
activity and resolute determination. Brought up amidst a
wide circle of acquaintances, and, to some extent, already
experienced in the reverses of life, she was considered perfect
in her private and domestic character, and was remarkable
for the real delight she ever felt in the active employment of
her faculties. Indeed, the great purpose of her life seemed
to consist in rendering services to others; and it is easy to
suppose that her numerous friends never failed to provide
her with employment. She was summoned, at the time we
speak of, to take the lead of a little band of emigrants.
Even for this duty she was prepared; and the same solici-
tous though cheerful temper, which had invariably distin-
guished her at home, did not forsake her in this hour of
general terror and distress. But cheerfulness was not an
entire stranger to our band of fugitives : many an unexpected
incident and strange event afforded occasion for the indul-
                                                 291





292             THE RECREATIONS OF

gence of mirth and laughter, of which their easily excited
minds readily took advantage. The very flight itself was
a circumstance well calculated to call out each individual's
peculiar character in a remarkable manner.   The mind of
one, for instance, was distracted by vain fear and terror;
another fell a prey to idle apprehensions; and the extrava-
gances and deficiencies, the weakness, irresolution, or impetu-
osity, which were displayed on all sides, produced so many
instances of vexation and bad temper, that the real trouble
of the whole party afforded more mirth than an actual pleas-
ure trip could possibly have occasioned.
  As we may sometimes preserve our composure, even dur-
ing the performance of a farce, without smiling at the most
positive drolleries; though we find it impossible to restrain
our laughter when any thing absurd occurs in the represen-
tation of a tragedy, - so in this real world, the generality of
accidents of a serious nature are accompanied by circum-
stances either ridiculous at the moment, or infallibly pro-
ductive of subsequent mirth.
  We must observe that the baroness's eldest daughter,
Louisa, a cheerful, lively, and, at the time of their prosper-
ity, an imperious young lady, had to endure an unusual
degree of suffering. She is said to have been quite over-
whelmed with terror at the first alarm, and, in her distrac-
tion and absence of mind, to have packed together the most
useless things with the greatest seriousness, and actually
to have made an offer of marriage to one of the old ser-
vants of the establishment.
  She defended herself for this step with much obstinacy,
and would not allow. her intended to be made a subject of
ridicule. In her opinion she suffered enough from her daily
fear of the allied army, and from the apprehension that her
wished-for marriage might be delayed, or even frustrated,
by a general engagement.
  Her elder brother, Frederick, who was a youth of decisive
character, executed his mother's orders with precision and
exactitude, accompanied the procession on horseback, and
discharged at times the various duties of courier, conductor,
and guide. The tutor of the baroness's younger son, who
was a well-educated young man, accompanied her in her
carriage; whilst uncle Charles, and an elderly clergyman,
who had long been an indispensable friend of the family,
followed in another vehicle, which was also occupied by two
female relations, one young, the other somewhat advanced





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


293


in years. The servants followed in an open carriage; and
the procession was closed by a heavily packed wagon, which
occasionally loitered behind.
  The whole party, as may easily be supposed, had aban-
doned their dwellings with great reluctance ; but uncle Charles
had forsaken his residence on this side of the Rhine even more
unwillingly than the others, not that he had left his mistress
behind, as one might, perhaps, have conjectured from his
youth, his figure, and the warmth of his nature: he had
rather been seduced by the brilliant phantom, which, under
the denomination of freedom, had secured so many adher-
ents, first in secret, then in public, and which, notwithstand-
ing that she was to some a harsh mistress, was all the more
devotedly honored by the others.
  Just as lovers are generally blinded by their passion, it
did happen in the case of uncle Charles. They pant for the
possession of a single happiness, and fancy that for this
they can endure the privation of every other blessing. Posi-
tion, fortune, and all advantages, vanish into nothing, com-
pared with the one benefit which is to supply their place.
Parents, relatives, and friends are now looked upon as stran-
gers. One desire fills and absorbs their whole being, to
which every thing else is to give way.
  Uncle Charles abandoned himself to the intensity of his
passion, and did not conceal it in his conversation.   He
thought he might express his conviction the more freely,
because he was of noble birth, and, although the second son,
yet the presumptive heir to a noble fortune. Even this for-
tune, which was to be his future inheritance, was at present
in the enemy's hands, by whom it had been shamefully
wasted. But, in spite of all this, Charles could not hate a
nation which promised such advantages to the world at
large, and whose principles he approved, according to his
own admission, and the evidence of some of his associates.
He constantly disturbed the peace of the little community
(seldom as they enjoyed such a blessing) by an indiscrimi-
nate praise of every thing, good or bad, which happened
amongst the French, and by his noisy delight at their suc-
cess. By this means he irritated his companions, who felt
their own grievances doubly aggravated by the malicious
triumphs of their friend and relation.
  Frederick had already been engaged in frequent disputes
with him, and latterly they had ceased to hold communica-
tion with each other. But the baroness, by her prudent





THE RECREATIONS OF


management, had secured his moderation, at least for a
time. Louisa gave him the greatest trouble, for she often
used the most unfair methods to cast "a slur upon his char-
acter and judgment. The tutor silently pronounced him
right, the clergyman silently pronounced him wrong: and
the female attendants, who were charmed with his figure
and with his liberality, heard him with delight; because,
whilst they listened to his lectures, they could honorably
fix -on him those loving eyes, which, until that time, had
ever been modestly bent upon the ground.
  Their daily necessities, the obstacles of the journey, and
their disagreeable quarters, generally led the whole com-
pany to a consideration of their immediate interests; and
the great number of French and German fugitives whom
they constantly met, and whose conduct and fortunes were
various, often made them consider how much occasion ex-
isted at such times for the practice of every virtue, but par-
ticularly of liberality and forbearance.
  The baroness; on one occasion, observed aloud, that noth-
ing could show more clearly the deficiencies of men in these
virtues than the opportunity afforded for their exercise,
by occasions of general confusion and distress. Our whole
constitution, she maintained, resembled a ship chartered in
a season of tempest, to convey a countless crowd of men,
old and young, healthy and infirm, across a stormy sea; but
only in the 'hour of shipwreck could the capabilities of the
crew be displayed, - an emergency when even the good
swimmer often perished.
  Fugitives, for the most part, carry their faults and ridicu-
lous peculiarities along with them; and we wonder at this
circumstance. But as the English traveller never leaves his
teakettle behind in any quarter of the globe; so are the
generality of mankind invariably accompanied by their stock
of proud pretensions, vanity, intolerance, impatience, obsti-
nacy, prejudices, and envy. Thus, the thoughtless enjoyed
this flight as they would have enjoyed a party of pleasure;
and the discontented required, even now in their moments of
abject pbverty, that their every want should be supplied.
How rare is the display of that pure virtue which incites us
to live and sacrifice ourselves for others !
  In the mean time, whilst numerous acquaintances were
formed, which gave occasion to reflections of this nature,
the season of winter was brought to a close. Fortune once
more smiled on the German arms, the French were again


294





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


driven across the Rhine, Frankfort was relieved, and Mainz
was invested.
  Trusting to the farther advance of our victorious troops,
and anxious to take possession of a part of their recovered
property, the family we speak of set out for an estate situ-
ated in one of the most beautiful parts of the country, on the
right bank of the Rhine. We can ill describe the rapture
with which they once more beheld the silver stream flowing
beneath their windows, the joy with which they took pos-
session of every.part of their house,,and hailed the sight of
their well-known furniture, their old family pictures, and
of every trifle they had long given up as totally lost; and
they indulged the fondest anticipations of finding every
thing flourishing as heretofore on their side of the Rhine.
  The arrival of the baroness had scarcely been announced
in the village, when all her former acquaintances, friends,
and dependants hastened to welcome her, to recount the
various vicissitudes of the last few months, and, in more
than one instance, to implore her advice and assistance.
  In the midst of these interviews, she was most agreeably
surprised by a visit from the Privy Councillor S. and his
family, a man who, from his earliest youth, had followed
business as a pursuit of pleasure, and who had both merited
and acquired the confidence of his sovereign. His principles
were firm, and he indulged his own peculiar notions upon
many subjects. He was precise, both in his conversation and
conduct, and required others to be so too. A dignified de-
portment was, in his opinion, the highest virtue a man could
possess.
  His sovereign, his country, and himself had suffered much
from the invasion of the French. He had experienced the
despotic character of that nation who were perpetually boast-
ing of justice, and had felt the tyranny of men who alvways
had the cry of freedom on their lips. He had observed,
however, the general consistency of character which pre-
vailed, and had marked how many persons witnessed, with
feelings of angry disappointment, the substitution of mere
words for practice, and of empty appearance for reality.
The consequences to be expected from an unfortunate cam-
paign did not escape his acute penetration any more than
the results of the general maxims and opinions we have
quoted, though it must be admitted his views upon all sub-
jects were neither cheerful nor dispassionate.
  His wife, who had been an early friend of the baroness,


295





THE RECREATIONS OF


after the experience of so much adversity found a perfect
paradise in the arms of her former companion. They had
grown up together, had been educated together, and had
always shared each other's confidence. The early inclina-
tions of their youth, their more important matrimonial inter-
ests, their joys and cares and domestic anxieties, had always
been communicated, either personally or by correspondence,
as they had for years maintained an uninterrupted intimacy
with each other; but this was at length broken by the general
troubles of the eventful times. Their present intercourse
was, for this reason, the more affectionate, and their inter-
views the more frequent; and the baroness observed with
pleasure, that the intimacy of Louisa with the daughters of
her friend was daily increasing.
  Unfortunately the complete enjoyment of that delightful
part of the country was often disturbed by the roar of
cannon, which was heard in the distance, sometimes loudly
and sometimes indistinctly, according to the point of the
wind. Moreover, it was impossible to avoid conversations
upon political subjects, which were introduced by the per-
petual rumors of the day, and which generally disturbed the
temporary tranquillity of society; as the various ideas and
opinions of all parties were usually propounded without
reserve.
  And as intemperate men seldom refrain from wine or inju-
rious food on account of their experience of the evil conse-
quences which such enjoyments occasion ; so, in this instance,
the several members of the society we speak of, in place
of imposing restraint upon their conversation, abandoned
themselves to the irresistible impulse of vexing each other,
and thus eventually opened a channel of most disagreeable
reflections.
  We can readily suppose that the privy councillor adopted
the opinions of those who advocated the old rgime, and
that Charles took the opposite side, in expectation that the
approaching changes would heal and re-animate the old,
shattered constitution of the country.
   The conversation was carried on at first with some degree
of moderation, particularly as the baroness sought, by her
well-timed and graceful interruptions, to maintain the balance
equal between both parties; but when the important crisis
of the conversation arrived, and the investment of Mainz
was about to change to an actual siege, and the fears of all
increased for that beautiful city and its abandoned inhabit-


296





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


ants, both sides asserted their opinions with unrestrained
violence.
  The members of the clubs who had remained in the town
were particularly discussed; and each expressed his hope of
their liberation or punishment, according as he approved or
condemned their conduct.
  Amongst the latter class was the privy councillor, whose
observations were especially displeasing to Charles; as he
assailed the sound judgment of those people, and charged
them with a thorough ignorance of the world and of them-
selves.
   " What blind dolts they must be! " he exclaimed one
afternoon when the discussion became warm, " to think that
a great nation, employed in an effort to suppress its own
internal commotions, and which, in sober moments, has no
other object than its own prosperity, can look down upon
them with any sort of sympathy. Used as temporary tools,
they will at last be thrown away or utterly neglected. How
grossly they err in thinking that they will ever be admitted
into the ranks of the French nation !
  " Nothing seems more ridiculous to the strong and power-
ful than weakness and inefficiency setting up its pretensions
to equality, wrapped in the obscurity of its own fancies, and
in the ignorance of itself, its powers, and its qualities.
And can you suppose that the great nation, with that good
fortune with which it has been hitherto favored, will be less
haughty and overbearing than any other royal conqueror?
  "Many a person, who now struts about in his municipal
robes and gaudy attire, will heartily curse the masquerade
when, after having helped to oppress his countrymen, by a
new and disadvantageous change of things he finds himself
at last, in his new character, despised by those in whom he
wholly confided. Indeed, it is my firm opinion, that upon
the surrender of the town, which must soon take place, those
people will be abandoned or given up to us. I hope they will
then receive their reward in that punishment they sp richly
deserve, according to my opinion, which is as unprejudiced
as possible:"
  " Unprejudiced ! " exclaimed Charles with vehemence:
" I beg I may never hear that word again. How can we
so unequivocally condemn these men? Have they not actu-
ally devoted their whole lives to the old pursuit of serving
the more favored classes of mankind?   Have they not
occupied the few habitable rooms of the old mansion, and


297





THE RECREATIONS OF


toiled diligently therein? or, rather, have they not felt the
inconvenience of the deserted part of your state palace,
by the obligation of living there in a state of misery and
oppression? Uncorrupted by frivolous pursuits, they do not
consider their own occupation to be alone noble; but in
silence they deplore the prejudice, the irregularity, the indo-
lence and ignorance upon which your statesmen build their
foolish claims to reverence, and. in silence they pray for a
more equal division of labor and enjoyment, And who can
deny that their ranks contain at least some such men of
intelligence and virtue, who, if they cannot now realize
universal good, can fortunately aid in modifying evil and
in preparing for a happy future? and, if there be such noble
beings amongst them, should we not deplore the .approach
of 'that evil hour which must destroy, perhaps forever, their
fondest anticipations ?
  The privy councillor, upon this, sneered with some degree
of bitterness at certain youths who were in the habit of
idealizing upon practical subjects; whilst Charles was equally
severe upon men whose thoughts were merely formed upon
antiquated precedents, and who never adopted any but com-
pulsory reforms.
  By reciprocal contradictions of this nature, the dispute
became gradually morel violent; and every topic was intro-
duced which has for so many years tended to dismember
society. In vain did the baroness endeavor to establish a
truce, if not to make peace, between the contending parties;
and the wife of the privy councillor, who from her estimable
qualities had acquired some influence over Charles's dispo-
sition, interposed also to no effect, more particularly as her
husband continued to launch his poisoned shafts against
youth and inexperience, and enlarged upon the especial apti-
tude of children to play with fire, a dangerous element which
they were wholly unable.to control.
  Charles, forgetting prudence in his anger, now declared
openly that he wished every success to the French arms,
and call'ed upon all his countrymen to aid in putting an end
to their general slavery; expressing his conviction that their
so-called enemies would protect every noble German who
should join them, would regard them and treat them as their
own countrymen, and crown them with honors, fortune,
and rewards, in place of sacrificing or leaving them in
misery.
  But the councillor maintained it was ridiculous to suppose


298





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


that the French would bestow a thought upon them, whether
they capitulated or not; that they would probably fall into
the hands of the allies, by whom he hoped they would all
be hanged.
  Charles was provoked by this speech, and expressed his
wish that the guillotine might find a rich harvest in Ger-
many, and that no guilty head might escape. He added
some cutting observations which were aimed at the coun-
cillor personally, and were in every sense offensive.
  " I shall take leave of a society," interrupted the latter,
" in which every thing is now slighted which once seemed
worthy of respect. I lament that I should be for the second
time expelled, and now by a fellow-countryman; but I am
well aware that less pity may be expected from this new foe
than from the French themselves: and I find here a con-
firmation of the old proverb, that it is better to fall into the
hands of the Turks than of renegades."
  So saying, he rose, and left the apartment. He was fol-
lowed by his wife, and a general silence ensued. The
baroness expressed her displeasure in a few words of strong
import. Charles walked up and down the room. The coun-
cillor's wife returned in tears, and stated that, her husband
had given directions for leaving, and had actually ordered
the carriage. The baroness went to pacify him; whilst the
young ladies wept, and kissed each other, distressed beyond
measure that they were compelled so suddenly and so un-
expectedly to separate.   The baroness returned without
succeeding in her wishes.  Gradually all those troubles
approached which it is ever the lot of strangers to encounter.
The sad moments of separation and departure were bitter
beyond expression. Hope vanished with the appearance of
the post-horses, and the general sorrow was redoubled.
   The carriage drove off. The baroness followed it with
her eyes full of tears. She left the window, and sat down
to her embroidery-frame. The silence, and even despair,
was universal. Charles showed his sorrow by sitting in a
corner, and intently turning over the leaves of a book,
directing at intervals a melancholy look towards his aunt.
At length he rose, and took his hat, as if about to depart,
but turned round on reaching the door, and approaching his
aunt he exclaimed, with a countenance truly noble, " I have
offended you, my dear aunt, I have distressed you; but
pardon my thoughtlessness: I acknowledge my fault, and
am deeply sensible of its sad consequences."


299





THE RECREATIONS OF


  "I forgive you," replied the baroness : "I entertain no ill-
feeling towards you, - you are a good and noble being, but
you can never repair the injury you have done. Your error
has deprived me of a friend to whom, after a long sepa-
ration, I had been restored by the accident of our joint
misfortunes, and in whose society I have forgotten much of
the misery which has pursued and threatens us. She her.
self, driven from her home under most painful circum-
stances, and long a fugitive, after a short repose in the
society of old and beloved friends, in this delightful spot
and comfortable dwelling, is again compelled to wander
forth; and we lose the company of her husband, who, in
spite of some peculiarities, is a man of noble integrity,
possessing an inexhaustible knowledge of society and of
the world, of facts and experiences which he is ever ready
to communicate with the most cheerful and delightful will-
ingness. Of all these enjoyments we have been deprived by
your fault, and how can you restore what we have lost? "
  Charles. Spare me, my dear aunt. I feel deeply the
weight of my fault: cease to explain to me its evident
consequences.-
  Baroness. Rather contemplate them as closely as pos-
sible. Talk not of sparing you: only inquire how your
mind may be corrected. It is not the first time you have
thus erred, nor will it be the last. Ye inexplicable men!
Cannot even misery, which brings you together under .one
roof, and confines you in one narrow dwelling, induce you to
practise forbearance towards each other? Do you need any
additional calamities besides those which are perpetually
bursting upon you? Consider your condition, and act sen-
sibly and justly towards those who, in truth, would deprive
you of nothing. Restrain your tempers from working and
fermenting blindly, like some storm or other natural phe-
nomenon which disturbs the world.
  Charles made no reply. The tutor advanced from the
window, where he had been standing, towards the baroness,
and said his pupil would improve; that this event would act
as a warning, that he should test his progress daily, that he
would remember the distress the baroness had endured, and
would afford convincing evidence of the self-restraint he
could practice.
  Baroness. How easily men deceive themselves, espe-
cially in this particular. Authority is so delightful a word,
and it sounds so noble to promise to control ourselves. Men


300





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


speak of it with pleasure, and would persuade us that they
can seriously practise the virtue. I wish I had ever known
a man capable of subduing himself in the smallest particular.
In indifferent matters they affect resolution, as if the loss
occasioned actual suffering; whilst their real desires are con-
sidered as supremely essential, unavoidable, and indispensa-
ble. I have never known a man capable of enduring the
smallest privation.
  Tutor. You are seldom unjust, and I have never seen you
so overpowered by anger and disappointment as at present.
  Baroness. Well, I need not be ashamed of my anger.
When I think of Iny friend, who is now pursuing her jour-
ney in discomfort, weeping, probably, at the recollection of
our inhospitality, my heart burns with indignation.
   Tutor. In your greatest trouble, I have never seen you
so agitated and exasperated as now.
  Baroness. A small evil, which follows closely upon a
greater, can fill the cup; though, in truth, it is no small evil
to lose a friend.
   Tutor. Be comforted, and rely upon our improvement,
and that we will do all in our power to content you.
  Baroness. No: I shall rely upon none of you. But, for
the future, I will demand obedience from all. I will com-
mand in my own house.
   " Command, certainly !" exclaimed Charles; "and you
shall not have to complain of our disobedience."
  * My severity will scarcely be very harsh," rejoined the
baroness, with a smile, as she recovered herself: " I am not
fond of commanding, particularly democrats; but I will give
you some advice, and make one request."
   Tutor. Both shall we consider as laws to be strictly
observed.
  Baroness. It would be ridiculous, if I thought to impair
the interest you all take in the great events of the world,
events, the victims of which we ourselves have become. I
cannot change the opinions which exist and are established
in the mind of each of you, according to his peculiar dis-
position; and it would be no less harsh than foolish to re-
quire of you to suppress them. But I can demand this, at
least, from the circle in which I live, that those of similar
sentiments shall associate peaceably together, and converse
in harmony. In your private apartments, during your walks,
and wherever else you meet, you may communicate together
at will, support your respective opinions, and enjoy the grati-


301





THE RECREATIONS OF


fication of an ardent conviction. But, my dear friends, let
us not forget how much we were accustomed to sacrifice of
our own individual opinions, for the sake of general har-
mony, long before these new topics became the fashion; and,
as long as the world lasts, we must all, for the general bene-
fit, practise some outward self-control. It is not, therefore,
for the sake of virtue, but in the name of common politeness,
that I implore you now to concede to me a favor which I
think I may safely say you have always granted to the veri-
est stranger.
  It seems to me strange, continued the baroness, that we
should have so far forgotten ourselves. What has become of
our politeness ? It used to be the custom in society to avoid
topics disagreeable to others. Protestants, in the company
of Catholics, never asserted that church ceremonies were
ridiculous; and the most bigoted Catholic never maintained,
before a Protestant, that the old religion afforded the only
chance of salvation. In the presence of a mother who had
lost her son, no one displayed the deep delight he took in his
children; and an inappropriate word occasioned general em-
barrassment. It seemed the duty of each to repair the
accidental evil, but now the very reverse of all this seems to
be the rule. We appear to seek the opportunity of introdu-
cing subjects calculated to give pain. Oh, my dear friends,
let us try and restore the old system! We have much to
endure already; and who knows how soon the smoke of the
day, or the flames of the night, may announce the destructiori
of our dwellings and of our most valued possessions? Let
us, at least, forbear to announce this intelligence with tri-
umph: let us cease, by our own bitter observations, to im-
press our souls with calamities which it is painful enough to
endure in silence.
  When your father died, was it your habit to renew my grief
upon every opportunity by a reference to the sad subject ?
Did you not rather avoid all improper allusion to his memory,
and seek by your love, your silent sympathy, and your inces-
sant attentions, to soften my sorrow and relieve my pain?
Should not we now practise the same kind forbearance, which
often brings more consolation than the offices of active friend-
ship, more particularly at this time, when ours is not the
grief of an individual in the midst of a happy multitude,
where sorrow disappears amid the general content, but the
grief of thousands, where but few indeed are capable of ex-
periencing an accidental or artificial consolation ?


