Bot-S: The Complete Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

THE COMPLETE WORKS OF 

5obann Molfaano von (Boetbe 

IN TEN VOLUMES 

^ VOLUME VII 

WILHELM MEISTER'S 
APPRENTICESHIP 

BOOK I. 

CHAPTER I. 

The play was late in breaking up : old Barbara went more 
than once to the window, and listened for the sound of car- 
riages. She was waiting for Mariana, her pretty ipistress, 
who had that night, in the afterpiece, been acting the part 
of a young officer, to the no small delight of the public. 
Barbara's impatience was greater than it used to be, when 
she had nothing but a frugal svipper to present : on this 
occasion Mariana was to be surprised with a packet, which 
Norberg, a young and wealthy merchant, bad sent by the 
post, to show that in absence he still thought of hig love. 

As a^ old servant, as coiifidant, counsellor, manager, 
and housekeeper, Barbara assupied the privilege of opening 
geals ; and this evening she had the Jess been able to restrain 
her curiosity, ^s the favor of the open-handed gallant was 
more a matter of anxiety with herself than with her mistress. 
On breaking up the packet, she had found, with unfeigned 
satisfaction, that it held a piece of fine muslin and some 
]ibbons of the newest fashion, for Mariana ; with a quantity 
of calico, two or three neckerchiefs, aqd a moderate rouleau 
of ifloney, for herself. Her esteem for the ab^ent Norberg 
was of course unbounded : she meditated only how she might 
best present him to the mind of Mariana, best bxing to her 
recollection what she owed him, and what he had a right 
to expect from her fidelity and thankfulness. 

The muslin, with the ribbons half unrolled, to set it off 

15 



16 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

by their colors, lay like a, Cliristmas present on the small 
table ; the position of the lights increased the glitter of the 
gilt ; all was in order, when the old woman heard Mariana's 
step on the stairs, and hastened to meet her. But what was 
her disappointment, when the little female officer, without 
deigning to regard her caresses, rushed past her with unusual 
speed and agitation, threw her hat and sword upon the table, 
and walked hastily up and down, bestowing not a look on 
the lights, or any portion of the apparatus. 

''What ails thee, my darling?" exclaimed the astonished 
Barbara. " For Heaven's sake, what is the matter? Look 
here, my pretty child ! See what a present ! And who 
could have sent it but thy kindest of friends ? Norberg has 
given thee the muslin to make a night-gown of ; he will 
soon be here himself ; he seems to be fonder and more gen- 
erous than ever." 

Barbara went to the table, that she might exhibit the 
memorials with which Norberg had likewise honored her, 
when Mariana, turning away from the presents, exclaimed 
with vehemence, "Off! off! Not a word of all this to- 
night. I have yielded to thee ; thou hast willed it ; be it so ! 
When Norberg comes, I am his, am thine, am any one's ; 
make of me what thou pleasest ; but till then I will be my 
own ; and, if thou hadst a thousand tongues, thou shouldst 
never talk me from my purpose. All, all that is my own 
will I give up to him who loves mie, whom I love. No sour 
faces ! I will abandon myself to this affection, as if it were 
to last forever." 

The old damsel had abundance of objections and serious 
considerations to allege : in the progress of the dialogue, 
she was growing bitter and keen, when Mariana sprang at 
her, and seized her by the breast. The old damsel laughed 
aloud. " I must have a care," she cried, " that you don't 
get into pantaloons again, if I mean to be sure of my life. 
Come, doff you ! The girl will beg my pardon for the fool- 
ish things the boy is doing to me. Off with the frock. Off 
with them all. The dress beseems you not ; it is dangerous 
for you, I observe ; the epaulets make you too bold." 

Thus speaking, she laid hands upon her mistress : Mari- 
ana pushed her off, exclaiming, " Not so fast! I expect a 
visit to-night." 

' ' Visit ! ' ' rejoined Barbara : ' ' you surely do not look for 
Meister, the young, soft-hearted, callow merchant's son?" 

" Just for him," replied Mariana. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 17 

" Generosity appears to be growing your ruling passion," 
said the old woman with a grin: "you connect yourself 
with minors and moneyless people, as if they were the 
chosen of the earth. Doubtless it is charming to be wor- 
shipped as a benefactress." 

" Jeer as thou pleasest. I love him ! I love him ! With 
what rapture do I now, for the first time, speak the word ! 
This is the passion I have mimicked so often, when I knew 
not what it meant. Yes ! I will throw myself about his 
neck : I will clasp him as if I could hold him forever. I 
will show him all my love, will enjoy all his in its whole 
extent." 

"Moderate yourself," said the old dame coolly, "mod- 
erate yourself. A single word will interrupt your rapture : 
Norberg is coming ! Coming in a fortnight ! Here is the 
letter that arrived with the packet." 

"And, though the morrow were to rob me of my friend, 
I would conceal it from myself and him. A fortnight ! An 
age ! Within a fortnight, what may not happen, what may 
not alter ? ' ' 

Here Wilhelm entered. AVe need not say how fast she 
flew to meet him, with what rapture he clasped the red uni- 
form, and pressed the beautiful wearer of it to his bosom. 
It is not for us to describe the blessedness of two lovers. 
Old Barbara went grumbling away : we shall retire with her, 
and leave the happy two alone. 



CHAPTER n. 

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

"He has told me this already," said Wilhelm, "and 
perhaps I answered him too hastily ; but, for Heaven's sake, 



18 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

mother, is nothing, then, of use but what immediately puts 
money in oui' purse? but what procures us some property 
that we can lay our hands on? Had we not, for instance, 
room enough in the old house ? and was it indispensable to 
build a new one? Does not my father every year expend 
a large part of his profit in ornamenting his chambers? Are 
these silk carpets, this English furniture, likewise of no 
use? Might we not content ourselves with worse? For 
my own part, I confess, these striped walls, these hundred 
times repeated flowers and knots and baskets and figures, 
produce a really disagreeable effect upon me. At best, they 
but remind me of the front curtain of our theatre. But 
what a different thing it is to sit and look at that ! There, 
if you must wait for a while, you are always sure that it 
will rise at last, and disclose to you a thousand curious 
objects to entertain, to instruct, and to exalt you." 

"" But you go to excess with it," said the mother. " Your 
father wishes to be entertained in the evenings as well as 
you : besides, he thinks it diverts your attention ; and, when 
he grows ill-humored on the subject, it is I that must bear 
the blame. How often have I been upbraided with that 
miserable puppet-show, which I was unlucky enough to pro- 
vide for you at Christmas, twelve years ago ! It was the 
first thing that put these plays into your head." 

" Oh, do not blame the poor puppets ! do not repent of 
your love and motherl}' care ! It was the pnly h^ppy hour 
I had enjoyed in the new empty house. I never can forget 
that hour ; I see it still before me ; I recollect how surprised 
I was, when, after we had got our customary presents, you 
made us seat ourselves before the door that leads to the 
other room. The door opened, but not, as formerly, to let 
us pass and repass : the entrance was occupied by an unex- 
pected show. Within it rose a porch, concealed by a mys- 
terious curtain. All of us were standing at a distance : pur 
eagerness to see what glittering or jingling article lay hid 
behind the half-traijsparent veil was mounting higher and 
higher, when you bade us each sit down upon his stool, and 
wait with patience. 

' ^ At length all of us were seated and silent : a whistle 
gave the signal ; the jcurtain rolled aloft, and showed us the 
interior of the temple, painted in deep-red colors. The high- 
l)r*n.'st Samuel appeared with Jonathan, and their strange 
alternating voices seemed to me the most striking thing on 
earth. Shortly after entered Saul, overwhelmed with con- 



MEISTER'S APBRENTICESHIP. 19 

fusion at the impertinence of that heavy-lnnbed warrior, who 
had defied him and all his people. But how glad was I when 
the little dapper son of Jesse, with his crook and shepherd's 
pouch and sling, came hopping forth, and said, ' Dread king 
and sovereign lord, let no one's heart sink down because of 
this : if your Majesty will grant me leave, I will go out to 
battle with this blustering giant ! ' Here ended the first act, 
leaving the spectators more curious than ever to see what 
further would happen ; each praying that the music might 
soon be done. At last the curtain rose again. David de- 
voted the flesh of the monster to the fowls of the air and the 
beasts of the field : the Philistine scorned and bullied him, 
stamped mightily with both his feet, and at length fell like 
a mass of clay, affording a splendid termination to the piece. 
And then the virgins sang, ' Saul hath slain his thousands, 
but David his ten thousands ! ' The giant's head was borne 
before his little victor, who received the king's beautiful 
daughter to wife. Yet withal, I remember, I was vexed 
at the dwarfish stature of this luckj^ prince ; for the great 
Goliath and the small David had both been formed, accord- 
ing to the common notion, with a due regard to their figures 
and proportions. I pray you, mother, tell me what has now 
become of those puppets? I promised to show them to a 
friend, whom I was lately entertaining with a history of all 
this child's work." 

"I can easily conceive," said the mother, "how these 
things should stick so firmly in your mind : I well remember 
what an interest you took in them, — how you stole the little 
book from me, and learned the whole piece by heart. I first 
noticed it one evening when you had made a Goliath and a 
David of wax : you set them both to declaim against each 
other, and at length gave a deadly stab to the giant, fixing 
his shapeless head, stuck upon a large pin with a wax han- 
dle, in little David's hand. I then felt such a motherly con- 
tentment at your fine recitation and good memory, that I 
resolved to give you up the whole wooden troop to your own 
disposal. I did not then foresee that it would cause me so 
many heavy hours." 

" Do not repent of it," said Wilhelm : "this little sport 
has often made us happy." So saying, he got the keys, 
made haste to find the puppets, and, for a moment, was 
transported back into those times when they almost seemed 
to him alive, when he felt as if he himself could give them 
life by the cunning of his voice and the movements of his 



20 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER in. 

If the first love is indeed, as I hear it everywhere main- 
tained to be, the most delicious feeling which the heart of 
man, before it or after, can experience, then our hero 
must be reckoned doubly happ}', as permitted to enjoy the 
pleasure of this chosen period in all its fulness. Few men 
are so peculiarly favored : by far the greater part are led by 
the feelings of their youth into nothing but a school of hard- 
ship, where, after a stinted and checkered season of enjoy- 
ment, they are at length constrained to renounce their 
dearest wishes, and to learn forever to dispense with what 
once hovered before them as the highest happiness of exist- 
ence. 

Wilhelm's passion for that charming girl now soared aloft 
on the wings of imagination. After a short acquaintance, he 
had gained her affections : he found himself in possession of 
a being, whom, with all his heart, he not only loved, but 
honored ; for she had first appeared before him in the flatter- 
ing light of theatric pomp, and his passion for the stage com- 
bined itself with his earliest love for woman. His youth 
allowed him to enjoy rich pleasures, which the activity of his 
fancy exalted and maintained. The situation of his mis- 
tress, too, gave a turn to her conduct which greatly enliv- 
ened his emotions. The fear lest her lover might, before the 
time, detect the real state in which she stood, diffused over 
all her conduct an interesting tinge of anxiety and bashful- 
ness ; her attachment to the youth was deep ; her veiy in- 
quietude appeared but to augment her tenderness ; she was 
the loveliest of creatures while beside him. 

When the first tumult of joy had passed, and our friend 
began to look back upon his life and its concerns, every 
thing appeared new to him : his duties seemed holier, his incli- 
nations keener, his knowledge clearer, his talents stronger, 
his purposes more decided. Accordingly, he soon fell upon 
a plan to avoid the reproaches of his father, to still the cares 
of iiis mother, and, at the same time, to enjoy Mariana's love 
without disturbance. Through the day he punctually trans- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 21 

tictcd his business, commonly forbore attending the theatre, 
strove to be entertaining at table in the evening ; and, when 
all were asleep, he glided softly out into the garden, and 
hastened, wrapped up in his mantle, with all the feelings of 
Leander in his bosom, to meet his mistress without delay. 

"What is this 3'ou bring?" inquired Mariana, as he en- 
tered one evening, with a bundle, which Barbara, in hopes it 
might turn out to be some valuable present, fixed her e3'es 
upon with great attention. "You will never guess," said 
Wilhelm. 

Great was the surprise of Mariana, great the scorn of Bar- 
bara, when the napkin, being loosened, gave to view a per- 
plexed multitude of span-long puppets. Mariana laughed 
aloud, as Wilhelra set himself to disentangle the confusion 
of the wires, and show her each figure by itself. Barbara 
glided sulkily out of the room. 

A very little thing will entertain two lovers ; and accord- 
ingly our friends, this evening, were as happy as they wished 
to be. The little troop was mustered : each figure was mi- 
nutely examined, and laughed at, in its turn. King Saul, 
with his golden crown and his black velvet robe, Mariana 
did not like : he looked, she said, too stiff and pedantic. 
She was far better pleased with Jonathan, his sleek chin, his 
turban, his cloak of red and yellow. She soon got the art 
of turning him deftly on his wire : she made him bow, and 
repeat declarations of love. On the other hand, she refused 
to give the least attention to the prophet Samuel ; though 
Wilhelm commended the pontifical breastplate, and told her 
that the taffeta of the cassock had been taken from a gown 
of his own grandmother's. David she thought too small ; 
Goliath was too big ; she held by Jonathan. She grew to 
manage him so featly, and at last to extend her caresses 
from the puppet to its owner, that, on this occasion, as on 
others, a silly sport became the introduction to happy hours. 

Their soft, sweet dreams were broken in upon b}' a noise 
which arose on the street. Mariana called for the old dame, 
who, as usual, was occupied in furbishing the <5hangeful 
materials of the plajdiouse wardrobe for the service of the 
play next to be acted. Barbara said the disturbance arose 
from a set of jolly companions, who were just then sallying 
out of the Italian tavern hard by, where they had been busy 
discussing fresh oysters, a cargo of which had just arrived, 
and by no means sparing their champagne. 

"Pity," Mariana said, "that we did not think of it in 



22 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

time : we might have had some entertainment to our- 
selves." 

"It is not yet too late," said Wilhelm, giving Barbara 
a louis-d'or: " get us what we want, then come and take a 
share with us." 

The old dame made speedy work : erelong a trimly cov- 
ered table, with a neat collation, stood before the lovers. 
They made Barbara sit with them : they ate and drank, and 
enjoyed themselves. 

On such occasions, there is never want of enough to say. 
Mariana soon took up little Jonathan again, and the old 
dame turned the conversation upon Wilhelm's favorite topic. 
"You were once telling us," she said, " about the first exhi- 
bition of a puppet-show on Christmas Eve : I remember you 
yv^ere interrupted just as the ballet was going to begin. We 
have now the pleasure of a personal acquaintance with the 
honorable company by whom those wonderful effects were 
brought about." 

"Oh, yes ! " cried Mariana : " do tell us how it all went on, 
and how you felt then." 

"It is a fine emotion, Mariana," said the youth, "when 
we bethink ourselves of old times, and old, harmless errors, 
especially if this is at a period when we have happily gained 
some elevation, from which we can look around us, and survey 
the path we have left behind. It is so pleasant to think, with 
composure and satisfaction, of many obstacles, which often 
with painful feelings we may have regarded as invincible, — 
pleasant to compare what we now are with what we then were 
struggling to become. But I am happy above others in this 
matter, that I speak to you about the past, at a moment when 
I can also look forth into the blooming country, which we are 
yet to wander through together, hand in hand." 

" But how was it with the ballet? " said Barbara. " I fear 
it did not quite go off as it should have done." 

" I assure you," said Wilhelm, "it went off quite well. And 
certainly the strange caperings of these Moors and Mooresses, 
these shepherds and shepherdesses, these dwarfs and dwarf- 
esses, will never altogether leave my recollection while I 
live. When the curtain dropped, and the door closed, our 
little party skipped away, frolicking as if they had been 
tipsy, to their beds. For m3'self, however, I remember that 
I could not go to sleep : still wanting to have something told 
me on the subject, I continued putting questions to every 
one, and would hardly let the maid away who had brought 
me up to bed. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 23 

" Next morning, alas ! the magic apparatus had altogether 
vanished ; the mysterious veil was carried off ; the door per- 
mitted us again to go and come through it without obstruc- 
tion ; the manifold adventures of the evening had passed 
away, and left no trace behind. My brothers and sisters 
were running up and down with their playthings ; I alone 
kept gliding to and fro : it seemed to me inipossible that two 
bare door-posts could bp all that now remained, where the 
night before so much enchantment had been displayed. Alas ! 
the man that seeks a lost love can harcjly be unhappier than 
I then thought myself." 

A rapturous look, which he cast on Mariana, convinced 
her that he was not afraid of such ever being his case. 



CHAPTER IV. 

''My sole wish now," continued Wilhelm, "was to wit- 
ness a second exhibition of the play. For this purpose I had 
recourse, by constant eutreaties, to my ipotjier ; and she at- 
tempted in a favorable hour to persu{^d^ jny fq,ther. Her 
labor, however, was in vain. My fjither's principle was, that 
none but enjoyments of r^^re occurrence were adequately 
prized ; that neither young nor old could set a proper value 
on pleasures which they tasted every day. 

"We might have waited long, perhfips till Christmas 
returned, had not the contriver and secret director of the 
^pectacle himself felt q, plec^sure in repeating the display of 
it, partly incited, I suppose, by the wish to produce a brand- 
neyv' harlequin expressly prepared for the afterpiece. 

" A young officer of the artillery, a person of great gifts 
ip all sorts of uiech^nic^l contrivance, had sejTed my father 
in many essputial particuj^^rs ciwnpg the building of the house ; 
for which, having been handsomely rewarded, he felt desirous 
of expressing his thankfulness to the family of his patron, 
and so made us young ones a present of this complete thea- 
tre, whicli, in hours of leisure, lie had already carved and 
painted, and strung together. It was this young man, who, 
with the help of a servant, had himself managed the puppets, 
disguising his voice to pronounce their various speeches. He 
had no great difficulty in persuading my father, who granted. 



24 MEISTER'S APrRENTICESHIP. 

out of complaisance to a friend, what he had denied from 
conviction to his children. In short, our theatre was again 
set up, some little ones of the neighborhood were invited, 
and the play was again represented. 

" If I had formerly experienced the delights of surprise and 
astonishment, I enjoyed on this second occasion the pleasure 
of examining and scrutinizing. How all this happened was 
my present concern. That the puppets themselves did not 
speak, I had already decided ; that of themselves they did 
not move, I also conjectured ; but, then, how came it all to be 
so pretty, and to look just as if they both spoke and moved 
of themselves? and where were the lights, and the people 
that managed the deception? These enigmas perplexed me 
the more, as I wished to be at tlie same time among the 
enchanters and the enchanted, at the same time to have a 
secret hand in the play, and to enjoy, as a looker-on, the 
pleasure of illusion. 

"The play being finished, preparations were making for 
the farce : the spectators had risen, and were all busy talk- 
ing together. I squeezed myself closer to the door, and 
heard, by the rattling within, that the people were packing 
up some articles. I lifted the lowest screen, and poked in 
my head between the posts. As our mother noticed it, she 
drew me back : but I had seen well enough that here friends 
and foes, Saul and Goliath, and whatever else their names 
might be, were lying quietly down together in a drawer ; 
and thus my half-contented curiosity received a fresh excite- 
ment. To my great surprise, moreover, I had noticed the 
lieutenant very diligently occupied in the interior of the 
shrine. Henceforth, Jack-pudding, however he might clatter 
with his heels, could not any longer entertain me. I sank 
into deep meditation : my discovery made me both more sat- 
isfied, and less so, than before. After a little, it first struck 
me that I yet comprehended nothing : and here I was right ; 
for the connection of the parts with each other was entirely 
unknown to me, and every thing depends on that.'* 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 25 



CHAPTER V. 

"In well adjusted and regulated houses," continued Wil- 
helm, " children have a feeling not unlike what I conceive 
rats and mice to have : they keep a sharp eye on all crevices 
and holes, where they may come at any forbidden dainty ,* 
they enjoy it also with a fearful, stolen satisfaction, which 
forms no small part of the happiness of childhood. 

'' More than any other of the young ones, I was in the 
habit of looking out attentively, to see if I could notice any 
cupboard left open, or key standing in its lock. The more 
reverence I bore in my heart for those closed doors, on the 
outside of whicli I had to pass by for weeks and months, 
catching only a furtive glance when our mother now and then 
opened the consecrated place to take something from it, the 
quicker was I to make use of any opportunities which the 
forgetfulness of our housekeepers at times afforded me. 

"Among all the doors, that of the storeroom was, of 
course, the one I watched most narrowly. Few of the joyful 
anticipations in life can equal the feeling which I used to 
have when my mother happened to call me, that I might help 
her to carry out something, whereupon I might pick up a 
few dried plums, either with her kind permission, or by help 
of my own dexterity. The accumulated treasures of this 
chamber took hold of my imagination by their magnitude : 
the very fragrance exhaled by so multifarious a collection of 
sweet-smelling spices produced such a craving effect on me, 
that I never failed, when passing near, to linger for a little, 
and regale myself at least on the unbolted atmosphere. At 
length, one Sunday morning, my mother, being hurried by 
the ringing of the church-bells, forgot to take this precious 
key with her on shutting the door, and went away, leaving 
all the house in a deep Sabbath stillness. No sooner had I 
marked this oversight than, gliding softly once or twice to 
and from the place, I at last approached very gingerly, 
opened the door, and felt myself, after a single step, in im- 
mediate contact with these manifold and long-wished-for 
means of happiness. I glanced over glasses, chests, and 
bags, and drawers and boxes, with a quick and doubtful eye, 
considering what I ought to choose and take ; turned finally 
to my dear withered plums, provided myself also with a few 
dried apples, and completed the forage with an orange-chip. 
I was quietly retreating with my plunder, when some little 



S6 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

chests, lying piled over one another, caught my attention, — 
the more so as I noticed a wire, with hooks at the end of 
it, sticking through the joint of the lid in one of them. Full 
of eager hopes, I opened this singular package ; and judge 
of my emotions, when I found my glad world of heroes all 
sleeping safe within ! I meant to pick out the topmost, and, 
having examined them, to pull up those below ; but in this 
attempt the wires got very soon entangled : and I fell into a 
fright and flutter, more particularly as the cook just then be- 
gan making some stir in the kitchen, which was close by ; so 
that I had nothing for it but to squeeze the whole together 
the best way I could, and to shut the chest, having stolen 
from it nothing but a little written book, which happened to 
be lying above, and contained the whole drama of Goliath 
and David. With this booty I made good my retreat into 
the garret. 

" Henceforth all my stolen hours of solitude were devoted 
to perusing the play, to learning it by heart, and picturing in 
thought how glorious it would be, could I but get the figures, 
to make them move along with it. In idea I myself became 
David and Goliath by turns. In every corner of the court- 
yard, of the stables, of the garden, under all kinds of cir- 
cumstances, I labored to stamp the whole piece upon my 
mind ; laid hold of all the characters, and learned their 
speeches by heart, most commonly, however, taking up the 
parts of the chief personages, and allowing all the rest to 
move along with them, but as satellites, across my memory. 
Thus day and night the heroic words of David, wherewith he 
challenged the braggart giant, Goliath of Gath, kept their 
place in my thoughts. I often muttered them to myself ; 
while no one gave heed to me, except my father, who, fre- 
quently observing some such detached exclamation, would in 
secret praise the excellent memory of his boy, that had re- 
tained so much from only two recitations. 

' ' By this means growing bolder and bolder, I one evening 
repeated almost the entire piece before my mother, whilst I 
was busied in fashioning some bits of wax into players. She 
observed it, questioned me hard ; and I confessed. 

" By good fortune, this detection happened at a time when 
the lieutenant had himself been expressing a wish to initiate 
me in the mysteries of the art. My mother forthwith gave 
him notice of these unexpected talents ; and he now con- 
trived to make my parents offer him a couple of chambers in 
the top story, which commonl}^ stood empty, that he might 



MEISTER'S APrRENTlCESHIP. 27 

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



CHAPTER VI. 

" The lieutenant now set up his theatre, and managed all 
the rest. During the week I readily observed that he often 
came into the house at unusual hours, and I soon guessed 
the cause. My eagerness increased immensely ; for I well 
understood, that, till Sunday evening, I could have no share 
in what was going on. At last the wished-for day arrived. 
At five in the evening my conductor came, and took me up 
with him. Quivering with joy, I entered, and descried, on 
both sides of the framework, the puppets all hanging in 
order as they were to advance to view. I considered them 
narrowly, and mounted on the steps, which raised them 
above the scene, and allowed me to hover aloft over all that 
little world. Not without reverence did I look down be- 
tween the pieces of board, and recollect what a glorious effect 
the whole would produce, and feel into what mighty secrets 
I was now admitted. We made a trial, which succeeded 
well. 

' ' Next day a party of children were invited : we per- 
formed rarely ; except that once, in the fire of action, I let 
poor Jonathan fall, and was obliged to reach down with my 
hand, and pick him up, — an accident which sadly marred 
the illusion, produced a peal of laughter, and vexed me 
unspeakably. My father, however, seemed to relish this 
misfortune not a little. Prudently shrouding np the con- 
tentment he felt at the expertness of his little boy, after 
the play was finished, he dwelt on the mistakes we had 



28 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

committed, saying it would all have been very pretty had 
not this or that gone wrong with us. 

'' I was vexed to the heart at these things, and sad for all 
the evening. By next morning, however, I had quite slept 
off my sorrow, and was blessed in the persuasion, that, but 
for this one fault, I had acted delightfully. The spectators 
also flattered me with their unanimous approval : they all 
maintained, that though the lieutenant, in regard to the 
coarse and the fine voices, had done great things, yet his 
declamation was in general too stiff and affected ; whereas 
the new aspirant spoke his Jonathan and David with exqui- 
site grace. My mother in particular commended the gallant 
tone in which I had challenged Goliath, and acted the mod- 
est victor before the king. 

" From this time, to my extreme delight, the theatre con- 
tinued open ; and as the spring advanced, so that fires could 
be dispensed with, I passed all my hours of recreation lying 
in the garret, and making the puppets caper and play to- 
gether. Often I invited up my comrades, or my brothers 
and sisters ; but, when they would not come, I staid by 
myself not the less. M}^ imagination brooded over that 
tiny world, which soon afterwards acquired another form. 

" Scarcely had I once or twice exhibited the first play, for 
which my scenery and actors had been formed and deco- 
rated, when it ceased to give me any pleasure. On the 
other hand, among some of my grandfather's books, I had 
happened to fall in with ' The German Theatre,' and a few 
translations of Italian operas ; in which works I soon got 
very deeply immersed, on each occasion first reckoning up 
the characters, and then, without further ceremony, proceed- 
ing to exhibit the play. King Saul, with his black velvet 
cloak, was therefore now obliged to personate Darius or 
Cato, or some other pagan hero ; in which cases, it may be 
observed, the plays were never wholly represented, — for 
most part, only the fifth acts, where the cutting and stab- 
bing lay. 

"It was natural that the operas, with their manifold 
adventures and vicissitudes, should attract me more than 
any thing beside. In these compositions I found stormy 
seas, gods descending in chariots of cloud, and, what most 
of all Relighted me, abundance of thunder and lightning. 
I did my best with pasteboard, paint, and paper: 1 could 
make night very prettil}" ; my lightning was fearful to be- 
hold ; only my thunder did not always prosper, which, 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 29 

however, was of less importance. In operas, moreover, I 
found frequent opportunities of introducing my David and 
Goliath, — persons whom the regular drama would hardly 
admit. Daily I felt more attachment for the hampered spot 
where I enjoyed so many pleasures ; and, I must confess, 
the fragrance which the puppets had acquired from the 
storeroom added not a little to my satisfaction. 

* ' The decorations of my theatre were now in a tolerable 
state of completeness. I had always had the knack of 
drawing with compasses, and clipping pasteboard, and col- 
oring figures ; and here it served me in good stead. But 
the more sorry was I, on the other hand, when, as frequently 
happened, my stock of actors would not suflSce for repre- 
senting great affairs. 

" My sisters, dressing and undressing their dolls, awoke in 
me the project of furnishing my heroes by and by with gar- 
ments which might also be put off and on. Accordingly, I 
slit the scraps of cloth from off their bodies, tacked the 
fragments together as well as possible, saved a particle of 
money to buy new ribbons and lace, begged many a rag of 
taffeta, and so formed, by degrees, a full theatrical ward- 
robe, in which hoop-petticoats for the ladies were especially 
remembered. 

