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WILHELM MEISTER -- VOLUME 2

WILHELM MEISTER'S TRAVELS: OR THE RENUNCIANTS

A NOVEL

To travel now th' 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 perplex'd, this toilsome ranger
Does turn an earnest eye, when mist's above him,
To his own heart, and to the hearts that love him.
Scarce could tell you rightly
Whether I 'm the same or not j
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.
Does Fortune try thee? She had cause to do't ;
She wish'd thee abstinent: obey, be mute!
What, shap'st thou here at the world! 'tis shapen long ago
The Maker shaped it, he thought it best even 80 :
Thy lot is appointed, go follow its hest;
Thy course is begun, thou must walk, and not rest;
For sorrow 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 everyone!
For the Night cometh, wherein work can none.
VOL. II. N
And so I, in Tale adjoining,
Lift old treasures into day;
If not gold or perfect coining,
They are metals anyway:
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.

CHAPTER 1: THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT

WILHELM 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 notebook,
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, people
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, beautiful
as day,-in coloured 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 moment.
Round the elder boy's head waved rich fair locks, which you
looked at first, on observing him; and then his 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 surprised
him, what he now saw filled him with astonishment. A stout,
firmset, 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 indescribable
tenderness. The man did as the children had done; faltered
for a moment at sight of Wilhelm. The beast slackened its
step, but the descent was too precipitous; the travellers 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
curiosity, 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 baskets 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-coloured 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: \!Vhether
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, turning
her soft 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 portmanteau, 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. Tomorrow I shall see you. How far is it ?"
"We shall be home before sunset," said the carpenter:
"and from the Border-house you arc but a league and a half.
Your boy increases our household for this night, and tomorrow
we expect you."
The man and the animal set forth. Wilhelm smiled thoughtfully
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 hollow; and the
whole vision had sunk behind the blue shady wall of 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 withdrew to
his chamber, where immediately he seized his pen, and passed
a part of the night in writing.
Wilhelm to Natalia
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 neighbourhood of those he loves, so long as
the streams run down from him towards them. Today 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 forever, 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 become 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 prescribedst to me,
which I prescribed to myself. Many of them have been kept,
many broken; but even while breaking them, that sheet is
of use to me, that testimonial of my last confession, of my
last absolution: it speaks to me as an authoritative conscience,
and I again 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,
fur themselves and the world, a light one. For this very part
of my obligations, which at first seemed the heaviest, 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 settlement
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 farther 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 portmanteau
on his dorsel. As yet the sun is not up; vapours 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. Happily 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 heirs do not hide, from the departing testator,
their preparations for assuming management.

CHAPTER 2: 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 themselves 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 observe,
is kept in good state."
"Yes," said the other; "there is a steward 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
it 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 trio 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-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 attention of the wanderer, was a series
of coloured 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 wonderfully beautiful picture. You observe a
quantity of timber lying dressed; it is just to be put together,
and by chance two of the pieces form a cross. The Child has
fallen asleep on the cross; his mother sits by, and looks at
him with heartfelt love; and the foster-father pauses with his
labour, 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 recognised 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 feeling 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 got acquainted with last night. Yet
it is perhaps still more singular than you suppose: 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 surprised
if the spirit, which worked so powerfully in this mountain solitude
long centuries ago, and drew round it such a mighty
body of edifices, possessions and rights, diffusing 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 without 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 woman
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 hundred
years into the past!" He thought of the solemn and secluded
valley in which he was, of the wrecks and silence all round;
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 quantities,
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. Beside 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 lower space of
the table. An old serving-maid brought in a well-prepared
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. " 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 foundation,
the remains of which are lying round us, was dedicated 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 serviceable part of the
Cloister. The revenues have for many years belonged to a
temporal Prince, who keeps a steward here; this steward am
I, son of the last steward, 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. Ere long 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 humane
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, on
his own limbs. The labourer, the post, the 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 footpaths. In the Mountains the ass is no such
despicable animal as in the plain country, where the labourer
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
honour 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, everything 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 looking 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 itature; and it being an
express condition, that whoever meant to aspire after this
post of Schaffner 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
supply 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 business. My inclination drew me irresistibly to the
joiner trade; the tools and materials of which I had seen,
from infancy 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 farther confirmed me in
my higher purposes was a picture, which now, alas, is almost
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 immediately 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 proportionably in length, and fits itself
to the place with the nicest accuracy, to the great comfort
of the reassured Master, and the perfect 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 honourable a light, that I was all impatience to be
apprenticed to it; a longing which was the easier to fulfil, as
a master of the trade lived in our neighbourhood, who worked
for the whole district, and kept several apprentices and
journeymen about him. Thus I continued in the neighbourhood
of my parents, and to a certain extent pursued my former
way of life also; seeing I employed my leisure hours and
holydays in doing those charitable messages which my mother
still intrusted to me.