302





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


30a


  Charles. My dear aunt, you have sufficiently humiliated
us: may we take your hand in token of reconciliation?
  Baroness. Here it is, on condition that you will obey its
guidance. We proclaim a general amnesty, which it is now
barely possible to resolve upon with sufficient speed.
  The young ladies, who had all been dissolved in tears since
the event we have related, now made their appearance, but
could not be persuaded.to be reconciled to Charles.
  "You are welcome, children," said the baroness, address-
ing them. " We have just had a serious conversation, which,
I trust, will establish peace and harmony amongst us : per-
haps it was never more important that we should be friends,
and enjoy even one brief portion of the day. Let us make
this resolution, to banish from our conversation all reference
to the mere events of the time. How long have we been de-
prived of all instruction and entertaining intercourse ! How
long it seems, dear Charles, since you have amused us with
accounts of distant lands, with whose productions, inhabit-
ants, manners, and customs, you are so well acquainted!
And you," continued the baroness, addressing the tutor,
" you have not lately instructed us in history, ancient or mod-
ern, in the comparison of centuries or of remarkable men.
And you, young ladies ! where are the pretty poems you used
to bring forth from their hiding-places for the delight of your
friends ? what has become of all your free philosophic obser-
vations? Have you no more ambition to' surprise us with
some wonderful mineral specimen, some unknown plant, or
remarkable insect, brought home from your walks, and af-
fording occasion for pleasing speculations on the mysterious
connection of all the productions of nature? Let us restore
all those charming amusements by an agreement, a resolu-
tion, a rule, to be useful, instructive, and, above all things,
companionable, towards each other; for all these advantages
we can enjoy, even in the most extreme adversity. Your
promise, children."
  They promised eagerly.     " And now I dismiss you,"
added the baroness: " the evening is fine, amuse yourselves
as you please; and at supper-time let us enjoy a friendly
communion together, after so long an interruption."
  The company separated. Louisa alone remained with her
mother. She could not so easily forget the misfortune of
losing her companion, and allowed Charles, whom she had
invited to accompany her upon a walk, to set out alone.
For some time the baroness and her daughter remained to-





THE RECREATIONS OF


gether, when the clergyman entered, after a long absence,
entirely ignorant of what had, in the mean time, happened.
Laying by his hat and stick, he took a seat, and was about
to narrate something, when Louisa, pretending to continue
a conversation with her mother, cut short his intention with
the following observations :--
  " Some of our company will, I think, find the arrange-
ment we have come to rather disagreeable. When we lived
in the country, it is true, we were sometimes at a loss for
conversation; for it did not happen so often, as in town,
that a girl could be slandered, or a young man traduced:
but still we had an alternative in describing the follies of
two great nations, in finding the Germans as absurd as the
French, and in representing first one, and then the other, as
Jacobins and Radicals. But, if these topics are forbidden,
some of our society will be rendered stupid."
   " Is this attack aimed at me, young lady? " asked the old
clergyman with a smile. " You know how ready I am to be
sacrificed for the benefit of the company. For though upon
all occasions you do credit to your instructors, and every
one finds your society both amiable and delightful, yet there
is a certain little malicious spirit within you, which, notwith-
standing all your efforts, you cannot entirely subdue, and
which prompts you to take your revenge at my expense.
Tell me, gracious lady," he continued, turning towards the
baroness, " what has occurred during my absence, and what
topics have been excluded from our society ? "
  The baroness informed him of all that had taken place.
He listened attentively, and then observed that " this regu-
lation would probably enable many persons to entertai the
company better than others."
   " We shall be able to endure it," said Louisa.
   " Such an arrangement," he added, " will not be grievous
to those who have been accustomed to rely upon their own
resources : on the contrary, they will find it pleasant; since
they can amuse the company with such pursuits as they have
followed in private. And do not be offended, young lady,
if I attiibute to society the very existence of all newsmon-
gers, spies, and slanderers. For my part, I never see per-
sons so lively and so animated, either at a learned meeting
or at a public lecture convened for general instruction, as in
a society where some piece of scandal is introduced which
reflects on the character of a neighbor. Ask yourself, or
ask others, what invests a piece of news with its greatest


304





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


charm? Not its importance, nor its influence, but its mere
novelty. Nothing old is cared for: novelty by itself excites
our surprise, awakens the imagination,, gently agitates the
feelings, and requires no exertion of the reasoning powers.
Every man can take the most lively interest in a piece of
news with the least trouble to himself: indeed, since a suc-
cession of new events carries us rapidly from one circum-
stance to another, nothing is more welcome to the generality
of mankind than this inducement to constant diversion, and
this opportunity of venting their spleen and malice in an
agreeable and varied manner."
  "Well! " exclaimed Louisa, " you show some skill at
explanation: just now you censured individuals, at present
you condemn mankind in general."
  I I do not require," he answered, " that you should ren-
der me justice: but this I must say, we who depend upon
society must act according to its rules; and it would be safer
to provoke its resentment than its ennui, by requiring it to
think or reflect. We must avoid every thing that would
tend to this result, and pursue by ourselves in private what-
ever wouldo prove unpalatable to the public."
  " By yourselves in private," said Louisa, " many a bottle
of wine will, I suppose, be drunk, and many a nap taken in
the daytime."
  " I have never," continued the old clergyman, " set much
value upon my own actions; for I know how little I have
done for others: I am, however, in possession of something
which may, perhaps, afford agreeable relaxation to this
society, circumstanced as it is at present."
  " To what do you allude? " inquired the baroness.
  " Rely upon it," -interrupted Louisa, " he has made some
marvellous collection of scandals."
  " You are mistaken," replied the clergyman.
  " We shall see," answered Louisa.
  " Let him continue, my dear," said the baroness: " and
do not accustom yourself to act in a hard and unfriendly
manner towards others, even in jest; as they may take it ill.
We have 'no need to increase our evil habits by practising
them for entertainment. Tell me, my dear friend, of what
does your collection consist? Will it conduce to our amuse-
ment? Have you been long employed about it? Why have
you never mentioned it before?"
  " I will give you an account of the whole matter," re-
joined the old clergyman. " I have lived long in the world,


305-





THE RECREATIONS OF


and have paid much attention to public occurrences. I have
neither talent nor inclination for chronicling great actions,
and worldly affairs in general are troublesome to me; but
amongst the many private histories, true and false, which
sometimes happen in public or are related in private, there
are some which possess a greater attraction than the charm
of mere novelty, some which are calculated to improve us by
their moral application, some which display at a glance the
secret springs of human nature, and others, again, whose
very absurdities are amusing. Amongst the multitude of
occurrences which attract our attention and our malice in
ordinary life, and which are as common as the individuals
to whom they relate, I have noted down a few on account
of their peculiar character, because they engaged and ex-
cited my attention and feelings ; .and the very recollection of
them has never failed to produce a momenbtary sensation
of pure and tranquil pleasure."
   " I am curious to hear," said the baroness, " the nature
of your anecdotes, and to learn their peculiar character."
  " You may easily suppose," replied the clergyman, " that
they are not about disputes or family matters. Such things
have little interest except for those who are engaged in
them."
  Louisa. And what are yours about?
  Clergyman. Why, for the most part, they treat of those
emotions by which friends become attached or disunited,
happy or miserable, and by which they are more frequently
entangled than improved.
  Louisa. Indeed ! I suppose you will produce a collec-
tion of merry adventures for our instruction and improve-
ment. Excuse me for making this observation, dear mamma ;
it seems so evident: and it is, of course, allowable to speak
the truth.
   Clergyman. I suspect that you will not find any thing in
the whole collection which may be styled merry.
  Louisa. -- And what would you consider of that descrip-
tion ?
   Clergynan. Scandalous dialogues or situations are my
abhorrence. I object equally that common adventures, which
are unworthy of engaging our attention, should be told with
exaggerated importance: they excite our expectations un-
duly, in place of giving real pleasure to the mind. They
make a mystery of that which should be wholly unveiled, or
from which we should altogether turn our eyes.


306





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


   Louisa. I do not understand you. You will, however,
 relate your stories with some degree of elegance. I hope our
 ears will not be offended by any coarse adventures. You
 must consider us in the light of a ladies' seminary, and look
 for our thanks as your recompense.
   Clergyman. Nothing of the sort. But, in truth, you will
 hear nothing new, particularly as I have, for some time back,
 observed that you never miss the perusal of certain criti-
 cisms in some of the learned reviews.
   Louisa. You are really too bad.
   Clergyman. You are engaged to be married, and I there-
fore pardon you. But I am obliged to show that I also
possess arrows which I know how to use.
. Baroness. I see your object plainly, but you must let
her see it likewise.
   Clergyman. Then, I must repeat what I said at the begin-
 ning of this conversation. But it seems you had not the
 politeness to pay attention.
   Louisa. What is the use of attention or of much argu-
 ment? Look at the matter in any light, they will be scan-
 dalous stories, in some shape or other, and nothing else.
   Clergyman. Must I repeat, young lady, that a well-
 regulated mind only perceives scandal when it reads of
 wickedness, arrogance, a desire to injure, and an unwilling-
 ness to oblige? and from such spectacles he should avert his
 eyes. He finds pleasure in the narration of trifling faults
 and failings, and contemplates with satisfaction those points
 of the story where good men contend with themselves, with
 their desires and their intentions, where silly and conceited
 mortals are rebuked, corrected, or deceived, and where
 hopes, wishes, and designs are disturbed, interrupted, and
 frustrated, or unexpectedly fulfilled, deccomplished, and con-
 firmed. But, on those scenes where accident combines with
 human weakness and inefficiency, he dwells with the greatest
 delight; and none of the heroes whose history he authenti-
 cates has either blame to apprehend or praise to expect from
 him.
   Baroness. Your introduction excites our wish to hear a
 specimen. We have spent the greater part of our lifetime
 in one circle, and have never experienced any thing worthy
 to find a place in such a collection.
   Clergyman. Much undoubtedly depends upon the ob-
 server, and upon the peculiar view he takes of occurrences.
 But I will not deny that I have made large extracts from old


307





THE RECREATIONS OF


books and traditions. Perhaps you will have no objectior,
to see some of your old friends with new faces. And this
gives me a privilege of which I must not be deprived, - that
none of my tales shall be doubted.
  Louisa. But we are not to be prevented from recogniz-
ing our friends and acquaintances, or, if we please, frc:
expounding the enigma.
  Clergyman. Certainly not. But you will allow me, under
such circumstances, to produce an old folio, to prove that
the identical occurrence happened, and was made matter of
record, some centuries ago. And I must be permitted to
smile, when some narration is pronounced to be an old fable,
though it may have taken place amongst ourselves, without
our being able to recognize the characters.
  Louisa. We shall never begin. Had we not better de-
clare a truce for this evening ; and do you commence a story
at once, by way of specimen ?
  Clergyman. Permit me, in this instance, to be guilty of
disobedience. The entertainment is intended for the whole
assembled company. We must not deprive them of it; and
I must premise beforehand, that whatever I have to say pos-
sesses no value in itself. But when my audience, after some
serious occupation, wishes for a brief repose, and, already sated
with good things, desires the addition of a light dessert, then
I shall be ready, and only hope that what I shall provide
may not prove unpalatable.
  Baroness. In that case, we had better postpone the
amusement till to-morrow.
  Louisa. I am beyond measure curious to know what it
will be.
  Clergyman. You must not be so, young lady; for great
expectations are seldoni satisfied.
  That same evening, after dinner, the baroness retired early
to her apartment; whilst the rest of the company remained
together, and discussed the many reports which were current,
and the various incidents which had happened. As is gene-
rally the-case in such circumstances, few of them knew what
to doubt or what to believe.
  The old clergyman had his remedy for such an emergency.
" I propose," said he, " as the most convenient plan, that we
all believe implicitly whatever we find pleasant, and that we
reject, without ceremony, whatever we find unpleasant, and
that we admit to be true what can be so."
  It was then remarked by some one, that men generally


808





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


acted in this way; and, after some desultory conversation,
they commented upon that strange propensity of our nature
to believe in the marvellous. They talked of romances and
visions: and, when the old clergyman had promised at a
future time to relate some interesting anecdotes upon these
subjects, Louisa exclaimed, " It will be extremely good of
you, and you will merit our gratitude, by telling us a story
of that description now ; for we are all in the proper humor
for it: we shall pay attention and be thankful. Without
needing further entreaties, the old clergyman commenced at
once, as follows:--
   " During my residence in Naples, an event happened which
attracted universal attention, and with regard to which pub-
lic opinion varied exceedingly. Some persons maintained
that the circumstance had actually occurred; whilst others
asserted, that, though true in general, it was founded upon
a gross deceit. The latter class of persons were at further
variance amongst themselves: they could not agre who
was the deceiver. Others held it to be far from clear that
spiritual natures were incapable of influencing the elements
and human bodies, and maintained that we were not justified
in pronouncing every marvellous occurrence to be a fraud or
a delusion. But now to the facts themselves.
   " At the time I speak of, a singer named Antonelli was the
favorite of the Neapolitan public. In the bloom of youth,
beauty, and talents, she was deficient in none of those en-
chantments by which women can allure and captivate, and
render a certain class of their favorites happy. She was
not insensible to the charms of love and flattery ; but,
naturally temperate and sensible, she knew how to enjoy
the delights of both, without losing that self-respect which
was so essential to her happiness. The young, the distin-
guished, and the rich, flocked to her in crowds; but she
admitted few to her friendship : and, if she pursued her own
inclination in the choice of her admirers, she evinced, upon
all occasions, so firm and resolute a character, that she
attached every person to her. I had an opportunity of ob-
serving her upon one occasion, in consequence of my close
intimacy with one of her especial favorites.
   " Some years had elapsed: her friends were numerous;
and amongst the number were many foolish, simple, and
fickle personages. It was her opinion that a lover who, in
a certain sense, is every thing to woman, generally proves
deficient in those very emergencies when she most needs his


309





THE RECREATIONS OF


assistance; as, for example, in the difficulties of life, in
domestic necessities, and upon the occurrence of sudden dis-
asters. In such times she maintained that his own self-
love often proved absolutely prejudicial to his mistress, and
his advice became positively dangerous.
  " Her former attachments were insufficient to satisfy her
soul. The void required to be filled. She wished for a
friend; and scarcely had she felt this want, when she found,
amongst those who sought her favors, a youth upon whom
she bestowed her confidence, of which in every respect he
seemed worthy.
   " He was a native of Genoa, and had taken up his resi-
dence in Naples, to transact the merca.,"le buisiness of a firm
to which he belonged.    His natural talents had been im-
proved by a most excellent education. His knowledge was
extensive, his mind and body were sound and active, and his
general conduct might serve as a model; and in his attention
to others he ever seemed forgetful of himself. He was im-
bued with the commercial spirit for which his native town
was distinguished. All his speculations were upon a large
scale. His condition, however, was none of the happiest.
The firm had entered into some unfortunate transactions,
and became entangled in ruinous law-suits. Time only in-
creased the difficulties; and the anxiety he endured gave
him an air of melancholy, which was not unbecoming, and
made Antonelli still more desirous of his acquaintance, from
the idea that he stood in need of a friend.
  "Until now he had only seen Antonelli in public: but, at
his first request, she granted him access to her house; even
urging him to visit her, a favor which he did not fail to ac-
cept.
  " She lost no time in communicating to him her confidence
and her wishes. He was no less surprised than delighted at
her proposals. She implored him earnestly to be her friend,
but to make no pretensions to the privileges of a lover. She
made him acquainted with some embarrassments in which
she had become involved, and his great experience enabled
him to offer advice and assistance for her speedy release.
In return for this confidence, he unfolded to her his own
situation: and, whilst she endeavored to cheer and console
him, many new plans occurred to him, which he had not
thought of before; and she thus appeared to be his adviser:
and a reciprocal friendship, founded on the highest regard
and respect, was established between them,


810





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


   " Unfortunately, we do not always consider the practica-
bility of the obligations we incur. He had promised to be
her friend, and to make no pretensions to the privileges of
a lover. But he could not deny that those who came to see
her as such were not only unwelcome to, but were detested
by, him; and it was extremely painful to him when she
meant to amuse him with the description of their various
characters.
   "It soon happened, fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately,
that her heart was again free. This was a source of ex-
treme delight to our young friend, who lost no time in
entreating that the vacant place might be allotted to him.
With some reluctance she listened to his proposals. ' I
fear,' she said, 'that, in making this concession, I shall
lose my friend.' Her anticipation was correct; for scarcely
had he for a short time filled this double character, when he
found her temper change. As her friend he had been con-
tent with her respect; as a lover he demanded her affection;
and, as an intelligent and accomplished man, constant enter-
tainment. But this was more than Antonelli expected. She
was unwilling to make an entire sacrifice of herself, and had
no wish to surrender her absolute liberty to any one. She
soon adopted ingenious expedients for curtailing the length
of his visits, for avoiding his presence, and for making him
sensible that she would not consent to forego her indepen-
dence for any consideration.
   "This discovery was to him    a source of the greatest
misery; and, unfortunately, the calamity did not come alone.
His domestic affairs became more and more involved; and
he found reason for reproaching himself with having always
considered his income as inexhaustible, and with having
neglected his business in order to engage in foreign travel,
and to make a greater figure in the world than he was enti-
tled to do, from the advantages of his birth and income.
The law-suits, from which he expected so much, were tardy
and expensive. They took him frequently to Palermo; and,
upon the occasion of his last journey thither, Antonelli
adopted means to change the nature of her establishment,
for the purpose of becoming gradually disengaged from him.
On his return he found her in another residence, at some
distance from his; and he saw that the Marquis of S., who
at that time exercised great influence in the world of fashion.
had unreserved admission to her house. He was greatly af-
fected by this discovery, which brought on a serious illness.


311





THE RECREATIONS OF


Upon hearing this sad intelligence, Antonelli hastened to
him, attended him; and, as she was fully aware that his
purse was but scantily supplied, she ,left a large sum of
money, which supplied his necessities for a considerable
time.
  " In consequence of his efforts to restrain her freedom, he
had fallen considerably in her estimation. As her attach-
ment diminished, her suspicions increased; and she at length
began to think that a person who had managed his own
affairs so badly was not entitled to a high character for good
sense. But he was unaware of the great change which had
taken place in her feelings towards him; and he attributed
her anxiety for his recovery, and the constancy of her atten.
tions which induced her to spend whole days at his bedside,
rather to her love for him than to compassion for his suffer-
ings; and he hoped, upon his recovery, to find himself once
more re-instated in her favor.
  " But he was grievously mistaken. With his restoration to
health and strength, all semblance of affection disappeared;
and he now seemed as odious in her eyes as he had formerly
proved agreeable. In addition to this, his temper had uncon-
sciously become soured and unbearable. He attributed to
others all the blame of his own misfortunes, and justified
himself fully from their evil consequences. He considered
himself an injured and persecuted invalid, and looked for
a complete recompense for all his troubles in the devoted
affection of his mistress.
  " With these exalted expectations he visited Antonelli im-
mediately upon his recovery.   He would be satisfied with
nothing short of her entire affection, the dismissal of all
her other friends and acquaintances, her complete retirement
from the stage, and her devoting herself to him alone. She
demonstrated the impossibility of complying with these re-
quests, at first in a playful, and afterwards in a more serious,
tone. At length she communicated to him the sad intel-
ligence that their connection must end. He left her, and
never returned.
  " For several years afterwards he lived in a retired manner,
in the house of a pious old lady, who had a small independ-
ence. At this period he gained his first law-suit, and was
soon afterwards successful in another; but this change of
fortune came too late: his health was undermined, and the
joy of his existence had vanished. A slight accident brought
on a relapse, and the physician announced to him his ap-


312





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


proaching death. He heard his fate without a murmur, and
merely expressed a wish to see his beautiful friend once
more. He sent his servant to her, - the same messenger
who, in happier days, had brought him many a delightful
answer.    He entreated an interview: she refused.  He
sent a second time, and implored her to consent: she was
still inexorable. At length, at midnight, he sent a third
time. She was embarrassed, and communicated her situa-
tion to me; as I had been invited, along with the marquis
and some other friends, to spend the evening at her house.
I advised her, indeed begged of her, to show some last atten-
tions to her friend. She appeared undecided at first, but,
after a short reflection, made up her mind, and dismissed the
servant with a refusal. He did not return.
  " After supper we were all engaged in social conversation,
and general animation and hilarity prevailed. Suddenly, a
little after midnight, a piercing shriek of bitter, painful
lamentation was heard. We rose from the table, looked at
each other, and wondered what this strange event could
mean. The sound seemed to come from the middle of the
room in which we were assembled, and die away near the
walls. The marquis rushed to the window; whilst we en-
deavored to support Antonelli, who had fainted. By degrees
she regained consciousness. She had scarcely opened her
eyes when the jealous and passionate marquis loaded her with
the bitterest reproaches. 'If you choose to have these
mysterious understandings with your friends,' said he, ' at
least let them be of a less fearful nature.' She replied, with
her wonted presence of mind, ' that, as she had always en-
joyed the right of seeing her friends whenever she pleased,
she would scarcely select such appalling sounds as they had
just heard, to indicate approaching happiness.'
  " And, in truth, the cry had in it something unspeakably ap-
palling. The long-continued scream of anguish dwelt upon
our ears, and made our very limbs tremble. Antonelli was
pale, motionless, and in a continual faint. We sat with her
for half the night, but we heard nothing further. On the
following night, the same company, who had met together
not quite so cheerful as usual, though with a reasonable
supply of courage, about the same hour of midnight heard
the same identical loud and appalling shriek.
   " We had, in the mean time, wearied our imaginations in
framing conjectures as to the cause of the cry, and whence
it could proceed. But why should I weary you? Whenever


313





31 4


THE RECREATIONS OF


Antonelli supped at home, at the self-same hour the same
shriek was heard, sometimes louder and sometimes fainter.
It was spoken of all over Naples. The mystery excited
universal attention.  The police were called out.  Spies
were placed in every direction, to detect the cause of the
mystery. To persons in the street, the shriek appeared to
come from the open air; whilst in the house it seemed to
proceed from the very room in which Antonelli was sitting.
When' she supped abroad nothing whatsoever occurred; but,
as often as she supped at home, the horrid shriek was in-
variably heard.
  " But her absence from home did not upon all occasions
protect her from this fearful visitation. Her many personal
recommendations secured her a welcome reception in the
most distinguished families. Being a pleasant companion,
she was everywhere well received; and it had lately become.
her custom, in order to escape the fearful visitation we have
described, to spend her evenings from home.
  " One evening a gentleman of great respectability, owing
to his age and position, accompanied her to her house in his
carriage. When she was taking leave of him at the door,
a loud shriek was heard, which seemed to come from between
them; and the gentleman, who, like many others, had often
heard Of this mysterious occurrence, was lifted into his
carriage more like a corpse than a living person.
  "Upon another occasion a young singer, to whom she Was
partial, drove through the town with her in the evening, to
visit a friend. He likewise had frequently heard of the
wonderful phenomenon we have related, and, with the spirits
of a light-hearted youth, had expressed his doubts of its
reality.  They spoke of the circumstance.     'I wish ex-
tremely,' said he,' that I could hear the voice of your
invisible companion; call him, -perhaps he will come: we
are two, and need not fear him.' From thoughtlessness,
or indifference to danger, I know not which, she called the
spirit: and instantly the piercing shriek issued, as it were,
from the middle of the carriage; three times it was heard,
.nd theq died away gradually. Arrived at the house of
their friend, both were found insensible in the carriage:
with difficulty they recovered their senses sufficiently to re-
late what had happened.
   " It was some time before Antonelli completely recovered.
Her health became impaired by the constantly recurring
fright she sustained: but when, at length, her fearful visitor





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


appeared to intend that she should enjoy some repose, she
began to hope for a complete cessation of this annoyance;
but this expectation was premature.
  "At the end of the carnival, accompanied by a young
female acquaintance and a servant, she set out upon an
excursion of pleasure. It was her intention to visit a friend
in the country.   Night came on before she reached her
destination: an accident happened to the carriage; and she
was necessitated to take refuge in a small country inn, and
to put up with the indifferent accommodation it afforded.
  G Her companion had already gone to bed ; and the servant,
having arranged the night-light, was about to retire, when
her mistress observed jestingly, ' I think we are at the end
of the world : it is a dreadful night; I wonder whether he
can find us out?' That very instant the shriek was heard
more piercing and louder than ever. Her companion was
terrified beyond expression, sprang from her bed, rushed
down-stairs, and alarmed the whole house. No one that
night closed an eye. It was, however, the last time the
shriek was heard. But the unwelcome visitor soon found
another more frightful mode of indicating his presence.
  " He was quiet for a short time, when one evening, at the
accustomed hour, as Antonelli sat with her companions at
table, a shot from a gun, or from a heavily loaded pistol,
was fired in at the window. Every one heard the report,
every one saw the flash; but, upon the closest inspection, tle
window was found not to have sustained the slightest injury.
But the circumstance seemed to every one of the most
alarming importance, and all thought that an attempt had
been made upon Antonelli's life. The police were called,
and the neighboring house was searched; but, as nothing
suspicious was found, guards were placed in it next day
from top to bottom. Her own dwelling was carefully exam-
ined, and spies were even dispersed about the streets.
  " But all this precaution was useless. For three months in
succession, at the very same hour, the shot was fired through
the same window, without the slightest injury to the glass;
and, what was especially remarkable, this always took place
exactly one hour before midnight: although in Naples time
is counted after the Italian fashion, and the term midnight
is never used.
  " But custom at length reconciled all parties to this oc-
currence, as it had done to the previous one; and the ghost
began'to lose credit by reason of his very harmless tricks.