' ' My troop was now fairly provided with dresses for the 
most important play, and you might have expected that 
henceforth one exhibition would follow close upon the heels 
of another ; but it happened with me, as it often happens 
with children, — they embrace wide plans, make mighty prep- 
arations, then a few trials, and the whole undertaking is 
abandoned. I was guilty of this fault. My greatest pleas- 
ure lay in the inventive part, and the employment of my 
fancy. This or that piece inspired me with interest for a 
few scenes of it, and immediately I set about providing new 
apparel suitable for the occasion. In such fluctuating opera- 
tions, many parts of the primary dresses of my heroes had 
fallen into disorder, or totally gone out of sight ; so that 
now the first great play could no longer be exhibited. I 
surrendered myself to my imagination ; I rehearsed and pre- 
pared forever ; built a thousand castles in the air, and failed 
to see that I was at the same time undermining the founda- 
tions of these little edifices." 

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



30 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

her sleepiness. Diverting as the matter seemed on one side, 
it was too simple for her taste, and her lover's view of it too 
serious. She softlj' pressed her foot on his, however, and 
gave him all visible signs of attention and approval. She 
drank out of his glass : Wilhelm was convinced that no 
word of his history had fallen to the ground. After a short 
pause, he said, "It is now your turn, Mariana, to tell 
me what were your first childish joys. Till now we have 
always been too busy with the present to trouble ourselves, 
on either side, about our previous way of life. Let me hear, 
Mariana, under what circumstances you were reared : what 
are the first lively impressions which you still remember ? ' ' 

These questions would have very much embarrassed Mari- 
ana, had not Barbara made haste to help her. " Think 
you," said the cunning old woman, "we have been so mind- 
ful of what happened to us long ago, that we have merry 
things like these to talk about, and, though we had, that we 
could give them such an air in talking of them ? ' ' 

"As if thej^ needed it!" cried Wilhelm. "I love this 
soft, good, amiable creature so much, that I regret every 
instant of my life which has not been spent beside her. 
Allow me, at least in fancy, to have a share in thy by-gone 
life ; tell me every thing ; 1 will tell every thing to thee ! If 
possible, we will deceive ourselves, and win back those days 
that have been lost to love." 

" If you require it so eagerly," replied the old dame, 
" we can easily content you. Only, in the first place, let us 
hear how your taste for the theatre gradually reached a 
head ; how you practised, how 30U improved so happil}', 
that now you can pass for a superior actor. No doubt you 
must have met with droll adventures in your progress. It 
is not worth while to go to bed now : I have still one flask 
in reserve ; and who knows whether we shall soon all sit 
together so quiet and cheery again ? ' ' 

Mariana cast upon her a mournful look, not noticed by 
"Wilhelm, who proceeded with his narrative. 



MEISTER'S API'llENTICESHIP. 31 



CHAPTER VII. 

"The recreations of j^outh, as my companions began to 
increase in number, interfered with this solitary, still enjoy- 
ment. I was by turns a hunter, a soldier, a knight, as our 
games required ; and constantly I had this small advantage 
above the rest, that I was qualified to furnish them suitably 
with the necessary equipments. The swords, for exam- 
ple, were generally of my mannfactiire ; I gilded and deco- 
rated the scabbards ; and a secret instinct allowed me not to 
stop till our militia was accoutred according to the antique 
model. Helmets, with plumes of paper, were got ready ; 
shields, even coats of mail, were provided ; undertakings in 
which such of the servants as had aught of the tailor in 
them, and the seamstresses of the house, broke many a 
needle. 

"A part of my comrades I had now got well equipped; 
by degrees, the rest were likewise furbished up, though on 
a thriftier plan ; and so a very seemly corps at length was 
mustered. We marched about the court-yards and gardens, 
smote fearfully upon each other's shields and heads : many 
flaws of discord rose among us, but none that lasted. 

' ' This diversion greatl}- entertained my fellows ; but 
scarcely had it been twice or thrice repeated, when it 
ceased to content me. The aspect of so many harnessed 
figures naturally stimulated in my mind those ideas of 
chivalry, which for some time, since I had commenced the 
reading of old romances, were filling my imagination. 

" Koppen's translation of ' Jerusalem Delivered ' at 
length fell into my hands, and gave these wandering 
thoughts a settled du-ection. The whole poem, it is true, 
I could not read ; but there were passages which I learned 
by heart, and the images expressed in these hovered round 
me. Particularly was I captivated with Clorinda, and all 
her deeds and bearing. The masculine womanhood, the 
peaceful completeness of her being, had a greater influence 
upon my Inind, just beginning to unfold itself, than the 
factitious charms of Armida ; though the garden of that 
enchantress was by no means an object of my contempt. 

*'But a hundred and a hundred times, while walking in 
the evenings on the balcony which stretches along the front 
of the house, and looking over the neighborhood, as the 
quivering splendor streamed up at the horizon from the 



32 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

departed sun, and the stars came forth, and night pressed 
forward from every cleft and hollow, and the small, shrill 
tone of the cricket tinkled through the solemn stillness, — 
a hundred and a hundred times have I repeated to myself 
the history of the mournful duel between Tancred and 
Clorinda. 

' ' However strongly I inclined by nature to the party of 
the Christians, I could not help declaring for the Paynim 
heroine with all my heart when she engaged to set on fire 
the great tower of the besiegers. And when Tancred in the 
darkness met the supposed knight, and the strife began 
between them under that veil of gloom, and the two battled 
fiercely, I could never pronounce the words, — 

" ' But now the sure and fated hour is nigh: 
Clorinda' s course is ended, — she must die; ' — 

without tears rushing into my eyes, which flowed plentifully 
when the hapless lover, plunging his sword into her breast, 
opened the departing warrior's helmet, recognized the lady 
of his heart, and, shuddering, brought water to baptize her. 

" How my heart ran over when Tancred struck with his 
sword that tree in the enchanted wood ; when blood flowed 
from the gash, and a voice sounded in his ears, that now 
again he was wounding Clorinda ; that Destiny had marked 
him out ever unwittingly to injure what he loved beyond all 
else. 

" The recital took such hold of my imagination, that what 
I had read of the poem began dimly, in my mind, to con- 
glomerate into a whole ; wherewith I was so taken that I 
could not but propose to have it some way represented. 
I meant to have Tancred and Rinaldo acted ; and, for this 
purpose, two coats of mail, which I had before manufac- 
tured, seemed expressly suitable. The one, formed of dark- 
gray paper with scales, was to serve for the solemn Tancred ; 
the other, of silver and gilt paper, for the magnificent 
Rinaldo. In the vivacity of my anticipations, I told the 
whole project to my comrades, who felt quite charmed with 
it, except that they could not well comprehend how so glo- 
rious a thing could be exhibited, and, above all, exhibited 
by them. 

" Such scruples I easily set aside. Without hesitation, 
I took upon me, in idea, the management of two rooms in 
the house of a neighboring playmate ; not calculating that 
Jiis venerable aunt would never give them up, or considering 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 33 

how a theatre could be made of them, whereof I had no 
settled notion, except that it was to be fixed on beams, to 
have side-scenes made of parted folding-screens, and on the 
floor a large piece of cloth. From what quarter these mate- 
rials and furnishings were to come, I had not determined. 

" So far as concerned the forest, we fell upon a good 
expedient. We betook ourselves to an old servant of one 
of our families, who had now become a woodman, with 
many entreaties that he would get us a few young firs and 
birches ; which actually arrived more speedily than we had 
reason to expect. But, in the next place, great was our 
embarrassment as to how the piece should be got up before 
the trees were withered. Now was the time for prudent 
counsel. We had no house, no scenery, no curtain : the 
folding-screens were all we had. 

' ' In this forlorn condition we again applied to the lieu- 
tenant, giving him a copious description of all the glorious 
things we meant to do. Little as he understood us, he was 
very helpful : he piled all the tables he could get in the 
house or neighborhood, one above the other, in a little room : 
to these he fixed our folding-screens, and made a back-view 
with green curtains, sticking up our trees along with it. 

' ' At length the appointed evening came : the candles 
were lit, the maids and children were sitting in their places, 
the piece was to go forward, the whole corps of heroes was 
equipped and dressed, — when each for the first time discov- 
ered that he knew not what he was to say. In the heat 
of invention, being quite immersed in present difficulties, I 
bad forgotten the necessity of each understanding what and 
where he was to speak ; nor, in the midst of our bustling 
preparations, had it once occurred to the rest ; each believ- 
ing he could easily enact a hero, easily so speak and bear 
himself, as became the personage into whose world I had 
transplanted him. They all stood wonder-struck, asking, 
What was to come first? I alone, having previously got 
ready Tancred's part, entered solus on the scene, and began 
reciting some verses of the epic. But as the passage soon 
changed into narrative, and I, while speaking, was at once 
transformed into a third party, and the bold Godfredo, when 
his turn came, would not venture forth, I was at last obliged 
to take leave of my spectators under peals of laughter, — a 
disaster which cut me to the heart. Thus had our undertak- 
ing proved abortive ; but the company still kept their places, 
still wishing to see something. All of us were dressed : I 
{3— Goethe Vol 7 



34 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER VIII. 



Mariana, overpowered with sleep, leaned upon her lover, 
who clasped her close to him, and proceeded m his narrative ; 
while the old damsel prudently sipped up the remainder of 
the wine. 

"The embarrassment," he said, "into which, along with 
my companions, I had fallen, by attempting to act a play 
that did not an^'where exist, was soon forgotten. My pas- 
sion for representing each romance I read, each story that 
was told me, would not yield before the most unmanageable 
materials. I felt convinced that whatever gave delight in 
narrative must produce a far deeper impression when exhib- 
ited : I wanted to have every thing before my eyes, every 
thing brought forth upon the stage. At school, when the 
elements of general history were related to us, I careful]}^ 
marked the passages where any person had been slain or 
poisoned in a singular way ; and my imagination, glancing 
rapidly along the exposition and intrigue, hastened to the 
interesting fifth act. Indeed, I actually began to write 
some plaj's from the end backwards, without, however, in 
any of them reaching the beginning. 

"At the same time, partly by inclination, partly b}'' the 
counsel of my good friends, who had caught the fancy of 
acting plays, I read a wliolc wilderness of theatrical produc- 
tions, as chance put them into my hands. 1 was still in 
those happy years when all things please us, when number 



I 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 35 

and variety yield us abundant satisfaction. Unfortunately, 
too, my taste was corrupted by another circumstance. Any 
piece delighted me especially, in which I could hope to give 
delight ; there were few which I did not peruse in this agree- 
able delusion : and my lively conceptive power enabling me 
to transfer myself into all the characters, seduced me to 
believe that T might likewise represent them all. Hence, in 
the distribution of the parts, I commonly selected such as 
did not fit me, and always more than one part, if I could 
by any means accomplish more. 

" In their games, children can make all things out of any : 
a staff becomes a musket, a splinter of wood a sword, any 
bunch of cloth a puppet, any crevice a chamber. Upon 
this principle was our private theatre got up. Totally unac- 
quainted with the measure of our strength, we undertook all : 
we stuck at no quid pro quo, and felt convinced that every one 
would take us for what we gave ourselves out to be. Now, 
however, our affairs went on so soberly and smoothly, that I 
have not even a curious insipidity to tell you of. We first 
acted all the few plays in w^hich only males are requisite, 
next we travestied some of ourselves, and at last took our 
sisters into the concern along with us. In one or two houses, 
our amusement was looked upon as profitable ; and company 
was invited to see it. Nor did our lieutenant of artillery now 
turn his back upon us. He showed us how we ought to make 
our exits and our entrances ; how we should declaim, and 
with what attitudes and gestures. Yet generally he earned 
small thanks for his toil, we conceiving ourselves to be much 
deeper in the secrets of theatrical art than he himself was. 

* ' We very soon began to grow tired of tragedy ; for all of 
us believed, as we had often heard, that it was easier to write 
or represent a tragedy than to attain proficiency in comedy. 
In our first attempts, accordingly, we had felt as if exactly 
in our element : dignity of rank, elevation of character, we 
studied to approach by stiffness and affectation, and ima- 
gined that we succeeded rarely ; but our happiness was not 
complete, except we might rave outright, might stamp wath 
our feet, and, full of fury and despair, cast ourselves upon 
the ground. 

" Bo3's and girls had not long carried on these amusements 
in concert, till Nature began to take her course ; and our 
society branched itself off into sundry little love-associations, 
as generally more than one sort of comedy is acted in the 
playhouse. Behind the scenes, each happy pair pressed 



36 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

hands in the most tender style ; they floated in blessedness^ 
appearing to one another quite ideal persons, when so trans- 
formed and decorated ; whilst, on the other hand, unlucky 
rivals consumed themselves with envy, and out of malice and 
spite worked every species of mischief. 

'* Our amusements, though undertaken without judgment, 
and carried on without instruction, were not without their 
use to us. We trained our memories and persons, and ac- 
quired more dexterity in speech and gesture than is usually 
met with at so early an age. But, for me in particular, this 
time was in truth an epoch : my mind turned all its faculties 
exclusively to the theatre ; and my highest happiness was in 
reading, in writing, or in acting, plays. 

' ' Meanwhile the labors of my regular teachers continued : 
I had been set apart for the mercantile life, and placed under 
the guidance of our neighbor in the counting-house ; yet my 
spirit at this very time recoiled more forcibly than ever from 
all that was to bind me to a low profession. It was to the 
stage that I aimed at consecrating all my powers, — on the 
stage that I meant to seek all my happiness and satisfaction. 

"I recollect a poem, which must be among my papers, 
where the Muse of tragic art and another female form, by 
which I personified Commerce, were made to strive very 
bravely for my most important self. The idea is common, 
nor do I recollect that the verses were of any worth ; but you 
shall see it, for the sake of the fear, the abhorrence, the love 
and passion, which are prominent in it. How repulsively did 
I paint the old housewife, with the distaff in her girdle, the 
bunch of keys by her side, the spectacles on her nose, ever 
toiling, ever restless, quarrelsome, and penurious, pitiful and 
dissatisfied ! How feelingly did I describe the condition of 
that poor man who has to cringe beneath her rod, and earn 
his slavish day's wages by the sweat of his brow ! 

' ' And how differently advanced the other ! What an appa- 
rition for the overclouded mind ! Formed as a queen, in her 
thoughts and looks she announced herself the child of free- 
dom. The feeling of her own worth gave her dignity with- 
out pride : her apparel became her, it veiled her form without 
constraining it ; and the rich folds repeated, like a thousand- 
voiced echo, the graceful movements of the goddess. What 
a contrast ! How easy for me to decide ! Nor had I for- 
gotten the more peculiar characteristics of my Muse. Crowns 
and daggers, chains and masks, as my predecessors had de- 
livered them, were here produced once more. The contention 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 37 

was keen : the speeches of both were palpably enough con- 
trasted, for at fourteen years of age one usually paints the 
black lines and the white pretty near each other. The old 
lady spoke as beseemed a person that would pick up a pin 
from her path ; the other, like one that could give away 
kingdoms. The warning threats of the housewife were 
disregarded ; I turned my back upon her promised riches : 
disinherited and naked, I gave myself up to the Muse ; she 
threw her golden veil over me, and called me hers. 

" Could I have thought, my dearest," he exclaimed, press- 
ing Mariana close to him, '' that another, a more lovely god- 
dess would come to encourage me in my purpose, to travel 
with me on my journey, the poem might have had a finer turn, 
a far more interesting end. Yet it is no poetry, it is truth 
and life that I feel in thy arms : let us prize the sweet happi- 
ness, and consciously enjoy it." 

The pressure of his arms, the emotion of his elevated voice, 
awoke Mariana, who hastened by caresses to conceal her 
embarrassment ; for no word of the last part of his story had 
reached her. It is to be wished, that in future, our hero, 
when recounting his favorite histories, may find more atten- 
tive hearers. 



CHAPTER IX. 

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

Mariana, too, succeeded in deceiving herself for a season : 
she shared with him the feeling of his liveliest blessedness. 



38 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Alas! if but the cold hand of self- reproach had not ofteu 
come across her heart ! She was not secure from it, even in 
"Wilhelm's bosom, even under the wings of his love. And 
when she was again left alone, again left to sink from the 
clouds, to which passion had exalted her, into the conscious- 
ness of her real condition, then she was indeed to be pitied. 
So long as she had lived among degrading perplexities, dis- 
guising from herself her real situation, or rather never think- 
ing of it, frivolity had helped her through ; the incidents she 
was exposed to had come upon her each by itself ; satisfac- 
tion and vexation had cancelled one another ; humiliation had 
been compensated by vanity ; want by frequent, though mo- 
mentary, superfluity ; she could plead necessity and custom 
as a law or an excuse ; and hitherto all painful emotions from 
hour to hour, and from day to day, had by these means been 
shaken off. But now, for some instants, the poor girl had 
felt herself transported to a better world ; aloft, as it were, 
in the midst of light and joy, she had looked down upon the 
abject desert of her life, had felt what a miserable creature is 
the woman, who, inspiring desire, does not also inspire rever- 
ence and love : she regretted and repented, but found herself 
outwardly or inwardly no better for regret. She had nothing 
that she could accomplish or resolve upon. When she looked 
into and searched herself, all was waste and void within her 
soul : her heart had no place of strength or refuge. But the 
more sorrowful her state was, the more vehemently did her 
feelings cling to the man she loved : her passion for him even 
waxed stronger daily, as the danger of losing him came daily 
nearer. 

Wilhelm, on the other hand, soared serenely happy in 
higher regions : to him also a new world had been disclosed, 
but a world rich in the most glorious prospects. Scarcely 
had the first excess of joy subsided, when all that had long 
been gliding dimly through his soul stood up in bright dis- 
tinctness before it. She is mine ! She has given lierself up 
to me ! She, the loved, the wished for, the adored, has given 
herself up to me in trust and faith : she shall not find me 
ungrateful for the gift. Standing or walking, he talked to 
himself ; his heart constantly overflowed ; with a copiousness 
of splendid words, he uttered to himself the loftiest emotions. 
He imagined that he understood the visible beckoning of Fate, 
reaching out its hand by Mariana to save him from the stag- 
nant, weary, drudging life, out of which he had so often 
wished for deliverance. To leave his father's house and 



MEISTER'S APrRENTlCESHIP. 39 

people, now appeared a light matter. He was 3^ouDg, and 
had not tried the world : his eagerness to range over its ex- 
panses, seeking fortune and contentment, was stimulated by 
his love. His vocation for the theatre was now clear to him : 
the high goal, which he saw raised before him, seemed nearer 
whilst he was advancing to it with Mariana's hand in his ; 
and, in his comfortable prudence, he beheld in himself the 
embryo of a great actor, — the future founder of that national 
theatre, for which he heard so much and various sighing on 
every side. All that till now had slumbered in the inner- 
most corners of his soul, at length awoke. He painted for 
himself a picture of his manifold ideas, in the colors of love, 
upon a canvas of cloud : the figures of it, indeed, ran sadly 
into one another ; yet the whole had an air but the more bril- 
liant on that account. 



CHAPTER X. 

He was now in his chamber at home, ransacking his 
papers, making ready for departure. Whatever savored of 
his previous employment he threw aside, meaning at his 
entrance upon life to be free, even from recollections that 
could pain him. Works of taste alone, poets and critics, 
were, as acknowledged friends, placed among the chosen 
few. Heretofore he had given little heed to the critical 
authors : his desire for instruction now revived, when, again 
looking through his books, he found the theoretical part of 
them lying generally still uncut. In the full persuasion that 
such works were absolutely necessary, he had bought a num- 
ber of them ; but, with the best disposition in the world, he 
had not reached midway in any. 

The more steadfastly, on the other hand, he had dwelt 
upon examples, and, in every kind that was known to him, 
had made attempts himself. 

Werner entered the room ; and, seeing his friend busied 
with the well-known sheets, he exclaimed, "Again among 
your papers? And without intending, I dare swear, to finish 
any one of them ! You look them through and through 
once or twice, then throw them by, and begin something 
new.'* 



40 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

"To finish is not the scholar's care: it is enough if he 
improves himself by practice." 

" But also completes according to his best ability." 

"And still the question might be asked, 'Is there not 
good hope of a youth, who, on commencing some unsuitable 
affair, soon discovers its unsuitableness, and discontinues liis 
exertions, not choosing to spend toil and time on what never 
can be of any value? ' " 

" I know well enough it was never your concern to bring 
aught to a conclusion : you have always sickened on it before 
it came half way. When you were the director of our pup- 
pet-show, for instance, how many times were fresh clothes 
got ready for the dwarfish troop, fresh decorations furbished 
up? Now this tragedy was to be acted, now that; and at 
the very best you gave us some fifth act, where all was going 
topsy-turvy, and people cutting one another's throats." 

"If you talk of those times, "^vhose blame really was it 
that we ripped off from our puppets the clothes that fitted 
them, and were fast stitched to their bodies, and laid out 
money for a large and useless wardrobe? Was it not yours, 
my good friend, who had always some fragment of ribbon to 
traflflc with ; and skill, at the same time, to stimulate my 
taste, and turn it to your profit? " 

Werner laughed, and continued, "I still recollect, with 
pleasure, how I used to extract gain from your theatrical 
campaigns, as army contractors do from war. When you 
mustered for the ' Deliverance of Jerusalem,' I, for my part, 
made a pretty thing of profit, like the Venetians in the cor- 
responding case. I know of nothing in the world more 
rational than to turn the folly of others to our own advan- 
tage." 

' ' Perhaps it were a nobler satisfaction to cure men of their 
follies." 

" From the little I know of men, this might seem a vain 
endeavor. But something towards it is always done, when 
any individual man grows wise and rich ; and generally this 
happens at the cost of others." 

" Well, here is ' The Youth at the Parting of the Ways : ' 
it has just come into my hand," said Wilhelm, drawing out 
a bunch of papers from the rest ; " this at least is finished, 
whatever else it may be." 

"Away with it ! to the fire with it ! " cried Werner. " The 
invention does not deserve the smallest praise :» that affair 
has plagued me enough already, and drawn upon yourself 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 41 

your father's wrath. The verses ma}^ be altogether beauti- 
ful, but the meaning of them is fundamentally false. I 
still recollect your Commerce personified : a shrivelled, 
wretched-looking sibyl she was. I suppose you picked up 
the image of her from some miserable huckster's shop. At 
that time you had no true idea at all of trade ; whilst I 
could not think of any man whose spirit was, or needed to 
be, more enlarged than the spirit of a genuine merchant. 
What a thing is it to see the order which prevails throughout 
his business ! By means of this he can at any time survey 
the general whole, without needing to perplex himself in the 
details. What advantages does he derive from the system 
of book-keeping by double entry ! It is among the finest 
inventions of the human mind : every prudent master of a 
house should introduce it into his economy." 

^'Pardon me," said Wilhelm, smiling; "you begin by 
the form, as if it were the matter: you traders commonly, 
In your additions and balancings, forget what is the proper 
net result of life." 

'^My good friend, you do not see how form and matter 
are in this case one, how neither can exist without the other. 
Order and arrangement increase the desire to save and get. 
A man embarrassed in his circumstances, and conducting 
them imprudently, likes best to continue in the dark : he 
will not gladly reckon up the debtor entries hie is charged 
with. But, on the other hand, there is nothing to a prudent 
manager more pleasant than daily to set before himself the 
sums of his growing fortune. Even a mischance, if it sur- 
prise and vex, will not affright, him ; for he knows at once 
what gains he has acquired to cast into the other scale. I 
am convinced, my friend, that, if you once had a proper 
taste for our employments, you would grant that many fac- 
ulties of the mind are called into full and vigorous play by 
them." 

" Possibly this journey I am thinking of may bring me to 
other thoughts." 

"Oh, certainly ! Believe me, you want but to look upon 
some great scene of activity to make you ours forever ; and, 
when you come back, you will joyfully enroll yourself among 
that class of men whose art it is to draw towards themselves 
a portion of the money, and materials of enjoyment, which 
circulate in their appointed courses through the world. Cast 
a look on the natural and artificial productions of all the 
regions of the earth ; consider how they have become, one 



42 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

here, another there, articles of necessity for men How 
pleasant and how intellectual a task is it to calculate, at any 
moment, what is most required, and 3'et is wanting, or hard 
to find ; to procure for each easily and soon what he de- 
mands ; to lay in your stock prudently beforehand, and then 
to enjoy the profit of every pulse in that mighty circulation. 
This, it appears to me, is what no man that has a head can 
attend to without pleasure." 

Wilhelm seemed to acquiesce, and Werner continued. 

"" Do but visit one or two great trading-towns, one or two 
geaports, and see if you can withstand the impression. 
When you observe how many men are busied, whence so 
many things have come, and whither they arc going, you 
will feel as if you, too, could gladly mingle in the business. 
You will then see the smallest piece of ware in its connec- 
tion with the whole mercantile concern ; and for that very 
reason you will reckon nothing paltry, because every thing 
augments the circulation by which 3^ou yourself are sup- 
ported . ' ' 

Werner had formed his solid understanding in constant 
intercourse with Wilhelm : he was thus accustomed to think 
also of his profession, of his employments, with elevation of 
soul ; and he firmly believed that he did so with more justice 
than his otherwise more gifted and valued friend, who, as it 
seemed to him, had placed his dearest hopes, and directed 
all the force of his mind, upon the most imaginary objects 
in the world. Many a time he thought his false enthusiasm 
would infallibl}' be got the better of, and so excellent a soul 
be brought back to the right path. So hoping in the present 
instance, he continued, " The great ones of the world have 
taken this earth of ours to themselves : they live in the midst 
of splendor and superfluity. The smallest nook of the land 
is already a possession which none may touch or meddle 
with : offices and civil callings bring in little profit. Where, 
then, will you find more honest acquisitions, juster conquests, 
than those of trade? If the princes of this world hold the 
rivers, the highwaj^s, the havens, in their power, and take a 
heavy tribute from every thing that passes through them, 
may not we embrace with joy the opportunity of levying tax 
and toll, by our activity, on those commodities which the 
real or imaginary wants of men have rendered indispensa- 
ble? I can promise you, if you would rightly apply your 
poetic view, my goddess might be represented as an invinci- 
ble, victorious queen, and boldly opposed to yours. It is 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 43 

true, she bears the olive rather than the sword : dagger or 
chain she knows not. But she, too, gives crowns to her 
favorites ; which, witliout offence to yours be it said, are of 
true gold from the furnace and the mine, and glance with 
genuine pearls, which she brings up from the depths of the 
ocean by the hands of her unwearied servants." 

This sally somewhat nettled Wilhelm ; but he concealed 
his sentiments, remembering that Werner used to listen with 
composure to his apostrophes. Besides, he had fairness 
enough to be pleased at seeing each man think the best of 
his own peculiar craft, provided only his, of which he was 
so passionately fond, were likewise left in peace. 

^^ And for 3^ou," exclaimed Werner, "who take so warm 
an interest in human concerns, what a sight will it be to 
behold the fortune, which accompanies bold undertakings, 
distributed to men before your eyes ! What is more spirit- 
stirring than the aspect of a ship arriving from a lucky 
voyage, or soon returning with a rich capture? Not only 
the relatives, the acquaintances, and those that share with 
the adventurers, but every unconcerned spectator also, is ex- 
cited, when he sees the joy with which the long-imprisoned 
shipman springs on land before his keel has wholly reached 
it, feeling that he is free once more, and now can trust what 
he has rescued from the false sea to the firm and faithful 
earth. It is not, my friend, in figures of arithmetic alone 
that gain presents itself before us. Fortune is the goddess 
of breathing men : to feel her favors truly, we must live and 
be men who toil with their living minds and bodies, and en- 
joy with them also." 



CHAPTER XI. 

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



44 . MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

he had entirely rebuilt and furnished his house in the newest 
style, and turned his other property to profit in all possible 
ways. A considerable portion of it he had embarked in 
trade, under the direction of the elder Werner, — a man 
noted as an active merchant, whose speculations were com- 
monly favored by fortune. But nothing was so much desired 
by Meister as to confer upon his son those qualities of which 
himself was destitute, and to leave his children advantages 
which he reckoned it of the highest importance to possess. 
Withal, he felt a peculiar inclination for magnificence, — for 
whatever catches the eye, and possesses at the same time 
real worth and durability. lu his house he would have all 
things solid and massive : his stores must be copious and 
rich, all his plate must be heavy, the furniture of his table 
must be costly. On the other hand, his guests were seldom 
invited ; for every dinner was a festival, which, both for its ex- 
pense and for its inconvenience, could not often be repeated. 
The economy of his house went on at a settled, uniform 
rate ; and every thing that moved or had place in it was just 
what yielded no one any real enjo3^ment. 