CHAPTER 3: THE VISIT

"So passed several years," continued the narrator. " I
very soon comprehended the principles of my trade; and my
frame, expanded by labour, was equal to the undertaking of
everything 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 distributed
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 beamends,
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 specially intrusted to me, as I always
made the best hand of such tasks, having Herod's Throne and
its ornaments constantly in my head.
"Among 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 everything
passed through the hands of a good old woman, who lived
down the dale, and was called Frau Elizabeth. My mother,
herself skilful in the art which saves life to so many at their
very entrance into life, constantly maintained 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
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 outhouses
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 endeavoured, as I went
along, to restore in the same fashion as the rest. These folding-doors
at 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 condition of
his putting in coloured 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 regard
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-coloured
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 approached
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 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 neighbourhood,
and I had travelled peacefully with my ass along the accustomed
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 endeavoured 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 appearance, I
had not been expecting this reply: yet I continued, so much
the more kindly, to assist her, and assure her of my sympathy.
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 Elizabeth.
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 panniers in a neighbouring
cave, which had often served me before as a repository: I
adjusted my saddle for easy riding: and not without a strange
emotion, lifted the fair burden 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 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 branchless 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 herself called me down, and beckoned
to me earnestly with her hand; nay, at last, as in gliding
down, I quitted my hold a considerable way up, and dropt 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 a 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 daintiest 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 delivered a
loading of precious wares, and is again as poor a carrier as
before.

CHAPTER 4: 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 intelligence
at the bailiff's. But the bailiff 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 rumours, the certainty at last came to
light, that the carriage was saved, but the hapless traveller
dead of his wounds in a neighbouring 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 house was
shut against me. They knew the heavy tidings, they needed
me no farther; they sent me to my father, to my 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: wrapt 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 their pure relation. 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 your love to that orphan child!'
said the mother. Unthinkingly, and briskly, I cried: 'It is
no orphan any longer, if you like! '
"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 stayed 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, came 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 explained them
to her one after the other; and so doing, unfolded 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 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 inclination was not
unknown to the women; and already Mary had accustomed
herself to the idea of living with us. She stayed a while
longer in the neighbourhood; then she came up to us, and we
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 sentiments, were sacredly
maintained and practised by us. And so also in friendly
habitude we keep up the external appearance 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 expressed
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? 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 possession
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 today. He was almost for
compelling me to break through one wholesome regulation,
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 thenceforth 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 connexion seemed about to be
established.
To the children of the house with whom Felix has gaily
passed these days in sporting, there had joined himself a little
merry beggar-boy, who, submitting to be used or misused as
the play required, had very soon got into favour with Felix.
By various hints and expressions, I now gathered that the
latter had found himself a playmate for the next stage of our
journey. The boy is known in this quarter, and everywhere
tolerated for his lively humour; 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 course 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 wandering
through the Mountains, has acquired an excessive fondness
for minerals, eagerly drew forth and examined. Many pretty
eye-catching things were among them. Our landlord said,
the child might choose out what he liked: these were the
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 ere long on my
pilgrimage.

CHAPTER 5

THE news that Montan was in the neighbourhood 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
former plan, when Felix cried: "If Father were not so strange,
we might soon find Montan."
"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; and without having any
path before him, Fitz pressed rapidly upwards, now looking to
the right hand, now to the left. As Wilhelm, and especially
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 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 towards 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
the 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.
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; glancin~ towards his companion, and making
significant faces, to indicate how much he was above Fitz
now, in possessing a secret entirely wanting to the other. He
carried 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 his
comrade he could not now attain.
All at once little }<'itzstood 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 recognised. Immediately
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.
But scarcely had they stept 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 observed
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 everywhere,
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, pointing
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 secondary
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-protruding
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 Jarno.
"We do not always speak, even to ourselves, as we think;
and it is not fit to tell others anything but what they can
take up. A man understands nothing but what is commensurate
with him. To fix a child's attention on what is
present; 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 Wilhelm.
"The multiplicity of objects perplexes everyone; and it is
easier, instead of investigating them, to ask directly, Whence
and Whither?"
"And yet," said Jarno, "as children look at what is present
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 insipid."
"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 department,
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
kernel."
"Tell me, then," said Wilhelm, "how hast thou attained
this knowledge? }<'orit is not so very long, after all, since
we paded."
"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
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."
" et they seem to me more entertaining than thy dead
rocks," said Wilhelm.
"Not they!" answered Jarno: "for my rocks are at least
incomprehensible."