THE RECREATIONS OF


The shot ceased to alarm the company, or even to interrupt
their conversation.
   " One sultry evening, the day having been very hot, Anto-
nelli opened the window, without thinking of the hour, and
went with the marquis out upon the balcony. They had
scarcely been in the air a couple of minutes when the shot
exploded between them, and drove them back into the house,
where for some time they lay apparently lifeless on the floor.
When they recovered, each felt the pain of a violent blow
upon the cheek, one on the right side, the other on the left ;
but, as no further injury was apparent, the singularity of the
circumstance was merely the occasion of a few jocular obser-
vations.
   " From this time the shot was not repeated in the house;
and Antonelli thought she was at last completely delivered
from her invisible tormentor, when one evening, upon mak-
ing a little excursion with a friend, she was terrified beyond
measure by a most unexpected incident.   Her way lay
through the Chiaja, where her Genoese friend had formerly
lived. It was bright moonlight. A lady who sat near her
asked, L Is not that the house in which Signor -   died?'
-- LAs well as I can recollect, it is one of those two,' an-
swered Antonelli. The words were scarcely uttered when
the shot was fired from one of the two houses, and pene-
trated the carriage. The driver thought he was wounded,
and drove forward with all possible speed. Arrived at their
destination, the two ladies were lifted from the carriage, as
though they were dead.
  " But this was the last alarm of that kind. The unseen foe
now changed his plan; and one evening, shortly afterwards,
a loud clapping of hands was heard before the window. As
a popular singer and favorite actress, she was more familiar
with sounds of this description. They did not inspire terror,
and might have proceeded, perhaps, from one of her numer-
ous admirers. She paid no attention to them. Her friends,
however, were more watchful, and distributed their guards
as before. They continued to hear the noise, but saw no-
body, and began to indulge a hope that the unaccountable
mystery would soon completely end.
  " After a short time it became changed in character, and
assumed the form of agreeable sounds. They were not,
strictly speaking, melodious, but exceedingly sweet and
pleasing. To an accurate observer they seemed to proceed
from the corner of the street, to float about in the empty





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


space before Antonelli's window, and there to die away in
the most soft and delightful manner. It seemed as if some
heavenly spirit wished, by means of a beautiful prelude, to
draw attention to a lovely melody which he designed to play.
But these sounds also ceased at length, and were heard no
more after this wonderful occurrence had lasted for about a
year and a half."
  The clergyman pausing for a few moments, the entire
company began to express their opinions, and their doubts
about the truth of the tale.
  The narrator answered that the story had to be true, if it
were to be interesting, as a manufactured tale could possess
but little merit. Some one here observed that he thought it
singular no one had inquired about Antonelli's deceased
friend, or the circumstances of his death; as perhaps some
light might by this means have been thrown upon the whole
affair.
  "IBut this was done," replied the clergyman: "I was
myself curious enough, immediately after the first myste-
rious occurrence, to go to the house under the pretext of
visiting the lady who had attended him in his last moments
with a mother's care. She informed me that the deceased
had been passionately attached to Antonelli; that, during
the last hours of his existence, he had spoken of nothing but
her; that at one time he addressed her as an adorable angel,
and at another as little better than a demon.
   " When his sickness became desperate, his whole thoughts
were fixed on seeing her once more before his death, perhaps
in the hope of obtaining from her an expression of affection,
of pity, of attachment, or of love. Her unwillingness to see
him afflicted him exceedingly, and her last decisive refusal
hastened his death. In despair he cried out,' No! it shall
not avail her. She avoids me; but, after my death, she shall
have no rest from me.' In a paroxysm of this kind he ex-
pired; and only too late do we learn, that the dead can keep
their word on the other side of the grave."
   The company began once more to express their oinions
 about the story. At length Fritz observed, ' I have a sus-
 picion; but I shall not tell it till I have thought over all the
 circumstances again, and put my combinations to the
 proof."
   Being somewhat strongly pressed, he endeavored to avoid
 giving an answer, by requesting that he might be allowed to
 relate an anecdote, which, though it might not equal the pre-


817





THE RECREATIONS OF


ceding one in interest, was of the same character, inasmuch
as it could not be explained with any certainty.
  " A gallant nobleman," he commenced, " who inhabited
an ancient castle, and was the father of a large family, had
taken into his protection an orphan girl, who, when she at-
tained the age of fourteen years, was employed in attending
the mistress of the house in duties immediately about her
person. She gave complete satisfaction, and her whole am-
bition seemed to consist in a wish to evince her gratitude to
her benefactor by attention and fidelity. She possessed vari-
ous charms, both of mind and person, and was not without
suitors. But none of these proposals seemed likely to con-
duce to her happiness, and the girl herself did not show the
least inclination to change her condition.
  " On a sudden it happened, that as she went through the
house, intent upon her various duties, she heard sounds of
knocking, which came from about and beneath her. At first
this seemed accidental; but as the knocking never ceased, and
beat almost in unison with her footsteps, she became alarmed,
and scarcely left the room of her mistress, where alone she
found she could enjoy security.
   " These sounds were heard by every one who accompanied
her or who stood near her. At first the subj pct was treated
as a jest, but at length it was regarded in. a more serious
light. The master of the house, who was of a cheerful dis-
position, now took the matter in hand. The knocking was
never heard when the maiden remained motionless, and, when
she walked, was perceived, not so evidently when she put her
foot to the ground as when she raised it to advance another
step. But the sounds were often irregular, and they were
observed to be more than usually loud whei the maiden
went transversely across a certain large ap a tment in the
castle.
   "The old nobleman, one day having workmen in the house,
caused the flooring to be suddenly raised behind the maiden,
when the knocking sounds were at the loudest. Nothing,
however, was found but a couple of rats, who, disturbed by
the search, gave occasion to a chase, and to considerable
uproar in the house.
   "Provoked by this circumstance and by the disappoint-
 ment, the nobleman determined upon adopting strong meas-
 ures. He took down his large whip from the wall, and
 swore that he would flog the maiden to death if he heard the
 knocking any more. From this time forth she could go


318





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


through the house without the slightest molestation, and the
knocking was never heard again."
  "Whereby," observed Louisa sagaciously, " we may con-
clude that the young maiden was her own ghost, and practised
this joke, and played the fool with the family, to indulge
some whim of her own."
  "Not at all," answered Fritz; "for those who ascribed
the mysterious occurrence to a ghost, believed that the
maiden's guardian angel wished her to leave the house, but
was anxious also to protect her from injury. Others took
another view, and maintained that one of the girl's lovers
had the cleverness to occasion these sounds in order to drive
her out of the house into his arms. But, be this as it may,
the poor child became quite ill in consequence, and was re-
duced to a melancholy spectre ; though she had formerly been
the most cheerful and lively and merry person in the whole
establishment. But such a change in personal appearance
can be explained in more ways than one.
   " It is a pity," observed Fritz, " that these occurrences are
not always more particularly examined, and that, in judging
of events which so much interest us, we are obliged to
hesitate between different appearances, because the circum-
stances under which they happen have not all been ob-
served."
   "True," replied the old clergyman; "but it is so ex-
tremely difficult to make this examination. at the very mo-
ment when any tl ing of the kind happens, and to take every
precaution that nothing shall escape in which deceit or fraud
may be concealed. Can we, for example, detect a conjurer
so easily, though we are perfectly conscious that he is delud-
ing us?"
   He had scarcely finis'ed this observation, when a loud re-
port was suddenly heard in one corner of the apartment.
Every one leaped up; whilst Charles said jokingly, " Surely
the noise does not proceed from some dying lover."
   He would willingly have recalled the expression; for
Louisa became suddenly pale, and stammered forth that she
felt apprehension about the safety of her intended.
   Fritz, to divert her attention, took up the light, and went
 towards a reading-desk which stood in a corner of the apart-
 ment. The semicircular top of the desk was split through;
 this, then, was the cause of the report they had heard:
 but it immediately occurred to them, that the reading-desk
 was of the best workmanship, and had occupied the very


31,9





THE RECREATIONS OF


same spot for years; and therefore they were all astonished
that it should be so suddenly split asunder. It had even
been praised more than once as a very model piece of furni-
ture; and how, therefore, could this accident have occurred,
without even the slightest change having taken place in the
temperature ?
  " Quick ! " said Charles, " let us settle this point at once
by examining the barometer."   The quicksilver maintained
the same point it had held for some days. And even the
thermometer had not fallen more than could be reconciled
with the difference of the temperature between day and
night. " It is a pity that we have not an hygrometer at
hand," he exclaimed, " the very instrument that would be
most serviceable ! "
   "It seems," said the old clergyman, " that the most
valuable instrument always fails when we are engaged in
supernatural inquiries." They were interrupted in their re-
flections by the entry of a servant, who announced that a
great fire was visible in the heavens; though no one could
say whether it were raging in the town or in the neighbor-
hood.
   The circumstances we have just related made the whole
 party more susceptible of terror, and they were therefore
 much agitated by the news. Fritz hastened up to the bel-
 vedere of the house, where a map of the adjacent country
 was suspended, by means of which he was enabled, even at
 night, to point out with tolerable accuracy the various posi-
 tions of the surrounding places. The rest of the party
 remained together, not without some fear and anxiety.
   Fritz announced, upon his return, that he had no good
 news to tell. " The fire does not seem to be in the town,
 but upon the property of our aunt. I am well acquainted,"
 said he, "with the locality, and believe I am not mis-
 taken."  Each one lamented the destruction of the fine
 building, and calculated the loss. " A strange thought has
 just occurred to me," said Fritz, "which may quiet our
 minds as to the mystery of the reading-desk. Consider how
 long it is since we heard the report." They counted the
 minutes, And thought it had occurred about half-past twelve.
   " Now, you will probably laugh," continued Fritz, " when
 I tell you my conjecture. You know that our mother, a good
 many years ago, made our aunt a present of a reading-desk,
 in every respect similar to this one. They were both fin-
 ished with the greatest care, by the same workman, at the


820





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


same time, and cut out of one piece of wood. Both have
lasted well until now: and I will lay a wager, that, at this
very instant, the second reading-desk is actually burning at
the house of my aunt; and its twin brother here is afflicted
at the disaster. To-morrow I will set out and investigate
this singular fact as thoroughly as I am able."
  Whether Frederick really entertained the above opinion,
or whether his wish to tranquillize his sister suggested the
idea, we are unable to decide: they, however, seized the
opportunity to speak of many undeniable sympathies, and
ended by discovering that a sympathy actually existed
between pieces of timber formed from one tree, and pro-
nounced it probable that the same sympathy subsisted
between pieces of work completed by the same hand. They
agreed that these things resembled natural phenomena fully
as much as other things which were often adduced, and which,
although quite evident, are incapable of explanation. " And,
in my opinion," added Charles, " every phenomenon, as well
as every fact, is peculiarly interesting for its own sake. Who-
ever explains it, or connects it with other circumstances, only
makes a jest of it, or deludes us: this is done, for example,
by the natural philosopher and the historian. But an uncon-
nected fact or event is interesting, not because it is expli-
cable or probable, but because it is true. When at midnight
the flames consumed your aunt's reading-desk, the extraor-
dinary splitting of ours, at the very same time, was a palpable
fact, however explicable or connected with other things it
may be."
  Though night was by this time far advanced, none of the
company felt any inclination to retire; and Charles, in his
turn, asked permission to tell a story, which, though equally
interesting, might seem perhaps more natural and explicable
than the previous ones. "Marshal Bassompierre," he said,
' relates it in his Memoirs; and I may be permitted to. tell
it in his name.
  " I had remarked for five or six months, that, whenever I
crossed the little bridge (for at that time the Pont Neuf had
not been bpilt), a very handsome shopkeeper, over the door
of whose establishment was painted the sign of ' The Two
Angels,' always saluted me with a low and respectful bow,
and followed me with her eyes as far as she could see me.
This conduct surprised me extremely; but I always directed
my looks to her, and saluted her in return. I rode on one
occasion from Fontainebleau to Paris; and, when I had ar-


321





THE RECREATIONS OF


rived at the little bridge, she appeared at the door of her
shop, and said, ' Your servant, sir! ' I returned the salute;
and, as I looked back from time to time, I observed that she
was, as usual, leaning forward, to keep me in view as long
as possible.
  " My servant was following with a postilion, as I wished
to send some letters back to some ladies in Fontainebleau
the same day. I ordered the servant to alight, to go to the
pretty shopkeeper, and to tell her from me, that I had no-
ticed her wish to speak to me, and that, if she desired my
acquaintance, I would visit her whenever she wished. She
answered that I could have sent her no more delightful news,
that she would meet me whenever I should appoint, on con-
dition that she might be allowed to pass a night under the
same roof with me. I accepted the proposal, and asked the
servant to find a place where I might appoint an assignation.
He said he would lead me to a friend's house, but advised
me, as fever was then very prevalent, to provide myself with
my own house-linen. When evening came, I went to the
appointed house, where I found a very beautiful young
woman awaiting my arrival. She was attired in a charming
head-dress, and wore the finest linens. Her tiny feet were
adorned with slippers, worked in gold and silk; and her
person was covered with a loose mantle of the softest satin
texture. Suffice it to say, that I never saw a more charming
person. In the morning I asked when I could see her again;
as it was then Thursday night, and it was not my intention
to leave the town before the following Sunday.
   " She replied that she was more anxious for a fresh appoint-
ment than I could be, but that it would be impracticable
unless I could postpone my departure; as I could only see
her on Sunday night. To this I made some difficulty, which
caused her to complain that I was tired of her, and therefore
wished to set out on Sunday; ' but,' she added, ' you will
soon think of me again, and will be glad to forfeit a day in
order to pass a nigtht with me.'
   "I was easily persuaded. I promised to stay during
Sunday,. and to meet her in the evening at the same place.
She answered me as follows: 'I am quite aware, that on
your account I have come to a house of ill-repute; but I have
done this in obedience to an irresistible desire to enjoy your
society. But so great an indiscretion cannot be repeated.
I shall excite the jealousy of my husband, though one might
risk even that for the satisfaction of an irresistible passion.


322





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


Fox your sake I have come to this house, which has been
made respectable by your presence. But, if you desire to see
me again, you must meet me at the residence of my aunt.'
   " She described the house with great particularity, and
 then added, ' I shall expect you at ten o'clock. From that
 time till midnight the door shall be open. You will find a
 small entrance, through which you must advance; as my
 aunt's door is at the farther end. You will then see a flight
 of stairs opposite to you. They lead to the first floor, and
 there I shall be expecting you with open arms.'
   " I made all my arrangements. I sent away my things,
 dismissed my servants, and waited impatiently the arrival of
 Sunday night, when I was to see my charming companion
 once more. At ten o'clock I was at the appointed place. I
 found the door she had described, close shut, and observed
 lights in the house, which seemed every now and then to
 blaze up into a flame. I knocked impatiently in order to
 announce my arrival, and was immediately saluted by the
 hoarse voice of a man inquiring what I wanted. I retired
 disappointed, and paced restlessly up and down the street.
 At length I returned to the house, and found the door then
 wide open. I hurried through the passage, and ascended the
 stairs. Judge of my astonishment at finding the room occu-
 pied by two men, who were employed in burning a mattress
 and some bed-clothes; while I saw before me two naked
 corpses stretched upon the floor.   I hastened away in-
 stantly, and, in rushing down stairs, knocked against two
 men carrying a coffin, who asked me angrily what I wanted.
 I drew my sword to protect myself, and finally reached my
 home in a state of the greatest excitement. I swallowed
 half a dozen glasses of wine, as a preservative against the
 fever, and on the following day continued my journey.
   " All the inquiries I afterwards instituted to discover who
 this woman was were in vain. I even visited the shop
 where 'The Two Angels' were painted, but the new-comers
 could not inform who their predecessors had been. The
 chief character in this adventure was doubtless a person
 from the lower orders; but I can assure you, that, but for
 the disagreeable finale, it would have proved one of the
 most delightful incidents that has ever happened to me, and
 that I never think of my charming heroine without feelings
 of the warmest affection."
   Charles observed, upon the conclusion of the anecdote,
'that the mystery which enveloped the story was not easily





THE RECREATIONS OF


explained, The woman might either have died of the fever,
or have kept away from the house on account of the infec-
tion.
  " But, if she were alive," answered Charles, " she would
have met her lover in the street; as no fear could, under the
circumstances, have kept her from him. I fear," he added,
6 that her corpse was stretched on the floor."
  " Oh ! no more of this," said Louisa: " this story is too
frightful. What a night we shall pass, if we retire with our
imaginations full of these pictures !"
  " I recollect an anecdote," interrupted Charles, " which
is of a more cheerful description, and which the same Bas-
sompierre relates of some of his ancestors.
  " A very beautiful woman, who loved one of her relations
passionately, visited him every Monday at his country-house,
where they spent much time together; his wife believing in
the mean while that her husband was engaged on a hunting-
party. Two years uninterruptedly had passed in this way,
when, the wife's suspicions being roused, she stole one morn-
ing to the country-house, and found her husband asleep with
his companion. Being unwilling or afraid to disturb them,
she untied her veil, threw it over the feet of the sleeping
couple, and retired. When the lady awoke, and observed
the veil, she uttered a piercing cry, and with loud lamenta-
tions complained that she would now never be able to see
her lover again. She then took leave of him, having first
given him three presents,- a small fruit-basket, a ring, and
a goblet, being a present for each of his three daughters,
and desired him to take great care of them. They were ac-
cepted with thanks, and the children of these three daugh-
ters believe that they are indebted to their respective gifts
for whatever good fortune has attended them."
   "This somewhat resembles the story of the beautifut:
Melusina, and such-like fairy-tales," observed Louisa.
   " But there is just such a tradition in our family," said
Frederick, ' and we have possession of a similar talis-
man."
   " What do you mean ? " asked Charles.
   " That is a secret," replied the former. " It can be told
to no one but the eldest son, and that during the lifetime of
his father; and he is then to hold the charm."
   " Are you the present possessor ? " inquired Louisa.
   " I have told too much already," answered Frederick,
as he lighted his candle, previous to retiring.


384





TE GERgMlAl EMIAGANTS.


   The family had assembled for breakfast according to their
 usual custom, and the baroness afterwards took her seat at
 her embroidery-frame. After a short silence the clergyman
 observed, with a slight smile, " It is seldom indeed that
 singers, poets, or story-tellers, who enter into an agreement
 to amuse a company, do it at the right time : they often re-
 quire -pressing, when they should begin voluntarily; whilst,
 on the other hand, they are frequently eager and urgent to
 commence at a time when the entertainment could be dis-
 pensed with. I hope, however, to prove an exception to
 this custom; and I shall be glad to know whether it will
 prove agreeable to you that I should relate a story."
   "Particularly so," answered the baroness; "' and I feel
sure that I express the general opinion. But, if it is your
intention to relate an anecdote as a specimen, I will tell you
for what sort of story I have no inclination.
   " I take no pleasure in stories which, like the Arabian
Nights, connect one tale with another, and so confound the
interest of both; where the narrator finds himself compelled
to excite our attention by interruptions, and, instead of sat-
isfying us by detailing a course of consecutive adventures,
seeks to attract us by rare and often unworthy artifices. I
cannot but censure the attempt of converting stories, which
should possess the unity of a poem, into unmeaning puzzles,
which only have the effect of vitiating our taste. I leave
you to choose your own subjects; but I hope you will pay a.
little attention to the style, since it must be remembered that
we are members of good society. Commence with some
narrative in which but few persons are concerned or few
events described, in which the plot is good and natural,
though possessing as much action and contrivance as is
necessary, which shall not prove dull, nor be confined to one
spot, but in which the action shall not progress too rapidly.
Let your characters be pleasing, and, if not perfect, at least
good, - not extravagant, but interesting and amiable. Let
your story be amusing in the narration, in order, that, when
concluded, we may remember it with pleasure."
   "' If I were not well acquainted with you, gracious lady,"
said the clergyman, " I should be of opinion that it is your
wish, by thus explaining how much you require of me, to
bring my wares into disrepute before I have exposed them
for sale. I see how difficult it will be to reach your stand-
ard of excellence. Even now," he continued, after a short
pause, "you compel me to postpone the tale I had intended


325





TE TIECREA.TIONIS OP


to relate till another time; and I fear I shall commit a mis-
take in extemporizing an anecdote for which I have always
felt some partiality :--
  " In a seacoast town in Italy once lived a merchant, who
from his youth had been distinguished for activity and
industry. He was, in addition, a first-rate sailor, and had
amassed considerable wealth by trading to Alexandria, where
he was accustomed to purchase or exchange merchandise,
which he afterwards either brought home or forwarded to
the northern parts of Europe. His fortune increased from
year to year. Business was his greatest pleasure, and he
found no time for the indulgence of extravagant dissipation.
  " His life was employed in active pursuits of this nature
till he was fifty years old; and he had been, during all this
time, a total stranger to those social pleasures with which
luxurious citizens are accustomed to diversify their lives.
Even the charms of the fair sex had -never excited his
attention, notwithstanding the attractions of his country-
women. His knowledge of them was confined to their love
for ornaments and jewellery, a taste of which he never
failed to take proper advantage.
   " He was surprised, therefore, at. the change which took
place in his disposition, when, after a long voyage, his richly
laden ship entered the port of his native town, upon the
occurrence of a great festival in which the children of the
place took a prominent part. The youths and maidens had
attended the church in their gayest attire, and had joined in
the sacred processions. They afterwards mingled through
the town in separate companies, or dispersed through the
country in search of amusements; or they assembled in the
large square, engaging in various active pursuits, and ex-
hibiting, feats of skill and dexterity, for which small prizes
were bestowed.
   " The merchant was much pleased with all he saw. But
after he had for some time observed the happiness of the
children, and the delight of their parents, and witnessed so
many persons in the full enjoyment of present bliss and the
indulgence of the fondest hopes, he could not help reflecting
upon the wretchedness of his own condition. His own soli-
tary home began for the first time to be to him a cause of
distress, and he thus gave vent to his melancholy thoughts :-
   "'Unhappy being that I am! Why are my eyes opened
 so late? Why, in my old age, do I first become acquainted
 with those blessings which alone can insure the happiness


826





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


of mankind?    What toil have I endured! What labors
I have borne! And what have they done for me? 'Tis
true my cellars are filled with merchandise, my chests with
valuable metals, and my caskets with jewellery and precious
stones; but these treasures can neither console nor satisfy
my heart. The more I have the more I want: one coin
requires another, and one diamond wishes for its fellow. I
am   not the master of my riches: they command me in
imperious tone. 'Go and get more ! ' they exclaim. Gold
delights in gold, and jewels in their fellows. They have
ruled me all my life; and now I find, too late, that they
possess no real value. Now, when age approaches, I begin
for the first time to reflect, and to complain that I enjoy
none of the treasures I possess, and that no one will enjoy
them after me. Have I ever used them to adorn the person
of a beloved wife, to provide a marriage-portion for a
laughter? Have I ever by their means enabled a son to win
and to dower the maiden of his heart? Never ! None of
these treasures have ever enriched me or mine; and what I
have collected with so much toil some stranger, after my
death, will thoughtlessly dissipate.
   "'Oh ! with what different feelings will those happy
parents whom I see around me assemble their children this
evening, praise their address, and encourage them to virtue !
What joy have I beheld beaming from their eyes, and what
hopes from the happiness of their beloved offspring ! And
must I ever be a stranger to hope? Am I grown gray? Is
it not enough to see my error before the final evening of
my days arrives? No: in my ripe years it is not foolish to
dream of love. I will enrich a fair maiden with my wealth,
and make her happy. And, should my house ever become
blessed with children, those late fruits will render me happy,
instead of proving a plague and a torment; as they often do
to those who too early receive such gifts from Heaven.'
  " Thus communing with himself he silently formed his
determination. He then called two of his intimate com-
panions, and opened his mind to them. They were ever
ready to aid him in all emergencies, and were not wanting
upon the present occasion. They hastened, therefore, into
the town, to make inquiries after the fairest and most beau-
tiful maidens; for they knew their master was a man who,
whatever goods he might wish to acquire, would never be
satisfied with any but the best. Hle was himself active,
went about, inquired, saw, and listened, and soon found


327





THE RECREATIONS OF


what he sought in the person of a young maiden about
sixteen years of age, accomplished and well educated. Her
person and disposition pleased him, and gave him every
hope of happiness. In fact, at this time no maiden in the
whole town was more admired for her beauty.
  " After a short delay, during which the most perfect inde-
pendence of his intended bride, not only during his own
life, but after his decease, was secured, the nuptial ceremony
was performed with great pomp and triumph; and from that
day the merchant felt himself, for the first time in his life,
in actual possession and enjoyment of his riches. His
rarest and most costly silks were devoted to the adornment
of his bride, and his diamonds gleamed more brilliantly
upon the neck and amid the tresses of his love than they
had ever shone in his caskets; and his rings acquired an
inexpressible value from the beauty of the hand by which
they were adorned. And thus he felt that he was not only
as wealthy as before, but even wealthier; and all he pos-
sessed acquired a new value from being shared with her he
loved. The happy couple spent a year together .in the most
perfect contentment, and he seemed to experience a real joy
in having exchanged his active and wandering course of life,
for the calm content of domestic bliss. But he could not so
easily divest himself of his nature, and found that a habit
acquired in early youth, though it may for a time be inter-
rupted, can never be completely laid aside.
  "After some time the sight of some of his old companions,
when they had safely brought their ships into harbor after
a long and perilous voyage, excited anew the love of his
former pursuits; and he began now, even in the company of
his bride, to experience sensations of restlessness and dis-
content. These feelings increased daily, and were gradually
converted into so intense a longing for his old course of life,
that at last he became positively miserable; and a serious
illness was the result.
  "I'What will now become of me?' he asked himself.
'I learn too late the folly of entering in old age upon a
new system of life. How can we separate ourselves from
our thoughts and our habits? What have I done? Once I
possessed. the perfect freedom which a bird enjoys in open
air, and now I am imprisoned in a dwelling with all my
wealth and jewels and my beauteous wife. I thought thus
to win contentment and enjoy my riches, but I feel that I
lose every thing so long as I cannot increase my stores.