The elder Werner, in his dark and hampered house, led 
quite another sort of life. The business of the day, in his 
narrow counting-house, at his ancient desk, once done, Wer- 
ner liked to eat well, and, if possible, to drmk better. Nor 
could he fully enjoy good things in solitude : with his family 
he must always see at table his friends, and any stranger 
that had the slightest connection with his house. His chairs 
were of unknown age and antic fashion, but he daily invited 
some to sit on them. The dainty victuals arrested the atten- 
tion of his guests, and none remarked that they were served 
up in common ware. His cellar held no great stock of wine, 
but the emptied niches were usually filled by more of a supe 
rior sort. 

So lived these two fathers, often meeting to take counsel 
about their common concerns. On the day we are speaking 
of, it had been determined to send Wilhelm out from home, 
for the despatch of some commercia affairs. 

" Let him look about him in the world," said old Meister, 
" and at the same time carry on our business in distant parts. 
One cannot do a young man any greater kindness than initiate 
him early in the future business of his life. Your son re- 
turned so happily from his first expedition, and transacted 
his affairs so cleverly, that I am very curious to see how 
inine will do ; his experience, I fear, will cost him dearer/' 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 45 

Old Meister had a high notion of his son's faculties and 
capabilities : he said this in the hope that his friend would 
contradict him, and hold up to view the admiiable gifts of 
the youth. Here, however, he deceived himself. Old Wer- 
ner, who, in practical concerns, would trust no man but 
such as he had proved, answered placidly, "One must try 
all things. We can send him on the same journey : we shall 
give him a paper of directions to conduct him. There are 
sundry debts to be gathered in, old connections are to be 
renewed, new ones to be made. He may likewise help the 
speculation I was lately talking of ; for, without punctual 
intelligence gathered on the spot, there is little to be done 
in it." 

" He must prepare," said Meister, "and set forth as soon 
as possible. Where shall we get a horse for him to suit this 
business?" 

" We shall not seek far. The shopkeeper in H , who 

owes us somewhat, but is withal a good man, has offered me 
a horse instead of payment. My son knows it, and tells 
me it is a serviceable beast." 

" He may fetch it himself. Let him go with the diligence ; 
the day after to-morrow he is back again betimes ; we have 
his saddle-bags and letters made ready in the mean time ; he 
can set out on Monday morning." 

Wilhelm was sent for, and informed of their determina- 
tion. Who so glad as he, now seeing the means of exe- 
cuting his purpose put into his hands, the opportunity made 
ready for him, without co-operation of his own ! So intense 
was his love, so full was his conviction of the perfect recti- . 
tude of his intention to escape from the pressure of his actual 
mode of life, and follow a new and nobler career, that his 
conscience did not in the least rebel ; no anxiety arose 
within him ; he even reckoned the deception he was medi- 
tating holy. He felt certain, that, in the long-run, parents\ 
and relations would praise and bless him for this resolution : 
he acknowledged in these concurring circumstances the sig- 
nal of a guiding fate. 

How slowly the time passed with him till night, till the 
hour when he should again see his Mariana ! He sat in his 
chamber, and revolved the plan of his journey ; as a con- 
jurer, or a cunning thief in durance, often draws out his feet 
from the fast-locked irons, to cherish in himself the convic- 
tion that his deliverance is possible, nay, nearer than short- 
sightecl turnkeys believe. 



46 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

At last the appointed hour struck : lie went out, shook off 
all anxiety, and hastened through the silent streets. In the 
middle of the great square he raised his hands to the sky, 
feeling as if all was behind him and below hira : he had freed 
himself from all. One moment he figured himself as in the 
arms of his beloved, the next as glancing with her in the 
splendors of the stage : he soared aloft in a world of hopes, 
only now and then the call of some watcliman brought to his 
recollection that he was still wandering on the ^1^1gar earth. 

Mariana came to the stairs to meet him, — and how beauti- 
ful, how lovely ! She received him in the new white negligee : 
he thought he had never seen her so charming. Thus did she 
handsel the gift of her absent lover in the arms of a present 
one ; with true passion she lavished on her darling the whole 
treasure of those caresses which nature suggested, or art had 
taught : need we ask if he was happy, if he was blessed ? 

He disclosed to her what had passed, and showed her, in 
general terms, his plan and his wishes. He would try, he 
said, to find a residence, then come back for her : he hoped 
she would not refuse him her hand. The poor girl was silent : 
she concealed her tears, and pressed her friend against her 
])osom. Wilhelm, though interpreting her silfence in the 
most favorable manner, could have wished for a distinct 
reply ; and still more, when at last he inquired of her in the 
tenderest and most delicate terms, if he might not think him- 
self a father. But to this she answered only with a sigh, 
with a kiss. 



CHAFIER Xlt. 

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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 47 

" Calm yourself, my dear," said the old woman : " do not 
spoil your pretty eyes with crying. Is it, then, so terrible 
a thing to have two lovers? And though you can bestow 
your love but on the one, yet be thankful to the other, who, 
caring for you as he does, certainly deserves to be named 
your friend." 

'^ My poor Wilhelm," said the other, all in tears, '' had 
warning that a separation was at hand. A dream discov- 
ered to him what we strove so much to hide. He was sleep- 
ing calmly at my side ; on a sudden I heard him mutter some 
unintelligible sounds : I grew frightened, and awoke him. 
Ah ! with what love and tenderness and warmth did he clasp 
me ! ' O Mariana ! ' cried he, ' what a horrid fate have 
you freed me from ! How shall I thank you for deliverance 
from such torment? I dreamed that I was far from you in 
an unknown country, but your figure hovered before me ; I 
saw you on a beautiful hill, the sunshine was glancing over 
it all ; how charming you looked ! But it had not lasted 
long, before I observed your image sinking down, sinking, 
sinking : I stretched out my arms towards you ; they could 
not reach you through the distance. Your image still kept 
gliding down : it approached a great sea that lay far ex- 
tended at the foot of the hill, — a marsh rather than a sea. 
All at once a man gave you his hand, and seemed meaning 
to conduct you upwards ; but he led you sidewards, and 
appeared to draw you after him. I cried out : as I could 
not reach you, I hoped to warn you. If I tried to walk, the 
ground seemed to hold me fast ; if I could walk, the water 
hindered me ; and even my cries were smothered in my 
breast.' So said the poor youth, while recovering from his 
terror, and reckoning himself happy to see a frightful dream 
thrust aside by the most delicious reality." 

Barbara made every effort to reduce, by her prose, the 
poetry of her friend to the domain of common life ; employ- 
ing, in the present case, the ingenious, craft which so often 
succeeds with bird-catchers, when they imitate with a whistle 
the tones of those luckless creatures they soon hope to see 
by dozens safely lodged in their nets. She praised Wilhelm : 
she expatiated on his figure, his eyes, his love. The poor 
girl heard her with a gratified heart, then arose, let herself 
be dressed, and appeared calmer. " My child, my darling," 
continued the old woman, in a cozening tone, "I will not 
trouble you or injure you : I cannot think of tearing from 
you your dearest happiness. Could you mistake my in ten- 



l0^ 



48 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

tion ? Have you forgotten that on all occasions I have cared 
for you more than for myself ? Tell me only what you wish : 
we shall soon see how it may be brought about." 

"What can I wish?" said Mariana; "I am miserable, 
miserable for life : I love him, and he loves me ; yet I see 
that I must part with him, and know not how I shall survive 
it. Norberg is coming, to whom we owe our whole subsist- 
ence, whom we cannot live without. Wilhelm is straitened 
in his fortune : he can do nothing for me." 

" Yes, unfortunately, he is of those lovers who bring noth- 
ing but their hearts ; and these people, too, have the high- 
est pretensions of any." 

"No jesting! The unhappy youth thinks of leaving his 
home, of going upon the stage, of offering me his hand." 

' ' Of empty hands we have already four. ' ' 

" I have no choice," continued Mariana : "do you decide 
for me. Cast me awa}' to this side or to that : mark only 
one thing, — I think I carry in my bosom a pledge that ought 
to unite me with him still more closely. Consider and deter- 
mine : whom shall I forsake? whom shall I follow? " 

After a short silence, Barbara exclaimed, "Strange, that 
youth should always be for extremes ! To my view, nothing 
would be easier than for us to combine both the profit and 
the enjoyment. Do you love the one, let the other pay for 
it : all we have to mind, is being sharp enough to keep the 
two from meeting." 

"Do as you please: I can imagine nothing, but I will 
obey." 

" We have this advantage : we can humor the manager's 
caprice and pride about the morals of his troop. Both lovers 
are accustomed already to go secretly and cautiously to work. 
For hours and opportunity I will take thought : only hence- 
forth you must act the part that I prescribe to you. Who 
knows what circumstances may arise to help us? If Nor- 
berg would arrive even now, when Wilhelm is away ! Who 
can hinder you from thinking of the one in the arms of the 
other? I wish you a son, and good fortune with him: he 
will have a rich father." 

These projects lightened Mariana's despondency only for 
a very short time. She could not bring her situation into 
harmony with her feelings, with her convictions : she would 
fain have forgotten the painful relations in which she stood, 
and a thousand little circumstances forced them back every 
moment to her recollection. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 49 



CHAPTER XIII. 

In the mean time, Wilhelm had completed the short pre- 
Kminary journey. His merchant being from home, he deliv- 
ered the letter of introduction to the mistress of the house. 
But neither did this lady give him much furtherance in his 
purposes : she was in a violent passion , and her whole econ- 
omy was in confusion. 

He had not waited long when she disclosed to him, what 
in truth could not be kept a secret, that her step-daughter 
had run off with a player, — a person who had parted lately 
from a small strolling compan}^, and had staid in the place, 
and commenced teaching French. The father, distracted 
with grief and vexation, had run to the Amt to have the fugi- 
tives pursued. She blamed her daughter bitterly, and vili- 
fied the lover, till she left no tolerable quality with either : 
she deplored at great length the shame thus brought upon the 
family ; embarrassing our hero not a little, who here felt his 
own private scheme beforehand judged and punished, in the 
spirit of prophecy as it were, by this frenzied sibyl. Still 
stronger and deeper was the interest he took in the sorrows 
of the father, who now returned from the Amt, and with 
fixed sorrow, in broken sentences, gave his wife an account 
of the errand, and strove to hide the embarrassment and dis- 
traction of his mind ; while, after looking at the letter, he 
directed that the horse it spoke of should be given to Wil- 
helm. 

Our friend thought it best to mount his steed immediately, 
and quit a house where, in its present state, he could not 
possibly be comfortable ; but the honest man would not allow 
the son of one to whom he had so many obligations to depart 
without tasting of his hospitality, without remaining at least 
a night beneath his roof. 

Wilhelih had partaken of a melancholy supper, worn out 
a restless night, and hastened, early in the morning, to get 
rid of these people, who, without knowing it, had, by their 
narratives and utterances, been constantly wounding him to 
the quick. 

In a musing mood, he was riding slowly along, when all 
at once he observed a number of armed men coming through 
the fields. By their long, loose coats, with enormous cuffs; 
by their shapeless hats, clumsy muskets ; by their unpre- 
tending gait, and contented bearing of the body, — he rec- 



50 METSTER^S APPRENTTCESHTP. 

Ognized in these people a detachment of provincial militia- 
They halted beneath an old oak, set down their fire-arms, 
and placed themselves at their ease upon the sward, to smoke 
a pipe of tobacco. Wilhelm lingered near them, and entered 
into conversation with a young man who came up on horse- 
back. The history of the two runawa3's, which he knew but 
too well, was again detailed to him, and that with comments 
not particularly flattering, either to the young pair them- 
selves, or to the parents. He also learned that the military 
had come hither to take into custody the loving couple, who 
had already been seized and detained in a neighboring 
.village. After some time, accordingly, a cart was seen ad- 
N^ancing to the place, encircled with a city guard more ludi- 
crous than appalling. An amorphous town-clerk rode forth, 
and made his compliments to the Actuarius (for such was 
the young man Wilhelm had been speaking to) , on the bor- 
der of their several districts, with great conscientiousness 
and queer grimaces ; as perhaps the ghost and the conjurer 
do, when they meet, the one within the circle and the other 
out of it, in their dismal midnight operations. 

But the chief attention of the lookers-on was directed to 
the cart : they could not behold, without compassion, the 
poor, misguided creatures, who were sitting upon bundles of 
straw, looking tenderly at one another, and scarcely seeming 
to observe the by-standers. Accident had forced their con- 
ductors to bring them from the last village in that unseemly 
style ; the old chaise, which had previouslj^ transported the 
lady, having there broken down. On that occurrence she 
had begged for permission to sit beside her friend ; w^hom, 
in the conviction that his crime was of a capital sort, the 
rustic bailiffs had so far brought along in irons. These irons 
certainly contributed to give the tender group a more inter- 
esting appearance, particularly as the young man moved and 
bore himself with great dignity, while he kissed more than 
once the hands of his fair companion. 

" We are unfortunate," she cried to the by-standers, " but 
not so guilty as we seem. It is thus that cruel men reward 
true love ; and parents, who entirely neglect the happiness 
of their children, tear them with fury from the arms of joy^ 
when it has found them after many weary days." 

The spectators were expressing their sympathy in various 
ways, when, the oflficers of law having finished their cere- 
monial, the cart went on ; and Wilhelm, who took a deep 
interest in the fate of the lovers, hastened forward by a foot- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHtt. 51 

path to get some acquaintance with the Amtmann before the 
procession should arrive. But scarcely had he reached the 
Amthaus^ where all was in motion, and ready to receive 
the fugitives, when his new friend, the Achiarius^ laid hold 
of him ; and giving him a circumstantial detail of the whole 
proceedings, and then launching out into a comprehensive 
eulogy of his own horse, which he had got by barter the night 
before, put a stop to every other sort of conversation. 

The luckless pair, in the mean time, had been set down be- 
hind, at the garden, which communicated by a little door 
with the AmtJiaus, and thus brought in unobserved. The 
Actuarius, for this mild and handsome treatment, accepted 
of a just encomium from Wilhelm ; though in truth his sole 
object had been to mortify the crowd collected in front of 
the Amthaus, by denying them the satisfaction of looking at 
a neighbor in disgrace. 

The Amtmann, who had no particular taste for such ex- 
traordinary occurrences, being wont on these occasions to 
commit frequent errors, and, with the best intentions, to be 
often paid with sour adrnonitions from the higher powers, 
went with heavy steps into his office-room ; the Actuarius 
with Wilhelm and a few respectable citizens following him. 

The lady was first produced : she ad\'anced without pert- 
ness, calm and self-possessed. The manner of her dress, the 
way in which she bore herself, showed that she was a person 
not without value in her own eyes. She accordingly begauj 
without any questions being put, to speak, not unskilfully, 
about her situation. 

The Actuarius bade her be silent, and held his pen oVef 
the folded sheet. The Amtm^ann gathered up his resolution, 
looked at his assistant, cleared his throat by two or three 
hems, and asked the |)0or girl what was hef name, and how 
old she was. 

"I beg your pardon, sir," said she, "but it seems very 
strange tb me that yoU ask my nanie and age, seeing you 
know very well what my name is, and that I am just of the 
ftge of your oldest son. What you do want to know of me, 
^nd need to know, 1 will tell freely Without circumlocution. 

'' Since my father's second marriage, my situation in his 
house has liot been of the most enviable sort. Oftener than 
once I have had it in my power to make a suitable marriage, 
had not my step-mother, dreading the expense of my por- 
tion, taken care to thwart all such proposals. At length I 
grew acquainted with the young Melina ; I felt constrained 



62 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

to love him ; and, as we both foresaw the obstacles that stood 
in the way of our regular union, we determined to go forth 
together, and seek in the wide world the happiness denied us 
at home. I took nothing with me that was not my own : we 
did not run away like thieves and robbers ; and my lover 
does not merit to be hauled about in this way, with cha.ns 
and handcuffs. The prince is just, and will not sanction 
such severity. If we are liable to punishment, it is not pun- 
ishment of this kind." 

The old Amtmann hereupon fell into double and treble con- 
fusion. Sounds of the most gracious eulogies were already 
humming through his brain, and the girl's voluble speech 
had entirely confounded the plan of his protocol. The mis- 
chief increased, when to repeated official questions she refused 
giving any answer, but constantly referred to what she had 
already said. 

" I am no criminal," she said. " They have brought me 
hither on bundles of straw to put me to shame, but there is 
a higher court that will bring us back to honor." 

The Actuarius^ in the mean time, had kept writing down 
her words : he whispered the Amtmann^ " just to go on, — a 
formal protocol might be made out by and by." 

The senior then again took heart, and began, with his 
heavy words, in dry prescribed formulas, to seek informa- 
tion about the sweet secrets of love. 

The red mounted into Wilhelm's cheeks, and those of the 
pretty criminal likewise glowed with the charming tinge of 
modesty. She was silent, she stammered, till at last her 
embarrassment itself seemed to exalt her courage. 

"Be assured," she cried, "that I should have strength 
enough to confess the truth, though it made against myself ; 
and shall I now hesitate and stammer, when it does me 
honor? Yes : from the moment when I first felt certain of 
his love and faith, I looked upon him as my husband ; I 
freely gave him all that love requires, — that a heart once 
convinced cannot long refuse. Now do with me what you 
please. If I hesitated for a moment to confess, it was solely 
owing to fear lest the admission might prove hurtful to my 
lover. ' ' 

On hearing this confession , Wilhelm formed a high opinion 
of the young woman's feelings, while her judges marked her 
as an impudent strumpet ; and the townsfolk present thanked 
God that in their families no such scandal had occurred, or 
9X least been brought to light. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESPIIP. 53 

Wilhelm transported his Mariana into this conjuncture, 
answering at the bar: he put still finer words in her mouth, ^' 
making her uprightness yet more affecting, her confession 
still nobler. The most violent desire to help the two lovers 
took possession of him. Nor did he conceal this feeling, but 
signified in private to the wavering Amtmann, that it were 
better to end the business ; all being clear as possible, and 
requiring no further investigation. 

This was so far of service that the young woman was 
allowed to retire ; though, in her stead, the lover was brought 
in, his fetters having previously been taken off him at the 
door. This person seemed a little more concerned about his 
fate. His answers were more careful ; and, if he showed 
less heroic generosity, he recommended himself by the pre- 
cision and distinctness of his expressions. 

When this audience also was finished, and found to agree 
in all points with the former, except that, from regard for 
his mistress, Melina stubbornly denied what had already been 
confessed by herself, the young woman was again brought 
forward ; and a scene took place between the two, which 
made the heart of our friend entirely their own. 

What usually occurs nowhere but in romances and plays, 
he saw here in a paltry court-room before his eyes, — the con- 
test of reciprocal magnanimity, the strength of love in mis- 
fortune. 

" Is it, then, true," said he internally, " that timorous 
affection, which conceals itself from the eye of the sun and of 
men, not daring to taste of enjoyment save in remote soli- 
tude and deep secrecy, yet, if torn rudely by some cruel 
chance into light, will show itself more courageous, strong, 
and resolute than any of our loud and ostentatious pas- 
sions? " 

To his comfort, the business now soon came to a conclu- 
sion. The lovers were detained in tolerable quarters : had it 
been possible, he would that very evening have brought back 
the young lady to her parents. For he firmly determined to 
act as intercessor in this case, and to forward a happy and 
lawful union between the lovers. 

He begged permission of the Amtmann to speak in private 
with Melina, a request which was granted without difficulty. 



54 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The conversation of these new acquaintances very soon 
grew confidential and lively. When Wilhelm told the down- 
cast youth of his connection with the lady's parents, and 
offered to mediate in the affair, showing at the same time 
the strongest expectation of success, a light was shed across 
the dreary and anxious mind of the prisoner : he felt him- 
self already free, already reconciled with the parents of his 
bride, and now began to speak about his future occupation 
and support. • 

" On this point," said our friend, " you cannot long be in 
difficult}' ; for you seem to me directed, not more by your 
circumstances than by nature, to make your fortune in the 
noble profession you have chosen. A pleasing figure, a 
sonorous voice, a feeling heart ! Could an actor be better 
furnished? If lean serve you with a few introductions, it 
will give me the greatest pleasure." 

" I thank you with all my heart," replied the other, " but 
I shall hardly be able to make use of thorn ; for it is my pur- 
pose, if possible, not to return to the stage." 

" Here you are certainly to blame," said Wilhelm, after a 
pause, during which he had partly recovered out of his 
astonishment ; for it had never once entered his head, but 
that the player, the moment his young wife and he were out 
of durance, would repair to some theatre; It seemed to him 
as natural and as necessary as for the frog to seek pools of 
Water. He had not doubted of it for a moment, and he now 
heard the contrary with boundless surprise. 

''Yes," replied Melina, '' I have it in view not to re-ap- 
pear upon the stage, but rather to take up some civil call- 
ing, be it what it will, so that I can but obtain one." 

" This is a strange resolution, which I cannot give my ftp- 
probation to. Without especial reasons, it can never be ad- 
visable to change the mode of life we have begun with ; and, 
besides, I know of no condition that presents so much al- 
lurement, so many charming prospects, as the condition of 
an actor." 

"It is easy to see that you have never been one," said 
the other. 

" Alas, sir," answered AVilhelm, " how seldom is any 
man contented with the station where he happens to be 
placed ! He is ever coveting that of his neighbor, from 
which the neighbor in his turn is longing to be free." 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 55 

'' Yet still there is a difference," said Melina, " between 
bad and worse. Experience, not impatience, makes me 
determine as you see. Is there in the world any creature 
whose morsel of bread is attended with such vexation, un- 
certainty, and toil? It were almost as good to take the staff 
and wallet, and beg from door to door. What things to be 
endured from the envy of rivals, from the partiality of 
managers, from the ever- altering caprices of the public ! In 
truth, one would need to have a hide like a bear's, that is 
led about in a chain along with apes, and dogs of knowledge, 
and cudgelled into dancing at the sound of a bagpipe before 
the populace and children." 

Wilhelm thought a thousand things, which he would not 
vex the worthy man by uttering. He merely, therefore, led 
the conversation round them at a distance. His friend ex- 
plained himself the more candidly and circumstantially on 
that account. " Is not the manager obliged," said he, " to 
fall down at the feet of every little /Stadtrath, that he may 
get permission, for a month between the fairs, to cause 
another groschen or two to circulate in the place? Ours, on 
the whole, a worthy man, I have often pitied ; though at 
other times he gave me cause enough for discontentment. 
A good actor drains him by extortion ; of the bad he cannot 
rid himself ; and, should he try to make his income at all 
equal to his outlay, the public immediately takes umbrage, 
the house stands empty ; and, not to go to wreck entirely, 
he must continue acting in the midst of sorrow and vexation. 
No, no, sir ! Since you are so good as to undertake to help 
me, have the kindness, I entreat you, to plead with the 
parents of my bride : let them get me a little post of clerk 
or collector, and I shall think myself well dealt with," 

After exchanging a few words more, Wilhelm went away 
with the promise to visit the parents early in the morning, 
and see what could be done. Scarcely was he by himself, 
when he gave utterance to his thoughts in these exclama- 
tions : '' Unhappy Melina ! not in thy condition, but in thy- 
self, lies the mean impediment over which thou canst not 
gain the mastery. What mortal in the world, if without in- 
ward calling he take up a trade, an art, or any mode of life, 
will not feel his situation miserable? But he who is bornri 
with capacities for any undertaking, finds in executing this 
tlie fairest portion of his being. Nothing upon earth with- 
out its difficulties ! It is the secret impulse within, it is the 
love and the delight we feel, that help us to conquer ob- 



56 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

stacles, to clear out new paths, and to overleap the bounds 
of that narrow circle in which others poorly toil. For thee 
the stage is but a few boards : the parts assigned thee are 
but what a tosk is to a schoolboy. The spectators thou 
regardest as on work-days they regard each other. For thee, 
then, it may be well to wish thyself behind a desk, over ruled 
ledgers, collecting tolls, and picking out reversions. Thou 
feelest not the co-operating, co-inspiring whole, which the 
mind alone can invent, comprehend, and complete : thou 
feelest not that in man there lives a spark of purer fire, 
which, when it is not fed, when it is not fanned, gets 
covered by the ashes of indifference and daily wants, yet 
not till late, perhaps never, can be altogether quenched. 
Thou feelest in thy soul no strength to fan this spark into a 
flame, no riches in thy heart to feed it when aroused. 
Hunger drives thee on, inconveniences withstand thee ; and it 
is hidden from thee, that, in every human condition, foes lie 
in wait for us, invincible except by cheerfulness and equa- 
nimity. Thou dost well to wish thyself within the limits of 
a common station, for what station that required soul and 
resolution couldst thou rightly fill? Give a soldier, a 
statesman, a divine, thy sentiments, and as justly will he 
fret himself about the miseries of his condition. Nay, have 
there not been men so totally forsaken by all feeling of 
existence, that they have held the life and nature of mortals 
as a nothing, a painful, short, and tarnished gleam of being? 
Did the forms of active men rise up living in thy soul ; were 
thy breast warmed by a sj^mpathetic fire ; did the vocation 
which proceeds from within diffuse itself over all thy frame ; 
were the tones of thy voice, the words of thy mouth, delight- 
ful to hear ; didst thou feel thy own being suflficient for 
thyself, — then wouldst thou doubtless seek place and op- 
portunity likewise to feel it in others.'* 

Amid such words and thoughts, our friend undressed him- 
self, and went to bed, with feelings of the deepest satisfac- 
tion. A whole romance of what he now hoped to do, instead 
of the worthless occupations which should have filled the 
approaching day, arose within his mind : pleasant fantasies 
softly conducted him into the kingdom of sleep, and then 
gave him up to their sisters, sweet dreams, who received 
him with open arms, and encircled his reposing head with 
the images of heaven. 

Early in the morning he was awake again, and thinking of 
the business that lay before him. He revisited the house 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 57 

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



58 MEISTFAl'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER XV. 

Happy season of youth ! Happy times of the first wish 
of love ! A man is then like a child that can for hours de- 
light itself with an echo, can support alone the charges of 
conversation, and l)e well contented with its entertainment, 
if the unseen interlocutor will but repeat the concluding 
syllables of the words addressed to it. 

So was it with Wilhelm in the earlier and still more in the 
later period of his passion for Mariana ; he trausfeiTcd the 
w^hole wealth of his own emotions to her, and looked upon 
himself as a beggar that lived upon her alms : and as a land- 
scape is more delightful, nay, is delightful only, when it is 
enlightened by the sun ; so likewise in his eyes were all things 
beautified and glorified which lay round her or related to 
her. 

Often would he stand in the theatre behind the scenes, to 
which he had obtained the freedom of access from the man- 
ager. In such cases, it is true, the perspective magic was 
away ; but the far mightier sorcery of love then first began 
to act. For hours he could stand by the sooty light-frame, 
inhaling the vapor of tallow lamps, looking out at his mis- 
tress ; and when she returned, and cast a kindly glance upon 
him, he could feel himself lost in ecstasy ; and, though close 
upon laths and bare spars, he seemed trans})orted into para- 
dise. The stuffed bunches of wool denominated lambs, the 
waterfalls of tin, the paper roses, and the one-sided huts of 
straw, awoke in him fair poetic visions of an old pastoral 
world. Nay, the very dancing-girls, ugly as the}' were when 
seen at hand, did not alwaj^s inspire him with disgust : they 
trod the same floor with Mariana. So true is it, that love, 
which alone can give their full charm to rose-bowers, myrtle- 
groves, and moonshine, can also communicate, even to shav- 
ings of wood, and paper-clippings, the aspect of animated 
nature. It is so strong a spice, that tasteless or even nau- 
seous soups are by it rendered palatable. 

So potent a spice was certainly required to render tolera- 
ble, nay, at last agreeable, the state in which he usually 
found her chamber, not to say herself. 