CHAPTER 6

THE two friends had descended, not without care and
labour, 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 immediately."
"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
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 together,
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
realised 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 practice,"
said Montan. " Our best instruction we obtain from complete
conversance. Dost thou not learn foreign languages 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 endeavouring to solve the hardest problems;
there is the place where an inquiring thinker ought to take
his stand. He looks on action and effort; watches the
progress of enterprises; and rejoices in the successful and the
unsuccessful. "What is Useful forms but a part of the

and rule an
MEISTER'S TRA VELS
Important. Fully to possess, to command,
object, we must first study it for its own sake."
"Is there such a place in the neighbourhood ?" said
Wilhelm. " 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 advantages,
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 inanimate things
more dextrously 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 everything 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 attended to than
the young brood, springing, as it were, out of the ground;
and everyone 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, exclaimed,
interrupting him: "0, 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 fondness
of a child; for everything 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 advantageous?
"
"It may really be so," replied' the other: "everything 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 farther explanations to require: these
Jarno settled in his usual laconic way; but at last he broke
out as follows: "In all things, to serve from the lowest station
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 7

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 nothing
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 themselves to one
another, and then they have done. But now I will dive into
the chasms of the rocks, and with them begin a mute unfathomable
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."
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 transparent,
ere long exposed to view the fairest spot you can
imagine, lying in the clearest sunshine.
A large garden, seemingly appropriated to use, not ornament,
lay richly furnished with fruit-trees, yet open before
their eyes; for the ground, sloping on the whole, had been
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 individual 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 descended 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 himself 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 eyes
what sort of capture they had made. At the same time, they
asked, if the prisoners would surrender peaceably? "Surrender
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 anyone 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 justice.' 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," continued Wilhelm, " which
thou gainest so early, and so innocently, 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, humane 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. Of the Beautiful
men are seldom capable, oftener of the Good: and how highly
should we value those who endeavour, 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 stept
in. After looking kindly at Wilhelm for some time, he began
to inquire about the circumstances, which had led him by the
private passage, and into this predicament. Wilhelm 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-apartment,
where refreshments were set down, which he was invited
to partake of, while the other went to report the state of
matters to his superior. When Felix, on awakening, perceived
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,
charitable 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 entered 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. The 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 farther
light on them and their concerns is offered us by the subsequent
history.