828





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


329


Unjustly are men considered fools who add to their wealth
by ceaseless activity, for activity itself is happiness; and
riches themselves are valueless in comparison with the de-
light of the toil by which they are acquired. I am wretched
from idleness, sick from inactivity ; and, if I do not determine
upon some other course, I may soon bid farewell to life.
  "' I know, however, how much I risk in separating from
a young and lovely wife. I know how unjust it is to win
the affections of a charming maiden, and, after a brief pos-
session, to abandon her to the wearisome society of her own
desires and emotions. I know, even now, how many vain
and frivolous youths display their conceited persons before
my windows. I know that in church, and in the public
promenades, they seek to attract the notice and engage the
attention of my wife. What may not take place, then, if I
absent myself? Can I hope for the intervention of some
miracle to save her from her almost inevitable fate ? It were
vain to expect that at her age and with her warm affections
she can withstand the seductions of love. If I depart, I
know that upon my return I shall have lost the attachment
of my wife, and that she will have forfeited her fidelity, and
tarnished the honor of my house.'
  " These reflections and doubts, to which he for some time
had become a prey, embittered his condition tenfold. His
wife, no less than .his relations and friends, sympathized
deeply with him, without being able to comprehend the cause
of his illness. At length he sought relief from his own
thoughts, and thus communed with himself: ' Fool! to dis-
tress myself so much about the protection of a wife whom,
if my illness continues, I must leave behind me for the
enjoyment of another. Is it not better to preserve my life,
even though in the effort I risk the loss of the greatest treas-
ure a woman can possess? How many find their very pres
ence ineffectual to preserve this treasure, and patiently
endure a privation they cannot prevent! Why cannot you
summon up courage to be independent of so precarious a
blessing, since upon this resolution your very existence
depends?'
   "He felt invigorated by these thoughts, and forthwith
summoned together his former crew. He instructed them
to charter a vessel without delay, to load it, and hold
themselves ready to set sail with the first favorable wind.
He then unburdened himself to his wife in the following
terms :--





THE RECREATIONS OF


  "'' Be not astonished at any commotion you may shortly
observe in our house, but conclude thence that I am making
preparations for a journey. Be not overcome with grief
when I inform you that I am once more bent upon a sea-
voyage. The love I bear you is still unchanged, and will
doubtless remain so during my life. I am sensible of the
bliss I have enjoyed in your society, and should feel it still
more powerfully, but for the silent censures of idleness and
inactivity with which my conscience reproves me. My old
disposition returns, and my former habits are still alive.
Let me once more visit the markets of Alexandria, to which
I shall repair with the greater joy, because I can there pro-
cure for you the richest merchandise and most valuable
treasures. I leave you in possession of all my fortune and
of all my goods: make use of them without restraint, and
enjoy yourself in the company of your relatives and friends.
The period of our separation will pass by, and we shall meet
again with joy.'
  " Dissolved in tears, his loving wife assured him, with the
most tender endearments, that during his absence she would
never be able to enjoy one happy moment, and entreated
him, since she wished neither to control nor to detain him,
that she might, at least, share his affectionate thoughts
during the sad time of their separation.
  "He then gave some general directions on business and
household matters, and added, after a short pause, ' I have
something to say, which lies like a burden upon my heart;
and you must permit me to utter it: I only implore you
earnestly not to misinterpret my meaning, but in my anxiety
for you to discern my love.'
  ' I can guess your thoughts,' interrupted his wife: 'you
are suspicious of me, I know; and, after the fashion of men,
you always rail at the universal weakness of our sex. I am,
it is true, young, and of a cheerful disposition; and you fear
lest, in your absence, I be found inconstant and unfaithful.
I do not find fault with your suspicions; it is the habit of
your sex: but if I know my own heart, I may assure you
that I am not so susceptible of impressions as to be induced
lightly to stray from the paths of love and duty, through
which I have hitherto journeyed. Fear not: you shall find
your wife as true and faithful on your return as you have
ever found her hitherto, when you have come to her arms at
evening after a short absence.'
   "' I believe the truth of the sentiments you utter,' added


330





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


331


the husband, ' and I beseech you to be constant to them.
But let us conceive the possibility of the worst. Why should
we shrink from it? You know yourself how the beauty of
your person attracts the admiration of all our young fellow-
citizens. During my absence they will be more attentive to
you than ever. They will redouble their efforts to attract
and please you. The image of your husband will not prove
as effective as his presence in banishing them from my doors
and from your heart. I know you are a noble being; but
the blandishments of love are powerful, and oftentimes over-
come the firmest resolutions. Interrupt me not. Your very
thoughts of me during my absence may inflame your pas-
sions. I may, for some time, continue to be the object of
your dearest wishes ; but who can foretell what opportunities
may occur, and allow a stranger to enjoy those privileges
which were destined for me? Be not impatient, I beseech
you, but hear me out.
  "' Should that time arrive, the possibility of which you
deny, and which I am by no means anxious to hasten, in
which you feel that you need society, and can no longer de-
fer the requirements of love, then make me one promise.
Permit no thoughtless youth to supplant me, whatever may
be the attractions of his person; for such lovers are more
dangerous to the honor than to the virtue of a woman. In-
cited rather by vanity than by love, they seek the general
favors of the sex, and are ever ready to transfer their transi-
tory affections. If you wish for the society of a friend, look
out for one who is worthy of the name, whose modesty and
discretion understands the art of exalting the joys of love by
the virtue of secrecy.'
  " His beautiful wife could suppress her agony no longer,
and the tears which she had till now restrained flowed in co-
pious torrents from  her eyes. 'Whatever may be your
opinion of me,' she cried, after a passionate embrace, ' noth-
ing can be at this hour farther from my thoughts than the
crime you seem to consider, as it were, inevitable. If such
an idea ever suggests itself to my imagination, may the earth
in that instant open, and swallow me up, and forever vanish
all hope of that joy which promises a blessed immortality !
Banish this mistrust from your bosom, and let me enjoy the full
and delightful hope of seeing you again return to these arms.'
  " Having left untried no effort to comfort and console his
wife, he set sail the next day. His voyage was prosperous,
and he soon arrived in Alexandria.





THE RECREATIONS OF


  " In the mean time our heroine lived in the tranquil en-
joyment of a large fortune, in possession of every luxury;
though, with the exqeption of her relatives and immediate
friends, no person was admitted to her society. The busi-
ness of her absent husband was discharged by trustworthy
servants; and she inhabited a large mansion, in whose splen-
did rooms she was able to enjoy the daily pleasure of recall-
ing the remembrance of his love.
  " But, notwithstanding her quiet and retired mode of life,
the young gallants of the town did not long remain inactive.
They frequented the street, passed incessantly before her
windows, and in the evening sought to attract her attention
by means of music and serenades. The pretty prisoner,
although she at first found these attentions troublesome and
annoying, gradually became reconciled to the vexation; and,
when the long evenings arrived, she began to consider the
serenades in the light of an agreeable entertainment, and
could scarcely suppress an occasional sigh, which, strictly
speaking, belonged to her absent husband.
   " But her unknown admirers, instead of gradually weary-
ing in their attentions, as she had once expected, became
more assiduous in their devotion. She began, at last, to
recognize the oft-repeated instruments and voices, to grow
familiar with the melodies, and to feel curious to know the
names of her most constant serenaders. She might' inno-
cently indulge so harmless a curiosity. She now peeped oc-
casionally through her curtains and half-closed shutters, to
notice the pedestrians, and to observe more particularly the
youths whose eyes were constantly directed towards her
windows. They were invariably handsome, and fashionably
dressed; but their manner and whole deportment were un-
mistakably marked by frivolity and vanity. They seemed
more desirous of making themselves remarkable by directing
their attention to the house of so beautiful a woman, than of
displaying towards her a feeling of peculiar respect.
   "' Really,' the lady would sometimes say to herself in a
tone of raillery, ' really my husband showed a deal of pene-
tration. The condition under which he allowed me to enjoy
the privilege of a lover excludes all those who care in the
least for me, or to whom I am likely to take a fancy. He
seems to have well understood that prudence, modesty, and
silence are qualities which belong to demure old age, when
men can value the understanding, but are incapable of
awakening the fancy or exciting the desires. I am pretty


382





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


sure, at least, that, amongst the youths who lay perpetual
siege to my mansion, there is not one entitled to my confi-
dence; and those who might lay some claim to that virtue
fall lamentably short in other attractions.'
   " Supported by these reflections, she allowed herself to
take daily more and more pleasure in the music and in the
attentions of her young admirers; till at length, unperceived
by herself, there gradually sprung up in her bosom a rest-
less desire, which she struggled to resist when it was
already too late. Solitude and idleness, combined with com-
fort and luxury, gave birth to an unruly passion long before
its thoughtless victim had any suspicion of her danger.
   " Amongst the numerous endowments of her husband, she
now saw ample reason to admire his profound knowledge of
the world and of mankind, and his thorough acquaintance
with woman's heart. She now perceived that that had oc-
curred, the possibility of which she had formerly so strenu-
ously denied, and acknowledged his wisdom in preaching the
necessity of prudence and caution. But what could these
virtues avail, where pitiless chance seemed to be in con-
spiracy with her own unaccountable passions? How could
she select one from a crowd of strangers? and was she per-
mitted, in case of disappointment, to make a second choice?
   " Innumerable thoughts of this nature increased the per-
plexity of our solitary heroine. In vain she sought, recrea-
tion, and tried to forget herself. Her mind was perpetually
excited by agreeable objects, and her imagination thus be-
came impressed with the most delightful pictures of fancied
happiness.
  " In this state of mind, she was informed one day by a re-
lation, amongst other pieces of news, that a young lawyer
who had just finished his studies at Bologna had lately are
rived in his native town. His talents yvere the topic of gen-
eral admiration and encomium. His universal knowledge
was accompanied by a modesty and reserve very uncommon
in youth, and his personal attractions were of a high order.
In his offige of procurator he had already won, not only the
confidence of the public, but the respect of the judges. He
had daily business to transact at the court-house, so great
was the increase of his professional practice.
  "Our heroine could not hear the talents of this youth so
generally extolled, without feeling a wish to become ac-
quainted with him, accompanied by a secret hope that he
might prove a person upon whom, in conformity with the





THE RECREATIONS OF


permission of her husband, she'might bestow her heart. She
soon learned that he passed her dwelling daily, on his way to
the court-house ; and she carefully watched for the hour when
the lawyers were accustomed to assemble for the discharge
of business.   With beating heart she at length saw him
pass; and if his handsome figure and youthful attractions, on
the one hand, excited her admiration, his apparent reserve
and modesty, on the other, gave her much reason for doubt
and anxiety. For several days she watched him silently,
till at length she was no longer able to resist her desire to
attract his attention. She dressed with care, went out upon
the balcony, and marked his approach with feeling's of sus-
pense. But she grew troubled, and, indeed, felt ashamed,
when she saw him      pass, in contemplative mood, with
thoughtful steps and downcast eyes, pursuing his quiet way,
without deigning to bestow the slightest notice upon her.
Vainly did she endeavor thus to win his attention for several
successive days. In the same undeviating course he contin-
ued to pass by, without raising his eyes, or looking to the
right or to the left. But, the more she observed him, the
more did he appear to be the very one she needed. Her wish
to know him now grew stronger, and at length became ir-
resistible. What! she thought within herself: when my
noble, sensible husband actually foresaw the extremity to
which his absence would reduce me, when his keen percep-
tion knew that I could not live without a friend, must .1
droop and pine away at the very time when fortune provides
me with one whom not only my own heart, but even my
husband, would choose, and in whose society I should be
able to enjoy the delights of love in inviolable secrecy ? Fool
should I be, to miss such an opportunity; fool, to resist the
powerful impulses of love !
  "' With such reflections did she endeavor to decide upon
some fixed course, and she did not long remain a prey to un-
certainty. It hapliened with her, as it usually does with every
one who is conquered by a passion, that she looked without
apprehension upon all such trifling objections as shame, fear,
timidity, and duty, and came at length to the bold resolution
of sending her servant-maid to the young lawyer at any risk,
and inviting him to visit her.
  " The servant found him in the company of several friends,
and delivered her message punctually in the terms in which
she had been instructed. The procurator was not at all sur-
prised at the invitation. He had known the merchant pre-


834





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


335


viously, was aware of his absence at present, and presumed
that the lady required the aid of his professional services
about some important matter of business. He promised the
servant, therefore, that he would wait upon her mistress
without delay. The latter heard with unspeakable joy, that
she would soon be allowed an opportunity of seeing and speak-
ing to her beloved. She prepared carefully for his recep-
tion, and had her rooms arranged with the utmost elegance.
Orange-leaves and flowers were strewn around in profusion,
and the most costly furniture was displayed for the occasion.
And thus the brief intervening time hastened by, which would
otherwise have been unbearable.
   " Who can describe the emotion with which she witnessed
his arrival, or her agitation upon inviting him to take a seat at
her side ? She hesitated how to address him now that he had
arrived, and found a difficulty in remembering what she had
to say. He sat still and silent. At length she took courage
and addressed him, not without some visible perplexity.
   "'I understand, sir, that you are but lately returned to
your native city ; and I learn that you are universally admired
as a talented and incomparable man. I am ready to bestow
my ;utmost confidence upon you, in a matter of extraordi-
nary importance, but which, upon reflection, would seem
adapted rather for the ear of the confessor than that of the
lawyer. I have been for some years married to a husband
who is both rich and honorable, and who, as long as we have
lived.together, has never ceased to tenderly love me, and of
whom I should not have a single word of complaint to utter,
if an irresistible desire for travel and trade had not torn him,
for some time, from my arms.
   "' Being a sensible and just man, he no doubt felt con-
 scious of the injury his absence must necessarily inflict upon
 me. He knew that a young wife cannot be preserved like
 jewellery and pearls. He knew that she resembles a garden,
 full of the choicest fruits, which would be lost, not only to
 him, but to every one else, if the door were kept locked for
 years. For this reason, he addressed me in serious but
 friendly tones before his departure, and assured me, that he
 knew I should not be able to live without the society of a
 friend, and therefore not only permitted, but made me prom-
 ise, that I would, in a free and unrestrained manner, follow
 the inclination which I should soon find springing up within
 my heart.'
   " She paused for a moment; but an eloquent look, which





THE RECREATIONS OF'


the young lawyer directed towards her, encouraged her to
proceed.
  " ' One only condition was imposed upon me by my indul-
gent husband. He recommended me to use the most ex-
treme caution, and impressed upon me strongly the necessity
of choosing a steady, prudent, silent, and confidential friend.
But you will excuse my continuing, - excuse the embar-
rassment with which I must confess how I have been at-
tracted by your numerous accomplishments, and divine from
the confidence I have reposed in you the nature of my hopes
and wishes.'
  " The worthy young lawyer was silent for a short time, and
then replied, in a thoughtful tone, ' I am deeply indebted
for the high mark of confidence with which you both honor
and delight me. I wish to convince you that I am not un-
worthy of your favor. But let me first answer you in a pro-
fessional capacity: and I must confess my admiration for
your husband, who so clearly saw the nature of the injustice
he committed against you; for there can be no doubt of this,
- that a husband who leaves his young wife, in order to
visit distant countries, must be viewed in the light of a man
who relinquishes a valuable treasure, to which, by his own
conduct, he abandons all manner of claim. And as the first
finder may then lawfully take possession, so I hold it to be
natural and just, that a young woman, under the circum-
stances you describe, should bestow her affections and her-
self, without scruple, upon any friend who may prove worthy
of her confidence.
  " 'But particularly when the husband, as in this case, con-
scious of the injustice he himself commits, expressly allows
his forsaken wife a privilege, of which he could not deprive
her, it must be clear that he can suffer no wrong from ar
action to which he has given his own consent.
  "' Wherefore if you,' continued the young lawyer, with
quite a different look and the most lively emphasis, and the
most affectionate pressure of the hand, ' if you select me for
your servant, you enrich me with a happiness, of which, till
now, I'could have formed no conception. And be assured,'
he added, while at the same time he warmly kissed her hand,
'that you could not have found a more true, loving, pru-
dent, and devoted servant.'
  1" This declaration tranquillized the agitated feelings of our
tender heroine.   She at once expressed her love without
reserve. She pressed his hand, drew him nearer to her, and


336





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


reclined her head upon his shoulder. They had remained but
Ia short time in this position, when he tried to disengage him.
self gently, and expressed himself thus, not without emotion :
' Did ever happy mortal find himself in such embarrass-
ment? I am compelled to leave you, and to do violence to
myself in the very moment when I might surrender myself
to the most divine enchantment. I cannot now partake the
bliss which is prepared for me, and I earnestly pray that a
temporary postponement may not altogether frustrate my
fondest hopes.'
  " She inquired hastily the cause of this strange speech.
  "' When I was in Bologna,' he replied, ' and had just
completed my studies, preparing to enter upon the practice
of my profession, I was seized with a dangerous illness, from
which it appeared, that, even if I should escape with my life,
my bodily and mental faculties must sustain irreparable in-
jury. Reduced to despair, and tortured by the pangs of
disease, I made a solemn vow to the Virgin, that, should I
recover, I would persist for one whole year in practising the
strictest fast and abstinence from enjoyment of every de-
scription.  For ten months I have already adhered to my
vow: and, considering the wonderful favor I have enjoyed,
the time has not passed wearily; and I have not found it
difficult to abstain from many accustomed pleasures. But
the two months which still remain will now seem    an
eternity; since, till their expiration, I am forbidden to
partake a happiness whose delights are inconceivable.
And, though you may think the time long, do not, I beseech
you, withdraw -the favor you have so bountifully bestowed
upon me.'
   " Not much consoled by this announcement, she felt a
little more encouraged when her friend added, after a few
minutes' reflection, ' I scarcely dare to make a proposal, and
suggest a plan, which may, perhaps, release me a little
earlier from my vow. If I could only find some one .as firm
and resolute as myself in keeping a promise, and who would
divide with me the time that still remains, I should then be
the sooner free; and nothing could impede our enjoyment.
Are you willing, my sweet friend, to assist in hastening our
happiness by removing one-half of the obstacle which op-
poses us? I can only share my vow with one upon whom I
can depend with full confidence. And it is severe, - noth-
ing but bread and water twice a day, and at night a few
hours' repose on a hard bed: and, notwithstanding my inces-


887





THE RECREATIONS OF


sant professional occupation, I must devote many hours to
prayer. If I am obliged to attend a party, I am not thereby
released from my duty; and I must avoid the enjoyment of
every dainty. If you can resolve to pass one month in the
observance of these rules, you will find yourself the sooner
in possession of your friend's society, which you will relish
the more from the consciousness of having deserved it by
your praiseworthy resolution.'
  " The beautiful lady was sorry to hear of the difficulty she
had to encounter; but the very presence of her beloved so
increased her attachment, that no trial which would insure
the possession of so valuable a prize appeared to her too
difficult. She therefore assured him, in the most affection-
ate manner, of her readiness to share the responsibility of
his vow, and addressed him thus: 'My sweet friend! the
miracle through which you have recovered your health is to
me an event of so much value and importance, that it is not
only my duty, but my joy, to partake the vow by which you
are still bound. I am delighted to offer so strong a proof
of my sincerity. I will imitate your example in the strictest
manner; and, until you discharge me from my obligation,
no consideration shall induce me to stray from the path you
point out to me.'
   "The young lawyer once more repeated the conditions-
under which he was willing to transfer to her the obligation
of one-half of his vow, and then took his leave, with the as-
surance that he would soon visit her again, to inquire after
her constancy and resolution. And she was then obliged to
witness his departure, without receiving so inuch as one kiss,
or pressure of the hand, and scarcely with a look of ordinary
recognition. She found some degree of happy relief in the
strange employment which the performance of her new duties
imposed upon her, for she had much to do in the preparation
for her unaccustomed course of life. In the first place, she
removed all the beautiful exotics and flowers which had been
procured to grace the reception of her beloved. Then a hard
mattress was substituted for her downy bed, to which she
retired in 'the evening, after having scarcely satisfied her hun-
ger with a frugal meal of bread and water. The following
morning found her busily employed in plain work, and in
making a certain amount of wearing apparel for the poor in-
mates of the town hospital. During this new occupation she
entertained her fancy by dwelling upon the image of her dear
friend, and indulging the hope of future happiness; and


838





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


these thoughts reconciled her to the greatest privations and
to the humblest fare.
  "I At the end of the first week the roses began to fade
from her beautiful cheeks, her person to fall away, and her
strength to become weak and languid; but a visit from her
friend imparted new animation and fortitude. He encour-
aged her to persist in her resolution, by the example of his
own perseverance, and by showing her the approaching cer-
tainty of uninterrupted happiness. His visit was brief, but
he promised to return soon.
  "' With cheerful resignation she continued her new and
strict course of life, but her strength soon declined so much
that the most severe illness could scarcely have reduced
her to such extreme weakness. Her friend, whose visit was
repeated at the end of the week, sympathized with her con-
dition, but comforted her by an assurance that one-half the
period of her trial was already over. But the severe fast-
ing, continual praying, and incessant work, 'became every
day more unbearable; and her excessive abstemiousness
threatened to ruin the health of one who had been accus-
tomed to a life of the greatest luxury. At length she found
a difficulty in walking, and was conipelled, notwithstanding
the sultriness of the season, to wrap herself up in the warm-
est clothing, to preserve even an ordinary degree of heat;
till finally she was obliged to take to her bed.
   "I It would be difficult to describe the course of her reflec-
tions when she reflected on her condition and on this strange
occurrence, and it is impossible to imagine her distress when
ten tedious days wearily passed without the appearance of
the friend for whose sake she had consented to make this
unheard-of sacrifice. But those hours of trouble sufficed to
recall her to reason, and she formed her resolution. Her
friend visited her after the lapse of some few days more; and
seating himself at her bedside, upon the very sofa which he
had occupied when she made her first declaration of love to
him, he encouraged and implored her, in the most tender and
affectionate tones, to persist for a short time longer: but she
interrupted him with a sweet smile, and assured him that she
needed no persuasion to continue, for a few days, the per-
formance of a vow which she knew full well had been ap-
pointed for her advantage. 'I am, as yet, too feeble,' she
said, 'to express my thanks to you as I could wish. You
have saved me from myself. You have restored me to my-
self; and I confess, that from this moment I am indebted to


339





THE RECREATIONS OF


you for my existence. My husband was, indeed, gifted with
prudence and good sense, and well knew the nature of wo-
man's heart. And he was, moreover, just enough not to con-
demn a passion which he saw might spring up within my
bosom, through his own fault; and he was generous enough
to make allowance for the weakness of my nature. But you,
sir, are truly virtuous and good. You have taught me that
we possess within us an antidote equivalent to the force of
our passions; that we are capable of renouncing luxuries to
which we have been accustomed, and of suppressing our
strongest inclinations. You have taught me this lesson by
means of hope and of delusion.      Neither is any longer
necessary : you have made me acquainted with the existence
of that ever-living conscience, which, in peaceful silence,
dwells within our souls, and never ceases with gentle admoni-
tions to remind us of its presence, till its sway becomes
irresistibly acknowledged.  And now farewell. May your
influence over others be as effective as it has been over me.
Do not confine your labors to the task of unravelling legal
perplexities, but show mankind, by your own gentle guidance
and example, that within every bosom the germ of hidden
virtue lies concealed. 'Esteem and fame will be your reward ;
and, far better than any statesman or hero, you will earn the
glorious title of father of your country.' "
   " We must all extol the character of your young lawyer,"
said the baroness, at the conclusion of the clergyman's tale :
" polished, wise, interesting, and instructive, I wish every
preceptor were like him, who undertakes to restrain or recall
youth from the path of error. I think such a tale is pecul-
iarly entitled to be styled a moral anecdote. Relate some
more of the same nature, and your audience will have ample
reason to be thankful."
   Clergyman. I am delighted that my tale has earned your
approbation, but I am sorry you wish to hear more of such
moral anecdotes; for, to say the truth, this is the first and
last of the kind.
   Louisa. It certainly does not do you much credit, to say
 that your best collection only furnishes a single speci-
 men.
   Clergyman. You have not understood me. It is not
 the only moral tale I can relate; but they all bear so close
 a resemblance, that each would seem only to repeat the
 original.
   Louisa. Really, you should give up your paradoxical


340





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


style, which so much obscures your conversation, and express
yourself more clearly.
   Clergyman. With pleasure, then. No anecdote deserves
 to be called moral which does not prove that man possesses
 within himself that power to subdue his inclinations which
 may be called out by the persuasion of another. My story
 teaches this doctrine, and no moral tale can teach otherwise.
   Louisa. Then, in order to act morally, I must act con-
trary to my inclinations?
   Clergyman. Undoubtedly.
   Louisa. Even when they are good?
   Clergyman. No inclinations are abstractedly good, but
only so as far as they effect good.
   Louisa. Suppose I have an inclination' for benevolence ?
   Clergyman. Then, you should subdue your inclination
for benevolence if you find that it ruins your domestic
happiness.
  Louisa. Suppose I felt an irresistible impulse to grati-
tude?
   Clergyman. It is wisely ordained that gratitude can
never be an impulse. But if it were, it would be better to
prove ungrateful than to commit a crime in order to oblige
your benefactor.
  Louisa. Then, there may be a thousand moral stories?
  Clergyman. Yes, in your sense. But none of them
would read a lesson different from the one our lawyer taught,
and in this sense there can be but one story of the kind:
you are right, however, if you mean that the incidents can
be various.
  Louisa. If you had expressed your meaning more pre-
cisely at first, we should not have disagreed.
   Clergyman. And we should have had no conversation.
Errors and misunderstandings are the springs of action, of
life, and of amusement.
  Louisa. I cannot agree with you. Suppose a brave
man saves another at the risk of his own life: is that not a
moral action ?
  Clergynian. Not according to my mode of thinking.
But, suppose a cowardly man were to overcome his fears and
do the same, that would be a moral action.
  Baroness. I wish, my dear friend, you would give us
some examples, and convince Louisa of the truth of your
theory. Certainly, a mind disposed to good must delight
us when we become acquainted with it. Nothing in the