Brought up in a substantial ])urgher's house, cleanliness 
and order were the elements in wiiich he breathed ; and, in- 
heriting as he did a portion of his father's taste for finery, 
it had always been his care, in boyhood, to furbish up his 



i 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 69 

chamber, which he regarded as liis little kingdom, in the 
stateliest fashion. His bed-curtains were drawn together in 
large, massy folds, and fastened with tassels, as they are 
usually seen in thrones ; he had got himself a carpet for the 
middle of his chamber, and a finer one for his table ; his 
books and apparatus he had, almost instinctively, arranged 
in such a manner, that a Dutch painter might have imitated 
them for groups in his still-life scenes. He had a white cap, 
which he wore straight up like a turban ; and the sleeves of 
his night-gown he had caused to be cut short, in the mode 
of the Orientals. By way of reason for this, he pretended 
that long, wide sleeves encumbered him in writing. When, 
at night, the boy was quite alone, and no longer dreaded any 
interruption, he usually wore a silk sash tied round his body : 
and often, it is said, he would fix in his girdle a sword, which 
he had appropriated from an old armory, and thus repeat 
and declaim his tragic parts ; nay, in the same trim he would 
kneel down and say his evening prayer. 

In those times, how happy did he think the players, whom 
he saw possessed of so many splendid garments, trappings, 
and arms ; and in the constant practice of a lofty demeanor, 
the spirit of which seemed to hold up a mirror of whatever, 
in the opinions, relations, and passions of men, was stateli- 
est and most magnificent. Of a piece with this, thought 
Wilhelra, is also the player's domestic life, — a series of dig- 
nified transactions and employments, whereof their appear- 
ance on the stage is but the outmost portion ; like as a mass 
of silver, long simmering about in the purifying furnace, at 
length gleams with a bright and beautiful tinge in the eye of 
the refiner, and shows him, at the same time, that the metal 
now is cleansed of all foreign mixture. 

Great, accordingly, was his surprise at first, when he found 
himself beside his mistress, and looked down, through the 
cloud that environed him, on tables, stools, and floor. The 
wrecks of a transient, light, and false decoration lay, like 
the glittering coat of a skinned fish, dispersed in wild disor- 
der. The implements of personal cleanliness, — combs, soap, 
towels, — with the traces of their use, were not concealed. 
Music, portions of plays and pairs of shoes, washes and 
Italian flowers, pin-cushions, hair-skewers, rouge-pots, and 
ribbons, books and straw hats, — no article despised the 
neighborhood of another : all were united by a common ele- 
ment, — powder and dust. Yet as Wilhelm scarcely noticed 
in her presence aught except herself ; nay, as all that had 



60 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

belonged to her, that she had touched, was dear to him, — he 
came, at last to feel, iu this chaotic housekeeping, a charm 
which the proud pomp of his own habitation never had com- 
municated. When, on this hand, he lifted aside her bodice, 
to get at the harpsichord ; on that, threw her gown upon the 
bed, that he might find a seat ; when she herself, with care- 
less freedom, did not seek to hide from him many a natural 
office, which, out of respect for the presence of a second 
person, is usually concealed, — he felt as if by all this he 
was coming nearer to her every moment, as if the communion 
betwixt them was fastening by invisible ties. 

It was not so easy to reconcile with his previous ideas the 
behavior of the other players, whom, on his first visits, he 
often met with in her house. Ever busied in being idle, they 
seemed to think least of all on their employment and object : 
the poetic worth of a piece they were never heard to speak 
of, or to judge of, right or wrong ; their continual question 
was simply, How much will it bring? Is it a stock-piece? 
How long will it run? How often think you it may be 
played? and other inquiries and observations of the same 
description. Then commonly they broke out against the 
manager, that he was stinted with his salaries, and especially 
unjust to this one or to that ; then against the public, how 
seldom it recompensed the right man with its approval, how 
the German theatre was daily improving, how the player was 
ever growing more honored, and never could be honored 
enough. Then they would descant largely about wine-gar- 
dens and coffee-houses ; how much debt one of their com- 
rades had contracted, and must suffer a deduction from his 
wages on account of ; about the disproportion of their 
weekly salaries ; about the cabals of some rival company : 
on which occasions, they would pass again to the great and 
merited attention which the public now bestowed upon them ; 
not forgetting the importance of the theatre to the improve- 
ment of the nation and the world. 

All this, which had already given Wilhelm many a restless 
hour, came again into his memory, as he walked his horse 
slowly homewards, and contemplated the various occurrences 
in which he had so lately been engaged. The commotion 
produced by a girl's elopement, not only in a decent family, 
but in a whole town, he had seen with his own eyes : the 
scenes upon the liighway and in the AmtJiaus, the views 
entertained by Melina, and whatever else he had witnessed, 
again arose before him, and })rought his keen, forecasting 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 61 

mind into a sort of anxious disquietude ; which no longer 
to endure, he struck the spurs into his horse, and hastened 
towards Home. 

By this expedient, however, he but ran to meet new vexa- 
tions. Werner, his friend and future brother-in-law, was 
waiting for him, to begin a serious, important, unexpected 
conversation. 

Werner was one of those tried, sedate persons, with fixed | .-- v,, 
principles and habits, whom we usually denominate cold char- « V^ \h \ 
acters, because on emergencies they do not burst forth quickly j 

or very visibly. Accordingly, his intercourse with Wilhelm 
was a perpetual contest ; which, however, only served to knit 
their mutual affection the more firmly ; for, notwithstanding 
their very opposite modes of thinking, each found his account 
in communicating with the other. Werner was very well con- 
tented with himself, that he could now and then lay a bridle 
on the exalted but commonly extravagant spirit of his friend ; 
and Wilhelm often felt a glorious triumph, when the staid 
and thinking Werner could be hurried on with him in warm 
ebullience. Thus each exercised himself upon the other ; 
they had been accustomed to see each other daily ; and you 
would have said, their eagerness to meet and talk together 
had even been augmented by the inability of each to under- 
stand the other. At bottom, however, being both good-hearted 
men, they were both travelling together towards one goal ; 
and they could never understand how it was that neither of 
the two could bring the other over to his own persuasion. 

For some time Werner had observed that Wilhelm 's visits 
had been rarer ; that in his favorite discussions he was brief 
and absent-minded ; that he no longer abandoned himself to 
the vivid depicting of singular conceptions, — tokens by which, 
in truth, a mind getting rest and contentment in the presence 
of a friend is most clearly indicated. The considerate and 
punctual Werner first sought for the root of the evil in his 
own conduct ; till some rumors of the neighborhood set him 
on the proper trace, and some unguarded proceedings on the 
part of Wilhelm brought him nearer to the certainty. He 
began his investigation, and erelong discovered, that for 
some time Wilhelm had been openly visiting an actress, had 
often spoken with her at the theatre, and accompanied her 
home. On discovering the nightly visits of his friend, Wer- 
ner's anxiety increased to a painful extent : for he heard 
that Mariana was a most seductive girl, who probably was 
draining the youth of his money > while, at the same time, 



y. 



62 MEISTER'S APPRKNTICESmP. 

she herself was supported by another and a very worthless 
lover. 

Having pushed his suspicions as near certainty as possible, 
he had resolved to make a sharp attack on Wilhelin : he was 
now in full readiness with all his preparations, when his friend 
returned, discontented and unsettled, from his journey. 

That very evening Werner laid the whole of what he knew 
before him, first calmly, then with the emphatic earnestness 
of a well-meaning frienaship. He left no point of the sub- 
ject undiscussed, and made Wilhelm taste abundance of 
those bitter things which men at ease are accustomed, with 
virtuous spite, to dispense so liberally to men in love. Yet, 
as might have been expected, he accomplished little. Wil- 
helm answered with interior commotion, though with great 
confidence, " You know not the girl ! Appearances, perhaps, 
are not to her advantage ; but I am certain of her faithful- 
ness and virtue, as of my love." 

Werner maintained his accusations, and offered to bring 
proofs and witnesses. Wilhelm waived these offers, and 
parted with his friend out of humor and unhinged, like a 
man in whose jaw some unskilful dentist has been seizing 
a diseased, yet fast-rooted, tooth, and tugging at it harshly 
to no purpose. 

It exceedingly dissatisfied Wilhelm to see the fair image 
of Mariana overclouded and almost deformed in his soul, 
first by the capricious fancies of his journey, and then b}' the 
unfriendliness of Werner. He adopted the surest means of 
restoring it to complete brilliancy and beauty, by setting out 
at night, and hastening to his wonted destination. She re- 
ceived him with extreme joy : on entering the town, he had 
ridden past her window ; she had been expecting his com- 
pany ; and it is easy to conceive that all scruples were soon 
driven from his heart. Nay, her tenderness again opened 
up the whole stores of his confidence ; and he told her how 
deeply the public, how deeply his friend, had sinned against 
her. 

Much lively talking led them at length to speak about the 
earliest period of their acquaintance, the recollection of which 
forms always one of the most delightful topics between two 
lovers. The first steps that introduce us to the enchanted 
garden of love are so full of pleasure, the first prospects so 
charming, that every one is willing to recall them to his 
memory. Each party seeks a preference above the other ; 
each has loved sooner, more devotedly ; and each, in thia 
contest, would rather be conquered than conquer. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 63 

Wilhelm repeated to his mistress, what he had so often 
told her before, liow she soon abstracted his attention from 
the play, and fixed it on herself ; how her form, her acting, 
her voice, inspired him ; how at last he went only on the 
nights when she was to appear ; how, in fine, having ventured 
behind the scenes, he had often stood by her unheeded ; and 
he spoke with rapture of the happy evening when he found 
an opportunity to do her some civility, and lead her into con- 
versation. 

Mariana, on the other hand, would not allow that she had 
failed so long to notice him : she declared that she had seen 
him in the public walk, and for proof she described the clothes 
which he wore on that occasion ; she affirmed that even then 
he pleased her before all others, and mMe her long for his 
acquaintance. 

How gladly did Wilhelm credit all this ! How gladly did he 
catch at the persuasion, that, when he used to approach her, 
she had felt herself drawn towards him by some resistless 
influence ; that she had gone with him between the side- 
scenes on purpose to see him more closely, and get acquainted 
with him ; and that, in fine, when his backwardness and 
modesty were not to be conquered, she had herself afforded 
him an opportunity, and, as it were, compelled him to hand 
her a glass of lemonade. 

In this affectionate contest, which they pursued through 
all the little circumstances of their brief romance, the hours 
passed rapidly away ; and Wilhelm left his mistress with his 
heart at peace, and firmly determined on proceeding forth- 
with to the execution of his project. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

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

'* Under the kind veil of night, which has often over- 



64 MEiSTER's appiii:nticeship. 

shadowed us together, I sit and think, and write to thee : 
all that I meditate and do is solely on thy account. O 
Mariana ! with me, the happiest of men, it is as with a 
bridegroom who stands in the festive chamber, dreaming 
of the new universe that is to be unfolded to him, and by 
means of him, and, while the holy ceremonies are proceed- 
ing, transports himself in longing thought before the myste- 
rious curtains, from which the loveliness of love whispers 
out to him. 

"I have constrained myself not to see thee for a few 
days : the sacrifice was easy, when united with the hope of 
such a recompense, of being always with thee, of remaining 
ever thine! Need I repeat what I desire? I nmst ! for it 
seems as if yet thou hadst never understood me. 

" How often, in the low tones of true love, which, though 
wishing to gain all, dares speak but little, have I sought in 
thy heart for the desire of a perpetual union. Thou hast 
understood me, doubtless ; for in thy own heart the same 
wish must have arisen : thou didst comprehend me, in that 
kiss, in the intoxicating peace of that happy evening. Thy 
silence testified to me thy modest honor ; and how did it 
increase my love ! Another woman would have had recourse 
to artifice, that she might ripen by superfluous sunshine the 
purpose of her lover's heart, might elicit a proposal, and 
secure a firm promise. Mariana, on the contrary, drew 
back : she repelled the half-opened confidence of him she 
loved, and sought to conceal her approving feelings by 
apparent indifference. But I have understood thee ! What 
a miserable creature must I be, if I did not by these tokens 
recognize the pure and generous love that cares not for 
itself, but for its object! Confide in me, and fear nothing. 
We belong to one another ; and neither of us leaves aught 
or forsakes aught, if we live for one another. 

" Take it, then, this hand ! Solemnly I offer this un- 
necessary pledge ! All the jo3's of love we have already 
felt, but there is a new blessedness in the firm thought of 
duration. Ask not how, — care not. Fate takes care of 
love, and the more certainly as love is easy to provide for. 

" My heart has long ago forsaken my paternal home: it 
is with thee, as my spirit hovers on the stage. O my dar- 
ling ! to what other man has it been given to unite all his 
wishes, as it is to me? No sleep falls upon my eyes: like 
the redness of an everlasting dawn, thy love and thy happi- 
ness still glow around me. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 65 

*' Scarcely can I hold myself from springing up, from 
rushing forth to thee, and forcing thy consent, and, with 
the first light of to-morrow, pressing forward into the world 
for the mark I aim at. But, no ! I will restrain myself ; I 
will not act like a thoughtless fool, will do nothing rashly : |jl*^4^' 
my plan is laid, and I will execute it calmly. 

"I am acquainted with the manager Serlo : my journey 
leads me directly to the place where he is. For above a 
year he has frequently been wishing that his people had 
a touch of my vivacity, and my delight in theatrical affairs : 
I shall doubtless be very kindly received. Into your com- 
pany I cannot enter, for more than one reason. Serlo's 
theatre, moreover, is at such a distance from this, that I 
may there begin my undertaking without any apprehension 
of discovery. With him I shall thus at once find a tolerable 
maintenance : I shall look about me in the public, get ac- 
quainted with the company, and then come back for thee. 

" Mariana, thou seest what I can force myself to do, that 
I may certainly obtain thee. For such a period not to see 
thee ; for such a period to know thee in the wide world ! I 
dare not view it closely. But yet if I recall to memory thy 
love, which assures me of all ; if thou shalt not disdain my 
prayer, and give me, ere we part, thy hand, before the 
priest, — I may then depart in peace. It is but a form be- 
tween us, yet a form so touching, — the blessing of Heaven 
to the blessing of the earth. Close by thy house, in the 
Ritterschaftliche Chapel, the ceremony will be soon and 
secretly performed. 

''For the beginning I have gold enough; we will share 
it between us ; it will suffice for both ; and, before that is 
finished, Heaven will send us more. 

"No, my darling, I am not downcast about the issue. 
What is begun with so much cheerfulness must reach a 
happy end. I have never doubted that a man may force 
his way through the world, if he really is in earnest about 
it ; and I feel strength enough within me to provide a liberal 
support for two, and many more. The world, we are often 
told, is unthankful : I have never yet discovered that it was 
unthankful, if one knew how, in the proper way, to do it 
service. My whole soul burns at the idea, that / shall at 
length step forth, and speak to the hearts of men something 
they have long been yearning to hear. How many thousand 
times has a feeling of disgust passed through me, alive as I 
am to the nobleness of the stage, when I have seen the poor- 
3— Goetke Vol 7 



G^^V" 



68 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

sessed some exquisite pictures by the best masters. When 
you looked through his drawings, you would scarcely have 
believed your eyes. Among his marbles were some invalu- 
able fragments ; his series of bronzes was instructive and 
well chosen ; he had also collected medals, in considerable 
quantit}^ relating to history and art ; his few gems deserved 
the greatest praise. In addition to all which, the whole was 
tastefully arranged ; although the rooms and hall of the old 
house had not been symmetrically built." 

" You may conceive," said Wilhelm, " what we young 
ones lost, when all these articles were taken down and sent 
away. It was the first mournful period of my life. I can- 
not tell you how empty the chambers looked when we saw 
those objects vanish one by one, which had amused us from 
our earliest years, and which we considered as unalterable as 
the house, or the town itself." 

" If I mistake not, your father put the capital produced 
by the sale into some neighbor's stock, with whom he com- 
menced a sort of partnership in trade." 

' ' Quite right ; and their joint speculations have prospered 
in their hands. Within the last twelve years, they have 
greatly increased their fortunes, and are now the more vehe- 
mently bent on gaining. Old Werner also has a son, who 
suits that sort of occupation much better than I. ' ' 

" I am sorry the place should have lost such an ornament 
as your grandfather's cabinet was to it. 1 saw it but a short 
time prior to the sale ; and I may say, I was myself the 
cause of its being then disposed of. A rich nobleman, a 
great amateur, but one who, in such important transactions, 
does not trust to his own solitary judgment, had sent me 
hither, and requested my advice. For six days I examined 
the collection : on the seventh, I advised my friend to pay 
down the required sum without delay. You were then a 
lively boy, often running about me : you explained to me the 
subjects of the pictures, and in general, I recollect, could 
give a very good account of the whole cabinet." 

" I remember such a person, but I should not have recog- 
nized him in you." 

" It is a good while ago, and we all change more or less. 
You had, if I mistake not, a favorite piece among them, to 
which you were ever calling my attention." 

" Oh, yes! it represented the history of that king's son 
dying of a secret love for his father's bride." 

" It was not, certainly, the best picture, — badly grouped, 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 69 

of no superiority in coloring, and executed altogether with 
great mannerism." 

" This I did not understand, and do not yet : it is the sub- 
ject that charms me in a picture, not the art." 

" Your grandfather seemed to have thought otherwise. 
The greater part of his collection consisted of excellent 
pieces ; in t hich, represent what they might, one constantly 
admired the talent of the master. This picture of yours had 
accordingly been hung in the outermost room, — a proof that 
he valued it slightly." 

" It was in that room where we young ones used to play, 
and where the piece you mention made on me a deep im- 
pression ; which not even your criticism, greatly as I honor 
it, could obliterate, if we stood before the picture at this 
moment. What a melancholy object is a youth that must 
shut up within himself the sweet impulse, the fairest inher- 
itance which nature has given us, and conceal in his own 
bosom the fire which should warm and animate himself and 
others, so that his vitals are wasted awa}^ by unutterable 
pains ! I feel a pity for the ill-fated man that would conse- 
crate himself to another, when the heart of that other has 
already found a worthy object of true and pure affection." 

'' Such feelings are, however, very foreign to the prin- 
ciples by which a lover of art examines the works of great 
painters ; and most probably you, too, had the cabinet con- 
tinued in your family, would have by and by acquired a 
relish for the works themselves, and have learned to see in 
the performances of art something more than yourself and 
your individual inclinations." 

" In truth, the sale of that cabinet grieved me very much 
at the time ; and often since I have thought of it with regret : 
but when I consider that it was a necessary means of awak- 
ening a taste in me, of developing a talent, which will oper- 
ate far more powerfully on my history than ever those lifeless 
pictures could have done, I easily content myself, and honor 
destiny, which knows how to bring about what is best for 
me, and what is best for every one." 

*' It gives me pain to hear this word destiny in the mouth 
of a young person, just at the age when men are commonly 
accustomed to ascribe their own violent inclinations to the 
will of higher natures." 

"You, then, do not believe in destiny? No power that 
rules over us and directs all for our ultimate advantage? " 

" The question is not now of my belief, nor is this the 



70 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

place to explain how I may have attempted to form for my- 
self some not impossible conception of things which are 
incomprehensible to all of us : the question here is, What 
mode of viewing them will profit us the most? The fabric 
of our life is formed of necessity and chance : the reason of 
man takes its station between them, and may rule them both ; 
it treats the necessary as the groundwork of its being ; tlie 
accidental it can direct and guide, and employ for its own 
purposes : and only while this principle of reason stands firm 
and inexpugnable, does man deserve to be named the god of 
this lower world. But woe to him who, from his youth, has 
used himself to search in necessity for something of arbitrary 
will ; to ascribe to chance a sort of reason, which it is a 
matter of religion to obey. Is conduct like this aught else 
than to renounce one's understanding, and give unrestricted 
scope to one's inclinations? We think it is a kind of piety 
to move along without consideration ; to let accidents that 
please us determine our conduct ; and, finally, to bestow on 
the result of such a vacillating life the name of providential 
guidance." 

" Was it never your case that some little circumstance in- 
duced you to strike into a certain path, where some acci- 
dental occurrence erelong met you, and a series of unexpected 
incidents at length brought you to some point which j^ou 
yourself had scarcely once contemplated? Should not les- 
sons of this kind teach us obedience to destiny, confidence in 
some such guide ? ' ' 

" With opinions like these, no woman could maintain her 
virtue, no man keep the mone}' in his purse ; for occasions 
enough are occurring to get rid of both. He alone is worthy 
of respect, who knows what is of use to himself and others, 
and who labors to control his self-will. Each man has his 
own fortune in his hands ; as the artist has a piece of rude 
matter, which he is to fashion to a certain shape. But the 
art of living rightly is like all arts : the capacity alone is 
born with us ; it must be learned, and practised with inces- 
sant care." 

These discussions our two speculators carried on between 
them to considerable length : at last they parted without 
seeming to have wrought any special conviction in each 
other, but engaging to meet at an appointed place next day. 

Wilhelm walked up and down the streets for a time : he 

heard a sound of claiinets, hunting-horns, and bassoons ; 

W swelled his bosom with delightful feelings. It was some 



MKTSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. Tl 

travelling showmen that produced this pleasant music. He 
spoke with them : for a piece of coin they followed him to 
Mariana's house. The space in front of the door was 
adorned with lofty trees ; under them he placed his artists ; 
and, himself resting on a bench at some distance, he surren- 
dered his mind without restraint to the hovering tones which 
floated round him in the cool mellow night. Stretched out 
beneath the kind stars, he felt his existence like a golden 
dream. " She, too, hears these flutes," said he within his 
heart : " she feels whose remembrance, whose love of her, it 
is that makes the night full of music. In distance, even, we 
are united by these melodies, as in every separation, by the 
ethereal accordance of love. Ah ! two hearts that love each 
other are as two magnetic needles : whatever moves the one 
must move the other with it ; for it is one power that works 
in both, one principle that pervades them. Can I in her 
arms conceive the possibility of parting from her? And yet 
I am soon to be far from her, to seek out a sanctuary for 
our love, and then to have her ever with me. 

''How often, when absent from her, and lost in thoughts 
about her, happening to touch a book, a piece of dress or 
aught else, have I thought I felt her hand, so entirely was I 
invested with her presence ! And to recollect those moments 
which shunned the light of day and the eye of the cold spec- 
tator ; which, to enjoy, the gods might determine to forsake 
the painless condition of their pure blessedness ! To recol- 
lect them ! As if by memory we could renew the tumultuous 
thrilling of that cup of joy, which encircles our senses with 
celestial bonds, and lifts them beyond all earthly hinderances. 
And her form ' ' — He lost himself in thoughts of her ; his 
rest passed away into longing ; he leaned against a tree, and 
cooled his warm cheek on its bark ; and the winds of the 
night wafted speedily aside the breath, which proceeded in 
sighs from his pure and impassioned bosom. He groped for 
the neckerchief he had taken from her ; but it was forgotten, 
it lay in his other clothes. His frame quivered with emotion. 

The music ceased, and he felt as if fallen from the element 
in which his thoughts had hitherto been soaring. His rest- 
lessness increased, as his feelings were no longer nourished 
and assuaged by the melody. He sat down upon her thresh- 
old, and felt more peace. He kissed the brass knocker of 
her door : he kissed the threshold over which her feet went 
out and in, and w^armed it by the fire of his breast. He 
again sat still for a moment, and figured her behind her cur- 



72 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

tains in the white night-gown, with the red ribbon round her 
head, in sweet repose : he ahiiost tancied that he was him- 
self so near her, she must needs be dreaming of him. His 
thoughts were beautiful, like the spirits of the twilight ; rest 
and desire alternated within him ; love ran with a quivering 
hand, in a thousand moods, over all the chords of his soul ; 
it was as if the spheres stood mute above him, suspending 
their eternal song to watch the low melodies of his heart. 

Had he then had about him the master-key with which he 
used to open Mariana's door, he could not have restrained 
himself from penetrating into the sanctuary of love. Yet he 
went away slowly ; he slanted, half -dreaming, in beneath 
the trees, set himself for home, and constantly turned round 
again ; at last, with an effort, he constrained himself, and 
actually departed. At the corner of the street, looking back 
yet once, he imagined that he saw Mariana's door open, and 
a dark figure issue from it. He was too distant for seeing 
clearly ; and, before he could exert himself and look sharply, 
the appearance was already lost in the night ; j^et afar off he 
thought he saw it again gliding past a white house. He stood, 
and strained his eyes ; t3ut, ere he could arouse himself and 
follow the phantom, it had vanished. Whither should he 
pursue it? What street had the man taken, if it were a 
man? 

A nightly traveller, when at some turn of his path he has 
seen the country for an instant illuminate(^ by a flash of light- 
ning, will, with dazzled eyes, next moment, seek in vain for 
the preceding forms and the connection of his road ; so was 
it in the eyes and the heart of Wilhelm. And as a spirit of 
midnight, which awakens unutterable terror, is, in the suc- 
ceeding moments of composure, regarded as a child of imagi- 
nation, and the fearful vision leaves doubts without end 
behind it in the soul ; so likewise was Wilhelm in extreme 
disquietude, as, leaning on the corner-stone of the street, 
he heeded not the clear gray of the morning, and the crowing 
of the cocks ; till the early trades began to stir, and drove 
him home. 

On his way, he had almost effaced the unexpected delusion 
from his mind by the most sufficient reasons ; yet the fine har- 
monious feelings of the night, on which he now looked back 
as if they too had been a vision, were also gone. To soothe 
his heart, and put the last seal on his returning belief, he 
took the neckerchief from the pocket of the dress he had 
been last wearing. The rustling of a letter which fell out 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. B 

of it took the kerchief away from his lips : he lifted and 
read, — 

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



74 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



BOOK IL 



CHAPTER I. 

Whoever strives in our sight with vehement force to reach 
an object, be it one that we praise or that we blame, may 
count on exciting an interest in our minds ; but, when once 
the matter is decided, we turn our eyes away from him : what- 
ever once lies finished and done, can no longer at all fix our 
attention, especially if we at first prophesied an e^'il issue to 
the undertaking. 

Therefore we shall not try to entertain our readers with 
any circumstantial account of the grief and desperation into 
which our ill-fated friend was cast, when he saw his hopes so 
unexpectedly and instantaneously ruined. On the contrary, 
we shall even pass over several years, and again take up our 
friend, where we hope to find him in some sort of activity 
and comfort. First, however, we must shortly set forth a 
few matters necessary for maintaining the connection of our 
narrative. 

The pestilence, or a malignant fever, rages with more 
fierceness, and speedier effect, if the frame which it attacks 
was before healthy and full of vigor ; and in like manner, 
when a luckless, unlooked-for fate overtook the wretched 
Wilhelra, his whole being in a moment was laid waste. As 
when by chance, in the preparation of some artificial fire- 
work, any part of the composition kindles before its time ; 
and the skilfully bored and loaded barrels, which, arranged, 
and burning after a settled plan, would have painted in the 
air a magnificently varying series of flaming images, now 
hissing and roaring, promiscuously explode with a confused 
and dangerous crash, — so, in our hero's case, did happiness 
and hope, pleasure and joys, realities and dreams, clash to- 
gether with destructive tumult, all at once in his bosom. In 
such desolate moments, the friend that has hastened to de- 
liverance stands fixed in astonishment ; and for him who 
suffers, it is a benefit that sense forsakes him. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. ?6 

Days of pain, unmixed, ever-returning, and purposely re- 
newed, succeeded next : still, even these are to be regarded 
as a grace from nature. In such hours Wilhelm had not yet 
quite lost his mistress : his pains were indefatigable strug- 
gles, still to hold fast the happiness that was gliding from 
his soul ; again to luxuriate in thought on the possibility of 
it ; to procure a brief after-life for his joys that had departed 
forever. Thus one may look upon a body as not utterly 
dead while the putrefaction lasts ; while the forces that in 
vain seek to work by their old appointment, still labor in dis- 
severing the particles of that frame which they once ani- 
mated ; and not till all is disunited and inert, till we see the 
whole mouldered down into indifferent dust, — not till then 
does there rise in us the mournful, vacant sentiment of death, 
— death, not to be recalled, save by the breath of Him that 
lives forever. 

In a temper so new, so entire, so full of love, there was 
much to tear asunder, to desolate, to kill ; and even the 
healing force of youth gave nourishment and violence to the 
power of sorrow. The stroke had extended to the roots of 
his whole existence. Werner, by necessity his confidant, 
attacked the hated passion itself with fire and sword, reso- 
lutely zealous to search into the monster's inmost life. The 
opportunity was lucky, the evidence at hand, and many were 
the histories and narratives with which he backed it out. 
With such unrelenting vehemence did he make his advances, 
leaving his friend not even the respite of the smallest mo- 
mentary self-deception, but treading down every lurking- 
place in which he might have saved himself from desperation, 
that Nature, not inclined to let her darling perish utterly, 
visited him with sickness, to make an outlet for him on the 
other side. 