CHAPTER 8

Wilhelm to Natalia
MAN is of a companionable, conversing nature: his delight
is great when he exercises faculties that have been given him,
even though nothing farther 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 employed
in informing friends and relatives of what is transacted, 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 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 neighbouring circle, I know the persons whose
acquaintance I am to obtain; I understand them better 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 accepting any confidence
offered me, that I may impart it to thee. Here, accordingly,
are some letters, which will introduce thee into the circle, in
which, without breaking or evading 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 impression 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 delivered
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, nicknacks,
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 me, on the
other hand, it is highly desirable to learn, through your 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 household; not
fancying that, for his fine eyes or hair, he shall be received
there quite in his own fashion. Write to me, therefore, 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
favour. 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 circumstances, 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 recognise 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 is become of Valerina, the daughter of
that farmer, whom my uncle, with justice certainly, 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 speechless
traveller. What strange beings these strange 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
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, undertake
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 messenger
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
over-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 neighbour go his way. You alone could manage it, dear
Aunt, for you have both the penetration and the tolerance.
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 illness; 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,
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
demand, 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 stayed 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
people 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 question
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 everything
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-headed beauty, and yet confound her
with the daughter of that worthless farmer, with a wild
humble-bee of a brunette, 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 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
delineation. 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
retained 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 ere long
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 opportunity
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 irrecoverable.
The Aunt to Hersilia
Thy last note I should likewise have packed in for Lenardo,
had I happened to continue by the purpose, which my irrecoverable
heart, my sick head, and my love of ease, suggested
to me. Your letters are not gone. I am just parting with
the young 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 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 recollection
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
Lenardo: "nowise a love matter, as you might perhaps
conjecture. 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
finding 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 made me pause: her
fortune, 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
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 anyone 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 everything 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 prosecution,
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 goodness he was loved by his neighbours, 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; packing 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 stept into my way: for
such was the girl's name, the other was but a byname,
occasioned by her brown complexion. She stept 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; "but the byname 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 unfavourable light.
" She answered this with so much clearness, and at the same
time with so much filial mitigation and love, that she 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. Whoever
asked anything of me embarrassed me. I had so accustomed
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 individuality 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 eloquent; 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 lying at my
feet, had seized my hand, kissed it, and was looking up to me,
so good, so gentle, with such supplicating loveliness, that in
the haste of the moment I forgot myself. Hurriedly I said,
while raising her from her kneeling posture: 'I will do what
is possible; compose thyself, my child!' and so turned into a
side-path. 'Do what is impossible!' 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.
•To my uncle I did not mean to apply directly: for I
knew too well that with 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 importunate
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 neighbourhood to pay.
My servants had been hitherto sufficient for my wants, but
were nowise adequate to forward the arrangements of a distant
journey. All lay on my own hands; and yet when
the Steward appointed me an hour in the night before my
departure, to settle our money concerns, I neglected not again
to solicit him for Valerina's father.
"'Dear Baron,' said the unstable man, 'how can such a
thing ever come into your head? Today 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 rigour with which the outstanding
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 everything,
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 carriage; 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
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 custom,
though not expressly, only while hesitating, and for the first
time caught in such a perplexity.
"I failed not in my earliest letters to inquire of our Steward
how the business had turned. He answered evasively. 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, almost to the name. The remembrance
of her came more rarely before me; and, my whim of
keeping up my intercourse with home, not by letters, but by
tokens, tended gradually to make my previous situation, with
all its circumstances, 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 weakness;
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 fled from, meant to avenge herself, by seizing this
incident, 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
gaily: "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 landowner,
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 anything for you. But
since you are already in the way of showing me kindness, 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 meeting might
easily be found), express intelligence for my complete composure."
This proposal was farther 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 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."
Wilhelm's objections, that the friends at home would 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 neighbourhood appeared rich and
fertile, 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 accurately,
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 disguise and
untruth. Untruth may bring us into embarrassment 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 well-looking man, whom you might have taken for
a farmer, came out to them, and announced himself 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 intelligence has ever
yet reached thee." Such conjectures alternated 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
neighbourhood.
"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
carryon 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 information.
The landlord had his ground, which he possessed
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, and everyone 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 nothing
but praise and approval to pronounce on everything 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 everyone 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 appurtenances, 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 amuse 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 making; 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 reckoned
sure; yet felt underhand a certain faint shadow of dissatisfaction,
of which he could give himself no account.
The party had returned within doors, when the lady's
carriage drove up. They hastened out to meet her: but what
was Lenardo's amazement, his fright, when she stept 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 belong 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 manner, soon banished all uncertainty: it was the daughter
of the Lawyer, a man who stood in high favour 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 gaily 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 recognise 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
purpose 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, "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 playing
with the brunette, who could not be called a beauty; nay,
r 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 retained 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."
Next morning the friends were up almost sooner than their
active entertainers. The happiness of seeing her guests had
also 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 naturally 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 farther narrative became quite agonising to him, as
with warm sympathy she proceeded to describe the distrainment
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 composure.
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
favour with himself, takes everything in a favourable light,
so Valerina explained Lenardo's silence, his visible 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 proceeding
on their way, Lenardo thus addressed Wilhelm: "For our
shipwreck with such fair hopes at the very entrance of the
haven, I can still console myself in some degree for the
moment, 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 reserve;
spare, calculate nothing! I shall return home, shall endeavour
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 neighbourhood,
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 domestic 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 desirable
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 knowing
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
avoid 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 announce 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 conjure 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 mention or describe the
place where I find her, or the neighbourhood 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: "Perform this
service for me, and I shall be grateful. What you are willing
and able to do I commit to your own hands; and for myself,
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
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 9

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 led him into the last small uninjured portion
of the place, to a house of ancient, earnest architecture,
yet well kept, and of a tidy look. Dim windows, strangely
fashioned, indicated an exhilarating pomp of colours 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, intermixed with
very little that was new. The master of the house received
our traveller kindly, in a little chamber similarly fitted up.
These clocks had already struck the hour of many a birth and
many a death; everything which met the eye reminded one
that the past might, as it were, be protracted into the present.
The stranger delivered his letter; but the landlord, without
opening it, laid it aside, and endeavoured, 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 equipment 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 tea-kettle 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 my care and
industry on many other things, as I did not occupy 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 connected with indifferent things.
I knew a young man who 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 journeying 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 situation,
though in the mean while he had opened the letter and read
if; 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 neighbours, 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 fulfilled.
"Commonly the son disperses what the father has collected,
collects something different, or in a different way. Yet if we
can wait for the grandson, for the new generation, 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 has withal a vehement
attachment to every sort of curiosities. My decided confidence
he gained by the violent exertions, 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 attention; 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 predecessor;
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 original
genuine arms were sent me, as you see them here united in
the loveliest harmony; and I, charmed at so happy a coincidence,
cannot help recognising 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.
"I will follow your counsel," added he; "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, "sees much collected
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
voL. IT. It
258 MEISTER'S TRAVELS [CHAP. X.
inscribed in it, with many ceremonies and stipulations; a
receipt granted, which applied in words to any bearer, but
was only to be honoured on the giving of a certain token
agreed upon with the owner.
So passed their hours in instructive and entertaining conversation,
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 connexion 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 preparative, 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 10