341





THE RECREATIONS OF


world can be more pleasing than a mind under the guidar
of reason and conscience. If you know a tale upon su #
a subject, we should like to hear it. I am fond of stories
which illustrate a doctrine. They give a better explanation
of one's meaning than dry words can do.
   Clergyman. I certainly cAn relate some anecdotes of
that kind, for I have paid some attention to those qualities
of the human mind.
  Louisa. I would just make one observation. I must
confess I do not like stories which oblige us to travel, in
imagination, to foreign lands. Why must every adventure
take place in Italy, in Sicily, or in the East? Are Naples,
Palermo, and Smyrna the only places where any thing inter-
esting can hap)en? One may transpose the scene of our
fairy-tales to Ormus and Samarcand for the purpose of per-
plexing the imagination; but, if you would instruct the
understanding or the heart, do it by means of domestic sto-
ries, - family portraits, - in which we shall recognize our
own likeness; and our hearts will more readily sympathize
with sorrow.
  Clergyman. You shall be gratified. But there is some-
thing peculiar, too, about family stories. They bear a
strong resemblance to each other; and, besides, we daily see
every incident and situation of which they are capable fully
worked out upon the stage. However, I am willing to.make
the attempt, and shall relate a story, with some of the inci-
dents of which you are already familiar; and it will only
prove interesting so far as it is an exact representation of
the picture in your own minds.
  " We may often observe in families, that the children in-
herit, not only the personal appearance, but even the mental
qualities, of their parents; and it sometimes happens that
one child combines the dispositions of both father and
mother in a peculiar and remarkable manner.
  " A youth, whom I may name Ferdinand, was a strong
instance of this fact. In his appearance he resembled both
parents, and one could distinguish in his mind the separate
disposition of each. He possessed the gay, thoughtless
manner of his father, in his strong desire to enjoy the pres-
ent moment, and, in most cases, to prefer himself to others;
but he also inherited the tranquil and reflective mind of his
mother, no less than her love for honesty and justice, and a
willingness, like her, perpetually to sacrifice himself for the
advantage of others. To explain his contradictory conduct


842





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


upon many occasions, his companions were often reduced to
the necessity of believing that he had two souls. I must
pass by many adventures which happened in his youth, and
shall content myself with relating one anecdote, which not
only explains his character fully, but forms a remarkable
epoch in his life.
  "His youth was passed in every species of enjoyment. His
parents were affluent, and brought up their children extrava-
gantly. If the father indulged in unreasonable expenditure,
either in company, at the gaming-table, or in other dissipa-
tions, it was the habit of the mother to restrain her own,
and the household expenses, so as to supply the deficiency;
though she never allowed an appearance of want to be ob-
served. Her husband was fortunate in his business; he was
successful in several hazardous speculations he had under-
taken: and, as he was fond of society, he had the happiness
to form many pleasant and advantageous connections.
  " The children of a family usually copy those members of
the household who seem to enjoy their lives most. They
see in the example of a father who follows such a course,
a model worthy of imitation; and, as they are seldom slow
in obeying their inclinations, their wishes and desires often
increase very much in disproportion to their means of enjoy-
ment. Obstacles to their gratification soon arise: each new
addition to the family forms a new claim upon the capabili-
ties of the parents, who frequently surrender their -own
pleasures for the sake of their children; and, by common
consent, a more simple and less expensive mode of living
is adopted.
   "Ferdinand grew up with a consciousness of the disagreea-
ble truth, that he was often deprived of many luxuries which
his more fortunate companions enjoyed. It distressed him
to appear inferior to any of them in the richness of his
apparel, or the liberality of his expenditure. He wished to
resemble his father, whose example was daily before him,
and who appeared to him a twofold model, - first, as a parent,
in whose favor a son is usually prejudiced; and, secondly, as
a man who led a pleasant and luxurious life, and was, there-
fore, apparently loved and esteemed by a numerous acquaint-
ance. It is easy to suppose that all this occasioned great
vexation to his mother; but in this way Ferdinand grew up,
with his wants daily increasing, until at length, when he had
attained his eighteenth year, his requirements and wishes
were sadly out of proportion to his condition.


343





THE RECREATIONS OF


  " He had hitherto avoided contracting debts; for this vice
his mother had impressed him     with the greatest abhor-
rence: and, in order to win his confidence, she had, in
numerous instances, exerted herself to gratify his desires,
and relieve him from occasional embarrassments. But it
happened, unfortunately, that she was now compelled to
practise the most rigid economy in her household expendi-
ture, and this at a time when his wants, from many causes,
had increased. He had commenced to enter more generally
into society, tried to win the affections of a very attractive
girl, and to rival and even surpass his companions in the
elegance of his attire. His mother, being unable any longer
to satisfy his demands, appealed to his duty and filial affection
so as to induce him to restrain his expenses. He admitted
the justice of her expostulations, but, being unable to follow
her advice, was soon reduced to a state of the greatest men-
tal embarrassment.
  " Without forfeiting the object of his dearest wishes, he
found it impossible to change his mode of life. From his
boyhood he had been addicted to his present pursuits, and
could alter no iota of his habits or practices without running
the risk of losing an old friend, a desirable companion, or,
what was worse, abandoning the society of his dearest love.
  " His attachment became stronger; as the love which was
bestowed upon him not only flattered his vanity, but compli-
mented his understanding.
  " It was something to be preferred to a host of suitors by
a handsome and agreeable girl, who was acknowledged to
be the richest heiress in the city. He boasted of the pref-
erence with which -he was regarded, and she also seemed
proud of the delightful bondage in which she was held. It
now became indispensable that he should be in constant
attendance upon her, that he should devote his time and
money to her service, and afford perpetual proofs of the
value he set upon her affection. All these inevitable results
of his attachment occasioned Ferdinand more expense than
he would otherwise have incurred. His ladylove (who was
named Ottilia) had been intrusted by her parents to the care
of an aunt, and no exertions had been spared to introduce
her to society under the most favorable circumstances.
Ferdinand exhausted every resource to furnish her with the
enjoyments of society, into all of which she entered with
the greatest delight, and of which she herself proved one
of the greatest attractions.


344.





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


  " No situation could certainly be more wretched than that
to which Ferdinand was now reduced. His mother, whom
he sincerely loved and respected, had pointed out to him the
necessity of embarking in duties very different from those
which he had hitherto practised: she could no longer assist
him in a pecuniary way. He felt a horror at the debts which
were daily becoming more burdensome to him, and he saw
before him the difficult task of reconciling his impoverished
condition with his anxiety to appear rich and practise gener-
osity. No mind could be a prey to greater unhappiness.
  " His mind was now forcibly impressed with thoughts which
had formerly only indistinctly suggested themselves to his
imagination. Certain unpleasant reflections became to him
the source of great unhappiness. He had once looked upon
his father as a model: he now began to regard him as a rival:
What the son wished to enjoy, the parent actually possessed;
and the latter felt none of the anxieties or grievances where-
with the former was tortured. Ferdinand, however, was in
full possession of every comfort of life; but he envied his
father the luxuries which he enjoyed, and with which he
thought he might very well dispense. But the latter was of
a different opinion. He was one of those beings whose
desires are wholly insatiable, and who, for their own gratifi-
cation, subject their family and dependants to the greatest
privations. His son received from him a certain pecuniary
allowance, but a regular account of his expenditure was
strictly exacted.
   " The eye of the envious is sharpened by restrictions, and
dependants are never more censorious than when the com-
mands of superiors are at variance with their practice. Thus
Ferdinand came to watch strictly the conduct of his father,
particularly upon points which concerned his expenditure.
He listened attentively when it was rumored that his father
had lost heavily at the gambling-table, and expressed great
dissatisfaction at any unwonted extravagance which he might
indulge. ' Is it not astonishing?' he would say to himself,
'that, whilst parents revel in every luxury that can spring
from the possession of a property which they accidentally
enjoy, they can debar their children of those reasonable
pleasures which their season of youth most urgently re-
quires? And by what right do they act thus? How have
they acquired this privilege? Does it not arise from mere
chance? and can that be a right which is the result of acci-
dent? If my grandfather, who loved me as his own son,


345





THE RECREATIONS OF


were still alive, I should be better provided for. He would
not see me in want of common necessaries, those things, I
mean, which we have had from our birth. Hie would no
more let me want, than he would approve .my father's ex-
travagance. Had he lived longer, had he known how worthy
his grandchild would prove to inherit a fortune, he would
have provided in his will for my earlier independence. I
have heard that his death was unexpected, that he had' in-
tended to make a will; and I am probably indebted to mere
chance for the postponement of my enjoying a fortune,
which, if my father continue his present course, will proba-
bly be lost to me forever.'
   " With such discontented thoughts did Ferdinand often
perplex himself in those hours of solitude and unhappiness,
in which he was prevented, by the want of money, from join-
ing his companions upon some agreeable party of pleasure.
Then it was that he discussed those dangerous questions of
right and property, and considered how far individuals are
bound by laws to which they have given no consent, or
whether they may lawfully burst through the restraints of
society. But all these were mere pecuniary sophistries; for
every article of value which he formerly possessed had grad-
ually disappeared, and his daily wants had now far outgrown
his allowance.
   " He soon became silent and reserved ; and, at such times,
even his respect for his mother disappeared, as she could
afford him no assistance: and he began to entertain a hatred
for his father, who, according to his sentiments, was per-
petually in his way.
   " Just at this period he made a discovery, which increased
his discontent.  He learned that his father was not only
an irregular, but an improvident, manager of his household.
He observed that he often took money hastily from his desk,
without entering it in his account-book, and that he was
afterwards perplexed with private calculations, and annoyed
at his inability to balance his accounts. More than once did
Ferdinand notice this; and his father's carelessness was the
more galling to him, as it often occurred at times when he
himself .was suffering severely from the want of money.
   " Whilst he was in this state of mind, an unlucky accident
 happened, which afforded an opportunity for the commission
 of a crime, to which he had long felt himself impelled by a
 secret and ungovernable impulse.
   " His father had desired him to examine and arrange a Col-


846





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


lection of old letters. One Sunday, when he was alone, he
set to work in a room which contained his father's writing-
desk, and in which his money was usually kept. The box
of letters was heavy; and, in the act of lifting it from the
ground, he pushed unintentionally against the desk, when
the latter suddenly flew open. The rolls of money lay tempt-
ingly displayed before him.   Without allowing time for a
moment's reflection, he took a roll of gold from that part of
the desk where he thought his father kept a supply of money
for his own occasional wants. He shut the desk again, and
repeated the experiment of opening it. He once more suc-
ceeded, and saw that he could now command the treasure as
completely as if he had possessed the key.
   " He soon plunged once more into all those dissipations
which he had lately been obliged to renounce. He became
more constant than ever in his attentions to Ottilia, and more
passionate in the pursuit of pleasure.   Even his former
graceful animation was converted into a species of excite-
ment, which, though it was far from unbecoming, was defi-
cient in that kind attention to others which is so agreeable.
   " Opportunity is to passion what a spark is to gunpowder,
and those desires which we gratify contrary to the dictates of
conscience always rule with the most ungovernable power.
Ferdinand's own convictions loudly condemned his conduct,
but he endeavored to justify himself by specious arguments;
and though his manner became in appearance more free and
unrestrained than before, he was in reality a captive to the
infience of his evil inclinations.
   " Just at this time the wearing of extravagant trifles came
.into fashion. Ottilia was fond of personal ornaments, and
Ferdinand endeavored to discover a mode of gratifying her
taste without apprising her where her supply of presents
came from. Her suspicions fell upon an old uncle, and Fer-
dinand's gratification was indescribable at observing the
satisfaction of his mistress and the course of her mistaken
suspicions. But, unfortunately for his peace of mind, he was
now obliged to have frequent recourse to his father's desk,
in order to'gratify Ottilia's fahcy and his own inclinations;
and he pursued this course now the more boldly, as he had
lately observed that his father grew more and more careless
ab)out entering in his account-book the sums he himself
required.
   " The time now arrived for Ottilia's return to her parents.
 The young couple were overpowered with grief at the prose





THE RECREATIONS Of


pect of their separation, and one circumstance added to their
sorrow. Ottilia had accidentally learned that the presents we
have spoken of had come from Ferdinand : she questioned
him, and he confessed the truth with feelings of evident
sorrow. She insisted upon returning them, and this occa-
sioned him the bitterest anguish. He declared his deter-
mination not to live without her, prayed that she would
preserve him her attachment, and implored that she would
not refuse her hand as soon as he should have provided
an establishment.   She loved him, was moved at his en-
treaties, promised what he wished, and sealed her vow with
the warmest embraces and a thousand passionate kisses.
  " After her departure Ferdinand was reduced to sad soli-
tude.   The company in which he had found delight pleased
him no more, she being absent. From the mere force of
habit he mingled with his former associates, and had re-
course to his father's desk to supply those expenses which
in reality he felt but slight inclination to indulge. He was
now frequently alone, and his natural good disposition be-
gan to obtain the mastery over him. In moments of calm
reflection he felt astonished how he could 'have listened to
that deceitful sophistry about justice and right, and his claim
to the goods of others; and he wondered at his approval of
those evil arguments by which he had been led to justify his
dishonest conduct. But in the mean time, before these cor-
rect ideas of truth and uprightness produced a practical
effect upon his conduct, he yielded more than once to the
temptation of supplying his wants, in extreme cases, from
his father's treasury. This plan, however, was now adopted
with more reluctance; and he seemed to be under the irre-
sistible impulse of an evil spirit.
  " At length he took courage, and formed the resolution of
rendering a repetition of the practice impossible, by inform-
ing his father of the facility with which his desk could be
opened. He took his measures cautiously; and once, in the
presence of his father, he carried the box of letters we have
mentioned into the room, pretended to stumble accidentally
against the desk, and astonished his father by causing it to
spring open. They examined the lock without delay, and
found that it had become almost useless from age. It was
at once repaired, and Ferdinand soon enjoyed a return of his
peace of mind when he saw his father's rolls of money once
more in safe custody.
  " But he was not content with this. He formed the resolu-





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


tion of restoring the money which he had abstracted. He
commenced the most economical course of life for this pur-
pose, with a view of saving from his allowance all that could
possibly be spared from the merest necessities. It is true
that this was but little; bht it appeared much, as it was the
commencement of a system of restitution: and there will
always be a wonderful difference between the last guinea
borrowed and the first guinea saved. He had pursued this
upright course for but a short time, when his father deter-
mined to settle him in business. His intention was to form
a connection with a manufactory at some distance from his
residence. The design was to establish a company in a part
of the country where labor and provisions were cheap, to
appoint an agent, and extend the business as widely as pos-
sible by means 'of money and credit.  It was determined
that Ferdinand should inquire into the practicability of the
scheme, and forward a circumstantial report of his proceed-
ings. His father furnished him with money for his journey,
but placed a moderate limit upon his expenditure.     The
supply was, however, sufficient for his wants ; and Ferdinand
had no reason to complain of a deficiency.
  I Ferdinand used the utmost economy also upon his jour-
ney, and found upon the closest calculation that he could live
upon one-third of his allowance, by practising strict restraint.
He was now anxious to find means of gradually saving a cer-
tain sum, and it soon presented itself ; for opportunity comes
indifferently to the good and to the bad, and favors all par-
ties alike. In the neighborhood which he designed to visit,
he found things more to his advantage than had been expected.
No new habits of expense had as yet. been introduced. A
moderate capital alone had been invested in business, and
the manufacturers were satisfied with small profits. Ferdi-
nand soon saw, that with a large capital, and the advantages
of a new system, by purchasing the raw material by whole-
sale, and erecting machinery under the guidance of experi-
enced workmen, large and solid advantages might be secured.
   " The prospect of a life of activity gave him the greatest
delight. The image of his beloved Ottilia was ever before
him; and the charming and picturesque character of the
country made him anxiously wish that his father might be
induced to establish him in this spot, commit the conduct of
the new manufactory to him, and thus afford him the means
of attaining independence. His attention to business was
secured by the demands of his own personal interests. He


349





THE RECREATIONS OF


now found an opportunity, for the first time in his life, for
the exercise of his understanding and judgment, and for
exerting his other mental powers. Not only the beautiful
neighborhood, but his business and occupation, were full of
attractions for him: they acted as balm and cordial to his
wounded heart, whenever he recalled the painful remembrance
of his father's house, in which, influenced by a species of
insanity, he had acted in a manner which now seemed to him
in the highest degree criminal.
   " His constant companion was a friend of his family, -
a person of strong mind, but delicate health, who had first
conceived the project of founding this establishment. He
instructed Ferdinand in all his own vwa-vs and projects, and
seemed to take great pleasure in the thorough harmony of
mind which existed between them: This latter personage
led a simple and retired life, partly from choice, and partly
because his health required it. He had no family of his own.
His household establishment was conducted by a niece, who
he intended should inherit his fortune; and it was his wish
to see her united to a person of active and enterprising dis-
position, who, by means of capital and persevering industry,
might carry on the business which his infirm health and want
of means disqualified him from conducting. His first inter-
view with Ferdinand suggested that he had found the man
he wanted; and he was the more strongly confirmed in this
opinion, upon observing his fondness for business; and his
attachment to the place. His niece became aware of his in-
tentions, and seemed to approve of them. She was a young
and interesting girl, of sweet and engaging disposition. Her
care of her uncle's establishment had imparted to her mind
the valuable qualities of activity and decision, whilst her
attention to his health had softened down these traits by a
proper union of gentleness and affection. It would have
been difficult to find a person better calculated to make a
husband happy.
  " But Ferdinand's mind was engrossed with the thoughts
of Ottilia's love: he saw no attractions in the charms of this
country beauty ; or, at least, his admiration was circumscribed
by the wislh, that, if ever Ottilia settled down as his wife in
this part of the country, she might have such a person for
her assistant and housekeeper. But he was free and unre-
strained in his intercourse with the young lady, he valued
her more as he came to know her better, and his conduct
became more respectful and attentive; and both �he and


850





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS,


her uncle soon put their own interpretations upon his be-
havior.
  " Ferdinand had in the mean time made all the requisite
inquiries about his father's business. The uncle's sugges-
tions had enabled him to form certain projects which, with his
usual thoughtlessness, he made the subject of conversation.
He had more than once uttered certain gallant speeches when
conversing with the niece, until her uncle and herself fancied
that he actually indulged intentions which gave them both
unfeigned satisfaction. To Ferdinand's great joy, he hac
learned that he could not only derive great advantage from
his father's plan, but that another favorable project would
enable him to make restitution of the money he had with-
drawn, and the recollection of which pressed like a heavy
burden upon his conscience. He communicated his intentions
to his friend, who tendered, not only his cordial congratula-
tions, but every possible assistance to carry out his views.
He even proposed to furnish his young friend with the
necessary merchandise upon credit, a part of which offer was
thankfully accepted; some portion of the goods being paid
for with what money Ferdinand had saved from his travelling
expenses, and a short credit being taken for the remainder.
  "It would be difficult to describe the joy with which Fer-
dinand prepared for his return home. There can be no
greater delight than is experienced by a man who, by his
own unaided resources, frees himself from the consequences
of error. Heaven looks down with satisfaction upon such a
spectacle; and we cannot deny the force of the seeming para-
dox which assures us that there is more joy before God over
one returning sinner, than over ninety-nine just.
  " But, unfortunately, neither the good resolutions nor the
repentance and improvement of Ferdinand could remove the
evil consequences of his crime, which were destined once more
to disturb and agitate his mind with the most painful reflec-
tions. The storm had gathered during his absence, and it
was destined to burst over his head upon his return.
  "We have already had occasion to observe, that Ferdi-
nand'sfather was most irregular in his habits ; but his business
was under the superintendence of a clever manager. He had
not himself missed the money which had been abstracted by
his son, with the exception of one roll of foreign money,
which he had won from a stranger at play. This he had
missed, and the circumstance seemed to him unaccountable.
He was afterwards somewhat surprised to perceive that


3b1





THE RECREATIONS OF


several rolls of ducats could not be found, money which he
had some time before lent to a friend, but which he knew had
been repaid. He was aware of the previous insecurity of
his desk, and felt, therefore, convinced that he had been
robbed.   This feeling rendered him extremely unhappy.
His suspicions fell upon every one. In anger and exaspera-
tion, he related the circumstance to his wife. The entire
household was thereupon strictly examined, and neither ser-
vants nor children were allowed to escape. The good wife
exerted herself to tranquillize her husband: she represented
the discredit which a mere report of this circumstance would
bring upon the family; that no one would sympathize in
their misfortune, further than to humiliate them with their
compassion; that neither he nor she could expect to escape
the tongue of scandal; that strange observations would be
made if the thief should remain undiscovered; and she sug-
gested, that perhaps, if they continued silent, they might re-
cover their lost money without reducing the wretched criminal
to a state of misery for life. In this manner she prevailed
upon her husband to remain quiet, and to investigate the
affair in silence.
  " But the discovery was unfortunately soon made. Ottilia's
aunt had, of course, been informed of the engagement of the
young couple. She had heard of the presents her niece had
received. The attachment was not approved by her, and
she had only maintained silence in consequence of her niece's
absence. She would have consented to her marrying Ferdi-
nand, but she did not like uncertainty on such a subject;
and as she knew that he was shortly to return, and her niece
was expected daily, she determined to inform the parents of
the state of things, to inquire their opinion, to ask-whether
Ferdinand was to have a settlement, and if they would con-
sent to the marriage.
   "The mother was not a little astonished at this informa-
tion, and she was shocked at hearing of the presents which
Ferdinand had made to Ottilia. But she concealed her sur-
prise; and, requesting the aunt to allow her some time to
confer with her husband, she expressed her own concurrence
in the intended marriage, and her expectation that her son
would be advantageously provided for.
   " The aunt took her leave, but Ferdinand's mother did not
deem it advisable to communicate the circumstance to her
nusband, She now had to undertake the sad duty of dis-
-overing whether Ferdinand had purchased Ottilia's presents


352





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


with the stolen money. She went straight to the shopkeeper
who dealt in such goods, made some general inquiries, and
said at last, I that he ought not to overcharge her, particu-
larly as her son, who had bought some similar articles, had
procured them from him at a more reasonable charge.' This
the tradesman denied, producing the account, and further
observing that he had even added something for the ex-
change ; as Ferdinand had paid for the goods partly in foreign
money. He specified the exact nature of the coin; and, to
her inexpressible grief, it was the very same which had been
stolen from her husband. She left the shop with sorrowful
heart. Ferdinand's crime was but too evident. The sum
her husband had lost was large, and she saw in all its force
the extent of the crime and its evil results. But she had
prudence enough .to conceal her discovery. She waited for
the return of her son, with feelings of mingled fear and
anxiety.   Although she wished for an explanation, she
dreaded the consequences of a further inquiry.
   " At length he arrived in the highest spirits. He expected
the greatest praise from  the manner in w.hich he trans-
acted his business, and was the bearer of a sum of money
sufficient to make compensation for what he had criminally
abstracted. His father heard his statement with pleasure,
but did not manifest so much delight as the son expected.
His late losses had irritated his temper; and he was the more
distressed, because he had some large payments to make at
the moment. Ferdinand felt hurt at his father's depression
of mind, and his own peace was further disturbed by the
sight of every thing around him: the very room in which he
was, the furniture, and the sight of the fatal desk, those
silent witnesses of his crime, spoke loudly to his guilty con-
science. His satisfaction was at an end. He shrunk within
himself, and felt like a culprit.
   " After a few days' delay he was about to distract his at-
tention from these thoughts by examining the merchandise he
had ordered, when his mother, finding him alone, reproached
him with his fault in a tone of affectionate earnestness, which
did not allow the smallest opportunity for prevarication. He
was overcome with grief. He threw himself at her feet, im-
ploring her forgiveness, acknowledging his crime, and pro-
testing that nothing but his affection for Ottilia had misled
him: he assured her, in conclusion, that it was the only of-.
fence of the kind of which he had ever been guilty. He
related the circumstances of his bitter repentance, of his


353





THE RECREATIONS OF


having acquainted his father with the insecurity of his desk,
and finally informed her how, by personal privations and a for-
tunate speculation, he was in a condition to make restitution.
  " His mother heard him calmly, but insisted on knowing
how he had disposed of so much money; as the presents
would account but for a small part of the sum that was miss-
ing. She produced, to his dismay, an account of what his
father had missed; but he denied having taken, even so much
silver: the missing gold he solemnly protested he had never
touched. His mother became exasperated at this denial. She
rebuked him his attempting to deceive her, and that at a mo-
ment when he laid claim to the virtue of repentance; asserting
that if he could be guilty in one respect, she must doubt his
innocence in another. She suggested that he might perhaps
have accomplices amongst his dissipated companions, that
perhaps the business he had carried on was transacted with
the stolen money, and that probably he would have confessed
nothing if his crime had not been accidentally discovered.
She threatened him with the anger- of his father, with judicial
punishment, with her highest displeasure ; but nothing affected
him more than his learning that his projected marriage with
Ottilia had been already spoken of. She left him in the
most wretched condition. His real crime had been discov-
ered, and he was suspected of even greater guilt. How could
he ever persuade his parents that he had not stolen the gold?
He dreaded the public exposure which was likely to result
from his father's irritable temper, and he now had time to
compare his present wretched condition with the happiness
he might have attained. All his prospects of an active life
and of a marriage with Ottilia were at an end. He saw his
utter wretchedness, abandoned, a fugitive in foreign lands,
exposed to every species of misfortune.
  " But these reflections were not the worst evil lie had to
encounter; though they bewildered his mind, wounded his
pride, and crushed his affections. His most severe pangs
arose from the thought, that his honest resolution, his noble
intention to repair the past, was suspected, repudiated, and
denied.. And, even if these thoughts gave birth to a feeling
resembling despair, he could not deny that he had deserved
his fate ; and to this conviction must be added his knowledge
of the fatal truth, that one crime is sufficient to destroy the
character forever. Such meditations, and the apprehension
that his firmest resolutions of amendment might be looked
upon as insincere, made life itself a burden.