A violent fever, with its train of consequences, medicines, 
overstraining, and exhaustion, besides the unwearied atten- 
tions of his family, the love of his brothers and sisters, 
which first becomes truly sensible in times of distress and 
want, were so many fresh occupations to his mind, and thus 
formed a kind of painful entertainment. It was not till he 
grew better, in other words, till his strength was exhausted, 
that Wilhelm first looked down with horror into the gloomy 
abyss of a barren misery, as one looks down into the hollow 
crater of an extinguished volcano. 

He now bitterly reproached himself, that, after so great a 
loss, he could yet enjoy one painless, restful, indifferent mo- 



76 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

ment. He despised his own heart, and longed for the balm 
of tears and lamentation. 

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



CHAPTER n. 

Accustomed in this way to torment himself, he now also 
attacked what still remained to him ; what next to love, and 
along with it, had given him the highest joys and hopes, — 
his talent as a poet and actor, with spiteful criticisms on 
every side. In his labors he could see nothing but a shallow 
imitation of prescribed forms, without intrinsic worth : he 
looked on them as stiff school-exercises, destitute of any 
spark of nature, truth, or inspiration. His poems now ap- 
peared nothing more than a monotonous arrangement of syl- 
lables, in which the most trite emotions and thoughts were 
dragged along and kept together by a miserable rhyme. 
And thus did he also deprive himself of every expectation, 
every pleasure, which on this quarter at least might have 
aided the recovery of his peace. 

With his theatric talent it fared no better. He blamed 
himself for not having sooner detected the vanity on which 
alone this pretension had been founded. His figure, his 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 77 

gait, his movements, his mode of declamation, were sever- 
ally taxed : he decisively renounced every species of advan-' 
tage or merit that might have raised him above the common 
run of men, and so doing he increased his mute despair to 
the highest pitch. For, if it is hard to give up a woman's 
love, no less painful is the task to part from the fellowship 
of the Muses, to declare ourselves forever undeserving to be 
of their community, and to forego the fairest and most im- 
mediate kind of approbation, what is openly bestowed on 
our person, our voice, and our demeanor. 

Thus, then, our friend had long ago entirely resigned him- , 
self, and set about devoting his powers with the greatest zeal 
to the business of trade. To the surprise of friends, and to 
the great contentment of his father, no one was now more 
diligent than Wilhelm, on the exchange or in the counting- 
house, in the sale-room or the warehouses : correspondence 
and calculations, all that was intrusted to his charge, he 
attended to and managed with the greatest diligence and ^ 
zeal. Not, in truth, with that warm diligence which to the 
busy man is its own reward, when he follows with constancy 
and order the employment he was born for, but with the '^' 
silent diligence of duty, which has the best principle for its 
foundation ; which is nourished by conviction, and rewarded 
by conscience ; yet which oft, even when the clearest testi- 
mony of our minds is crowning it with approbation, can 
scarcely repress a struggling sigh. 

In this manner he lived for a time, assiduously busied, 
and at last persuaded that his former hard trial had been 
ordained by fate for the best. He felt glad at having thus 
been timefully, though somewhat harshly, warned about the 
proper path of life ; while many are constrained to expiate 
more heavily, and at a later age, the misconceptions into 
which their youthful inexperience has betrayed them. For 
each man commonly defends himself as long as possible from 
casting out the idols which he worships in his soul, from 
acknowledging a master error, and admitting any truth which 
brings him to despair. 

Determined as he was to abandon his dearest projects, 
some time was still necessary to convince him fully of his 
misfortune. At last, however, he had so completely suc- 
ceeded, by irrefragable reasons, in annihilating every hope 
of love, or poetical performance, or stage representation, 
that he took courage to obliterate entirely all the traces of 
his folly, — all that could in any way remind him of it. For 



b* 



.^' 



78 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

this purpose he had lit a fire in his chamber, one cool even- 
ing, and brought out a little chest of relics, among which 
were multitudes of small articles, that, in memorable mo- 
ments, he had begged or stolen from Mariana. Each with- 
ered flower brought to his mind the time when it bloomed 
fresh among her hair ; each little note the happy hour to 
which it had invited him ; each ribbon-knot the lovely resting- 
place of his head, — her beautiful bosom. So occupied, was 
it not to be expected that each emotion which he thought 
long since quite dead, should again begin to move? Was it 
not to be expected that the passion over which, when sepa- 
rated from his misti'ess, he had gained the victory, should, in 
the presence of these memorials, again gather strength? We 
first observe how dreary and disagreeable an overclouded day 
is when a single sun])eam pierces through, and offers to us 
the exhilarating splendor of a serene hour. 

Accordingly, it was not without disturbance that he saw 
these relics, long preserved as sacred, fade away from before 
him in smoke and flame. Sometimes he shuddered and hesi- 
tated in his task : he had still a pearl necklace and a flowered 
neckerchief in his hands, when he resolved to quicken the 
decaying fire with the poetical attempts of his youth. 

Till now he had carefully laid up whatever had proceeded 
from his pen, since the earliest unfolding of his mind. His 
papers yet lay tied up in a bundle at the bottom of the chest, 
where he had packed them ; purposing to take them with him 
in his elopement. How altogether different were his feelings 
now in opening them, and his feelings then in tying them 
together ! 

If we happen, under certain circumstances, to have writ- 
ten and sealed and despatched a letter to a friend, which, 
however, does not find him, but is brought back to us, and 
we open it at the distance of some considerable time, a 
singular emotion is produced in us, on breaking up our own 
seal, and conversing with our altered self as with a third 
person. A similar and deep feeling seized our friend, as he 
now opened this packet, f^nd threw the scattered leaves into 
the fire ; which was flaming fiercely with its offerings, when 
Werner entered, expressed his wonder at the blaze, and 
asked what was the matter. 

'* I am now giving proof," said Wilhelm, " that I am 
serious in abandoning a trade for which I was not born." 
And, with these words, he cast the second packet likewise 
into the fire. Werner made a motion to prevent him, but 
the business was already done. 



MEISTER'S APPilENTICESHIP. 79 



it 



I cannot see how thou shouldst bring thyself to such 
extremities," said Werner. " Why must these labors, be- 
cause they are not excellent, be annihilated? " 

" Because either a poem is excellent, or it should not be 
allowed to exist. Because each man who has no gift for 
producing first-rate works, should entirely abstain from the 
pursuit of art, am' seriously guard himself against every 
deception on that fjabject. For it must be owned, that in all 
men there is a certain vague desire to imitate whatever is 
presented to them ; and such desires do not prove at all 
that we possess within us the force necessary for succeeding 
in these enterprises. Look at boys, how, whenever any rope- 
dancers have been visiting the town, they go scrambling up 
and down, and balancing on all the planks and beams within 
their reach, till some other charm calls them off to other 
sports, for which perhaps they are as little suited. Hast 
thou never marked it in the circle of our friends? No 
sooner does a dilettante introduce himself to notice, than 
numbers of them set themselves to learn playing on his 
instrument. How many wander back and forward on this 
bootless wa}^ ! Happy they who soon detect the chasm 
that lies between their wishes and their powers ! " 

Werner contradicted this opinion : their discussion became 
lively, and Wilhelm could not without emotion employ 
against his friend the arguments with which he had already 
so frequently tormented himself. Werner maintained that 
it was not reasonable wholly to relinquish a pursuit for 
which a man had some propensity and talent, merely because 
he never could succeed in it to full perfection. There were 
many vacant hours, he said, which might be filled up by it ; 
and then by and by some result might be produced which 
would 3^ield a certain satisfaction to himself and others. 

Wilhelm, who in this matter was of quite a different opin- 
ion, here interrupted him, and said with great vivacity, — 

" How immensely, dear friend, do you err in believing 
that a work, the first pres'entation of which is to fill the 
whole soul, can be produced in broken hours scraped to- 
gether from other extraneous emplo^^ment. No : the poet 
must live wholly for himself, wholly in the objects that 
delight him. Heaven has furnished him internally with 
precious gifts ; he carries in his bosom a treasure that is 
ever of itself increasing ; he must also live with this treas- 
ure, undisturbed from without, in that still blessedness 
which the rich seek in vain to purchase with their accumu- 



80 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

lated stores. Look at men, how thej^ struggle after happi- 
ness and satisfaction ! Their wishes, their toil, their gold, 
are ever hunting restlessly, — and after what? After that 
which the poet has received from nature, — the right enjoy- 
ment of the world, the feeling of himself in others, the har- 
monious conjunction of many things that will seldom exist 
together. 

' ' What is it that keeps men in continual discontent and 
agitation? It is, that they cannot make realities correspond 
with their conceptions, that enjoyment steals away from 
among their hands, that the wished-for comes too late, and 
nothing reached and acquired produces on the heart the 
effect which their longing for it at a distance led them to 
anticipate. Now, fate has exalted the poet above all this, 
as if he were a god. He views the conflicting tumult of the 
passions ; sees families and kingdoms raging in aimless com- 
motion ; sees those inexplicable enigmas of misunderstand- 
ing, which frequently a single monosyllable would suffice to 
explain, occasioning convulsions unutterably baleful. He 
has a fellow-feeling of the mournful and the joyful in the fate 
of all human beings. When the man of the world is devot- 
ing hjs days to wasting melancholy, for some deep disap- 
pointment, or, in the ebullience of joy, is going out to meet 
his happy destiny, the lightly moved and all-conceiving 
spirit of the poet steps forth, like the sun from night to 
day, and with soft transitions tunes his harp to jo}^ or woe. 
From his heart, its nsttive soil, springs up the lovely flower 
of wisdom ; and if others, while waking, dream, and are 
pained with fantastic delusions from their every sense, he 
passes the dream of life like one awake ; and the strangest 
of incidents is to him a part both of the past and of the 
future. And thus the poet is at once a teacher, a prophet, 
a friend of gods and men. What ! thou wouldst have him 
descend from his height to some paltry occupation ! He 
who is fashioned like the bird to hover round the world, to 
nestle on the lofty summits, to feed on buds and fruits, 
exchanging gayly one bough for another, he ought also to 
work at the plough like an ox ; like a dog to train himself 
to the harness and draught ; or perhaps, tied up in a chain, 
to guard a farmyard by his barking ! " 

Werner, it may well be supposed, had listened with the 
greatest surprise. "All true," he rejoined, "if men were 
but made like birds, and, though they neither spun nor 
■vveaved, could yet spend peaceful days in perpetual enjoy- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 81 

ment ; if. at the approacli of winter, the}' could as easily 
betake themselves to distant regions, could retire before 
scarcity, and fortify themselves against frost." 

"Poets have lived so," exclaimed Wilhelm, "in times 
when true nobleness was better reverenced ; and so should 
they ever live ! Sufficiently provided for within, they had 
need of little from without : the gift of communicating lofty 
emotions and glorious images to men, in melodies and words 
that charmed the ear, and fixed themselves inseparably on 
whatever objects they referred to, of old enraptured the 
world, and served the gifted as a rich inheritance. At the 
courts of kings, at the tables of the great, beneath the win- 
dows of the fair, the sound of them was heard ; while the 
ear and the soul were shut for all beside : and men felt as 
we do when delight comes over us, and we stop with rapture 
if, among the dingles we are crossing, the voice of the 
nightingale starts out touching and strong. They found a 
home in every habitation of the world, and the lowliness of 
their condition but exalted them the more. The hero listened 
to their songs, and the conqueror of the earth did reverence 
to a poet ; for he felt, that, without poets, his own wild and 
vast existence would pass away like a whirlwind, and be for^ 
gotten forever. The lover wished that he could feel his long- 
ings and his joys so variedly and so harmoniously as the poet's 
inspired lips had skill to show them forth ; and even the rich 
man could not of himself discern such costliness in his idol 
grandeurs, as when they were presented to him shining in the 
splendor of the poet's spirit, sensible to all worth, and exalt- 
ing all. Nay, if thou wilt have it, who but the poet was it 
that first formed gods for us, that exalted us to them, and 
brought them down to us ? " 

" My friend," said Werner, after some reflection, " it has 
often grieved me that thou shouldst strive by force to banish 
from thy soul what thou feelest so vividly. I am greatly 
mistaken, if it were not better for thee in some degree to 
yield to these propensities, than to waste thyself by the con- 
tradictions of so hard a piece of self-denial, and with the 
enjoyment of this one guiltless pleasure to renounce the en- 
joyment of all others." 

" Shall I confess it," said the other, " and wilt not thou 
laugh at me if I acknowledge, that these ideas pursue me 
constantly ; that, let me flee from them as I will, when I ex- 
plore my heart, I find all my early wishes yet rooted there, 
firml}^, — nay, more firmly than ever ? Yet what now remains 



82 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

forme, wretched as I am? Ah! whoever should have told 
me that the arms of my spirit, with which I was grasping at 
infinity, and hoping with certainty to clasp something great 
and glorious, would so soon be crushed and smote in pieces, — 
whoever should have told me this, would have brought me to 
despair. And yet now, when judgment has been passed 
against me ; now, when she, that was to be as my divinity to 
guide me to my wishes, is gone forever, — what remains but 
that I yield up my soul to the bitterest woes? O my 
brother ! I will not deceive you : in my secret purposes, she 
was as the hook on which the ladder of my hopes was fixed. 
See ! With daring aim the mountain adventurer hovers in 
the air : the iron breaks, and he lies broken and dismembered 
on the earth. No, there is no hope, no comfort for me 
more! I will not," he cried out, springing to his feet, 
*' leave a single fragment of these wretched papers from the 
flames." He then seized one or two packets of them, tore 
them up, and threw them into the fire. Werner endeavored 
to restrain him, but in vain. "Let me alone ! " cried Wil- 
helm: "what should these miserable leaves do here? To 
me they give neither pleasant recollections nor pleasant 
hopes. Shall they remain behind to vex me to the end of 
my life ? Shall they perhaps one day serve the world for a 
jest, instead of awakening sj^mpathy and horror? Woe to 
me ! my doom is woe ! Now I comprehend the wailings of 
the poets, of the wretched whom necessity has rendered 
wise. How long did I look upon myself as invulnerable 
and invincible ; and, alas ! I am now made to see that a deep 
and early sorrow can never heal, can never pass away : I 
feel that I shall take it with me to my grave. No ! not a 
day of my life shall escape this anguish, which at last must 
crush me down ; and her image too shall stay with me, shall 
live and die with me, the image of the worthless, — O my 
friend ! if I must speak the feeling of my heart, — the per- 
haps not altogether worthless ! Her situation, the crooked- 
ness of her destiny, have a thousand times excused her in 
my mind. I have been too cruel ; you steeled me in your 
own cold unrelenting harshness ; you held my wavering 
senses captive, and hindered me from doing for myself and 
her what I owed to both. Who knows to what a state 1 
may have brought her ! my conscience by degrees presents 
to me, in all its heaviness, in what helplessness, in what 
despair, I may have left her. Was it not possible that she 
might clear herself ? Was it not possible ? How many mis- 



MEISTER'8 APPRENTrCESIlTP. 83 

conceptions throw the world into perplexity ! how many cir- 
cumstances may extort forgiveness for the greatest fault ! 
Often do I figure her as sitting by herself in silence, leaning 
on her elbows. ' This,' she says, ' is the faith, the love, he 
swore to me ! With this hard stroke to end the delicious 
life which made as one ! ' " He broke out into a stream of 
tears ; while he threw himself down with his face upon the 
table, and wetted the remaining papers wdth his weeping. 

Werner stood beside him in the deepest perplexity. He 
had not anticipated this fierce ebullition of feeling. More yt' 
than once he had tried to interrupt his friend, more than once 
to lead the conversation elsewhere, but in vain : the cuiTent 
was too strong for him. It remained that long-suft'ering 
friendship should again take up her office. Werner allowed 
the first shock of sorrow to pass over, v/hile by his silent 
presence he testified a pure and honest sympathy. And 
thus they both remained that evening, — Wilhelm sunk in the 
dull feeling of old sorrows ; and the other terrified at this 
new outbreaking of a passion Avhich he thought his prudent 
councils and keen persuasion had long since mastered and 
destroyed. 



CHAPTER III. 



^\f^- 



After such relapses, Wilhelm usually applied himself to 
business and activity with augmented ardor ; and he found 
it the best means to escape the labyrinth into which he had 
again been tempted to enter. His attractive way of treating 
strangers, the ease with which he carried on a correspondence 
in any living language, more and more increased the hopes 
of his father and his trading-friends, and comforted them 
in their sorrow for his sickness, — the origin of which had not 
been known, — and for the pause which had thus interrupted 
their plan. The}' determined a second time on Wilhelm's 
setting out to travel ; and we now find him on horseback, 
with his saddle-bags behind him, exhilarated by the motion 
and the free air, approaching the mountains, where he had 
some affairs to settle. 

He winded slowly on his path, through dales and over 
hills, with a feeling of the greatest satisfaction. Overhang- 
ing cliffs, roaring brooks? moss-grown rocky walls, deep 



84 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

precipices, lie here saw for the first time ; yet his earliest 
dreams of youth had wandered among such regions. In 
these scenes he felt his age renewed ; all the sorrows he had 
undergone were obliterated from his soul ; with unbroken 
cheerfulness he repeated to himself passages of various 
poems, particularly of the " Pastor Fido," which, in these 
solitary places, flocked in crowds into his mind. He also 
recollected man}- pieces of his own songs, and recited them 
with a peculiar contentment. He peopled the world which 
lay before him with all the forms of the past, and each step 
into the future was to him full of augury of important opera- 
tions and remarkable events. 

Several men, who came behind him in succession, and 
saluted him as they passed by to continue their hasty way 
into the mountains, by steep footpaths, sometimes interrupted 
his thoughts without attracting his attention to themselves. 
At last a communicative traveller joined him, and explained 
the reason of this general pilgrimage. 

"At Hochdorf," he said, ""there is a play to be acted 
to-night ; and the whole neighborhood is gathering to see it." 

"What!" cried Wilhelm. "In these solitary hills, 
among these impenetrable forests, has theatric art sought 
out a place, and built herself a temple? And I am jour- 
neying to her festivities ! ' ' 

"You will wonder more," said the other, "when 3'ou 
learn by whom the play is to be acted. There is in the 
place a large manufactory, which employs many people. 
The proprietor, who lives, so to speak, remote from all 
human society, can find no better means of entertaining his 
workmen during winter, than allowing them to act plays. 
He suffers no cards among them, and wishes also to withdraw 
them from all coarse rustic practices. Thus they pass the 
long evenings ; and to-day, being the old gentleman's birth- 
day, they are giving a particular festival in honor of him." 

Wilhelm came to Hochdorf, where he was to pass the 
night, and alighted at the manufactory, the proprietor of 
which stood as a debtor in his list. 

When he gave his name, the old man cried in a glad sur- 
prise, " Aye, sir, are you the son of that worthy man to 
whom I owe so many thanks, — so long have owed money? 
Your good father has had so much patience with me, I should 
be a knave if I did not pay you speedily and cheerfully. 
You come at the proper time to see that I am fully in earnest 
about it." 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 85 

He then called out his wife, who seemed no less delighted 
than himself to see the yoiitli : she declared that he was very 
like his father, and lamented, that, having such a nmltitude 
of guests already in the house, she could not lodge him for 
the night. 

The account was clear, and quickly settled : Wilhelm put 
the roll of gold into his pocket, and wished that all his other 
business might go on so smoothl3^ At last the play-hour 
came : they now waited nothing but the coming of the head 
forester, who at length also arrived, entered with a few 
hunters, and was received with the greatest reverence. 

The company was then led into the playhouse, formed 
out of a barn that lay close upon the garden. Without any 
extraordinary taste, both seats and stage were yet decked 
out in a cheerful and pretty way. One of the painters em- 
ployed in the manufactory had formerly worked as an un- 
derstrapper at the prince's theatre : he had now represented 
woods and streets and chambers, somewhat rudely, it is 
true, yet so as to be recognized for such. The play itself 
they had borrowed from a strolling company, and shaped it 
aright, according to their own ideas. As it was, it did not 
fail to yield some entertainment. The plot of two lovers 
wishing to carry off a girl from her guardian, and mutually 
from one another, produced a great variety of interesting sit- 
uations. Being the first play our friend had witnessed for so 
long a time, it suggested several reflections to him. It was 
full of action, but without any true delineation of character. 
It pleased and delighted. Such are alwa3's the beginnings 
of the scenic art. The rude man is contented if he see but 
something going on ; the man of more refinement must be 
made to feel ; the man entirely refined, desires to reflect. 

The players he would willingly have helped here and 
there, for a very little would have made them greatly 
better. 

His silent meditations were somewhat broken in upon by 
the tobacco-smoke, which now began to rise in great and 
greater copiousness. Soon after the commencement of the 
play, the head forester had lit his pipe : by and by others 
took the same liberty. The large dogs, too,- which followed 
these gentlemen, introduced themselves in no pleasant style. 
At first they had been bolted out ; but, soon finding the back- 
door passage, they entered on the stage, ran against the 
actors, and at last, jumping over the orchestra, joined their 
masters, who had taken up the front seats in the pit. 



86 MEISTER^S APPRENTrCESHIP. 

For afterpiece an oblation was represented. A portrait of 
the old gentleman in his bridegroom dress stood upon an 
altar, hung with garlands. All the players paid their rever- 
ence to it in the most submissive postures. The youngest 
child came forward dressed in white, and made a speech in 
verse ; by which the whole family, and even the head forester 
himself, whom it brought in mind of his own children, were 
melted into tears. Thus ended the play ; and Wilhelm could 
not help stepping on the stage, to have a closer view of the 
actresses, to praise them for their good performance, and 
give them a little counsel for the future. 

The remaining business, which our friend in the following 
days had to transact in various quarters of the hill-country, 
was not all so pleasant, or so easy to conclude with satisfac- 
tion. Many of his debtors entreated for delay, many were 
uncourteous, many lied. In conformity with his instructions, 
he had to sue some of them at law : he was thus obliged to 
seek out advocates, and give instructions to them, to appear 
before judges, and go through many other sorry duties of 
the same sort. 

His case was hardly bettered when people chanced to in- 
cline showing some attention to him. He found very few that 
could any way instruct him, few with whom he could hope 
to establish a useful commercial correspondence. Unhappily, 
moreover, the weather now grew rainy ; and travelling on 
horseback in this district came to be attended with insuffera- 
ble difficulties. He therefore thanked his stars on again get- 
ting near the level country ; and at the foot of the mountains, 
looking out into a fertile and beautiful plain, intersected by 
a smooth-flowing river, and seeing a cheerful little town lying 
on its banks, all glittering in the sunshine, he resolved, though 
without any special business in the place, to pass a day or 
two there, that he might refresh both himself and his horse 
which the bad roads had considerably injured. 



CHAPTER IV. 

On alighting at an inn, upon the market-place, he found 
matters going on very joyously, — at least very stirringly. 
A large company of ix>pe-dancers, leapers, and jugglers, hav- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 87 

ing a strong man along with them, had just arrived with their 
wives and children, and, while preparing for a grand exhibi- 
tion, kept up a perpetual racket. They lirst quarrelled with 
the landlord, then with one another ; and, if their contention 
was intolerable, the expressions of their satisfaction were 
infinitely more so. Undetermined whether he should go or 
stay, he was standing in the door looking at some workmen, 
who had just begun to erect a stage in the middle of the 
square. 

A girl with roses and other flowers for sale, coming by, 
held out her basket to him, and he purchased a beautiful 
nosegay ; which, like one that had a taste for these things, 
he tied up in a different fashion, and was looking at it with 
a satisfied air, when the window of another inn on the oppo- 
site side of the square flew open, and a handsome woman 
looked out from it. Notwithstanding the distance, he ob- 
served that her face was animated by a pleasant cheerfulness ; 
her fair hair fell carelessly streaming about her neck ; she 
seemed to be looking at the stranger. In a short time after- 
wards, a boy with a white jacket, and a barber's apron on, 
came out from the door of her house towards Wilhelm, saluted 
him, and said, " The lady at the window bids me ask if you 
will not favor her with a share of your beautiful flowers." — 
'' They are all at her service," answered Wilhelm, giving the 
nosegay to this nimble messenger, and making a bow to the 
fair one, who returned it with a friendly courtesy, and then 
withdrew from the window. 

Amused with this small adventure, he was going up-stairs 
to his chamber, when a young creature sprang against him, 
and attracted his attention. A short silk waistcoat with 
slashed Spanish sleeves, tight trousers with puffs, looked 
very pretty on the child. Its long black hair was curled, 
and wound in locks and plaits about tl)e head. He looked 
at the figure with astonishment, and could not determine 
whether to take it for a boy or a girl. However, he decided 
for the latter : and, as the child ran b}^ he took her up in 
his arms, bade her good-day, and asked her to whom she 
belonged ; though he easily perceived that she must be a 
member of the vaulting and dancing company lately arrived. 
She viewed him with a dark, sharp side-look, as she pushed 
herself out of his arms, and ran into the kitchen without 
making any answer. 

On coming up-stairs, he found in the large parlor two men 
practising the small sword, or seeming rather to make trial 



88 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

which was the better fencer. One of them plainly enough 
belonged to the vaulting company : the other had a somewhat 
less savage aspect. Wilhelm looked at them, and had rea- 
son to admire them both ; and as the black-bearded, sturdy 
contender soon afterwards forsook the place of action, the 
other with extreme complaisance offered Wilhelm the rapier. 

" If you want to take a scholar under your inspection," 
said our friend, " I am well content to risk a few passes with 
you." 

Accordingly they fought together ; and, although the stran- 
ger greatly overmatched his new competitor, he politely kept 
declaring that it all depended upon practice : in fact, Wilhelm, 
inferior as he was, had made it evident that he had got his 
first instructions from a good, solid, thorough-paced German 
fencing-master. 

Their entertainment was disturbed by the uproar with 
which the party-colored brotherhood issued from the inn, to 
make proclamation of the show, and awaken a desire to see 
their art, throughout the town. Preceded by a drum, the 
manager advanced on horseback : he was followed by a 
female dancer mounted on a corresponding hack, and hold- 
ing a child before her, all bedizened with ribbons and span- 
gles. Next came the remainder of the troop on foot, some 
of them carrying children on their shoulders in dangerous 
postures, yet smoothly and lightly : among these the young, 
dark, black-haired figure again attracted Wilhelm' s notice. 

Pickleherring ran gayly up and down the crowded multi- 
tude, distributing his handbills with much practical fun, — here 
smacking the lips of a girl, there breeching a boy, and awak- 
ening generally among the people an invincible desire to know 
more of him. 

On the painted flags, the manifold science of the company 
was visibly delineated, particularly of the Monsieur Narciss 
and the Demoiselle Landrinette : both of whom, being main 
characters, had prudently kept back from the procession, 
thereby to acquire a more dignified consideration, and excite 
a greater curiosity. 

During the procession, Wilhelm' s fair neighbor had again 
appeared at the window ; and he did not fail to inquire about 
her of his new companion. This person, whom for the pres- 
ent we shall call Laertes, offered to take Wilhelm over and 
introduce him. "I and tlie lady," said he laughing, " are 
two fragments of an acting company that made shipwreck 
here a short while ago. The pleasantness of the place has 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 89 

induced us to stay in it, and consume our little stock of cash 
in peace ; while one of our friends is out seeking some situa- 
tion for himself and us." 

Laertes immediately accompanied his new acquaintance to 
Philina's door ; where he left him for a moment, and ran to a 
shop hard by for a few sweetmeats. ' ' I am sure you will thank 
me," said he, on returning, " for procuring you so pleasant 
an acquaintance." 

The lady came out from her room, in a pair of tight little 
slippers with high heels, to give them welcome. She had 
thrown a black mantle over her, above a white negligee^ not 
indeed superstitiously clean ; which, however, for that very 
reason, gave her a more frank and domestic air. Her short 
dress did not hide a pair of the prettiest feet and ankles in 
the world. 

" You are welcome," she cried to Wilhelm, " and I thank 
you for your charming flowers." She led him into her cham- 
ber with the one hand, pressing the nosegay to her breast 
with the other. Being all seated, and got into a pleasant 
train of general talk, to which she had the art of giving a 
delightful turn, Laertes threw a handful of gingerbread- nuts 
into her lap ; and she immediately began to eat them. 

' ' Look what a child this young gallant is ! " she said : 
' ' he wants to persuade you that I am fond of such confec- 
tionery, and it is himself that cannot live without licking 
his lips over something of the kind." 