THE pilgrims, pursuing the way pointed out to them, had,
without difficulty, reached the limits of the Province, where
they were to see so many singularities. At the very entrance,
they found themselves in a district of extreme fertility; in its
soft knolls, favourable to crops; in its higher hills, to sheep-husbandry;
in its wide bottoms, to grazing. Harvest was
near at hand, and all 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 travellers 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 Chiif, 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 colour 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 Overseer,
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 gaily: "What
posture am I to take, then?"
" Without doubt," said the Overseer, "as 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 the east; that is a good sign too?"
"As thou takest it, as thou behavest," said the other; "now
mingle among them, as they mingle." He gave a signal, 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 gradation
?" 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 explanation
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 purpose of
any object, he fancies there is nothing in it. Certain secrets,
even if known to everyone, 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
colour in these children's clothes attracts my notice: and yet
I do not see all sorts of colours, 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 colour, while those of similar gestures are
not similar in dres!."
"On this matter also," said the other, "silence is prescribed
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
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 labour they were
carrying on, they accompanied it with singing; and it seemed
as if the songs were specially adapted to their various 60rtS of
occupation, and in similar cases everywhere the same. If
there chanced to be several children in company, they sang
together in alternating parts. Towards evening, appeared
dancers likewise, whose steps were enlivened 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 accomplishment,
otherwise, could not be so widely diffused, and so
completely practised."
"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 utterance
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 measurements and 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 endeavoured to obtain still farther 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 arranged it
so that the different instruments shall be taught in separate
places. The discords of beginners, in particular, are banished
into certain solitudes, where they can drive no one to despair;
for you will confess that in well-regulated civil society there is
scarcely a more melancholy suffering to be undergone, than
what is forced on us by the neighbourhood of an incipient
player on the flute or violin.
"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
inhabited 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 endeavour to maintain
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 expiring
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 success. 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 playmates,
all pleased the boy so well, that he 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; and
the Overseer promised him, in compensation, that he should
£nd 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
Overseer turned to Wilhelm and said: "I must now leave
you, to pursue my occupations; butfi£rst 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 answered:
"The Three will doubtless, in return for the confidence 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 certain 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, during the performance
of their other duties."
Wilhelm had now reached the gate of a wooded vale,
surrounded 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 beautifully
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 present 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; to unfold
this is our duty: often it unfolds itself better 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: Reverence!
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 towards
Heaven: that is what we have enjoined on young children;
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 sorrows she
also brings us. Should one of our children do himself external
hurt, blameably or blamelessly; should others hurt him
accidentally or purposely; should dead involuntary 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. Farther we have nothing to add."
"I see a glimpse of it !" said Wilhelm. "Are not the
mass of men so marred and stinted, because they take pleasure
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 one
difficulty. You say that reverence is not natural to man:
now, has not the reverence or fear of rude people for violent
convulsions of Nature, or other inexplicable mysteriously foreboding
occurrences, been heretofore regarded as the germ
out of which a higher feeling, a purer sentiment, was by
degrees to be developed?"
"Nature is indeed adequate to fear," replied they; "but
to reverence not adequate. Men fear a known or unknown
powerful being: the strong seeks to conquer it, the weak to
avoid it; both endeavour to get quit of it, and feel themselves
happy when for a short season they have put it aside,
and their nature has in some degree restored itself to 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 advancement. To fear is easy, but grievous;
to reverence is difficult, 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
favoured 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 pamed; 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 honour, keep his own honour;
he is not disunited with himself, as in the former case. 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 therefore to the
whole human race; his relation 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 mankind 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 recognise
humility and poverty, mockery and despite, disgrace and
wretchedness, suffering and death, to recognise these things
as divine; nay, even on sin and crime to look not as hindrances,
but to honour 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, cannot 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 oneself, 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, 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 before
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."

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