354





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS


   "' In this moment of abandonment he appealed to Heaven
for assistance. He sank upon his knees, and, moistening
the ground with tears of contrition, implored help from his
divine Maker. His prayer was worthy of being heard. Man,
throwing off his load of crimes, has a claim upon Heaven.
-He who has exhausted every effort of his own may, as a
last resource, appeal to God. He was for some time en-
gaged in earnest prayer, when the door opened, and some one
entered his apartment. It was his mother, who approached
him with a cheerful look, saw his agitation, and addressed
him with consoling words. 'How happy I am,' she said,
'to find that I may credit your assertions, and regard your
sorrow as sincere ! The missing sum of gold has been found :
your father, when he received it from his friend, handed it
to his secretary, who forgot the circumstance amid the
numerous transactions of the day. And, with respect to the
silver, you are also right; as the amount taken is less than I
had supposed. Unable to conceal my joy, I promised your
father to replace the missing sum if he would consent tc
forbear making any further inquiry.'
   " Ferdinand's joy was indescribable. He completed al
once his business arrangements, gave his mother the prom..
ised money, and in addition replaced the amount which his
father had lost through his own irregularity. He becam4
gradually more cheerful and happy, but the whole circum-
stance produced a serious impression upon his mind. He
became convinced that every man has power to accomplish
good, and that our divine Maker will infallibly extend to him
his assistance in the hour of trial, - a truth which he himself
had learned from late experience. He now unfolded to his
father his plan of establishing himself in the neighborhood
from which he had lately returned. He fully explained the
nature of the intended business. His father consented to his
proposals, and his mother at a proper time related to her
husband the attachment of Ferdinand to Ottilia. He was
delighted at the prospect of having so charming a daughter-
in-law, and felt additional pleasure at the idea of being able
to establish his son without the necessity of incurring much
expense."

   " I like this story," said Louisa, when the old clergyman
had finished .his tale; " and though the incidents are taken
from low life, yet the tone is sufficiently elevated to prove
agreeable. And it seems to me, that if we examine our





356             THE RECREATIONS OF

selves, or observe others, we shall find that men are seldom
influenced by their own reflections, either to pursue or to
abandon a certain course, but are generally impelled by
extraneous circumstances."
  " I wish for my part," said Charles, "that we were not
obliged to deny ourselves any thing, and that we had no
knowledge of those blessings which we are not allowed to
possess. But unfortunately we walk in an orchard where,
though all the trees are loaded with fruit, we are compelled
to leave them untouched, to satisfy ourselves with the enjoy-
ment of the shade, and forego the greatest indulgence."
  "' Now," said Louisa to the clergyman, "' let us hear the
rest of the story."
  Clergyman. It is finished.
  Louisa. The deno~ment may be finished, but we should
like to hear the end.
   Clergyman. Your distinction is just; and, since you seem
interested in the fate of my friend, I will tell you briefly what
happened to him.
  " Relieved from the oppressive weight of so dreadful a
crime, and enjoying some degree of satisfaction at his own
conduct, his thoughts were now directed to his future happi-
ness; and he expected with anxiety the return of Ottilia, that
he might explain his position, and perform the promise he
had given her. She came, accompanied by her parents.
He hastened to meet her, and found her more beautiful than
ever. He waited with impatience for an opportunity of
speaking to her alone, and of unfolding all his future pro-
jects. The moment arrived; and with a heart full of ten-
derness and love he spoke of his hopes, of his expectations
of happiness, and of his wish to share it with her. But
what was his surprise and astonishment when he found that
she heard his announcement with indifference and even with
contempt, and indulged in unpleasant jokes about the her-
mitage prepared for their reception, and the interest they
wou' d excite by enacting the characters of shepherd and
shepherdess in a pastoral abode.
   " Her .behavior occasioned bitter reflections. He was hurt
and grieved at her indifference. She had been unjust to
him, and he now began to observe faults in her conduct
which had previously escaped his attention. In addition, it
required no very keen perception to remark that a cousin,
who had accompanied her, had made an impression upon her,
and won a large portion of her affections.





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


3.57


  " But Ferdinand soon perceived the necessity of strug-
gling with this new source of sorrow; and, as victory had
attended his exertions in one instance, he hopd to be suc-
cessful upon a second occasion. He saw Ottilia frequently,
and determined to observe her closely. His conduct towards
her was attentive and affectionate, and her deportment was of
a similar nature; but her attractions had become diminished
for him: he sobn found that her professioirs were not cordial
or sincere, and that she could be affectionate and cold,
attractive and repulsive, charming and disagreeable, accord-
ing to the mere whim of the moment. He gradually became
indifferent to her, and at length resolved to break the last
link of their connection.
  "' But this was more difficult than he had anticipated. He
found her one day alone, and took courage to remind her
of their engagement, and of those happy moments in which,
under the influence of the most delightful feelings, they had
discoursed with joyful anticipations of their future happiness.
She was in a tender mood, and he began to hope that he
might perhaps have been deceived in the estimate he had
lately formed of her. He thereupon began to describe his
worldly prospects, and the probable success of his intended
establishment. She expressed her satisfaction, accompanied,
however, with regret that their union must on this account
be postponed still longer. She gave him to understand that
she had not the least wish to leave the pleasures of a city
life, but expressed her hopes that he might be able, after
some years' active industry in the country, to return home,
and become a citizen of consequence. She gave him, more-
over, to understand that she expected he would play a more
respectable and honest part in life than his father.
   " Ferdinand saw plainly that he could expect no happiness
from such a union, and yet he felt the difficulty of wholly
disengaging himself. In this state of mind he would prob-
ably have parted from her in uncertainty about the future,
had he not been finally influenced by the conduct of Ottilia's
cousin, towards whom he thought she displayed too much
tenderness. Ferdinand, thereupon, wrote a letter assuring
her that it was still in her power to make him happy, but
that it could not be advisable to encourage indefinite hopes,
or to enter into engagements for an uncertain future.
   ' He trusted that this letter would produce a favorable
 answer; but he received a reply which his heart deplored,
 but which his judgment approved- She released him from





THE RECREATIONS OF


his promise, without rejecting his love, and adverted to her
own feelings in the same ambiguous manner. She was still
bound by the sense of her letter, but free by its literal mean-
ing. But why should I delay communicating the inevitable
result? Ferdinand hastened back to the peaceful abode he
had left, and formed his determination at once. He became
attentive and diligent in business, and was encouraged in
this course by the affections of the kind being of whom we
have already spoken, and the exertions of her uncle to employ
every means in his power to render them happy. I knew
him afterwards, when he was surrounded by a numerous
and prosperous family. He related his own story to mc
himself; and, as it often happens with individuals whose
early life has been marked by some uncommon accident,
his own adventures had become so indelibly impressed upon
his mind, that they exerted a deep influence .on his conduct.
Even as a man and as a father, he constantly denied him-
self the enjoyment of many gratifications in order not to
forget the practice of self-restraint; and the whole course
of his children's education was founded upon this principle,
that they must accustom themselves to a frequent denial of
their most ardent desires.
   "I once had an opportunity of witnessing an instance of the
system he adopted. One of his children was about to eat
something at table, of which he was particularly fond. His
father forbade it, apparently without reason. To my aston-
ishment, the child obeyed with the utmost cheerfulness; and
dinner proceeded as if nothing had occurred. And, in this
manner, even the eldest members of the family often allowed
a tempting dish of fruit or some other dainty to pass them
untasted.   But, notwithstanding this, a general freedom
reigned in his house; and there was at times a sufficient dis-
play, both of good and bad conduct. But Ferdinand was for
the most part indifferent to what occurred, and allowed an
almost unrestrained license. At times, however, when a
certain week came about, orders were given for precise
punctuality, the clocks were regulated to the second, every
member of the family received his orders for the day, busi-
ness and pleasure had their turn, and no one dared to be a
single second in arrear. I could detain you for hours in
describing his conversation and remarks on this extraordi-
nary system of education. He was accustomed to jest with
me upon my vows as a Catholic priest, and maintained that
every man should make a vow to practise self-restraint, as


858





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


well as to require obedience from others; but he observed
that the exercise of these vows, in place (f being perpetus
ally demanded, was suitable only for certain occasions."
  The baroness observed, that she thought Ferdinand was
perfectly right; and she compared the authority of a parent
to the executive power in a kingdom, which being weak, the
legislative authority can be of little avail.
  At this moment Louisa rushed hastily to the window, hav-
ing heard Frederick ride past. She ran to meet him, and
accompanied him into the parlor. He seemed cheerful, not-
withstanding his just having come from a scene of trouble
and distress. In place of entering into a detailed descrip-
tion of the fire which had seized the house of his aunt, he
assured the company that he had established beyond doubt
the fact that the desk there had been burned at the very same
time when theirs had been split asunder in so strange a
manner.
  He stated, that, when the fire approached the room where
the desk was, one of the servants saved a clock which stood
upon it; that, in carrying it out, some accident had happened
to the works, and it had stopped at half-past eleven; and
thus the coincidence of time was placed beyond all question.
The baroness smiled; and the tutor observed, that, although
two things might agree in some particulars, we were not
therefore justified in inferring their mutual dependence. But
Louisa took pleasure in believing the connection of these two
circumstances, particularly as she had received intelligence
that her intended was quite well; and, as to the rest of the
company, they gave full scope to the flight of their imagina-
tion.
   Charles inquired of the clergyman whether he knew' a fairy-
tale. " The imagination," he observed, " is a divine gift;
but I do not like to see it employed about the actualities of
life. The airy forms to which it gives birth are delightful to
contemplate, if we view them as beings of a peculiar order;
but, connected with truth, they become prodigies, and are dis-
approved by our reason and judgment. The imagination,"
he continued, " should not deal in facts, nor be employed to
establish facts. Its proper province is art; and there its
influence should be like that of music, which awakens our
emotions, and makes us forget the cause by which they are
called forth."
   " Continue," said the old clergyman, " and explain still
 further your view of the proper attributes of imaginative


359





THE RECREATIONS OF


works. Another property is essential to their enjoyment, -
that the exercise of imagination should be voluntary. It can
effect nothing by compulsion: it must wait for the moment
of inspiration. Without design, and without any settled
course, it soars aloft upon its own pinions, and, as it is borne
forward, leaves a trace of its wonderful and devious course.
But you must allow me to take my accustomed walk, that I
may awaken in my soul the sweet fancies which, in former
years, were accustomed to enchant me. I promise to relate
a fairy-tale this evening that will amuse you all.
  They at once consented, particularly as they all hoped in
the mean time to hear the news of which Frederick was the
bearer.




                   A   FAIRY TALE.

  WEARIED with the labors of the day, an old Ferryman lay
asleep in his hut, on the bank of a wide river, which the late
heavy rains had swollen to an unprecedented height. In
the middle of the night he was awakened by a loud cry: he
listened; it was the call of some travellers who wished to be
ferried over.
  Upon opening the door, he was surprised to see two Will-
)o'-.the-wisps dancing round his boat, which was still secured
to its moorings. Speaking with human voices, they assured
him that they were in the greatest possible hurry, and wished
to be carried instantly to the other side of the river. With-
out losing a moment, the old Ferryman pushed off, and rowed
across with his usual dexterity. During the passage the
strangers whispered together in an unknown language, and
several times burst into loud laughter; whilst they amused
themselves with dancing upon the sides and seats of the boat,
and cutting fantastic capers at the bottom.
   "The boat reels," cried the old man; " and, if you con-
tinue so restless, it may upset. Sit down, you Will-o'-the-
wisps."
  They burst into loud laughter at this command, ridiculed
the boatman, and became more troublesome than ever. But
he bore their annoyance patiently, and they soon reached the
opposite bank of the river.
   "Here is something for your trouble," said the passen-


460





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


361


gers, shaking themselves, when a number of glittering gold
pieces fell into the boat. " What are you doing? " cried the
old man : " some misfortune will happen should a single piece
of gold fall into the water. The river, which has a strong
antipathy to gold, would become fearfully agitated, and swal-
low both me and my boat. Who can say even what might
happen to yourselves? I pray you take back your gold."
  " We can take nothing back which we have once shaken
from our persons," answered one of them.
  " Then, I shall be compelled," replied the old boatman, as
he stooped, and collected the gold in his cap, " to take it to
the shore and bury it."
  The Will-o'-the-wisps had in the mean time leaped out of
the boat, upon which the old man cried, " Pay me my fare."
  "The man who refuses gold must work for nothing,"
answered the Will-o'-the-wisps.
   1" My payment must consist of fruits of the earth," re-
joined the Ferryman.
   "Fruits of the earth? We despise them: they are not
food for us."
   " But you shall not depart," replied the Ferryman, " till
you have given me three cauliflowers, three artichokes, and
three large onions."
  The Will-o'-the-wisps were in the act of running away,
with a laugh, when they felt themselves in some inexplicable
manner fixed to the earth: they had never experienced so
strange a sensation. They then promised to pay the demand
without delay, upon which the Ferryman released them, and
instantly pushed off with his boat.
   He was already far away, when they called after him,
 " Old man! listen: we have forgotten something impor-
 tant;" but he heard them not, and continued his course.
 When he had reached a point lower down, on the same side
 of the river, he came to some rocks which the water was
 unable to reach, and proceeded to bury the dangerous gold.
 Observing a deep cleft which opened between two rocks, he
 threw the gold into it, and returned to his dwelling. This
 cleft was 'inhabited by a beautiful green Dragon, who was
 awakened from her sleep by the sound of the falling money.
 At the very first appearance of the glittering pieces, she
 devoured them greedily, then searched about carefully in
 hopes of finding such other coins. as might have fallen acci-
 dentally amongst the briers, or between the fissures of the
 rocks.





THE RECREATIONS OF


  The Dragon immediately felt overpowered with the most
delightful sensations, and perceived with joy that she became
suddenly shining and transparent. She had been long aware
that this change was possible; but, entertaining some doubt
whether the brilliance would continue, she felt impelled by
curiosity to leave her dwelling, and ascertain, if possible, to
whom she was indebted for the beautiful gold. She found
no one; but she became lost in admiration of herself, and
of the brilliant light which illumined her path through the
thick underwood, and shed its rays over the surrounding
green. The leaves of the trees glittered like emeralds, and
the flowers shone with glorious hues. In vain did she pene-
trate the solitary wilderness; but'hope dawned when she
reached the plains, and observed at a distance a light resem-
bling her own. " Have I at last discovered my fellow? "
she exclaimed, and hastened to the spot. She found no
obstacle from bog or morass; for though the dry meadow
and the high rock were her dearest habitations, and though
she loved to feed upon the spicy root, and to quench her
thirst with the crystal dew, and with fresh water from the
spring, yet, for the sake of her beloved gold and of her glo-
rious light, she was willing to encounter every privation.
  Wearied and exhausted, she reached at length the confines
of a wide morass, where our two Will-o'-the-wisps were
amusing themselves in playing fantastic antics. She made
towards them, and, saluting them, expressed her delight at
being able to claim relationship with such charming person-
ages. The lights played around her, skipped from side to
side, and laughed about in their own peculiar fashion.
" Dear aunt! " they exclaimed, " what does it signify, even
though you are of horizontal form? we are related at least
through brilliancy. But look how well a tall, slender figure
becomes us gentry of the vertical shape;" and, so saying,
both the lights compressed their breadth together, and shot
up into a thin and pointed line. " Do not be offended, dear
friend," they continued; " but what family can boast of a
privilege like ours? Since the first Will-o'-the-wisp was
created, none of our race have ever been obliged to sit
down or to take repose."
  But all this time the feelings of the Dragon in the presence
of her relations were any thing but pleasant: for, exalt her
head as high as she would, she was compelled to stoop to
earth again when she wished to advance; and, though she
was proud of the brilliancy which she shed round her own


362





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


dark abode, she felt her light gradually diminish in the pres-
ence of her relatives, and began to fear that it might finally
be extinguished.
   In her perplexity she hastily inquired whether the gentle-
 men could inform her whence the shining gold had come,
 which had lately fallen into the cleft of the rocks hard by; as
 in her opinion it was a precious shower from heaven. The
 Will-o'-the-wisps immediately shook themselves (at the same
 time laughing loudly), and a deluge of gold pieces at once
 flowed around. The Dragon devoured them greedily. ' We
-hope you like them, dear aunt," shouted the shining Will-o'-
the-wisps; " we can supply you with any quantity:" and
they shook themselves with such copious effect, that the
Dragon found it difficult to swallow the bright dainties with
sufficient speed. Her brilliancy increased as the gold disap-
peared, till at length she shone with inconceivable radiance;
while in the same proportion the Will-o'-the-wisps grew thin
and tapering, without, however, losing the smallest iota of
their cheerful humor.
   "I am under eternal obligations to you," said the Dragon,
pausing to breathe from her voracious meal: " ask of me
what you please; I will give -you any thing you de-
mand."
   " A bargain !" answered the Will-o'-the-wisp: ' tell us,
then, wheie the beautiful Lily dwells. Lead us to her palace
and gardens without delay  we die of impatience to cast
ourselves at her feet."
   ' You ask a favor," replied the Dragon, with a deep sigh,
"which it is not in my power so quickly to bestow. The
beautiful Lily lives, unfortunately, on the opposite bank of
the river. We cannot cross over on this stormy night."
   " Cruel river, which separates us from the object of our
desires ! But cannot we call back the old Ferryman ? " said
they.
   " Your wish is vain,'" answered the Dragon: " for, even
were you to meet him on this bank, he would refuse to take
you; as, though he can convey passengers to this side of the
stream, lie can carry no one back."
   " Bad news, indeed! but are there no other means of
crossing the river?"
   " There are, but not at this moment: I myself can take
you over at mid-day."
   "That is an hour," replied the Will-o'-the-wisps, "when
we do not usually travel."


363





THE RECREATIONS OF


  " Then, you had better postpone your intention till evening,
when you may cross in the Giant's shadow."
   " How is that managed ? " they inquired.
   " The Giant," replied the Dragon, " who lives hard by, is
powerless with his body: his hands are incapable of raising
even a straw, his shoulders can bear no burden; but his
shadow accomplishes all for him. For this reason he is
most powerful at sunrise and at sunset. At the hour of
evening the Giant will approach the river softly; and, if you
place yourself upon his shadow, it will carry you over.
Meet me at mid-day, at the corner of the wood, where the
trees hang over the river, when I myself will take you across,
and introduce you to the beautiful Lily. Should you, how-
ever, shrink from the noonday heat, your only alternative
is to apply to the Giant, when evening casts its shadows
around; and he will no doubt prove obliging."
  With a graceful salutation the young gentlemen took their
leave I and the Dragon rejoiced at their departure, partly that
she might indulge her feelings of pleasure at her own light,
and partly that she might satisfy a curiosity by which she
had long been tormented.
  In the clefts of the rocks where she dwelt, she had lately
made a wonderful discovery; for, although she had been
obliged to crawl through these chasms in darkness, she had
learned to distinguish every object by feeling. The produc-
tions of Nature, which she was accustomed everywhere to
encounter, were all of an irregular kind. At one time she
wound her way amongst the points of enormous crystals, at
another she was for a moment impeded by the veins of solid
silver, and many were the precious stones which her light
discovered to her. But, to her great astonishment, she had
encountered in a rock, which was securely closed on all sides,
objects which betrayed the plastic hand of man. Smooth
walls, which she was unable to ascend; sharp, regular angles,
tapering columns; and, what was even more wonderful,
human figures, round which she had often entwined herself,
and which appeared to her to be formed of brass or of pol-
ished marble. She was now anxious to behold all these ob-
jects with her eyes, and to confirm, by her own observation,
what she had hitherto but suspected. She now thought
herself capable of illumining with her own light these won-
derful subterranean caverns, and indulged the hope of
becoming thoroughly acquainted with these astonishing
mysteries. She delayed not, and quickly found the opening


364





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


through which she was accustomed to penetrate into the
sanctuary.
  Arrived at the place, she looked round with wonder; and
though her brilliancy was unable to light the entire cavern,
yet many of the objects were sufficiently distinct. With
astonishment and awe, she raised her eyes to an illumined
niche, in which stood the statue of a venerable King, of pure
gold. In size the statue was colossal, but the figure was
rather that of a little than of a great man. His well-turned
limbs were covered with a simple robe, and his head was
encircled by an oaken garland.
  Scarcely had the Dragon beheld this venerable form, when
the King found utterance, and said, " How comest thou
hither ? "
  "Through the cleft," answered the Dragon, "in which
the gold abides."
  ' What is nobler than gold ? " asked the King.
  " Light," replied the Dragon.
  ' And what is more vivid than light?" continued the
Monarch.
  "Speech," said the Serpent.
  During this conversation the Dragon had looked stealthily
around, and observed another noble statue in an adjoining
niche. A silver King sat there enthroned, of figure tall and
slender : his limbs were enveloped in an embroidered mantle ;
his crown and sceptre were adorned with precious stones;
his countenance wore the serene dignity of pride; and lie
seemed about to speak, when a dark vein, which ran through
the marble of the wall, suddenly became brilliant, and cast a
soft light through the whole temple. This light discovered
a third King, whose mighty form was cast in brass : he leaned
upon a massive club, his head was crowned with laurels; and
his proportions resembled a rock rather than a human being.
  The Dragon felt a desire to approach a fourth King, who
'stood before her at a distance ; but the wall suddenly opened,
the illumined vein flashed like lightning, and became as sud-
denly extinguished.
  A man of middle stature now approached. He was clad
in the garb of a peasant: in his hand he bore a lamp, the
flame of which it was delightful to behold, and which light-
ened the entire dwelling, without leaving the trace of a
shadow.
  "Why dost thou come, since we have already light? "
asked the Golden King.


365





366


THE RECREATIONS OF


  "' You know that I can shed no ray on what is dark,'"
replied the old man.
  " Will my kingdom end? " inquired the Silver Monarch.
  " Late or never," answered the other.
  The Brazen King then asked, with voice of thunder,
" When shall I arise ? "
  ' Soon," was the reply.
  " With whom shall I be united ? " continued the former.
  "With thine elder brother," answered the latter.
  " And what will become of the youngest? "
  " He will repose."
  " I am not weary," interrupted the fourth King, with a
deep but faltering voice.
  During this conversation the Dragon had wound her way
softly through the temple, surveyed every thing which it con-
tained, and approached the niche in which the fourth King
stood. He leaned against a pillar, and his handsome coun-
tenance bore traces of melancholy. It was difficult to dis-
tinguish the metal of which the statue was composed. It
resembled a mixture of the three metals of which his brothers
were formed, but it seemed as if the materials had not
thoroughly blended; as the veins of gold and silver crossed
each other irregularly through the brazen mass, and destroyed
the effect of the whole.
  The Golden King now asked, " How many secrets dost
thou know?"
  " Three," was the reply.
  "And which is the most important? " inquired the Silver
King.
   " The revealed," answered the old man.
   " Wilt thou explain it to us ? " asked the Brazen King.
   " When I have learned the fourth," was the response.
   " I care not," murmured he of the strange compound.
   " I know the fourth," interrupted the Dragon, approach-
ing the old man, and whispering in his ear.
   " The time is come," exclaimed the latter, with tremendous
voice. The sounds echoed through the temple; the statues
rang again: and in the same instant the old man disappeared
towards the west, and the Dragon towards the east; and
both pierced instantly through the impediments of the rock.
   Every passage through which the old man bent his course
became immediately filled with gold ; for the lamp which he
carried possessed the won derful property of converting stones
into gold, wood into silver, and dead animals into jewels.





THE GER1MAN EMIGRANTS.