"Let us confess," replied Laertes, "that in this point, 
as in others, you and I go hand in hand. For example," he 
continued, "the weather is delightful to-day: what if we 
should take a drive into the country, and eat our dinner at 
the Mill?" 

"With all my heart," said Philina : "we must give our 
new acquaintance some diversion." 

Laertes sprang out, for he never walked : and Wilhelm 
motioned to return for a minute to his lodgings, to have his 
hair put in order ; for at present it was all dishevelled with 
riding. "You can do it here," she said, then called her 
little servant, and constrained Wilhelm in the politest man- 
ner to lay off his coat, to throw her powder-mantle over him, 
and to have his head dressed in her presence. " We must 
lose no time," said she : " who knows how short a while we 
may all be together? " 

The boy, out of sulkiness and ill nature more than want of 
skill, went on but indifferently with his task : he pulled the 



90 METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

hair with his implements, and seemed as if he would not 
soon be done. Philina more than once reproved him for his 
blunders, and at last sharply packed him off, and chased him 
to the door. She then undertook the business herself, and 
frizzled Wilhelm's locks with great dexterity and grace ; 
though she, too, appeared to be in no exceeding haste, but 
found always this and that to improve and put to rights ; 
while at the same time she could not help touching his knees 
with hers, and holding her nosegay and bosom so near his 
lips, that he was strongly tempted more than once to imprint 
a kiss on it. 

When Wilhelm had cleaned his brow with a little powder- 
knife, she said to him, " Put it in your pocket, and think 
of me when you see it." It was a pretty knife : the haft, of 
inlaid steel, had these friendly words wrought on it, *' Think 
of me." Wilhelm put it up, and thanked her, begging per- 
mission at the same time to make her a little present in 
return. 

At last they were in readiness. Laertes had brought 
round the coach, and they commenced a very gay excursion. 
To every beggar, Philina threw out money from the window ; 
giving along with it a merry and friendly word. 

Scarcely had they reached the Mill, and ordered dinner, 
when a strain of music struck up before the house. It was 
some miners singing various pretty songs, and accompany- 
ing their clear and shrill voices with a cithern and triangle. 
In a short while the gathering crowd had formed a ring 
about them, and our company nodded approbation to them 
from the windows. Observing this attention, they expanded 
their circle, and seemed making preparation for their grand- 
est piece. After some pause, a miner stepped forward with 
a mattock in his hand ; and, while the others played a serious 
tune, he set himself to represent the action of digging. 

Ere long a peasant came from among the crowd, and, by 
pantomimic threats, let the former know that he must cease 
and remove. Our company were greatly surprised at this : 
they did not discover that the peasant was a miner in dis- 
guise, till he opened his mouth, and, in a sort of recitative, 
rebuked the other for daring to meddle with his field. The 
latter did not lose his composure of mind, but began to 
inform the husbandman about his right to break ground 
there ; giving him withal some primary conceptions of miner- 
alogy. The peasant, not being master of his foreign termin- 
ology, asked all manner of silly questions ; whereat the 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 91 

spectators, as themselves more knowing, set up many a 
hearty laugh. The miner endeavored to instruct him, and 
showed him the advantage, which, in the long-run, would 
reach even him, if the deep-lying treasures of the land were 
dug out from their secret beds. The peasant, who at first 
had threatened his instructor with blows, was gradually 
pacified ; and they parted good friends at last, though it was 
the miner chiefly that got out of this contention with honor. 

*'In this little dialogue," said Wilhelm, when seated at 
the table, " we have a lively proof how useful the theatre 
might be to all ranks ; what advantage even the state might 
procure from it, if the occupations, trades, and undertakings 
of men were brought upon the stage, and presented on their 
praiseworthy side, in that point of view in w^hich the state 
itself should honor and protect them. As matters stand, we 
exhibit only the ridiculous side of men : the comic poet is, 
as it were, but a spiteful tax-gatherer, who keeps a watchful 
eye over the errors of his fellow-subjects, and seems gratified 
when he can fix any charge upon them. Might it not be a 
worthy and pleasing task for a statesman to survey the natu- 
ral and reciprocal influence of all classes on each other, and 
to guide some poet, gifted with suflScient humor, in such 
labors as these? In this way, I am persuaded, many very 
entertaining, both agreeable and useful, pieces, might be 
executed." 

"So far," said Laertes, *'as I, in wandering about the 
world, have been able to observe, statesmen are accustomed 
merely to forbid, to hinder, to refuse, but very rarely to 
invite, to further, to reward. They let all things go along, 
till some mischief happens: then they get into a rage, and 
lay about them." 

''A truce with state and statesmen!" said Philina : "I 
cannot form a notion of statesmen except, in periwigs ; and 
a periwig, wear it who will, always gives my fingers a spas- 
modic motion : I could like to pluck it off the venerable 
gentleman, to skip up and down the room with it, and laugh 
at the bald head." 

So, with a few lively songs, which she could sing very 
beautifully, Philina cut short their conversation, and urged 
them to a quick return homewards, that they might arrive in 
time for seeing the performance of the rope-dancers in the 
evening. On the road back she continued her lavish gener- 
osity, in a stj^le of gayety reaching to extravagance ; for at 
last, every coin belonging to herself or her companions t)eing 



92 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

spent, she threw her straw hat from the window to a girl, 
and her neckerchief to an old woman, who asked her for 
alms. 

Philina invited both of her attendants to her own apart- 
ments, because, she said, the spectacle could be seen more 
conveniently from her windows than from theirs. 

On arriving, they found the stage set up, and the back- 
ground decked with suspended carpets. The swing-boards 
were already fastened, the slack-rope fixed to posts, the 
tight-rope bound over trestles. The square was moderately 
filled with people, and the windows with spectators of some 
quality. 

Pickleherring, with a few insipidities, at which the look- 
ers-on are generally kind enough to laugh, first prepared 
the meeting to attention and good-humor. Some children, 
whose bodies were made to exhibit the strangest contortions, 
awakened astonishment or horror ; and Wilhelm could not, 
without the deepest sympathy, see the child he had at the 
first glance felt an interest in, go through her fantastic posi- 
tions with considerable difficulty. But the merry tumblers 
soon changed the feeling into that of lively satisfaction, 
when they first singly, then in rows, and at last all together, 
vaulted up into the air, making somersets backwards and 
forwards. A loud clapping of hands and a strong huzza 
echoed from the whole assembly. 

The general attention was next directed to quite a differ- 
ent object. The children in succession had to mount the 
rope, — the learners first, that by practising they might pro- 
long the spectacle, and show the difficulties of the art more 
clearly. Some men and full-grown women likewise exhibited 
their skill to moderate advantage ; but still there was no 
Monsieur Narciss, no Demoiselle Landrinette. 

At last this worthy pair came forth : they issued from a 
kind of tent with red spread curtains, and, by their agree- 
able forms and glittering decorations, fulfilled the hitherto 
increasing hopes of the spectators. He, a hearty knave, of 
middle stature, with black eyes and a strong head of hair ; 
she, formed with not inferior symmetry, — exhibited them- 
selves successively upon the rope, with delicate movements, 
leaping, and singular postures. Her airy lightness, his 
audacity ; the exactitude with which they both performed 
their feats of art, — raised the universal satisfaction higher at 
every step and spring. The stateliness with which they bore 
themselves, the seeming attentions of the rest to them, gave 



METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP, 98 

them the appearance of king and queen of the whole troop ; 
and all held them worthy of the rank. 

The animation of the people spread to the spectators at 
the windows : the ladies looked incessantly at Narciss, the 
gentlemen at Landrinette. The populace hurrahed, the more 
cultivated public could not keep from clapping of the hands : 
Pickleherring now could scarcely raise a laugh. A few, how- 
ever, slunk away when some members of the troop began to 
press through the crowd with their tin plates to collect 
money. 

"They have made their purpose good, I imagine," said 
Wilhelm to Philina, who was leaning over the window beside 
him. " I admire the ingenuity with which they have turned 
to advantage even the meanest parts of their performance : 
out of the unskilfulness of their children, and exquisiteness 
of their chief actors, they have made up a whole which at 
first excited our attention, and then gave us very fine enter- 
tainment." 

The people by degrees dispersed ; and the square was 
again become empty, while Philina and Laertes were disput- 
ing about the forms and the skill of Narciss and Landri- 
nette, and rallying each other on the subject at great length. 
Wilhelm noticed the wonderful child standing on the street 
near some other children at play : he showed her to Philina, 
who, in her lively way, immediately called and beckoned to 
the little one, and, this not succeeding, tripped singing down 
stairs, and led her up by the hand. 

"Here is the enigma," said she, as she brought her to 
the door. The child stood upon the threshold, as if she 
meant again to run off ; laid her right hand on her breast, 
the left on her brow, and bowed deeply. " Fear nothing, 
my little dear," said Wilhelm, rising, and going towards her. 
She viewed him with a doubting look, and came a few steps 
nearer. 

"What is thy name?" he asked. " They call me Mig- 
non . " — " How old art thou ? " — " No one has counted . " — 
" Who was thy father? " — " The Great Devil is dead." 

"Well! this is singular enough," said Philina. They 
asked her a few more questions : she gave her answers in a / ^'" j 

kind of broken German, and with a strangely solemn man- 
ner ; every time laying her hands on her breast and brow, 
and bowing deeply. 

Wilhelm could not satisfy himself with looking at her. 
His eyes and his heart were irresistibly attracted by the 



/ 



94 METSTEllS APPRENTJCESHJP. 

mysterious condition of this being. He reckoned her about 
ivvelve or thirteen years of age : her body was well formed, 
only her limbs gave promise of a stronger growth, or else 
announced a stunted one. Her countenance was not resu- 
lar, but striking ; her brow full of mystery ; her nose ex- 
tremely beautiful ; her mouth, although it seemed too closely 
shut for one of her age, and though she often threw it to 
a side, had yet an air of frankness, and was very lovely. 
Her brownish complexion could scarcely be discerned through 
tiie paint. This form stamped itself deeply in Wilhelm's 
soul : he kept looking at her earnestly, and forgot the pres- 
ent scene in the multitude of his reflections. Philina waked 
him from his half-dream, by holding out the remainder of 
her sweetmeats to the child, and giving her a sign to go 
away. She made her little bow as formerly, and darted 
like lightning through the door. 

As the time drew on when our new friends had to part for 
the evening, they planned a fresh excursion for the morrow. 
They purposed now to have their dinner at a neighboring 
Jdgerhaus. Before taking leave of Laertes, Wilhelm said 
many things in Philina' s praise, to which the other made 
only brief and careless answers. 

Next morning, having once more exercised themselves in 
fencing for an hour, they went over to Philina' s lodging, 
towards which they had seen their expected coach passing by. 
But how surprised was Wilhelm, when the coach seemed 
altogether to have vanished ; and how much more so, when 
Philina was not to be found at home ! She had placed her- 
self in the carriage, they were told, with a couple of stran- 
gers who had come that morning, and was gone with them. 
Wilhelm had been promising himself some pleasant enter- 
tainment from her company, and could not hide his irritation. 
Laeiles, on the other hand, but laughed at it, and cried, " I 
love her for this : it looks so like herself ! Let us, however, 
go directly to the Jdgerhaus : be Philina where she pleases, 
we will not lose our promenade on her account." 

As Wilhelm, while they walked, continued censuring the 
inconsistency of such conduct, Laertes said, " I cannot 
reckon it inconsistent so long as one keeps faithful to his 
character. If this Philina plans you any thing, or promises 
you any thing, she does it under the tacit condition that it 
shall be quite convenient for her to fulfil lier plan, to keep 
her promise. She gives willingly, l>ut you must ever hold 
yourself in readiness to return her J^ifts/* 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. ^6 

*'That seems a singular character," said Wilhelm. 

''Any thing but singular: only she is not a hypocrite. I 
like her on that account. Yes : I am her friend, because 
she represents the sex so truly, which I have so much cause 
to hate. To me she is another genuine Eve, the great 
mother of womankind : so are they all, only they will not all 
confess it." 

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

A young man of their acquaintance, from the town, came 
gliding through the wood with a book in his hand : he sat 
down by them, and began praising the beauty of the place. 



96 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

He directed their attention to the murmuring of the brook, 
to the waving of the boughs, to the ehe-.'kered lights and 
shadows, and the music of the birds. Fiiilina commenced a 
little song of the cuckoo, which did not seem at all to exhila- 
rate the man of taste : he very soon made his compliments, 
and went on. 

" Oh that I might never hear more of nature, and scenes 
of nature ! " cried Philina, so soon as he was gone : " there 
is nothing in the world more intolerable than to hear people 
reckon up the pleasures you enjoy. When the day is bright 
you go to walk, as to dance when you hear a tune played. 
But who would think a moment on the music or the weather? 
It is the dancer that interests us, not the violin ; and to 
look upon a pair of bright black eyes is the life of a pair of 
blue ones. But what on earth have we to do with wells and 
brooks, and old rotten lindens?" She was sitting opposite 
to Wilhelm ; and, w^hile speaking so, she looked into his eyes 
with a glance which he could not hinder from piercing at 
least to the very door of his heart. 

"You are right," replied he, not without embaiTassment *. 
" man is ever the most interesting object to man, and per- 
haps should be the only one that interests. Whatever else 
surrounds us is but the element in which we live, or else the 
instrument which we employ. The more we devote our- 
selves to such things, the more we attend to and feel concern 
in them, the weaker will our sense of our own dignity be- 
come, the weaker our feelings for society. Men who put a 
great value on gardens, buildings, clothes, ornaments, or any 
other sort of propert}^ grow less social and pleasant : they 
lose sight of their brethren, whom very few can succeed in 
collecting about them and entertaining. Have you not ob- 
served it on the stage? A good actor makes us very soon 
forget the awkwardness and meanness of paltry decorations, 
but a splendid theatre is the very thing which first makes us 
truly feel the want of proper actors. 

After dinner Philina sat down among the long, overshaded 
grass, and commanded both her friends to fetch her flowers 
in great quantities. She wreathed a complete garland, and 
put it round her head : it made her look extremely charming. 
The flowers were still sufficient for another : this, too, she 
plaited, while both the young men sat beside her. When, at 
last, amid infinite mirth and sportfulness, it was completed, 
she pressed it on Wilhelm' s head with the greatest dignity, 
and shifted the posture of it more than once, till it seemed 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 97 

to her properly adjusted. "And I, it appears, must go 
empty/' said Laertes. 

' ' Not by any means : you shall not have reason to com- 
plain," replied Philina, taking off the garland from her own 
head, and putting it on his. 

"If we were rivals," said Laertes, "we might now dis- 
pute very warmly which of us stood higher in thy favor." 

" And the more fools you," said she, while she bent her- 
self towards him, and offered him her lips to kiss ; and then 
immediately turned round, threw her arm about Wilhelm, 
and bestowed a kind salute on him also. ' ' Which of them 
tastes best? " said she archly. 

' ' Surprisingly ! ' ' exclaimed Laertes : "it seems as if 
nothing else had ever such a tang of wormwood in it. " 

" As little wormwood," she replied, " as any gift that a 
man may enjoy without envy and without conceit. But 
now," cried she, " I should like to have an hour's dancing ; 
and after that we must look to our vaulters." 

Accordingly, they went into the house, and there found 
music in readiness. Philina was a beautiful dancer : she 
animated both her companions. Nor was Wilhelm without 
skill ; but he wanted careful practice, a defect which his two 
friends voluntarily took charge of remedying. 

In these amusements the time passed on insensibly. It 
was already late when they returned. The rope-dancers 
had commenced their operations. A multitude of people 
had again assembled in the square ; and our friends, on 
alighting, were struck by the appearance of a tumult in the 
crowd, occasioned by a throng of men rushing towards the 
door of the inn, which Wilhelm had now turned his face 
to. He sprang forward to see what it was ; and, pressing 
through the people, he was struck with horror to observe the 
master of the rope-dancing company dragging poor Mignon 
by the hair out of the house, and unmercifully beating her 
little body with the handle of a whip. 

Wilhelm darted on the man like lightning, and seized him 
by the collar. " Quit the child ! " he cried, in a furious tone, 
"or one of us shall never leave this spot ! " and, so speak- 
ing, he grasped the fellow by the throat with a force which 
only rage could have lent him. The showman, on the point 
of choking, let go the child, and endeavored to defend himself 
against his new assailant. But some people, who had felt 
compassion for Mignon, yet had not dared to begin a quar- 
rel for her, now laid hold of the rope-dancer, wrenched his 
4:— Goethe Vol 7 



98 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

whip away, and threatened hhn with great fierceness and 
abuse. Being now reduced to the weapons of his mouth, 
he began bulhdng, and cursing horribly. The laz}^ worth- 
less urchin, he said, would not do her duty ; refused to per- 
form the egg-dance, which he had promised to the public ; 
he would beat her to death, and no one should hinder him. 
He tried to get loose, and seek the child, who had crept 
away among the crowd. Wilhelm held him back, and said 
sternly, "You shall neither see nor touch her, till you 
have explained before a magistrate where you stole her. 1 
will pursue you to every extremity. You shall not escape 
me." These words, which Wilhelm uttered in heat, without 
thought or purpose, out of some vague feeling, or, if you 
will, out of inspiration, soon brought the raging showman to 
composure. " What have I to do with the useless brat?" 
cried he. " Pay me what her clothes cost, and make of her 
what you please. We shall settle it to-night." And, being 
liberated, he made haste to resume his interrupted opera- 
tions, and to calm the irritation of the public by some strik- 
ing display's of his craft. 

As soon as all was still again, Wilhelm commenced a 
search for Mignon, whom, however, he could nowhere find. 
Some said they had seen her on the street, others on the 
roofs of the adjoining houses ; but, after seeking unsuccess- 
fully in all quarters, he was forced to content himself, and 
wait to see if she would not again turn up of herself. 

In the mean time, Narciss had come into the house ; and 
Wilhelm set to question him about the birthplace and history 
of the child. Monsieur Narciss knew nothing about these 
things, for he had not long been in the company ; but in 
return he recited, with much volubility and levity, various 
particulars of his own fortune. Upon Wilhelm 's wishing 
him joy of the great approbation he had gained, Narciss ex- 
pressed himself as if exceedingly indifferent on that point. 
"People laugh at us," he said, "and admire our feats of 
skill ; but their admiration does nothing for us. The master 
has to pay us, and may raise the funds where he pleases." 
He then took his leave, and was setting off in great haste. 

At the question, whither he was bent so fast, the dog 
gave a smile, and admitted that his figure and talents had 
acquired for him a more solid species of favor than the huz- 
zaing of the multitude. He had been Invited by some young 
ladies, who desired much to become acquainted with him ; 
and he was afraid it would be midnight before he could get 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 99 

all his visits over. He proceeded with the greatest candor 
to detail his adventures. He would have given the names 
of his patronesses, their streets and houses, had not Wil- 
heim waived such indiscretion, and politely dismissed him. 

Laertes had meanwhile been entertaining Landrinette : he 
declared that she was fully worthy to be and to remain a 
woman. 

Our friend next proceeded to his bargain with the show- 
man for Mignon. Thirty crowns was the price set upon her ; 
and for this sum the black-bearded, hot Italian entirely sur- 
rendered all his claims : but of her history or parentage he 
would discover nothing, only that she had fallen into his 
hands at the death of his brother, who, by reason of his ad- 
mirable skill, had usually been named the " Great Devil." 

Next morning was chiefly spent in searching for the child. 
It was in vain that they rummaged every hole and corner of 
the house and neighborhood : the child had vanished ; and 
Wilhelm was afraid she might have leaped into some pool of 
water, or destroyed herself in some other way. 

Philina's charms could not divert his inquietude. He 
passed a dreary, thoughtful day. Nor at evening could the 
utmost efforts of the tumblers and dancers, exerting all 
their powers to gratify the public, divert the current of his 
thoughts, or clear away the clouds from his mind. 

By the concourse of people flocking from all places round, 
the numbers had greatly increased on this occasion : the 
general approbation w^as like a snowball rolling itself into 
a monstrous size. The feat of leaping over swords, and 
through the cask with paper ends, made a great sensation. 

The strong man, too, produced a universal feeling of min- 
gled astonishment and horror, when he laid his head and 
feet on a couple of separate stools, and then allowed some 
sturdy smiths to place a stithy on the unsupported part of 
his body, and hammer a horseshoe till it was completely 
made by means of it. 

The Hercules' Strength, as they called it, was a no less 
wonderful affair. A row of men stood up ; then another 
row, upon their shoulders ; then women and young lads, 
supported in like manner on the second row ; so that finally 
a living pyramid was formed ; the peak being ornamented by 
a child, placed on its head, and dressed out in the shape of 
a ball and weather-vane. Such a sight, never witnessed in 
those parts before, gave a wortliy termination to the whole 
performance. Narciss and Landrinette were then borne in 



100 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

litters, on the shoulders of the rest, along the chief streets of 
the town, amid the triumphant shouts of the people. Rib- 
bons, nosegays, silks, were thrown upon them : all pressed 
to get a sight of them. Each thought himself happy if he 
could behold them, and be honored with a look of theirs. 

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



CHAPTER V. 

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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 101 

From that moment she observed strictly what services the 
waiter had to do for both her friends ; and, after next day, 
she would not any more let him enter the room. She per- 
sisted in doing every thing herself, and accordingly went 
through her duties, slowly, indeed, and sometimes awk- 
wardly, yet completely, and with the greatest care. 

She was frequently observed going to a basin of water, 
and washing her face with such diligence and violence, that 
she almost wore the skin from her cheeks ; till Laertes, by 
dint of questions and reproofs, learned that she was striving 
by all means to get the paint from her skin, and that, in 
her zealous endeavors towards this object, she had mistaken 
the redness produced by rubbing for the most obdurate dye. 
They set her right on this point, and she ceased her efforts ; 
after which, having come again to her natural state, she ex- 
hibited a fine brown complexion, beautiful, though sparingly 
intermingled with red. 

The siren charms of Philina, the mysterious presence of 
the child, produced more impression on our friend than he 
liked to confess : he passed several days in that strange 
society, endeavoring to elude self-reproaches by a diligent 
practice of fencing and dancing, — accomplishments which 
he believed might not again be put within his reach so con- 
veniently. 

It was with great surprise, and not without a certain satis- 
faction, that he one day observed Herr Melina and his wife 
alight at the inn. After the first glad salutation, they in- 
quired about "the lady-manager and the other actors,'* 
and learned, with astonishment and terror, that the lady- 
manager had long since gone away, and her actors, to a 
very few, dispersed themselves about the country. 

This couple, subsequently to their marriage, in which, as 
we know, our friend did his best to serve them, had been 
travelling about in various quarters, seeking an engagement, 
without finding any, and had at last been directed to this 
little town by some persons who met them on their journey, 
and said there was a good theatre in the place. 

Melina by no means pleased the lively Laertes, when in- 
troduced to him, any more than his wife did Philina. Both 
heartily wished to be rid of these new-comers ; and Wilhelm 
could inspire them with no favorable feelings on the subject, 
though he more than once assured them that the Melinas 
were very worthy people. 

Indeed, the previous merry life of our three adventurers 



102 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

was interfered with by this extension of their society, in 
more ways than one. Melina had taken up his quarters in 
the inn where Philina staid, and he very soon began a 
system of cheapening and higgling. Pie would have better 
lodging, more sumptuous diet, and readier attendance, for a 
smaller charge. In a short while, the landlord and waiter 
showed very rueful looks ; for whereas the others, to get 
pleasantly along, had expressed no discontent with any thing, 
and paid instantly, that they might avoid thinking longer of 
payment, Melina now insisted on regulating every meal, and 
investigating its contents beforehand, — a species of service 
for which Philina named him, without scruple, a ruminating 
animal. 

Yet more did the merry girl hate Melina's wife. Frau 
Melina was a young woman not without culture, but wofully 
defective in soul and spirit. She could declaim not badly, 
and kept declaiming constantly ; but it was easy to observe 
that her performances were little more than recitations of 
words. She labored a few detached passages, but never 
could express the feeling of the whole. Withal, however, 
she was seldom disagreeable to any one, especially to men. 
On the contrary, people who enjoyed her acquaintance com- 
monly ascribed to her a fine understanding ; for she was 
what might be called a kind of spiritual chameleon, or taker- 
on. Any friend whose favor she had need of she could flatter 
with peculiar adroitness, could give in to his ideas so long as 
she could understand them, and, when they went beyond her 
own horizon, could hail wuth ecstasy such new and brilliant 
visions. She understood well when to speak and when to 
keep silence ; and, though her disposition was not spiteful, 
she could spy out with great expertness where another's 
weak side lay. 



CHAPTER VI. 

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



MEISTER'S APPKENTICESHIP. 103 

chasers occur. Melina wished to see this ware, and he took 
Wilhelm with him. No sooner was the room opened, than 
our friend felt towards its contents a kind of inclination, 
which he would not confess to himself. Sad as was the state 
of the blotched and tarnished decorations ; little showy as 
the Turkish and pagan garments, the old farce-coats for 
men and women, the cowls for enchanters, priests, and Jews, 
might be, — he was not able to exclude the feeling, that the 
happiest moments of his life had been spent in a similar 
magazine of frippery. Could Melina have seen into his 
heart, he would have urged him more pressingly to lay out 
a sum of money in liberating these scattered fragments, in 
furbishing them up, and again combining them into a beau- 
tiful whole. " What a happ}' man could I be," cried Melina, 
" had I but two hundred crowns, to get into my hands, for a 
beginning, these fundamental necessaries of a theatre ! How 
goon should I get up a little playhouse, that would draw con- 
tributions from the town and neighborhood, and maintain us 
all!" Wilhelm was silent. They left these treasures of 
the stage to be again locked up, and both went away in a 
reflective mood. 

Thenceforth Melina talked of nothing else but projects 
and plans for setting up a theatre, and gaining profit by it. 
He tried to interest Philina and Laertes in his schemes ; and 
proposals were made to Wilhelm about advancing money, 
and taking them as his security. On this occasion, Wilhelm 
first clearly perceived that he was lingering too long here : 
he excused himself, and set about making preparations for 
departure. 

In the mean time, Mignon's form, and manner of existence, 
were growing more attractive to him every day. In her whole 
S3'stem of proceedings there was something very singular. 
She never walked up or down the stairs, but jumped. She 
would spring along by the railing, and before you were aware 
would be sitting quietly above upon the landing. Wilhelm 
had observed, also, that she had a different sort of salutation 
for each individual. For himself, it had of late been with 
her arms crossed upon her breast. Often for the whole day 
she was mute. At times she answered various questions 
more freely, yet always strangely : so that you could not 
determine whether it was caused by shrewd sense, or igno- 
rance of the language ; for she spoke in broken German in- 
terlaced with French and Italian. In Wilhelm' s service she 
was indefatigable, and u\^ before the sun. On the othey 



104 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

hand, she vanished early in the evening, went to sleep in a 
little room upon the bare floor, and could not by any means 
be induced to take a bed or even a paillasse. He often 
found her washing herself. Her clothes, too, were kept 
scrupulously clean ; though nearly all about her was quilted 
two or three plies thick. Wilhelm was moreover told, that 
she went every morning early to hear mass. He followed 
her on one occasion, and saw her kneeling down with a ros- 
ary in a corner of the church, and praying devoutly. She 
did not observe him ; and he returned home, forming many 
a conjecture about this appearance, yet unable to arrive at 
any probable conclusion. 

A new application from Melina for a sum of money to 
redeem the often-mentioned stage apparatus caused Wil- 
helm to think more seriously than ever about setting off. He 
proposed writing to his people, who for a long time had 
heard no tidings of him, by the very earliest post. He 
accordingly commenced a letter to Werner, and had advanced 
a considerable way with the history of his adventures, in 
recounting which he had more than once unintentionally 
swerved a little from the truth, when, to his vexation and 
surprise, he observed, upon the back of his sheet, some verses 
which he had been copying from his album for Madam 
Melina. Out of humor at this mistake, he tore the paper in 
pieces, and put off repeating his confession till the next post- 
day. 



CHAPTER VII. 

Our party was now again collected ; and Philina, who 
always kept a sharp lookout on every horse or carriage that 
passed by, exclaimed with great eagerness, "Our Pedant! 
Here comes our dearest Pedant ! Who the deuce is it he has 
with him?" Speaking thus, she beckoned at the window; 
and the vehicle drew up. 