But, in order to produce this effect, it was necessary that no
other light should be near. In the presence of another
light the lamp merely emitted a soft illumination, which,
however, gave joy to every living thing.
  The old man returned to his hut on the brow of the hill,
and found his wife in the greatest sorrow. She was seated
at the fire, her eyes filled with tears; and she refused all
consolation.
  " What a misfortune," she exclaimed, " that I allowed
you to leave home to-day ! "
  " What has happened ? " answered the old man, very quietly
  " You were scarcely gone," replied she with sobs, " before
two rude travellers came. to the door: unfortunately I admit-
ted them; as they seemed good, worthy people. They were
attired like flames, and might have passed for Will-o'-the-
wisps; but they had scarcely entered the house before they
commenced their flatteries, and became at length so impor
tunate that I blush to recollect their conduct."
   " Well," said the old man, smiling, " the gentlemen were
only amusing themselves; and, at your age, you should have
considered it as the display of ordinary politeness."
   " My age !" rejoined the old woman. " Will you forever
remind me of my age? how old am I, then ? And ordinary
politeness ! But I can tell you something: look round at
the walls of our hut: you will now be able to see the old
stones, which have been concealed for more than a hundred
years. These visitors extracted all the gold more quickly
than I can tell you, and they assured me that it was of capital
flavor. When they had completely cleared the walls, they
grew cheerful; and, in a few minutes, their persons became
tall, broad, and shining. They thereupon again commenced
their tricks, and repeated their flatteries, calling me a queen.
They shook themselves, and immediately a profusion of gold
pieces fell on all sides. You may see some of them still
glittering on the floor; but a calamity soon occurred. Our
dog Mops swallowed some of them ; and, see ! he lies dead in
the chimney-corner. Poor animal! his death afflicts me. I
lid not observe it till they had departed, otherwise I should
not have promised to pay the Ferryman the debt they owed
him."
   " How much do they owe? " inquired the old man.
   "Three cauliflowers," answered his wife, "three arti-
chokes, and three onions. I have promised to take them to
the river at break of day."





THE RECREATIONS OF


  " You had better oblige them," said the old man, " and
they may perhaps serve us in time of need."
  "' I know not if they will keep their word," said she, " but
they promised and vowed to serve us."
  The fire had, in the mean time, died away ; but the old man
covered the cinders with ashes, put away the shining gold
pieces, and lighted his lamp afresh. In the glorious illumi-
nation the walls became covered with gold, and Mops was
transformed into the most beautiful onyx that was ever be-
held. The variety of color which glittered through the costly
gem produced a splendid effect.
  "< Take your basket," said the old man, " and place the
onyx in it. Then collect the three cauliflowers, the three
artichokes, and the three onions, lay them together, and
carry them to the river. The Dragon will bear you across at
mid-day: then visit the beautiful Lily; her touch will give
life to the onyx, as her touch gives death to every living
thing; and it will be to her an affectionate friend. Tell her
not to mourn; that her deliverance is nigh; that she must
consider a great misfortune as her greatest blessing, for the
time is come."
  The old woman prepared her basket, and set forth at break
of day. The rising sun shone brightly over the river, which
gleamed in the far distance.    The old woman journeyed
slowly on, for the weight of the basket oppressed her; but it
did not arise from the onyx.    Nothing lifeless proved a
burden; for, when the basket contained dead things, it rose
aloft, and floated over her head. But a fresh vegetable, or
the smallest living creature, induced fatigue. She had toiled
along for some distance, when she started, and suddenly stood
still; for she had nearly placed her foot upon the shadow of
the Giant, which was advancing towards her from the plain.
Her eye now perceived his monstrous bulk: he had justi
bathed in the river, and was coming out of the water. She
knew not how to avoid him. He saw her, saluted her jest-
ingly, and thrust the hand of his shadow into her basket.
With dexterity he stole a cauliflower, an artichoke, and an
onion, and raised them to his mouth. He then proceeded on
his course up the stream, and left the woman alone.
   She considered whether it would not be better to return, and
supply the missing vegetables from her own garden; and,
lost in these reflections, she went on her way until she ar-
rived at the bank of the river. She sat down, and awaited
for a long time the arrival of the Ferryman. He appeared


368





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


at length, having in his boat a traveller whose air was mys-
terious.  A handsome youth, of noble aspect, stepped on
shore.
  " What have you brought with you? " said the old man.
  " The vegetables," replied the woman, " which the Will-
o'-the-wisps owe you;" pointing to the contents of her
basket.
  But when he found that there were but two of each kind,
he became angry, and refused to take them.
  The woman implored him to relent, assuring him that she
could not then return home; as she had found her burden
heavy, and she had still a long way to go. But he was obsti-
nate, maintaining that the decision did not depend upon him.
  " I am obliged to collect my gains for nine hours," said
he, " and I can keep nothing for myself till I have paid a
third part to the river."
  At length, after much contention, he told her there was
still a remedy.
  " If you give security to the river, and acknowledge your
debt, I will take the six articles; though such a course is not
devoid of danger.
  " But, if I keep my word, I incur no risk," she said ear
nestly.
  "1Not the least," he replied. " Thrust your hand into the
river, and promise that within four and twenty hours you will
pay the debt."
  The old woman complied, but shuddered as' she observed
that her hand, on drawing it out of the water, had become
as black as a coal. She scolded angrily; exclaiming that
her hands had always been most beautiful, and that, not-
withstanding her hard work, she had ever kept them white
and delicate. She gazed at her hand with the greatest alarm,
and exclaimed, " This is still worse: it has shrunk, and is
already much smaller than the other! "
  " It only appears so now," said the Ferryman; "but, if
you break your word, it will be so in reality. Your hand will
in that case grow smaller, and finally disappear; though you
will still preserve the use of it."
   " I would rather," she replied, " lose it altogether, and that
my misfortune should be concealed. But no matter, I will
keep my word, to escape this black disgrace, and avoid so
much anxiety." Whereupon she took her basket, which rose
aloft, and floated freely over her head. She hastened after
the youth, who was walking thoughtfully along the bank.


869





670


THE RECREATIONS OF


His noble figure and peculiar attire had made a deep impres.
sion upon her mind.
  His breast was covered with a shining cuirass, whose trans-
parency permitted the motions of his graceful form to be
seen. From his shoulders hung a purple mantle, and his au-
burn locks waved in beautiful curls round his uncovered head.
His noble countenance and his well-turned feet were exposed
to the burning rays of the sun. Thus did he journey pa-
tiently over the hot sand, which, "true to one sorrow, he
trod without feeling."
  The garrulous old woman sought to engage him in conver-
sation; but he heeded her not, or answered briefly, until, not-
withstanding his beauty, she became weary, and took leave of
him, saying, "You are too slow for me, sir; and I cannot
lose my time, as I am anxious to cross the river, with the
assistance of the Green Dragon, and to present the beautiful
Lily with my husband's handsome present." So saying, she
left him speedily, upon which the youth took heart, and fol-
lowed her without delay.
  "You are going to the beautiful Lily!" he exclaimed:
" if so, our way lies together. What present are you taking
her ?"
  " Sir," answered the woman, " it is not fair that you
should so earnestly inquire after my secrets, when you paid so
little attention to my questions. But, if you will relate your
history to me, I will tell you all about my present."
  They made the bargain: the woman told her story, includ-
ing the account of the dog, and allowed him to view the.
beautiful onyx.
  He lifted the beautiful precious stone from the basket, and
took Mops, who seemed to slumber softly, in his arms.
   " Fortunate animal ! " he exclaimed : " you will be touched
by her soft hands, and restored to life, in place of fleeing
from her contact, like all other living things, to escape an
evil doom. But, alas ! what words are these? Is it not a
sadder and more fearful fate to be annihilated by her pres-
ence than to die by her hand? Behold me, thus young, what
a melancholy destiny is mine! This armor, which I have
borne with glory in the battle-broil; this purple, which I have
earned by the wisdom of my government, - have been con-
verted by Fate, the one into an unceasing burden, the other
into an empty honor. Crown, sceptre, and sword are worth-
less. I am now as naked and destitute as every other son of
clay. For such is the spell of her beautiful blue eyes, that





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


they waste the vigor of every living creature; and those
whom the contact of her hand does not destroy are reduced
to the condition of breathing shadows."
   Thus he lamented long, but without satisfying the curiosity
 of the old woman, who sought information respecting both
 his mental and his bodily sufferings. She learned neither
 the name of his father nor his kingdom. He stroked' the
 rigid Mops, to whom the beams of, the sun and the caresses
 of the youth had imparted warmth. He inquired earnestly
 about the man with the lamp, about the effect of the myste-
 rious light, and seemed to expect thence great relief from his
 deep sorrow.
   So discoursing, they observed at a distance the majestic
 arch of the bridge, which stretched from one bank of the
 river to the other, and shone splendidly in the beams of the
 sun. Both were astonished at the sight, as they had never
 before seen it so resplendent.
   " What ! " cried the Prince, "was it not sufficiently beau-
 tiful before, with its decorations of jasper and opal? Can
 we now dare to pass over it, constructed as it is of emerald
 and chrysolite of varied beauty? "
   Neither had any idea of the change which the Dragon
 had undergone; for in truth it was the Dragon, whose cus-
 tom it was at mid-day to arch her form across the stream,
 and assume the. appearance of a beauteous bridge, which
 travellers crossed with silent reverence.
   Scarcely had they reached the opposite bank, when the
 bridge began to sway from side to side, and gradually sank
 to the level of the water; while the Green Dragon assumed
 her accustomed shape, and followed the travellers to the
 shore. The latter thanked her for her condescension in
 allowing them a passage across the stream ; observing, at the
 same time, that there were evidently more persons present
 than were actually visible. They heard a light whispering,
 which the Dragon answered with a similar sound. They
-listened, and heard the following words: "We will first
make our observations unperceived in the park of the beau-
tiful Lily, ana look for you, when the shadows of evening
fall, to introduce us to such perfect beauty. You will find us
on the bank of the great lake."
   "Agreed," answered the Dragon; and a hissing sound
 died away in the air.
   Our three travellers further consulted with what regard to
 precedence they should appear before the beautiful Lily;


371





THE RECREATIONS OF


for, let her visitors be never so numerous, they must enter
and depart singly if they wished to escape bitter suffer-
ing.
  The woman, carrying in the basket the transformed dog,
came first to the garden, and sought an interview with her
benefactress. She was easily found, as she was then sing-
ing' to the accompaniment of her harp. The sweet tones
showed themselves first in the form of circles upon the
bosom of the calm lake; and then, like a soft breeze, they
imparted motion to the grass and to the tremulous leaves.
She was seated in a secluded nook beneath the shade of
trees, and at the first glance enchanted the eyes, the ear,
and the heart of the old woman, who advanced towards her
with rapture, and protested that since their last meeting she
had become more beautiful than ever. Even from a distance
she saluted the charming maiden in these words: " What
joy to be in your presence ! What a heaven surrounds you !
What a spell proceeds from your lyre, which, encircled by
your soft arms, and influenced by the pressure of your
gentle bosom and slender fingers, utters such entrancing
melody ! Thrice happy the blessed youth who could claim
so great a favor ! "
  So saying, she approached nearer. The beautiful Lily
raised her eyes, let her hands drop, and said, " Do not
distress me with your untimely praise: it makes me feel
even more unhappy. And see ! here is my beautiful canary
dead at my 'feet, which used to accompany my songs so
sweetly: he was accustomed to sit upon my harp, and was
carefully instructed to avoid my touch. This morning, when,
refreshed by sleep, I tuned a pleasant melody, the little war-
bler sang with increased harmony, when suddenly a hawk
soared above us. My little bird sought refuge in my bosom,
and at that instant I felt the last gasp of his expiring
breath. It is true that the hawk, struck by my instanta-
neous glance, fell lifeless into the stream; but what avails
this penalty to me?-my darling is dead, and his grave
will but add to the number of the weeping willows in my
garden."
  " Take courage, beautiful Lily," interrupted the old woman,
whilst at the same moment she wiped away a tear which the
narration of the sorrowful maiden had brought to her eye, -
"take courage, and learn from my experience to moderate
your grief.  Great misfortune is often the harbinger of
intense joy. For the time approaches: but in truth," con-


372





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


tinued she, " 'the web of life is of a mingled yarn.' See
my hand, how black it has grown; and, in truth, it has
become much diminished in size: I must be speedy, before
it be reduced to nothing. Why did I promise favors to the
Will-o'-the-wisps, or meet the Giant, or dip my hand into
the river? Can you oblige me with a cauliflower, an arti-
choke, or an onion? I shall take them to the river, and
then my hand will become so white that it will almost equal
the lustre of your own."
  "Cauliflowers and onions abound, but artichokes cannot
be procured. My garden produces neither flowers nor fruit;
but every twig I plant upon the grave of any thing I love
bursts into leaf at once, and grows a goodly tree. Thus,
beneath my eye, alas! have grown these clustering trees
and copses. These tall pines, these shadowing cypresses,
these mighty oaks, these overhanging beeches, were once
small twigs planted by my hand, as sad memorials, in an
ungenial soil."
  The old woman paid but little attention to this speech, but
was employed in watching her hand, which in the presence
of the beautiful Lily became every instant of a darker hue,
and grew gradually less. She was about to take her basket
and depart, when she felt that she had forgotten the most
important of her duties. She took the transformed dog in
her arms, and laid him upon the grass, not far from the
beautiful Lily. " My husband," she said, " sends you this
present. You know that your touch can impart life to this
precious stone. The good and faithful animal will be a joy
to you, and the grief his loss causes me will be alleviated by
the thought that he is yours."
  The beautiful Lily looked at the pretty creature with de-
light, and rapture beamed from her eyes. " Many things
combine to inspire me with hope; but, alas ! is it not a delus-
ion of our nature to expect that joy is near when grief is
at the worst?"

    " Ah ! what avail these omens all so fair ?
      My sweet bird's death, my friend's hands blackly dyed,
      And Mops transformed into a jewel rare,
      Sent by the Lamp our faltering steps to guide.

      Far from mankind and every joy I prize,
      To grief and sorrow I am still allied:
      When from the river will the temple rise ?
      When will the bridge span it from side to side ? "


373





THE RECREATIONS OF


  The old woman waited with impatience for the conclusion
of the song, which the beautiful Lily had accompanied with
her harp, entrancing the ears of every listener. She was
about to say farewell, when the arrival of the Dragon com-
pelled her to remain. She had heard the last words of the
song, and on this account spoke words of encouragement
to the beautiful Lily. 1" The prophecy of the bridge is ful-
filled ! " she exclaimed: " this good woman will bear witness
how splendidly the arch now appears. Formerly of untrans-
parent jasper, which only reflected the light upon the sides,
it is now converted into precious jewels of transparent hue.
No beryl is so bright, and no emerald so splendid."
  " I congratulate you thereupon," said the Lily, " but par-
don me if I doubt whether the prediction is fulfilled. Only
foot-passengers can as yet cross the arch of your bridge;
and it has been foretold that horses and carriages, travellers
of all descriptions, shall pass and repass in mingled multi-
tudes. Is prediction silent with respect to the mighty pillars
which are to ascend from the river ?"
  The old woman, whose eyes were fixed immovably upon
her hand, interrupted this speech, and bade farewell.
  "Wait for one moment," said the beautiful Lily, "and
take my poor caliary-bird with you. Implore the Lamp to
convert him into a topaz; and I will then re-animate him
with my touch, and he and your good Mops will then be my
greatest consolation. But make what speed you can; for
with sunset decay will have commenced its.withering influ-
ence, marring the beauty of its delicate form."
  The old woman enveloped the little corpse in some soft
young leaves, placed it in the basket, and hastened from the
spot.
  " Notwithstanding what you say," continued the Dragon,
resuming the interrupted conversation, " the temple is built."
  " But it does not yet stand upon the river," replied the
beautiful Lily.
  " It rests still in the bowels of the earth," continued the
Dragon. " I have seen the Kings, and spoken to them."
  " And when will they awake? " inquired the Lily.
  The Dragon answered, " I heard the mighty voice resound
through the temple, announcing that the hour was come."
  A ray of joy beamed from the countenance of the beauti.
ful Lily as she exclaimed, " Do I hear those words for the
second time to-day ? When will the hour arrive in which I
shall hear them for the third time ? "


874





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


375


   She rose, and immediately a beautiful maiden came from
the wood, and relieved her of her harp. She was followed
by another, who took the ivory chair upon which the beauti-
ful Lily had been seated, folded it together, and carried it
away, together with the silver-tissued cushion. The third
maiden, who bore in her hand a fan inlaid with pearls, ap-
proached to tender her services if they should be needed.
These three maidens were lovely beyond description, though
they were compelled to acknowledge that their charms fell
far short of those of their beautiful mistress.
  The beautiful Lily had, in the mean time, surveyed the
marvellous Mops with a look of pleasure. She leaned over
him, and touched him. He instantly leaped up, looked round
joyously, bounded with delight, hastened to his benefactress,
and caressed her tenderly. She took him in her arms, and
pressed him to her bosom. " Cold though thou art," she
said, " and endued with only half a life, yet art thou wel-
come to me. I will love thee fondly, play with thee sportively,
kiss thee softly, and press thee to my heart." She let him
go a little from her, called him back, chased him away again,
and played with him so joyously and innocently, that no one
could help sympathizing in her delight and taking part in her
pleasure, as they had before shared .her sorrow and her woe.
  But this happiness and this pleasant pastime were inter-
rupted by the arrival of the melancholy youth. His walk
and appearance were as we have before described; but he
seemed overcome by the heat of the day, and the presence
of his beloved had rendered him perceptibly paler. He bore
the hawk upon his wrist, where it sat with drooping wing as
tranquil as a dove.
   " It is not well," exclaimed the Lily, " that you should vex
my eyes with that odious bird, which has only this day mur-
dered my little favorite."
   "Blame not the luckless bird," exclaimed the youth:
" rather condemn yourself and fate, and let me find an asso-
ciate in this companion of my grief."
  Mops, in the mean time, was incessant in his caresses; and
the Lily fesponded to his affection with the most gentle tokens
of love. She clapped her hands to drive him away, and then
sportively pursued to win him back. She caught him in her
arms as he tried to escape, and chased him from her when he
sought to nestle in her lap. The youth looked on in silence
and in sorrow; but when at length she took him in her arms,
and pressed him to her snowy breast, and kissed him with





TILE RECREATIONS OF


her heavenly lips, he lost all patience, and exclaimed in the
depth of his despair, "And must I, whom a sad destiny
compels to live in your presence, and yet to be separated
from you, perhaps forever, --must I, who for you have
forfeited every thing, even my own being, - must I look on
and behold this ' defect of nature' gain your notice, win
your love, and enjoy the paradise of your embrace? Must I
continue to wander and measure my solitary way along the
banks of this stream? No ! a spark of my former spirit still
burns within my bosom.     Oh that it would for the last
time mount into a flame! If stones may repose within
your bosom, then let me be converted to a stone; and,
if your touch can kill, I am content to receive my death
at your hands."
  He became violently excited; the hawk flew from     his
wrist; he rushed towards the beautiful Lily; she extended
her arms to forbid his approach, and touched him undesign-
edly. His consciousness immediately forsook him, and with
dismay she felt the beautiful burden lean for support upon
her breast. She started back with a scream, and the fair
youth sank lifeless from her arms to the earth.
  The deed was done. The sweet Lily stood motionless, and
gazed intently on the breathless corpse. Her heart ceased
to beat, and. her eyes were bedewed with tears. In vain did
Mops seek to win her attention: the whole world had died
out with her lost friend. Her dumb despair sought no help,
for help was now in vain.
  But the Dragon became immediately more active. Her
mind seemed occupied with thoughts of rescue; and, in truth,
her mysterious movements prevented the immediate conse-
quence of this dire misfortune. She wound her serpentine
form in a wide circle round the spot where the body lay,
seized the end of her tail between her teeth, and remained
motionless.
  In a few moments one of the servants of the beautiful Lily
approached, carrying the ivory chair, and with friendly en-
treaties compelled her mistress to be seated. Then came a
second, bearing a flame-colored veil, with which she rather
adorned than covered the head of the Lily. A third maiden
offered her the harp; and scarcely had she struck the chords,
and awakened their delicious tones, when the first maiden
returned, having in her hands a circular mirror of lustrous
brightness, placed herself opposite the Lily, intercepted her
looks, and reflected the most enchanting countenance which





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


nature could fashion. Her sorrow added lustre to her beauty,
the veil heightened her charms, the harp lent her a new
grace; and, though it was impossible not to hope that her sad
fate might soon undergo a change, one could almost wish
that that lovely and enchanting vision might last for-
ever.
   Silently gazing upon the mirror, she drew melting tones of
music from her harp; but her sorrow appeared to increase,
and the chords responded to her melancholy mood. Once
or twice she opened her lips to sing, but her voice refused
utterance; whereupon her grief found refuge in tears. Her
two attendants supported her in their arms, and the harp fell
from her hands; but the watchful attention of her handmaid
caught it, and laid it aside.
   " Who will fetch the man with the lamp ? " whispered the
Dragon in low but audible voice. The maidens looked at
each other, and the Lily's tears fell faster.
  At this instant the old woman with the basket returned
breathless with agitation. " I am lost and crippled for life ! "
she exclaimed.  " Look! my hand is nearly withered.
Neither the Ferryman nor the Giant would set me across the
river, because I am indebted to the stream. In vain did I
tempt them with a hundred cauliflowers and a hundred
onions: they insist upon the stipulated three, and not an
artichoke can be found in this neighborhood."
   " Forget your distress," said the Dragon, " and give your
assistance here: perhaps you will be relieved at the same
time. Hasten, and find out the Will-o'-the-wisps ; for, though
you cannot see them by daylight, you may, perhaps, hear
their laughter and their motions. If you make good speed,
the Giant may yet transport you across the river, and you
may find the man with the lamp and send him hither."
  The old woman made as much haste as possible, and the
Dragon showed as much impatience for her return as the Lily.
But, sad to say, the golden rays of the setting sun were shed-
ding their last beams upon the highest tops of the trees, and
lengthening the mountain shadows over lake and meadow.
The motions of the Dragon showed increased impatience, and
the Lily was dissolved in tears.
  In this moment of distress the Dragon looked anxiously
round: she feared every instant that the sun would set, and
that decay would penetrate within the magic circle, and exert
its fell influence upon the corpse of the beautiful youth. She
looked into the heavens, and caught sight of tbo nurple wings


377





THE- RECREATIONS OF


and breast of the hawk, which were illumined by the last
rays of the sun. Her restlessness betrayed her joy at the
good omen; and she was not deceived, for instantly after-
wards she saw the man with the lamp sliding across the lake
as if he had skates on his feet.
  The Dragon did not alter her position ; but the Lily, rising
from her seat, exclaimed, " What good spirit has sent you
thus opportunely when you are so much longed for and re-
quired ? "
  " The Spirit of my Lamp impels me," replied the old man,
" and the hawk conducts me hither. The lamp flickers when
I am needed; and I immediately look to the heavens for a
sign, when some bird or meteor points the way I should go.
Be tranquil, beautiful maiden: I know not if I can help you;
one alone can do but little, but he can avail who in the proper
hour unites his strength with others. We must wait and
hope."   Then turning to the Dragon, he said, " Keep your
circle closed;" and, seating himself upon a hillock at his
side, he shed a light upon the corpse of the youth. " Now
bring the little canary-bird," he continued, 1" and lay it also
within the circle."
  The maiden took the little creature from the basket, and
followed the directions of the old man.
  The sun had set in the mean time; and, as the shades of
evening closed around, not only the Dragon and the Lamp
cast their customary light, but the veil of the Lily was illu-
mined with a soft brilliancy, and caused her pale cheeks and
her white robe to beam like the dawn of morning, and
clothed her with inexpressible grace. They gazed at each
other with silent emotions : anxiety and sorrow were softened
by hope of approaching happiness.
  To the delight of all, the old woman appeared with the
lively Will-o'-the-wisps, who must have led a prodigal life of
late, for they looked wonderfully thin, but behaved all the
more politely to the princess and the other young ladies.
With an air of confidence, and much force of expression,
they discpursed upon ordinary topics, and were much struck
by the charm which the shining veil shed over the beautiful
Lily and her companions. The young ladies cast down their
eyes with modest looks, and their beauty was heightened by
the praise it called forth. Every one was happy and con-
tented, not excepting even the old woman. Notwithstand-
ing the assurance of her husband that her hand would not
continue to wither whilst the Lamp shone upon it, she con-


878





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


tinued to assert, that, if things went on thus, it would dis-
appear entirely before midnight.
   The old man with the lamp had listened attentively to the
 speech of the Will-o'-the-wisps, and was charmed to observe
that the beautiful Lily was pleased and flattered with their
compliments. Midnight had actually come before they were
aware. The old man looked up to the stars, and spoke thus :
" We are met at a fortunate hour: let each fulfil his office,
let each discharge his duty ; and a general happiness will alle-
viate one individual trouble, as a universal sorrow destroys
particular joys."
   After these observations a mysterious murmur arose; for
 every one present spoke for himself, and mentioned what he
 had to do: the three maidens alone were silent. One had
 fallen asleep near the harp, the other beside the fan, and the
 third leaning against the ivory chair: and no one could blame
 them; for, in truth, it was late. The Will-o'-the-wisps,
 after paying some trivial compliments to the other ladies,
 including even the attendants, attached themselves finally to
 the Lily, by whose beauty they were attracted.
   " Take the mirror," said the old man to the hawk, " and
illumine the fair sleepers with the first beams of the sun, and
rouse them from their slumbers by the light reflected from
heaven."
   The Dragon now began to move: she broke up the circle,
and in long windings moved slowly to the river. The Will-
o'-the-wisps followed her in solemn procession, and they
might have been mistaken for the most serious personages.
The old woman and her husband took up the basket, the soft
light of which had hitherto been scarcely observed; but it
now became clearer and more brilliant. They laid the body
of the youth within it, with the canary-bird reposing upon his
breast, upon which the basket raised itself into the air, and
floated over the head of the old woman; and she followed
the steps of the Will-o'-the-wisps. The beautiful Lily, taking
Mops in her arms, walked after the old woman; and the
man with the lamp closed the procession.
   The whole neighborhood was brilliantly illuminated with
all these various lights. They all observed with astonish-
ment, on approaching the river, that it was spanned by a
majestic arch, whereby the benevolent Dragon had prepared
them a lustrous passage across. The transparent jewels of
which the bridge was composed were objects of no less aston-
ishment by day than was their wondrous brilliancy by night.


379





THE RECREATIONS OF


The clear arch above cut sharply against the dark sky; whilst
vivid rays of light beneath shone against the key-stone,
revealing the firm pliability of the structure. The procession
moved slowly over; and the Ferryman, who witnessed the
proceeding from his hut, surveyed the brilliant arch with
awe, no less than the wondrous lights as they journeyed
across it.
  As soon as they had reached the opposite bank, the bridge
began to contract as usual, and sink to the surface of the
water. The Dragon made her way to the shore, and the
basket descended to the ground. The Dragon now once more
assumed a circular shape; and the old man, bowing before
her, asked what she had determined to do.
  "To sacrifice myself before I am made a sacrifice: only
promise me that you will leave no stone on the land."
  The old man promised, and then addressed the beautiful
Lily thus: " Touch the Dragon with your left hand, and
your lover with your right."
  The beautiful Lily knelt down, and laid her hands upon
the Dragon and the corpse. In an instant the latter became
endued with life: he moved, and then sat upright. The
Lily wished to embrace him; but the old man held her back,
and assisted the youth whilst he led him beyond the limits of
the circle.
  The youth stood erect, the little canary fluttered upon his
shoulder, but his mind was not yet restored. His eyes were
open; but he saw, at least he appeared to look on, every
thing with indifference. Scarcely was the wonder at this cir-
cumstance appeased, when the change which the Dragon had
undergone excited attention. Her beautiful and slender form
was converted into thousands and thousands of precious
stones. The old woman, in the effort to seize her basket,
had struck unintentionally against her, after which nothing
more was seen of the figure of the Dragon. Only a heap of
brilliant jewels lay in the grass. The old man immediately
set to work to collect them into his basket, a task in which he
was assisted by his wife. They both then carried the basket
to an elevated spot on the bank, when he cast the entire con-
tents into the stream, not, however, without the opposition of
his wife and of the beautiful Lily, who would willingly have
appropriated a portion of the treasure to themselves. The
jewels gleamed in the rippling waters like brilliant stars, and
were carried away by the stream; and none can say whether
they disappeared in the distance or sank to the bottom.


380





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


  ' Young gentlemen," then said the old man respectfully
to the Will-o'-the-wisps, " I will now point out your path,
and lead the way; and you will render us the greatest service
by opening the doors of the temple through which we must
enter, and which you alone can unlock."
  The Will-o'-the-wisps bowed politely, and took their post
in the rear. The man with the lamp advanced first into the
rocks, which opened of their own accord; the youth followed
with apparent indifference; with silent uncertainty the beau-
tiful Lily lingered slowly behind; the old woman, unwilling
to be left alone, followed after, stretching out her hand that
it might receive the rays of her husband's lamp; the proces-
sion was closed by the Will-o'-the-wisps, and their bright
flames nodded and blended with each other as if they were
engaged in active conversation. They had not gone far be-
fore they came to a large brazen gate which was fastened by
a golden lock. The old man thereupon sought the assistance
of the Will-o'-the-wisps, who did not want to be entreated,
but at once introduced their pointed flames into the lock, when
the wards yielded to their influence. The brass resounded
as the doors flew wide asunder, and displayed the venerable
statues of the kings illuminated by the advancing lights.
Each individual in turn bowed to the reverend potentateg
with. respect, and the Will-o'-the-wisps were prodigal of
their lambent salutations.
  After a short pause the Golden King asked, " Whence do
you come ? "
  " From the world," answered the old man.
  "And whither are you going ?" inquired the Silver King.
  " Back to the world,' was the answer.
  " And what do you wish with us?" asked the Brazen
King.
  " To accompany you," responded the old man.
  The fourth king was habout to speak, when the golden statue
thus addressed the Will-o'-the-wisps, who had advanced
towards him: "Depart from me. My gold is not for
you. "
  They then turned towards the Silver King, and his apparel
assumed the golden hue of their yellow flames. " You are
welcome," he said, "' but I cannot feed you. Satisfy your-
selves elsewhere, and then bring me your light."
  They departed; and, stealing unobserved past the Brazen
King, they attached themselves to the King composed of
various metals.


381





THE RECREATIONS OF


  " Who will rule the world?" inquired the latter in inal
ticulate tones.
  "He who stands erect," answered the old man.
  "That is I," replied the King.
  'Then it will be revealed," said the old man, " for the
time is come."
  The beautiful Lily fell upon his neck, and kissed him
tenderly. " Kind father," she said, " a thousand thanks for
allowing me to hear this comforting word for the third time :"
and, so saying, she felt compelled to grasp the old man's arm ;
for the earth began to tremble beneath them: the old woman
and the youth clung to each other, whilst the pliant Will-o'-
the-wisps felt not the slightest inconvenience.
  It was evident that the whole temple was in motion; and,
like a ship which pursues its quiet way from the harbor when
the anchor is raised, the depths of the earth seemed to open
before it, whilst it clove its way through. It encountered no
obstacle, no rock opposed its progress. Presently a very fine
rain penetrated through the cupola. The old man continued
to support the beautiful Lily, and whispered, " We are now
under the river, and shall soon attain the goal."  Presently
they thought the motion ceased; but they were deceived, the
temple still moved onwards. A strange sound was now
heard above them: beams and broken rafters burst in dis-
jointed fragments though the' opening of the cupola. The
Lily and the old woman retreated in alarm: the man with
the lamp stood by the youth, and encouraged him to remain.
The Ferryman's little hut had been ploughed from the ground
by the advance of the temple, and, in its gradual fall, buried
the youth and the old man.
_The women screamed in alarm, and the temple shook like
a vessel which strikes upon a hidden rock. Anxiously the
women wandered round the hut in darkness: the doors were
shut, and no one answered their knocking. They continued
to knock more loudly, when at last the wood began to ring
with sounds: the magic power of the lamp, which was en-
closed within the hut, changed it into silver, and presently its
very form was altered; for the noble metal, refusing to assume
the form 'of planks, posts, and rafters, was converted into a
glorious building of artistic workmanship: it seemed as if
a smaller temple had grown up within the large one, or at
least an altar worthy of its beauty.
  The noble youth ascended a staircase in the interior, whilst
the man with the lamp shed light upon his way; and another


382





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


figure lent him support, clad in a short white garment, and
holding in his hand a silver rudder: it was easy to recognize
the Ferryman, the former inhabitant of the transformed
hut.
   The beautiful Lily ascended the outward steps which led
 from the temple to the altar, but was compelled to remain
 separated from her lover. The old woman, whose hand con-
 tinued to grow smaller whilst the light of the lamp was ob-
 scured, exclaimed, ' Am I -still doomed to be unhappy amid
 so many miracles ? will no miracle restore my hand? "
   Her husband pointed to the open door, exclaiming, " See,
the day dawns ! hasten, and bathe in the river ! "
   " What advice ! " she answered: " shall I not become
wholly black, and dissolve into nothing? for I have not yet
discharged my debt."
   " Be silent," said the old man, " and follow me : all debts
 are wiped away."
   The old woman obeyed, and in the same instant the light
 of the rising sun shone upon the circle of the cupola. Then
 the old man, advancing between the youth and the maiden,
 exclaimed with a loud voice, "Three things have sway upon
 the earth, - Wisdom, Appearance, and Power.''
   At the sound of the first word the Golden King arose; at
 the sound of the second, the Silver King; and the Brazen
 King had risen at the sound of the third, when the fourth
 suddenly sunk awkwardly to the earth. The Will-o'-the-
 wisps, who had been busily employed upon him till this
 moment, now retreated: though paled by the light of the
 morning, they seemed in good condition, and sufficiently bril-
,liant; for they had with much dexterity extracted the gold
from the veins of the colossal statue with their sharp-pointed
tongues. The irregular spaces which were thus displayed
remained for some time exposed, and the figure preserved its
previous form; but when at length the most secret veins of
gold had been extracted, the statue suddenly fell with a crash,
and formed a mass of shapeless ruins.
   The man with the lamp conducted the youth, whose eye
 was still 'fixed .upon vacancy, from the altar towards the
 Brazen King. At the foot of the mighty monarch lay a
 sword in a brazen sheath. The youth bound it to his side.
 " Take the weapon in your left hand, and keep the right
 hand free," exclaimed the King.
   They then advanced to the Silver Monarch, who bent his
 sceptre towards the youth; the latter seized it with his left


38





THE RECREATIONS OF


hand: and the King addressed him in soft accents, " Feed my
sheep."
  When they reached the statue of the Golden King, with
paternal benediction the latter pressed the oaken garland on
the head of the youth, and said, "Acknowledge the high-
est."
  The old man had, during this proceeding, watched the youth
attentively. After he had girded on the sword, his breast
heaved, his arm was firmer, and his step more erect; and,
after he had touched the sceptre, his sense of power appeared
to soften, and at the same time, by an inexpressible charm,
to become more mighty; but, when his waving locks were
adorned with the oaken garland, his countenance became ani-
mated, his soul beamed from his eye; and the first word he
uttered was " Lily ! "
   " Dear Lily ! " he exclaimed, as he hastened to ascend the
silver stairs, for she had observed his progress from the altar
where she stood, - " dear Lily, what can man desire more
blessed than the innocence and the sweet affection which your
love brings me? O my friend!" he continued, turning to
the old man, and pointing to the three sacred statues, "se-
cure and glorious is the kingdom of our fathers ; but you have
forgotten to enumerate that fourth power, which exercises an
earlier, more universal, and certain rule over the world, - the
power of love."
  With these words he flung his arms round the neck of the
beautiful maiden : she had cast aside her veil, and her cheeks
were tinged with a blush of the sweetest and most inexpressi-
ble beauty.
  The old man now observed, with a smile, " Love does not
rule, but controls; and that is better."
  During all this delight and enchantment, no one had ob-
served that the sun was now high in heaven ; and through the
open gates of the temple most unexpected objects were per-
ceived. An empty space, of large dimensions, was surrounded
by pillars, and terminated by a long and splendid bridge,
whose many arches stretched across the river. On each side
was a footpath, wide and convenient for passengers, of whom
many thousands were busily employed in crossing over: the
wide road in the centre was crowded with flocks and herds,
and horsemen and carriages; and all streamed over without
impeding each other's progress. All were in raptures at the
union of convenience and beauty; and the new king and his
spouse were as much charmed with the animation and activity


~84





THE GERMAN EMIGRANTS.


of this great concourse as they were with their own recipro-
cal love.
   " Honor the Dragon," said the man with the lamp : " to
her you are indebted for life, and your people for the bridge
whereby these neighboring shores are animated and con-
nected. Those shining precious stones which still float by
are the remains of her self-sacrifice, and form the foundation-
stones of this glorious bridge, upon which she has erected
herself to subsist forever."
  The approach of four beautiful maidens, who advanced to
the door of the temple, prevented any inquiry into this won-
derful mystery. Three of them were recognized as the
attendants of the beautiful Lily, by the harp, the fan, and
the ivory chair; but the fourth, though more beautiful than
the other three, was a stranger. She, however, played with the
others with sisterly sportiveness, ran with them through the
temple, and ascended the silver stairs.
  " Thou dearest of creatures ! " said the man with the lamp,
addressing the beautiful Lily, " you will surely believe me
for the future. Happy for thee, and every other creature,
who shall bathe this morning in the waters of the river ! "
  The old woman, who had been transformed into a beautiful
young girl, and of whose former appearance no trace remained,
embraced the man with the lamp with tender caresses, which
he returned with affection.
  I If I am too old for you," he said with a smile, " you
may to-day select another bridegroom; for no tie can hence-
torth be considered binding which is not this day renewed."
  "LBut are you not aware that you also have become
young? " she inquired.
  "' I am delighted to hear it," he replied. " If I appear to
you to be a gallant youth, I take your hand anew, and hope
for a thousand years of happiness."
  The Queen welcomed her new friend, and advanced with
her and the rest of her companions to the altar: whilst the
King, supported by the two men, pointed to the bridge, and
surveyed with wonder the crowd of passengers; but his joy
was soon overshadowed by observing an object which gave
him pain. The Giant, who had just awakened from his
morning sleep, stumbled over the bridge, and gave rise to
the greatest confusion. He was, as usual, but half awake,
and had risen with the intention of bathing in the neighboring
cove; but he stumbled instead upon firm land, and found
himself feeling his way upon the broad highway of the bridge.


385





THE RECREATIONS OF


And, whilst he went clumsily along in the midst of men and
animals, his presence, though a matter of astonishment to all,
was felt by none ; but when the sun shone in his eyes, and he
raised his hand to shade them, the shadow of his enormous
fist fell amongst the crowd with such careless violence, that
both men and animals huddled together in promiscuous con-
fusion, and either sustained personal injury, or ran the risk
of being driven into the water.
  The King, observing this calamity, with an involuntary
movement placed his hand upon his sword, but, upon reflec-
tion, turned his eyes on his sceptre, and then on the lamp
and the rudder of his companions.
  " I guess your thought," said the man with the lamp," but
we are powerless against this monster: be tranquil; he in-
jures for the last time, and happily his shadow is turned
from us."
  In the mean time the Giant had approached, and, over-
powered with astonishment at what he saw, let his hands
sink down: he became powerless for injury, and; gazing with
surprise, entered the court-yard.
  He was moving straight towards the door of the temple,
when he felt himself suddenly held fast to the earth. He
stood like a colossal pillar constructed of red, shining stones;
and his shadow indicated the hours, which were marked in a
circle on the ground, not, however, in figures, but in noble
and significant effigies.
  The King was not a little delighted to see the shadow of
the monster rendered harmless; and the Queen was not less
astonished, as she advanced from the altar with her maidens,
all adorned with the greatest magnificence, to observe the
strange wonder which almost covered the whole prospect from
the temple to the bridge.
  In the mean time the people had crowded after the Giant,
and, surrounding him as he stood still, had observed his trans-
formation with the utmost awe. They thence bent their steps
towards the temple, of the existence of which they now
seemed to be for the first time aware, and thronged the
doorways:
  The hawk was now observed aloft, towering over the build-
ing, and carrying the mirror, with which he caught the light
of the sun, and turned the rays upon the multifarious group
which stood around the altar. The King, the Queen, and
their attendants, illumined by heavenly light, appeared be-
aeath the dim arches of the temple: their subjects fell pros-


86





              THE GERMAN E1IGRANTS.                   A87

trate before them. When they had recovered, and risen
again, the King and his attendants had descended to the
altar, in order to reach his palace by a less obstructed path;
and the people dispersed through the temple to satisfy their
curiosity. They beheld with astonishment the three kings,
who stood erect, and were all the more anxious to know what
could be concealed behind the curtain in the fourth niche;
since, whatever kindness might have prompted the deed, a
thoughtful discretion had extended a costly covering over the
ruins of the fallen king, which no eye cared to penetrate,
and no profane hand dared to uplift.
  There was no end to the astonishment and wonder of the
people, and the dense throng would have been crushed in
the temple if their attention had not been attracted once more
to the court without.
  To their great surprise, a shower of gold pieces fell as if
from the air, resounding upon the marble pavement, and
caused a contest and commotion amongst the passers-by.
Several times this wonder was repeated in different places, at
some distance from each other. It is not difficult to infer
that this feat was the work of the retreating Will-o'-the-
wisps, who, having extracted the gold from the limbs of the
mutilated King, dispersed it abroad in this joyous manner.
The covetous crowd continued their contentions for some
time longer, pressing hither and thither, and inflicting wounds
upon each other, till the shower of gold pieces ceased to fall.
The multitude at length dispersed gradually, each'one pur-
suing his own course; and the bridge, to this day, continues
to swarm with travellers; and the temple is the most fre-
quented in the world.










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Harold. By Bulwer-Lytton.
Harry   Lorrequer. By Charles
   Lever.
Heir of Redclyffe. By Charlotte
   M. Yonge.
Henry Esfhond. By William M.
   Thackeray.
Her Dearest Foe. By Mrs. Alex-
   ander.
Heriot's Choice. By Rosa N. Carey.

Heroes and Hero Worship. By
   Thomas Carlyle.
History of Pendennis. By Will-
   iam M. Thackeray.
House of the Seven Gables. By
   Nathaniel Hawthorne.
How to be Happy Though Mar-
   ried.
Hunchback of Notre Di me. By
   Victor Hugo.
Hypatia. 'By Charles Kingsley.

Idle Thoughts of an Idle Fellow.
   By Jerome K. Jerome.
In Far Lochaber. By William
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In the Golden Days. By Edna
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In the Heart of the Storm. By
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It is Never Too Late to Mend.
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Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott.
Jack's Courtship. By W. Clark
   Russell.
Jane Eyre. By Charlotte Bronte.

John Halifax, Gentleman. By
   Miss Muloch."
Kenilworth. By Sir Walter Scott.

Kit and Kitty. By R. D. Black-
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Kith and Kin. By Jessie Fother-
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Knickerbocker's History of New
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Knight Errant. By Edna Lyall.
L'Abbe Constantin. By Ludovic-
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Lampliglter, The. By Maria S.
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Last Days of Pompeii. By Bul-
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Last of the Barons. By Bulwer-
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Last of the Mohicans. By James
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Light of Asia, The. By Sir Edwin
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Little Dorrit. By Charles Dickens.
Lorna Doone. By R. D. Blackmore.
Louise de la Valliere. By Alex-
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Lover or Friend P By Rosa N.
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Lucile. By Owen Meredith.
Maid of $ker. By R. D. Blackmore.
Man and Wife. By Wilkie Collins.
Man in the Iron Mask. By Alex-
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Martin Chuzzlewit. By Charles
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Mary St. John. By Rosa N. Carey.
Master of Ballantrae, The. By
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Master of the Ceremonies, The.
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Micah Clarke. By A. Conan boyle.

Michael Strogoff. By Jules Verne.
Middlemarch. By George Eliot.
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Moonstone, The   By Wilkie Col-
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Mysterious  Island, The. By
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Newcomes, The. By William M
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Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles
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No Name. By Wilkie Collins.
Not Like Other Girls. By Rosa
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Old Curiosity Shop. By Charles
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Old Ma'm'selle's Secret. By E.
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Our Mutual Friend. By Charles
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Past and Present. By Thomas
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Pathfinder, The. By James Feni-
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Pere.Goriot. By Honore de Balzac.
Phantom Rickshaw, The. By
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Phra, the Phoenician. By Edwin
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Picciola. By X. B. Saintine.
Pickwick  Papers.   By Charles
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Pilot, The. By James Fenimoro
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Pioneers, The, By James Fenimore
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Prairie, The. By James Fenimore
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Prime Minister, The. By Anthony
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Princess of Thule, A. By Wm.
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Professor, The.   By  Charlotte
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Reproach of Annesley. By Max-
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Reveries of a Bachelor. By Ik.
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Rhoda Fleming. By George Mere-
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Rienzi. By Bulwer-Lytton.

Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel De..
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Rob Roy. By Sir Walter Scott.

Romance of a Poor Young Man.
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Romola. By George Eliot.

Rory O'More. By Samuel Lover.
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Scarlet Letter, The. By Nathan-
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Scottish Chiefs. By Jane Porter.
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Self-Help. By Samuel Smiles.
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Shirley. By Charlotte Bronte.
Silas Marner. By George Eliot.
Silence of Dean Maitland. By
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Sketch-Book, The. By Washing-
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Social Departure, A. By Sara
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Soldiers Three, etc. By Rudyard
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Spy, The. By James Fenimore
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Story of an African Farm. By
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Swiss Family  Robinson.   By
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Tale of Two Cities. By Charles
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Talisman, The.  By Sir Walter
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Tempest Tossed. By Theodore
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Ten Years Later. By Alexandre
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Terrible Temptation, A.   By
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Thaddeus of Warsaw. By Jane
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Thelma. By Marie Corelli.

Three Guardsmen. By Alexandre
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Three Men in a Boat. By Jerome
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Tom   Brown  at Oxford.   By
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Tom Brown's School Days. By
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Tom Burke of " Ours." By Charles
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Tour of the World in Eighty
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Twenty Years After. By Alexan-
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Twice Told Tales. By Nathafiiel
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Two Chiefs of Dunboy.     By
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Two on a Tower. By Thomas
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Water Witch, The. By James
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Waverly. By Sir Walter Scott.
Wee Wifie. By Rosa N. Carey.
Westward Ho ! By Charles Kings-
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What's Mine's Mine  By George
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When a Man's Single. By J. M.
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Wide, Wide World. By Susan
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Widow Lerouge, The. By Emile
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Wing-and-Wing. By James Feni-
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Woman in White, The. By Wilkie
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Wooing O't. By Mrs. Alexander.
World Went Very Well Then,
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Wormwood. By Marie Corelli.
Wreck of the Grosvenor, The.
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THE ALGER SERIES for BOYS

      Uniform with This Volume.
  This series affords wholesome reading for boys and girls, and all the
volumes are extremely interesting.-Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette.
JOE'S LUCK ; or, A Brave Boy's Adventurer, in California. By
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JULIAN MORTIMER ; or, A Brave Boy's Struggles for Home
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ADRIFT IN THE WILDS; or, The Adventures of Two Ship.
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FRANK FOWLER, THE CASH BOY. By HORATIO ALGER, JR.
GUY HAR RIS, THE RUNAWAY. By HARRY CASTLEMON.
THE SLATE-PICKER ; A Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal
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TOM TEMPLE'S CAREER. By HORATIO ALGER, JR.
TOM, THE READY ; or, Up from the Lowest. By RANDOLPH HILL.
THE CASTAWAYS; or, On the Florida Reefs. By JAMES OTIs.
CAPTAIN KIDD'S GOLD. The True Story of an Adventurous
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TOM THATCHER'S FORTUNE. By HORATIO ALGER, JR.
LOST IN THE CANON. The Story of Sam Willett's Adventures
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A YOUNG HERO; or, Fighting to Win. By EDWARD S. ELLIS.
THE ERRAND BOY ; or, How Phil Brent Won Success. By
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THE ISLAND TREASURE; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By
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A RUNAWAY BRIG ; or, An Accidental Cruise. By JAMES OTIS.
A JAUNT THROUGH JAVA. The Story of a Journey to the
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CAPTURED BY APES; or, How Philip Garland Became King
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TOM THE BOOT-BLACK; or, The Road to Success. By HoRATIO
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ROY GILBERT'S SEARCH. A Tale of the Great Lakes. By
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CAPTURED BY ZULUS. A Story of Trapping in Africa. By
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DAN THE NEWSBOY. By HORATIO ALGER, JR.
SEARCH FOR THE SILVER CITY. A Story of Adventure
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aid in decorating their homes and to trim their clothing tastefully."--Airs.
Henry Ward Beecher.

  Needle-Work. A manual of stitches and studies in embroidery
and drawn work. Edited by JENNY JUNE. 200 illustrations. Paper
cover, price 50 cents.
  "I do not hesitate to pronounce Mrs. Croly's works on Needle-Work and
Knitting and Crochet the best manuals on those subjects that I have ever seen.
They are charming reading, as well as useful guides to housewife and needle
woman."--Marion Harland.

  Letters and Monograms. For marking on Silk, Linen and other
fabrics, for individuals and household use. Edited by JENNY JUNE.
1,000 illustrations. Paper cover, price 50 cents.
  "I am greatly pleased with the Manuals of Art Needle-Work so charmingly
edited by Mrs. Croly [Jenny June]. Mrs. Croly's manuals will reveal treasures
to many a woman who distrusts herself, but soon the worker will take courage
as her perceptions are cultivated, and with patience and holding fast to the
truths in nature, ' patterns' will come of themselves to fit the uses intended.
Embroidery, however, is a real enjoyment to me, and I am glad to aid all
efforts to popularize such work."-Mrs. Gen. Fremont.

  For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-pad on receipt of price, by the pu&
kCer, t a. L. BURT, 66 .leade Btret .New York,
















This book is a preservation facsimile produced for
  the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign.
  It is made in compliance with copyright law
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   Preservation facsimile printing and binding
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                    2013