A woful-looking genius, whom by his shabby coat of gray- 
ish brown, and his ill-conditioned lower garments, you must 
have taken for some unprosperous preceptor, of the sort that 
moulder in our universities, now descended from the carriage, 
and, taking off his hat to salute Philina, discovered an ill- 
powdered, but yet very stiff, periwig ; while Philina threw a 
hundred kisses of the hand towards him. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 105 

As Philina's chief enjoyment lay in loving one class of 
men, and being loved by them ; so there was a second and 
hardly inferior satisfaction, wherewith she entertained herself 
as frequently as possible ; and this consisted in hoodwinking 
and passing jokes upon the other class, whom at such 
moments she happened not to love, — all which she could 
accomplish in a very sprightly style. 

Amid the flourish which she made in receiving this old 
friend, no attention was bestowed upon the rest who followed 
him. Yet among the party were an oldish man and two 
young girls, whom Wilhelm thought he knew. Accordingly 
it turned out, that he had often seen them all, some years 
ago, in a company then playing in his native town. The 
daughters had grown since that period : the old man was a 
little altered. He commonly enacted those good-hearted, 
boisterous old gentlemen, whom the German theatre is never 
without, and whom, in common life, one also frequently 
enough falls in with. For as it is the character of our coun- 
trymen to do good, and cause it, without pomp or circum- 
stance ; so they seldom consider that there is likewise a 
mode of doing what is right with grace and dignity : more 
frequently, indeed, they yield to the spirit of contradiction, 
and fall into the error of deforming their dearest virtue by 
d surly mode of putting it in practice. 

Such parts our actor could play very well ; and he played 
them so often and exclusively', that he had himself taken up 
the same turn of proceeding in his ordinary life. 

On recognizing him, Wilhelm was seized with a strong 
commotion ; for he recollected how often he had seen this 
man on the stage with his beloved Mariana : he still heard 
him scolding, still heard the small, soothing voice, with which 
in many characters she had to meet his rugged temper. 

The first anxious question put to the strangers, — Whether 
they had heard of any situation in their travels ? — was an- 
swered, alas, with No ! and, to complete the information, it 
was further added, that all the companies the}^ had fallen in 
with were not only supplied with actors, but many of them 
were afraid lest, on account of the approaching war, they 
should be forced to separate. Old Boisterous, with his 
daughters, moved hj spleen and love of change, had given 
up an advantageous engagement : then, meeting with the 
Pedant by the way, they had hired a carriage to come hither ; 
where, as they found, good counsel was still dear, needful to 
have, and difficult to get. 



106 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

The time while the rest were talking very keenly of their 
circumstances, Wilhelm spent in thought. He longed to 
speak in private with the old man : he wished and feared 
to hear of Mariana, and felt the greatest disquietude. 

The pretty looks of the stranger damsels could not call him 
from his dream ; but a war of words, which now arose, 
awakened his attention. It was Friedrich, the fak-haired 
boy who used to attend Philina, stubbornly refusing, on this 
occasion, to cover the table and bring up dinner. " I en- 
gaged to serve you," he cried, " but not to wait on every- 
body." They fell into a hot contest. Philina insisted that 
he should do his duty ; and, as he obstinately refused, she 
told him plainly he might go about his business. 

"You think, perhaps, I cannot leave you!" cried he 
sturdily, then went to pack up his bundle, and soon hastily 
quitted the house. 

" Go, Mignon," said Philina, " and get us what we want r 
tell the waiter, and help him to attend us." 

Mignon came before Wilhelm, and asked in her laconic 
way, ''Shall I? May I?" To which Wilhelm answered, 
'' Do all the lady bids thee, child." 

She accordingly took charge of every thing, and waited on 
the guests the whole evening, with the utmost carefulness. 
After dinner, Wilhelm proposed to have a walk with the old 
man alone. Succeeding in this, after many questions about 
his late wanderings, the conversation turned upon the former 
company ; and Wilhelm hazarded a question touching Mari- 
ana. 

' ' Do not speak to me of that despicable creature ! ' ' cried 
the old man: "I have sworn to think of her no more." 
Terrified at this speech, Wilhelm felt still more embarrassed, 
as the old man proceeded to vituperate her fickleness and 
wantonness. Most gladly would our friend have broken off 
the conversation, but now it was impossible : he was obliged 
to undergo the whole tumultuous effusions of this strange old 
gentleman. 

*' I am ashamed," continued he, " that I felt such a friend- 
ship for her. Yet, had you known the girl better, you would 
excuse me. She was so pretty, so natural and good, so 
pleasing, in every sense so tolerable, I could never have sup- 
posed that ingratitude and impudence were to prove the chief 
features of her character." 

Wilhelm had nerved himself to hear the worst of her ; 
when all at once he obsti ,\,d, with astonishment, that the 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 107 

old man's tones grew milder, his voice faltered, and he took 
out his handkerchief to dry the tears, which at last began to 
trickle down his cheeks. 

*' What is the matter with you? "cried Wilhelm. " What 
is it that suddenly so changes the current of your feelings? 
Conceal it not from me. I take a deeper interest in the fate 
of this girl than you suppose. Only tell me all." 

" I have not much to say," replied the old man, again tak- 
ing up his earnest, angry tone. " I have suffered more from 
her than I shall ever forgive. She had always a kind of 
trust in me. I loved her as my own daughter ; indeed, while 
my wife lived, I had formed a resolution to take the creature 
to my own house, and save her from the hands of that old 
crone, from whose guidance I boded no good. But my wife 
died, and the project went to nothing. 

" About the end of our stay in your native town, — it is 
not quite three years ago, — I noticed a visible sadness about 
her. I questioned her, but she evaded me. At last we set 
out on our journey. She travelled in the same coach with 
me ; and I soon observed, what she herself did not long 
den}^ that she was with child, and suffering the greatest ter- 
ror lest our manager might turn her off. In fact, in a short 
while he did make the discovery ; immediately threw up her 
contract, which at any rate was only for six weeks ; paid off 
her arrears ; and, in spite of all entreaties, left her behind, 
in the miserable inn of a little village. 

" Devil take all wanton jilts ! " cried the old man, with a 
splenetic tone, " and especially this one, that has spoiled me 
so many hours of my life ! Why should I keep talking how 
I myself took charge of her, what I did for her, what I spent 
on her, how in absence I provided for her? I would rather 
throw my purse into the ditch, and spend my time in nursing 
mangy whelps, than ever more bestow the smallest care on 
such a thing. Pshaw ! At first I got letters of thanks, 
notice of places she was staying at ; and, finally, no word at 
all, — not even an acknowledgment for the money I had sent 
to pay the expenses of her lying-in. Oh ! the treachery and 
the fickleness of women are rightly matched, to get a com- 
fortable living for themselves, and to give an honest fellow 
many heavy hours." 



108 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Wilhelm's feelings, on returning home after this conver- 
sation, may be easily conceived. All his old wounds had 
been torn up afresh, and the sentiment that Mariana was 
not wholly unworthy of his love had again been brought to 
life. The interest the old man had shown about her fate, the 
praises he gave her against his will, displayed her again in 
all her attractiveness. Nay, even the bitter accusations 
brought against her contained nothing that could lower her in 
Wilhelm's estimation ; for he, as well as she, was guilty in 
all her aberrations. Nor did even her final silence seem 
greatly blamable : it rather inspired him with mournfuj 
thoughts. He saw her as a frail, ill-succored mother, wan- 
dering helplessly about the world, — wandering, perhaps, with 
his own child. What he knew, and what he knew not, 
awoke in him the painfullest emotions. 

Mignon had been waiting for him : she lighted him up 
stairs. On setting down the light, she begged he would allow 
her, that evening, to compliment him with a piece of her art. 
He would rather have declined this, particularly as he knew 
not what it was ; but he had not the heart to refuse any thing 
this kind creature wished. After a little while she again 
came in. She carried below her arm a little carpet, which 
she then spread out upon the floor. Wilhelm said she might 
proceed. She thereupon brought four candles, and placed 
one upon each corner of the carpet. A little basket of eggs, 
which she next carried in, made her purpose clearer. Care- 
fully measuring her steps, she then walked to and fro on the 
carpet, spreading out the eggs in certain figures and posi- 
tions ; which done, she called in a man that was waiting in 
the house, and could play on the violin. He retired with his 
instrument into a corner : she tied a band about her eyes, 
gave a signal ; and, like a piece of wheel-work set a-going, she 
began moving the same instant as the music, accompanying 
her beats and the notes of the tune with the strokes of a pair 
of castanets. 

Lightly, nimbly, quickly, and with hair's-breadth accuracy, 
she carried on the dance. She skipped so sharply and surely 
along between the eggs, and trod so closely down beside 
them, that you would have thought every instant she must 
trample one of them in pieces, or kick the rest away in her 
rapid turns. By no means ! She touched no one of them, 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 109 

though winding herself through their mazes with all kinds of 
steps, wide and narrow, nay, even with leaps, and at last 
half kneeling. 

Constant as the movement of a clock, she ran her course ; 
and the strange music, at each repetition of the tune, gave a 
new impulse to the dance, recommencing and again rushing 
off as at first. Wilhelm was quite led away by this singular 
spectacle ; he forgot his cares ; he followed every movement 
of the dear little creature, and felt surprised to see how finely 
her character unfolded itself as she proceeded in the dance. 

Rigid, sharp, cold, vehement, and in soft postures, stately 
rather than attractive, — such was the light in which it showed 
her. At this moment he experienced at once all the emo- 
tions he had ever felt for Mignon. He longed to incorporate 
this forsaken being with his own heart, to take her in his 
arms, and with a father's love to awaken in her the joy of 
existence. 

The dance being ended, she rolled the eggs together softly 
with her foot into a little heap, left none behind, harmed 
none ; then placed herself beside it, taking the bandage from 
her eyes, and concluding her performance with a little bow. 

Wilhelm thanked her for having executed, so prettily and 
unexpectedly, a dance he had long wished to see. He patted 
her ; was sorry she had tired herself so much. He promised 
her a new suit of clothes ; to which she vehemently replied, 
''Thy color ! " This, too, he promised her, though not well 
knowing what she meant by it. She then lifted up the eggs, 
took the carpet under her arm, asked if he wanted any thing 
further, and skipped out of the room. 

The musician, being questioned, said, that for some time 
she had taken much trouble in often singing over the tune of 
this dance, the well-known fandango, to him, and training 
him till he could play it accurately. For his labor she had 
likewise offered him some money ; which, however, he would 
not accept. 



CHAPTER rX. 

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



110 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

time with a child on her arm, then soon bereaved of it, the 
morning had scarcely dawned, when Mignon entered with a 
tailor. She brought some gray cloth and blue taffeta ; signi- 
fying in her own way that she wished to have a new jacket 
and sailor's trousers, such as she had seen the boys of the 
town wear, with blue cuffs and tiers. 

» Since the loss of Mariana, AVilhelm had laid aside all gay 
colors. He had used himself to gray, — the garment of the 
shades ; and only perhaps a sky-blue lining, or little collar 
of that dye, in some degree enlivened his sober garb. Mig- 
non, eager to wear his colors, hurried on the tailor, who en- 
gaged to have his work soon ready. 

The exercise in dancing and fencing, which our friend took 
this day with Laertes, did not prosper in their hands. In- 
deed, it was soon interrupted by Melina, who came to show 
them circumstantially how a little company was now of itself 
collected, sufficient to exhibit plays in abundance. He re- 
newed the proposal that Wilhelm should advance a little 
money for setting them in motion ; which, however, Wilhelm 
still declined. 

Ere long Philina and the girls came in, racketing and 
laughing as usual. They had now devised a fresh excursion, 
for change of place and objects was a pleasure after which 
they always longed. To eat daily in a different spot was 
their highest wish. On this occasion they proposed a sail. 

The boat in which they were to fall down the pleasant 
windings of the river had already been engaged by the Ped- 
ant. Philina urged them on : the party did not linger, and 
were soon on board. 

" What shall we take to now? " said Philina, when all had 
placed themselves upon the benches. 

•'The readiest thing," replied Laertes, ''were for us to 
extemporize a play. Let each take a part that suits his 
character, and we shall see how we get along." 

" Excellent ! " said Wilhelm. " In a society where there 
is no dissimulation, but where each without disguise pursues 
the bent of his own humor, elegance and satisfaction cannot 
long continue ; and, where dissimulation always reigns, they 
do not enter at all. It will not be amiss, then, that we take 
up dissimulation to begin with, and then, behind our masks, 
be as candid as we please." 

" Yes," said Laertes : " it is on this account that one goes 
on so pleasantly with women ; they never show themselves 
in their natural form." 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. Ill 

*'That is to say," replied Madam Melina, "they are not 
so vain as men, who conceive themselves to be always amia- 
ble enough, just as nature has produced them." 

In the mean time the river led them between pleasant 
groves and hills, between gardens and vineyards ; and the 
young women, especially Madam Melina, expressed their 
rapture at the landscape. The latter even began to recite, 
in solemn style, a pretty poem of the descriptive sort, upon 
a similar scene of nature ; but Philina interrupted her with 
the proposal of a law, that no one should presume to speak 
of any inanimate object. On the other hand, she zealously 
urged on their project of an extempore play. Old Boisterous 
was to be a half-pay officer ; Laertes a fencing-master, tak- 
ing his vacation ; the Pedant, a Jew ; she herself would act 
a Tyrolese ; leaving to the rest to choose characters according 
to their several pleasures. They would suppose themselves 
to be a party of total strangers to each other, who had just 
met on board a merchant-ship. 

She immediately began to play her part with the Jew, and 
a universal cheerfulness diffused itself among them. 

They had not sailed far, when the skipper stopped in his 
course, asking permission of the company to take in a person 
standing on the shore, who had made a sign to him. 

'' That is just what we needed," cried Philina : " a chance 
passenger was wanting to complete the travelling-party." 

A handsome man came on board ; whom, by his dress and 
his dignified mien, you might have taken for a clergyman. 
He saluted the party, who thanked him in their own way, 
and soon made known to him the nature of their game. The 
stranger immediately engaged to act the part of a country 
parson ; which, in fact, he accomplished in the adroitest 
manner, to the admiration of all, — now admonishing, now 
telling stories, showing some weak points, yet never losing 
their respect. 

In the mean time, every one who had made a false step in 
his part, or swerved from his character, had been obliged to 
forfeit a pledge : Philina had gathered them with the great- 
est care, and especially threatened the reverend gentleman 
with many kisses ; though he himself had never been at fault. 
Melina, on the other hand, was completely fleeced : shirt- 
buttons, buckles, every movable about his person, was in 
Philina' s hands. He was trying to enact an English travel- 
ler, and could not by any means get into the spirit of his 
part. 



112 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Meanwhile the time had passed away very pleasantly. 
Each had strained his fancy and his wit to the utmost, and 
each had garnished his part with agreeable and entertaining 
jests. Thus comfortably occupied, they reached the place 
where they meant to pass the day ; and Wilhelm, going out 
to walk with the clergj^man, as both from his appearance and 
late character he persisted in naming him, soon fell into an 
interesting conversation. 

"I think this practice," said the stranger, "very useful 
among actors, and even in the company of friends and 
acquaintances. It is the best mode of drawing men out of 
themselves, and leading them, by a circuitous path, back 
into themselves again. It should be a custom with every 
troop of players to practice in this manner : and the public 
would assuredly be no loser if every month an unwritten 
piece were brought forward ; in which, of course, the play- 
ers had prepared themselves by several rehearsals." 

" One should not, then," replied our friend, " consider an 
extempore piece as, strictly speaking, composed on the spur 
of the moment, but as a piece, of which the plan, action, 
and division of the scenes were given ; the filling up of all 
this being left to the player." 

" Quite right," said the stranger ; " and, in regard to this 
very filling up, such a piece, were the players once trained to 
these performances, would profit greatly. Not in regard 
to the mere words, it is true ; for, by a careful selection of 
these, the studious writer may certainl}^ adorn his work ; but 
in regard to the gestures, looks, exclamations, and every 
thing of that nature ; in short, to the mute and half-mute 
play of the dialogue, w^hich seems by degrees fading away 
among us altogether. There are indeed some players in 
Germany whose bodies figure what they think and feel ; 
who by their silence, their delays, their looks, their slight, 
graceful movements, can prepare the audience for a speech, 
and, by a pleasant sort of pantomime, combine the pauses 
of the dialogue with the general whole ; but such a practice 
as this, co-operating with a happy natural turn, and training 
it to compete with the author, is far from being so habitual 
as, for the comfort of play-going people, were to be de- 
sired." 

'' But will not a happy natural turn," said Wilhelm, " as 
the first and last requisite, of itself conduct the player, like 
every other artist, — nay, perhaps every other man, — to the 
lofty mark he aims at? " 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 113 

*' The first and the last, the beginning and the end, it may 
well be ; but, in the middle, many things will still be wanting 
to an artist, if instruction, and early instruction too, have 
not previously made that of him which he was meant to be : 
and perhaps for the man of genius it is worse in this respect 
than for the man possessed of only common capabilities ; 
the one may much more easily be misinstructed, and be driven 
far more violently into false courses, than the other." 

"But," said Wilhelm, "will not genius save itself, not 
heal the wounds which itself has inflicted?" 

" Only to a very small extent, and with great difficulty," 
said the other, "or perhaps not at all. Let no one think 
that he can conquer the first impressions of his youth. If 
he has grown up in enviable freedom, surrounded with beau- 
tiful and noble objects, in constant intercourse with worthy 
men ; if his masters have taught him what he needed first to 
know, for comprehending more easily what followed ; if he 
has never learned any thing which he requires to unlearn ; if 
his first operations have been so guided, that, without alter- 
ing any of his habits, he can more easily produce what is 
excellent in future, — then such a one will lead a purer, more 
perfect and happier, life, than another man who has wasted 
the force of his youth in opposition and error. A great deal 
is said and written about education ; yet I meet with very 
few who can comprehend, and transfer to practice, this sim- 
ple yet vast idea, which includes within itself all others con- 
nected with the subject." 

" That may well be true," said Wilhelm ; " for the gener- 
ality of men are limited enough in their conceptions to sup- 
pose that every other should be fashioned by education, 
according to the pattern of themselves. Happy, then, are 
those whom Fate takes charge of, and educates according to 
their several natures ! ' ' 

"Fate," said the other, smiling, "is an excellent but 
most expensive schoolmaster. In all cases, I would rather 
trust to the reason of a human tutor. Fate, for whose wis- 
dom I entertain all imaginable reverence, often finds in 
Chance, by which it works, an instrument not over manage- 
able. At least the latter very seldom seems to execute pre- 
cisely and accurately what the former had determined." 

" You seem to express a very singular opinion," said 
Wilhelm. 

"Not at all," replied the other. "Most of what hap- 
pens in the world confirms my opinion. Do not many inci- 



114 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

dents at their commencement show some mighty purport, 
and generally terminate in something paltry? " 

** You mean to jest." 

''And as to what concerns the individual man," pursued 
the other, "is it not so with this likewise? Suppose Fate 
had appointed one to be a good player ; and why should it 
not provide us with good players as well as other good 
things ? Chance would perhaps conduct the youth into some 
puppet-show, where, at such an early age, he could not 
help taking interest in what was tasteless and despicable, 
reckoning insipidities endurable or even pleasing, and thus 
corrupting and misdirecting his primary impressions, — im- 
pressions which can never be effaced, and whose influence, 
in spite of all our efforts, cling to us in some degree to the 
very last." 

" What makes you think of puppet-shows? " said Wilhelm, 
not without some consternation. 

" It was an accidental instance : if it does not please you, 
we shall take another. Suppose Fate had appointed any 
one to be a great painter, and it pleased Chance that he 
should pass his youth in sooty huts, in barns and stables : 
do you think that such a man would ever be enabled to exalt 
himself to purity, to nobleness, to freedom of soul? The 
more keenly he may in his youth have seized on the impure, 
and tried in his own manner to ennoble it, the more power- 
fully in the remainder of his life will it be revenged on him ; 
because, while he was endeavoring to conquer it, his whole 
being has become inseparably combined with it. Whoever 
spends his early years in mean and pitiful society, though at 
an after period he may have the choice of better, will yet 
constantly look back with longing towards that which he 
enjoyed of old, and which has left its impression blended 
with the memory of all his young and unreturning pleas- 
ures." 

From conversation of this sort, it is easy to imagine, the 
rest of the company had gradually withdrawn. Philiua, in 
particular, had stepped aside at the very outset. Wilhelm 
and his comrade now rejoined them by a cross-path. Philina 
brought out her forfeits, and they had to be redeemed in 
many different ways. During which business, the stranger, 
by the most ingenious devices, and by his frank participation 
in their sports, recommended himself much to all the party, 
and particularly to the ladies ; and thus, amid joking, singing, 
kissing, and railleries of all sorts, the hours passed away in 
the most pleasant manners. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 115 



CHAPTER X. 

When our friends began to think of going home, they 
looked about them for their clergyman ; but he had vanished, 
and was nowhere to be found. 

'' It is not polite in the man, who otherwise displayed good 
breeding," said Madam Melina, '' to desert a company that 
welcomed him so kindly, without taking leave." 

" I have all the time been thinking," said Laertes, " where 
I can have seen this singular man before. I fully intended 
to ask him about it at parting." 

" I, too, had the same feeling," said Wilhelm ; '' and cer- 
tainly I should not have let him go, till he had told us some- 
thing more about his circumstances. I am much mistaken if 
I have not ere now spoken with him somewhere." 

"And you may in truth," said Philina, "be mistaken there. 
This person seems to have the air of an acquaintance, be- 
cause he looks like a man, and not like Jack or Kit." 

"What is this ? " said Laertes. ' ' Do not we, too, look like 
men ? ' ' 

" I know what I am saying," cried Philina ; " and, if you 
cannot understand me, never mind. In the end my words 
will be found to require no commentary." 

Two coaches now drove up. All praised the attention of 
Laertes, who had ordered them. Philina, with Madam Melina, 
took her place opposite to Wilhelm : the rest bestowed them- 
selves as they best could. Laertes rode back on Wilhelm's 
horse, which had likewise been brought out. 

Philina was scarcely seated in the coach, when she began 
to sing some pretty songs, and gradually led the conversation 
to some stories, which she said might be successfully treated 
in the form of dramas. By this cunning turn, she very soon 
put her young friend into his finest humor : from the wealth 
of his living imaginative store, he forthwith constructed a 
complete play, with all its acts, scenes, characters, and plots. 
It was thought proper to insert a few catches and songs ; they 
composed them ; and Philina, who entered into every part of 
it, immediately fitted them with well-known tunes, and sang 
them on the spot. 

It was one of her beautiful, most beautiful, days : she had 
skill to enliven our friend with all manner of diverting wiles ; 
he felt in spirits such as he had not for many a month en- 
joyed. 



116 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Since that shockiDg discovery had torn him from the side 
of Mariana, he had continued true to his vow to be on his 
guard against the encircling arms of woman ; to avoid the 
faithless sex ; to lock up his inclinations, his sweet wishes, in 
/ his own bosom. The conscientiousness with which he had 
' observed this vow gave his whole nature a secret nourish- 
ment ; and, as his heart could not remain without affection, 
some loving sympathy had now become a want with him. He 
went along once more, as if environed by the first cloudy 
glories of youth ; his eye fixed joyfully on every charming 
object, and never had his judgment of a lovely form been 
more favorable. How dangerous, in such a situation, this 
wild girl must have been to him, is but too easy to conceive. 

Arrived at home, they found Wilhelm's chamber all ready 
to receive them ; the chairs set right for a public reading ; in 
midst of them the table, on which the punch-bowl was in due 
time to take its place. 

The German chivalry-plays were new at this period, and 
had just excited the attention and the inclination of the pub- 
lic. Old Boisterous had brought one of this sort with him : 
the reading of it had already been determined on. They all 
sat down : Wilhelm took possession of the pamphlet, and 
began to read. 

The harnessed knights, the ancient keeps, the true-hearted- 
ness, honesty, and downrightness, but especially the inde- 
pendence of the acting characters, were received with the 
greatest approbation. The reader did his utmost, and the 
audience gradually mounted into rapture. Between the third 
and fourth acts, the punch arrived in an ample bowl ; and, 
there being much fighting and drinking in the piece itself, 
nothing was more natural than that, on every such occurrence, 
the company should transport themselves into the situation 
of the heroes, should flourish and strike along with them, 
and drink long life to their favorites among the dramatis 
personce. 

Each individual of the party was inflamed with the noblest 
fire of national spirit. How it gratified this German com- 
pany to be poetically entertained, according to their own 
character, on stuff of their own manufacture ! In particular, 
the vaults and caverns, the ruined castles, the moss and hol- 
low trees, but above all the nocturnal gypsy scenes, and the 
Secret Tribunal, produced a quite incredible effect. Every 
actor now figured to himself how, erelong, in helm and har- 
ness, he ; every actress how, with a monstrous spreading ruff, 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 117 

she, — would present their Germanship before the public. 
Each would appropriate to himself without delay some name 
taken from the piece or from German history ; and Madam 
Melina declared that the son or daughter she was then ex- 
pecting should not be christened otherwise than by the name 
of Adelbert or of Mathilde. 

Towards the fifth act, the approbation became more im- 
petuous and louder ; and at last, when the hero actually 
trampled down his oppressor, and the tyrant met his doom, 
the ecstasy increased to such a height, that all averred they 
had never passed such happy moments. Melina, whom the 
liquor had inspired, was the noisiest : and when the second 
bowl was emptied, and midnight near, Laertes swore through 
thick and thin, that no living mortal was worthy ever more 
to put these glasses to his lips ; and, so swearing, he pitched 
his own right over his head, through a window-pane, out into 
the street. The rest followed his example ; and notwith- 
standing the protestations of the landlord, who came run- 
ning in at the noise, the punch-bowl itself, never after this 
festivity to be polluted by unholy drink, was dashed into a 
thousand shreds. Philina, whose exhilaration was the least 
noticed, — the other two girls by that time having laid them- 
selves upon the sofa in no very elegant positions, — mali- 
ciously encouraged her companions in their tumult. Madam 
Melina recited some spirit-stirring poems ; and her husband, 
not too amiable in the uproar, began to cavil at the insufficient 
preparation of the punch, declaring that he could arrange 
an entertainment altogether in a different style, and at last 
becoming sulkier and louder as Laertes commanded silence, 
till the latter, without much consideration, threw the frag- 
ments of the punch-bowl about his head, and thereby not a 
little deepened the confusion. 

Meanwhile the town-guard had arrived, and were demand- 
ing admission to the house. Wilhelm, much heated by his 
reading, though he had drunk but little, had enough to do, 
with the landlord's help, to content these people by money 
and good words, and afterwards to get the various members 
of his party sent home in that unseemly case. On coming 
back, overpowered with sleep and full of chagrin, he threw 
himself upon his bed without undressing ; and nothing could 
exceed his disgust, when, opening his e3^es next morning, he 
looked out with dull sight upon the devastations of the by- 
gone day, and saw the uncleanness, and the many bad effects, 
of which that ingenious, lively, and well-intentioned poeti- 
cal performance had been the cause. 



118 MEISTER'S APrRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER XI. 

After a short consideration, he called the landlord, and 
bade him mark to his account both the damage and the regu- 
lar charge. At the same time he learned, not without vexa- 
tion, that his horse had been so hard ridden by Laertes last 
night, that, in all probability, it was foundered, as they term 
it ; the farrier having little hope of its recovering. 

A salute from Philina, which she threw him from her win- 
dow, restored him in some degree to a more cheerful humor : 
he went forthwith into the nearest shop to buy her a little 
present, which, in return for the powder-knife, he still owed 
her ; and it must be owned, that, in selecting his gift, he did 
not keep himself within the limits of proportional value. He 
not only purchased her a pair of earrings, but added likewise 
a hat and neckerchief, and some other little articles, which 
he had seen her lavishly throw from her on the first day of 
their acquaintance. 

Madam Melina, happening to observe him as he was de- 
livering his presents, took an opportunity before breakfast 
to rate him very earnestly about his inclination for this girl ; 
at which he felt the more astonished, the less he thought it 
merited. He swore solemnly, that he had never once enter- 
tained the slightest notion of attaching himself to such a per- 
son, whose whole manner of proceeding was well known to 
him. He excused himself as well as possible for his friendly 
and polite conduct towards her, yet did not by any means 
content Madam Melina, whose spite grew ever more deter- 
mined, as she could not but observe that the flatteries, by 
which she had acquired for herself a sort of partial regard 
from our friend, were not sutticient to defend this conquest 
from the attacks of a lively, younger, and more gifted rival. 

As they sat down to table, her husband joined them, like- 
wise in a very fretful humor ; which he was beginning to 
display on many little things, when the landlord entered to 
announce a plaj^er on the harp. "You will certainly," he 
said, " find pleasure in the music and the songs of this man : 
no one who hears him can forbear to admire him, and bestow 
something on him." 

"Let him go about his business," said Melina: "I am 
any thing but in a trim for hearing fiddlers, and we have 
singers constantly among ourselves disposed to gain a little 
by their talent," He accompanied these words with a sar- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 119 

castic side-look at Philina : she understood his meaning, 
and immediately prepared to punish him, by taking up the 
cause of the harper. Turning towards Wilhelm, " Shall we 
not hear the man ? ' ' said she : ' ' shall we do nothing to save 
ourselves from this miserable ennui f" 

Melina was going to reply, and the strife would have grown 
keener, had not the person it related to at that moment en- 
tered. Wilhelm saluted him, and beckoned him to come near. 

The figure of this singular guest set the whole party in 
astonishment : he had found a chair before any one took 
heart to ask him a question, or make any observation. His 
bald crown was encircled by a few gray hairs, and a pair of 
large blue e^^es looked out softly from beneath his long white 
eyebrows. To a nose of beautiful proportions was subjoined 
a flowing, hoary beard, which did not hide the fine shape and 
position of his lips ; and a long dark-brown garment wrapped 
his thin body from the neck to the feet. He began to prelude 
on the harp, which he had placed before him. 

The sweet tones which he drew from his instrument very 
soon inspirited the company. 

'' You can sing, too, my good old man," said Philina. 

" Give us something that shall entertain the spirit and the 
heart as well as the senses," said Wilhelm. " The instrument 
should but accompany the voice ; for tunes and melodies 
without words and meaning seem to me like butterflies or 
finely variegated birds, which hover round us in the air, 
which we could wish to catch and make our own : whereas 
song is like a blessed genius that exalts us towards heaven, 
and allures the better self in us to attend him." 

The old man looked at Wilhelm, then aloft, then gave 
some trills upon his harp, and began his song. It contained 
a eulogy on minstrelsy, — described the happiness of min- 
strels, and reminded men to honor them. He produced his p, 
song with so much life and truth, that it seemed as if he had 
composed it at the moment, for this special occasion. Wil- 
helm could scarcely refrain from clasping him in his aims : ^ fj^ 
but the fear of awakening a peal of laughter detained him ^ ^,"" 
in his chair ; for the rest were already in half -whispers mak- c -'' 
ing sundry very shallow observations, and debating if the i.«' >, 
harper was a Papist or a Jew. ' . >!" 

When asked about the author of the song, the man gave 
no distinct reply ; declaring onl}^ that he was rich in songs, 
and anxious that they should please. Most of the party were , .v> 
now merry and joyful ; even Melina was grown frank in his ' jt^ 



r-"tr 



m 



120 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

way ; and, whilst they talked and joked together, the old man 
began to sing the praise of social life in the most sprightly 
style. He described the loveliness of unity and courtesy, in 
soft, soothing tones. Suddenly his music became cold, harsh, 
and jarring, as he turned to deplore repulsive selfishness, 
short-sighted enmity, and baleful division ; and every heart 
willingly threw off those galling fetters, while, borne on the 
wings of a piercing melody, he launched forth in praise of 
peacemakers, and sang the happiness of souls, that, having 
parted, meet again in love. 

Scarcely had he ended, when Wilhelm cried to him, " Who- 
ever thou art, that as a helping spirit comest to us with a 
voice which blesses and revives, accept my reverence and my 
thanks ! Feel that we all admire thee, and confide in us if 
thou wantest any thing." 

The old man spoke not : he threw his fingers softly across 
the strings, then struck more sharply, and sang, — 

" ' What notes are those without the wall, 
Across the portal sounding ? 
Let's have the music in our hall, 

Back from its roof rebounding.' 
So spoke the king, the henchman flies: 
His answer heard, the monarch cries, 
* Bring in that ancient minstrel.* 

* Hail, gracious king! each noble knight, 

Each lovely dame, I greet you I 
What glittering stars salute my sight ! 

What heart unmoved may meet you I 
Such lordly pomp is not for me, 
Far other scenes my eyes must see : 

Yet deign to list my harping.' 

The singer turns him to his art, 

A thrilling strain he raises: 
Each warrior hears with glowing heart, 

And on his loved one gazes. 
The king, who liked his playing well, 
Commands, for such a kindly spell, 

A golden chain he given him. 

* The golden chain give not to me; 

Thy boldest knight may wear it, 
Who, 'cross the battle's purple sea. 

On lion breast may bear it: 
Or let it be thy chancellor's prize, 
Amid his heaps to feast his eyes; 

Its yellow glance will please him.* 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 121 

" I sing but as the linnet sings, 

That on the green bough dwelleth; 
A rich reward his music brings, 

As from his throat it swelleth : 
Yet might I asli:, I'd ask of thine 
One sparkling draught of purest wine, 
To drink it here before you.' 

He viewed the wine : he quaffed it up. 

* O draught of sweetest savor ! 
O happy house, where such a cup 

Is thought a little favor! 
If well you fare, remember me, 
And thank kind Heaven, from envy free, 

As now for this I thank you.' " 

When the harper, on finishing his song, took up a glass 
of wine that stood poured out for him, and, turning with a 
friendly mien to his entertainers, drank it off, a buzz of joy- 
ful approbation rose from all the party. They clapped hands, 
and wished him health from that glass, and strength to his 
aged limbs. He sang a few other ballads, exciting more and 
more hilarity among the company. 

"Old man," said Philina, '^dost thou know the tune, 
' The shepherd decked him for the dance ' ? " ^ 

"Oh, yes ! " said he : "if you will sing the words, I shall 
not fail for my part of it." 

Philina then stood up, and held herself in readiness. The 
old man commenced the tune ; and she sang a song, which 
we cannot impart to our readers, lest they might think it in- 
sipid, or perhaps undignified. 

Meanwhile the company were growing merrier and merrier : 
they had already emptied several flasks of wine, and were 
now beginning to get very loud. But our friend, having 
fresh in his remembrance the bad consequences of their late 
exhilaration, determined to break up the sitting ; he slipped 
into the old man's hand a liberal remuneration for his 
trouble, the rest did something likewise ; they gave him 
leave to go and take repose, promising themselves another 
entertainment from his skill in the evening. 

When he had retired, our friend said to Philina, " In this 
favorite song of yours I certainly find no merit, either moral 
or poetical ; yet if you were to bring forward any proper 
composition on the stage, with the same arch simplicity, the 
same propriety and gracefulness, I should engage that strong 
and universal approbation would be the result." 

1 Der Scbafer putzte sich zum Tanz, — a song of Goethe's. — Ed. 



122 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

''Yes," saidPhilina: " it would be a charming thing in- 
deed to warm one's self at ice." 

''After all," said Wiihelm, "this old man might put 
many a plaj^er to the blush. Did you notice how correctly 
the dramatic part of his ballads was expressed ? I maintain 
there was more living true representation in his singing than 
in many of our starched characters upon the stage. You 
would take the acting of many pla3^s for a narrative, and you 
might ascribe to these musical narratives a sensible pres- 
ence." 

"You are hardly just," replied Laertes. "I pretend to 
no great skill, either as a player or as a singer ; yet I know 
well enough, that when music guides the movements of the 
body, at once affording to them animation and a scale to 
measure it ; when declamation and expression are furnished 
me by the composer, — I feel quite a different man from what 
I do when, in prose dramas, I have all this to create for my- 
self, — have both gesture and declamation to invent, and am, 
perhaps, disturbed in it, too, by the awkwardness of some 
partner in the dialogue." 

"Thus much I know," said Melina: " the man certainly 
puts us to the blush in one point, and that a main point. 
The strength of his talent is shown by the profit he derives 
from it. Even us, who perhaps erelong shall be embarrassed 
where to get a meal, he persuades to share our pittance with 
him. He has skill enough to wile the money from our 
pockets with an old song, — the money that we should have 
used to find ourselves employment. So pleasant an affair is 
it to squander the means which might procure subsistence to 
one's self and others." 

This remark gave the conversation not the most delightful 
turn. Wiihelm, for whom the reproach was peculiarly in- 
tended, replied with some heat ; and Melina, at no time over 
studious of delicacy and politeness, explained his grievances 
at last in words more plain than' courteous. "It is now a 
fortnight," said he, " since we looked at the theatrical ma- 
chinery and wardrobe which is lying pawned here : the whole 
might be redeemed for a very tolerable sum. You then gave 
me hopes that you would lend me so much ; and hitherto I 
do not see that you have thought more of the matter, or 
come any nearer a determination. Had you then consented, 
we should ere now have been under way. Nor has your 
intention to leave the place been executed, nor has your 
money in the mean time been spared : at least there are 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 123 

people who have always skill to create opportunities for scat- 
tering it faster and faster away." 

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



CHAPTER XII. 

After a short time, which he passed sitting looking out 
before him, disquieted by many thoughts, Philina, came sing- 
ing and skipping along through the front door. She sat 
down by him, nay, we might almost sa}^, on him, so close did 
she press herself towards him : she leaned upon his shoulders, 
began playing with his hair, patted him, and gave him the 
best words in the world. She begged of him to stay with 
them, and not leave her alone in that company, or she must 
die of tedium : she could not live any longer in the same 
house with Melina, and had come over to lodge in the other 
inn for that reason. 

He tried in vain to satisfy her with denials, — to make her 
understand that he neither could nor would remain any 
longer. She did not cease with her entreaties ; nay, sud- 
denly she threw her arm round his neck, and kissed him with 
the liveliest expression of fondness. 

" Are you mad, Philina? " cried Wilhelm, endeavoring to 
disengage himself ; " to make the open street the scene of 
such caresses, which I nowise merit ! Let me go ! I can not 
and I will not stay." 

'' And I will hold thee fast," said she, " and kiss thee 
here on the open street, and kiss thee till thou promise what 
I want. I shall die of laughing," she continued: " by this 
familiarity the good people here must take me for thy wife of 
four weeks' standing ; and husbands, who witness this touch- 
ing scene, will commend me to theii- wives as a pattern of 
childlike, simple tenderness." 



124 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Some persons were just then going by : she caressed him 
in the most graceful way ; and he, to avoid giving scandal, 
was constrained to play the part of the patient husband. 
Then she made faces at the people, when their backs were 
turned, and, in the wildest humor, continued to commit all 
sorts of improprieties, till at last he was obliged to promise 
that he would not go that day, or the morrow, or the next 
day." 

*' You are a true clod ! " said she, quitting him ; " and I 
am but a fool to spend so much kindness on you.'* She 
arose with some vexation, and walked a few steps, then 
turned round laughing, and cried, " I believe it is just that, 
after all, that makes me so crazy about thee. I will but go 
and seek my knitting-needles and my stocking, that I may 
have something to do. Stay there, and let me find the stone 
man still upon the stone bench when I come back." 

She cast a sparkling glance on him, and went into the 
house. He had no call to follow her ; on the contrary, her 
conduct had excited fresh aversion in him ; yet he rose from 
the bench to go after her, not well knowing why. 

He was just entering the door, when Melina passed by, and 
spoke to him in a respectful tone, asking his pardon for the 
somewhat too harsh expressions he had used in their late dis- 
cussion. " You will not take it ill of me," continued he, " if 
I appear perhaps too fretful in my present circumstances. 
The charge of providing for a wife, perhaps soon for a child, 
forbids me from day to day to live at peace, or spend my time 
as you may do, in the enjoyment of pleasant feelings. Con- 
sider, I pray jou^ and, if possible, do put me in possession 
of that stage machinery that is lying here. I shall not be 
3'our debtor long, and I shall be obliged to j'ou while I live." 

Our friend, unwilling to be kept upon the threshold, over 
which an irresistible impulse was drawing him at that mo- 
ment to Philina, answered, with an absent mind, eager to be 
gone, and surprised into a transient feeling of good will, " If 
1 can make you happy and contented by doing this, I will 
hesitate no longer. Go you and put every thing to rights. I 
shall be prepared this evening, or to-morrow morning, to pay 
the money." He then gave his hand to Melina in confirma- 
tion of his promise, and was very glad to see him hastily 
proceed along the street ; but, alas ! his entrance, which he 
now thought sure, was a second time prohibited, and more 
disagreeably than at first. 

A young man, with a bundle on his back, came walking 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 125 

fast aloDg the street, and advanced to Wilhelm, who at once 
recognized him for Friedrich. 

" Here am I again ! " cried he, looking with his large blue 
eyes joyfully up and down, over all the windows of the house. 
'' Where is Mamsell? Devil take me, if I can stroll about 
the world any longer without seeing her ! ' ' 

The landlord, joining them at this instant, replied that she 
was above ; Friedrich, with a few bounds, was up stairs ; and 
Wilhelm continued standing, as if rooted to the threshold. 
At the first instant he was tempted to pluck the younker 
back, and drag him down by the hair ; then all at once the 
spasm of a sharp jealousy stopped the current of his spirits 
and ideas ; and, as he gradually recovered from this stupe- 
faction, there came over him a splenetic fit of restlessness, a 
general discomfort, such as ' he had never felt in his life 
before. 

He went up to his room, and found Mignon busy writing. 
For some time the creature had been laboring with great 
diligence in writing every thing she knew by heart, giving 
always to her master and friend the papers to correct. She 
was indefatigable, and of good comprehension ; but still, her 
letters were irregular, and her lines crooked. Here, too, 
the body seemed to contradict the mind. In his usual 
moods, Wilhelm took no small pleasure in the child's atten- 
tion ; but, at the present moment, he regarded little what 
she showed him, — a piece of neglect which she felt the 
more acutely, as on this occasion she conceived her work 
had been accomplished with peculiar success. 

Wilhelm' s unrest drove him up and down the passages of 
the house, and finally again to the street-door. A rider was 
just prancing towards it, — a man of good appearance, of 
middle age, and a brisk, contented look. The landlord ran 
to meet him, holding out his hand as to an old acquaintance. 
"Ay, Herr Stallmeister," cried he, "have we the pleasure 
to see you again ? ' ' 

"I am only just going to bait with you," replied the 
stranger, " and then along to the estate, to get matters put 
in order as soon as possible. The count is coming over to- 
morrow with his lady ; they mean to stay a while to entertain 

the Prince von in their best style : he intends to fix 

his headquarters in this neighborhood for some time." 

'*It is pity," said the landlord, "that you cannot stop 
with us : we have good company in the house." The hostler 
came running out, and took the horse from the StallmeisteVf 



126 MEISTER^S APMENTICESHIP. 

who oontinued talking in the door with the landlord, and now 
and then givino; a look at Wilhelm. 

Our friend, observing that he formed the topic of their 
conversation, went away, and walked up and down the 
streets. 



CHAPTER Xni. 



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

" Who never ate liis bread with tears, 

Through nights of grief who, weeping, never 
Sat on his bed, midst pangs and fears, 
Can, heavenly powers, not know you ever. 

Ye lead us forth into this life, 
Where comfort soon by guilt is banished, 

Abandon us to tortures, strife; 
For on this earth all guilt is punished." 

— Editor'' s Version. 

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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 127 

their hold : he abandoned himself without reserve to the 
feelings of the moment. Pushing up the door, he stood 
before the harper. The old man was sitting on a mean bed, 
the only seat, or article of furniture, which his miserable 
room afforded. 

" What feelings thou hast awakened in me, good old 
man! " exclaimed he. "All that was l3^ing frozen at my 
heart thou hast melted, and put in motion. Let me not dis- 
turb thee, but continue, in solacing thy own sorrows, to 
confer happiness upon a friend." The harper was about 
to rise, and say something ; but Wilhelm hindered him, for 
he had noticed in the morning that the old man did not like 
to speak. He sat down by him on the straw bed. 

The old man wiped his eyes, and asked, with a friendly 
smile, " How came you hither? I meant to wait upon you 
in the evening again." 

" We are more quiet here," said Wilhelm. " Sing to me 
what thou pleasest, what accords with thy own mood of 
mind, only proceed as if I were not by. It seems to me, 
that to-day thou canst not fail to suit me. I think thee very 
happy, that, in solitude, thou canst employ and entertain thy- 
self so pleasantly ; that, being everywhere a stranger, thou 
findest in thy own heart the most agreeable society." 

The old man looked upon his strings ; and after touching 
them softl}^ by way of prelude, he commenced and sang, — 

" Who longs in solitude to live, 

Ah ! soon his wish will gain : 
Men hope and love, men get and give, 

And leave him to his pain. 
Yes, leave me to my moan! 

When from my bed 

You all are fled, 
I still am not alone. 

The lover glides with footstep light: 

His love, is she not waiting there ? 
So glides to meet me, day and night, 

In solitude my care. 

In solitude my woe : 
True solitude I then shall know 

When lying in my grave. 

When lying in my grave, 
And grief has let me go." 

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



128 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

vation our friend addressed to him, the old man, with the 
nicest accordance, answered in some melody, which awak- 
ened all the cognate emotions, and opened a wide field to the 
imagination. 

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



CHAPTER XIV. 

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

At this very moment Meliua came in with a notary : they 
went into Wilhelm's chamber together, where the latter, 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 129 

though with some hesitation, made his promise good ; gave a 
draft of three hundred crowns to MeUna, who, handing it to 
the lawyer, received in return a note acknowledging the sale 
of the whole theatrical apparatus, and engaging to deliver it 
next morning. 

Scarcely had they parted, when Wilhelm heard a cry of 
horror rising from some quarter of the house. He caught 
the sound of a young voice, uttering menacing and furious 
tones, which were ever and anon choked by immoderate 
weeping and howling. He observed this frantic noise move 
hastily from above, go past his door, and down to the lower 
part of the house. 

Curiosity enticing our friend to follow it, he found Fried- 
rich in a species of delirium. The boy was weeping, grind- 
ing his teeth, stamping with his feet, threatening with 
clenched fists : he appeared beside himself from fury and 
.vexation. Mignon was standing opposite him, looking on 
with astonishment. The landlord, in some degree, explained 
this phenomenon. 

The boy, he said, being well received at his return by 
Philina, seemed quite merry and contented : he had kept 
singing and jumping about, till the time when Philina grew 
acquainted with the Stallmeister. Then, however, this half- 
grown younker had begun to show his indignation, to slam 
the doors, and run up and down in the highest dudgeon. 
Philina had ordered him to wait at table that evening, upon 
which he had grown still sulkier and more indignant ; till at 
last, carrying up a plate with a ragout, instead of setting it 
upon the table, he had thrown the whole between Mademoi- 
selle and her guest, who were sitting moderately close to- 
gether at the time : and the Stallmeister, after two or three 
hearty cuffs, had then kicked him out of the room. He, the 
landlord, had himself helped to clean both of them ; and cer- 
tainly their clothes had suffered much. 

On hearing of the good effect of his revenge, the boy began 
to laugh aloud, whilst the tears were still running down his 
cheeks. He heartily rejoiced for a time, till the disgrace 
which he had suffered from the stronger party once more 
came into his head, and he began afresh to howl and threaten. 

Wilhelm stood meditating, and ashamed at this spectacle. 
It reflected back to him his own feelings, in coarser and 
exaggerated features : he, too, was inflamed with a fierce 
jealousy ; and, had not decency restrained him, he would 
willingly have satisfied his wild humor ; with malicious spleen 
S—Goethe Vol 7 



130 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

would have abused the object of his passion, and called out 
his rival ; he could have crushed in pieces all the people 
round him ; they seemed as if standing there but to vex 
him. 

Laertes also had come in, and heard the story : he roguishly 
spuiTed on the irritated boy, who was now asserting with 
oaths that he would make the Stallmeister give him satisfac- 
tion ; that he had never yet let any injury abide with him ; 
that, should the man refuse, there were other ways of taking 
vengeance. 

This was the very business for Laertes. He went up 
stairs, with a solemn countenance, to call out the Stall- 
meister in the boy's name. 

" This is a pleasant thing," said the Stallmeister : " such 
a joke as this I had scarcel}' promised m3^self to-night." 
They went down, and Philina followed them. " My son," 
said the Stallmeister to Friedrich, "thou art a brave lad, 
and I do not hesitate to fight thee. Only as our years and 
strength are unequal, and the attempt a little dangerous on 
that account, I propose a pair of foils in preference to other 
weapons. We can rub the buttons of them with a piece, of 
chalk ; and whoever marks upon the other's coat the first or 
the most thrusts, shall be held the victor, and be treated by 
the other with the best wine that can be had in town." 

Laertes decided that the proposition might be listened to : 
Friedrich obe^'ed him, as his tutor. The foils were produced : 
Philina took a seat, went on with her knitting, and looked at 
the contending parties with the greatest peace of mind. 

The Stalbneister, who could fence very prettily, was com- 
plaisant enough to spare his adversary, and to let a few 
chalk scores be marked upon his coat ; after which the two 
embraced, and wine was ordered. The Stallmeister took the 
liberty of asking Friedrich 's parentage and history ; and 
Friedrich told him a long story, which had often been re- 
peated already, and which, at some other opportunity, we 
purpose communicating to our readers. 

To Wilhelm, in the mean time, this contest completed the 
representation of his own state of mind. He could not but 
perceive that he would willingly have taken up a foil against 
the Stallmeister^ — a sword still more willingly, though evi- 
dently much his inferior, in the science of defence. Yet he 
deigned not to cast one look on Philina ; he was on his guard 
against any word or movement that could possibly betray his 
feelings : and, after having once or twice done justice to the 



MEISTER'S APPKENtlCteStttr. l31 

health of the duellists, he hastened to his OWn room, whei^ a 
thousand painful thoughts came pressing rouiid him. 

He called to memory the time when his spirit, rich in hope, 
and full of boundless aims, was raised aloft, and erlcircled 
with the liveliest enjoyments of every kind as with its proper 
element. He now clearly saw, that of late he had fdlen into 
a broken, wandering path, where, if he tasted, it was but 
in drops what he once quaffed in unrestricted measure. 
But he could not clearly see what insatiable want it was that 
nature had made the law of his being, and how this w^ant 
had been only set on edge, half satisfied, and misdirected by 
the circumstances of his life. 

It will not surprise us, therefore, that, in considering his 
situation, and laboring to extricate hiniself, he fell into the 
greatest perplexit}-. It was not enough, that by his friend- 
ship for Laertes, his attachment to Philina, his concern for 
Mignon, he had been detained longer than was proper in a 
place and a society where he could cherish his darling incli- 
nation, content his wishes as it were by stealth, and, without 
proposing any object, again pursue his early dreams. TheSe 
ties he believed himself possessed of force enough to break 
asunder : had there been nothing more to hold him, he could 
have gone at once. But, only a few moments ago, he had 
entered into money transactions with Melina : he had seeti 
that mysterious old man, the enigma of w^hose history he 
longed with unspeakable desire to clear. Yet of this too, 
after much balancing of reasons, he at length determined, or 
thought he had determined, that it should not keep him back. 
''I must go." He threw himself into a chair: he felt 
greatly moved. Mignon came in, and asked whether she 
might help to undress him. Her manner was still and shj^ : 
it had grieved her to the quick to be so abruptly dismissed 
by him before. 

Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of a 
love which has been nursed in silence, of a faith grown 
strong in secret, and which at last comes forth in the hour of 
need, and reveals itself to him who formerly has reckoned it 
of small account. The bud, which had been closed so long 
and firmly, was now ripe to burst its swathings ; and Wil- 
helm's heart could nevet have been readier to welcome the 
impressions of affection. 

She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude. " Mas- 
ter ! " she cried, ^' ii thou art unhappy, what will become Cft 
Mignon?" — "Dear little creature," said he, taking het 



132 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



r?Q 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 13 

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



131 MEISTEll'S AlTilEA^TICEJSHlP. 



BOOK III. 



CHAPTER I. 

'^'Dost know the laud where citrons, lemons, grow, 
Gold oranges 'neatli dusky foliage glow, 
From azure sky are blowing breezes soft, 
The myrtles still, the laurel stands aloft ? 

'Tis there ! 'tis there ! 
I would with thee, O my beloved on^- go ! 

Dost know the house, its roofs do columns bear. 
The hall with splendor bright, the chambers glare ? 
Therein stand marble forms, and look at me: 
What is't, poor child, that they have done to thee ? 
Dost know that house ? 

'Tis there ! 'tis there ! 
I would with thee, O my protector, go ! 

Dost know the mount, whose path with clouds is fraught, 
Where by the mule through mist the way is sought, 
Where dwell in caves the dragon's ancient brood. 
Where falls the rock, and over it the liood, — 
Dost linow that mount ? 

'Tis there ! 'tis there ! 
Does lead our road : O fatheiylet us go ! " 

v — Editor^ s Version. 

Next morning, on looking for Mignon about the house, 
Wilhelm did not find her, but was informed that she had 
gone out early with Melina, who had risen betimes to receive 
the wardrobe and other apparatus of his theatre. 

After the space of some hours, Wilhelm heard the sound 
of music before his door. At first he thought it was the 
harper come again to visit him ; but he soon distinguished 
the tones of a cithern, and the voice which began to sing 
was Mignon's. Wilhelm opened the door : the child came 
in, and sang him the song we have just given above. 

The music and general expression of it pleased our friend 
extremely, though he could not understand all the words. 
He made her once more repeat the stanzas, and explain 
them : he wrote them down, and translated them into his 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 135 

native language. But the originality of its turns he could 
imitate only from afar : its childlike innocence of expression 
vanished from it in the process of reducing its broken phrase- 
ology to uniformity, and combining its disjointed parts. 
The charm of the tune, moreover, was entirely incomparable. 

She began every verse in a stately and solemn manner, as 
if she wished to draw attention towards something wonder- 
ful, as if she had something weighty to communicate. In 
the third line, her tones became deeper and gloomier ; the 
words, " Dost know f " were uttered with a show of mystery 
and eager circumspectness ; in '-'-''Tis there! 'tis there!'' 
lay an irresistible longing ; and her ' '• Let us go!" she modi- 
fied at each repetition, so that now it appeared to entreat 
and implore, now to impel and persuade. 

On finishing her song for the second time, she stood silent 
for a moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked him, 
'' Know' St thou the land?" — "It must mean Italy," said 
Wilhelm : ' ' where didst thou get the little song ? " — " Italy I ' ' 
said Mignon, with an earnest air. "If thou go to Italy, 
take me along with thee ; for I am too cold here." — " Hast 
thou been there already, little dear?" said Wilhelm. But 
the child was silent, and nothing more could be got out of 
her. 

Melina entered now : he looked at the cithern, — -was glad 
that she had rigged it up again so prettily. The instrument 
had been among Melina's stage-gear : Mignon had begged it 
of him in the morning, and then gone to the old harper. 
On this occasion she had shown a talent she was not before 
suspected of possessing. 

Melina had already got possession of his wardrobe, with 
all that pertained to it : some members of the town magis- 
tracy hacl promised him permission to act, fo^ a time, in the 
place. He was now returning with a merry heart and a 
cheerful look. His nature seemed altogether changed : he 
was soft, courteous to every one, — nay, fond of obliging, and 
almost attractive. He was happy, he said, at now being 
able to afford employment to his friends, who had hitherto 
lain idle and embarrassed ; sorry, however, that at first he 
could not have it in his power to remunerate the excellent 
actors whom fortune had offered him, in a style correspond- 
ing to their talents and capacities ; being under the neces- 
sity, before all other things, of discharging his debt to so 
generous a friend as Wilhelm had proved himself to be. 

"I cannot describe," said he to Wilhelm, "the friendli- 



136 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

ness which you have shown, in helping me forward to the 
management of a theatre. When 1 found you here, I was 
in a very curious predicament. You recollect how strongly 
I displayed to you, on our first acquaintance, my aversion to 
the stage ; and yet, on being married, I was forced to look 
about for a place in some theatre, out of love to my wife, 
who promised to herself much joy and great applause if so 
engaged. I could find none, at least no constant one ; but 
in return I luckily fell in with some commercial men, who, 
in extraordinary cases, were enabled to employ a person 
that could handle his pen, that understood French, and was 
not without a little skill in ciphering. I managed pretty 
well in this way for a time ; I was tolerably paid ; got about 
me many things which I had need of, and did not feel 
ashamed of my work. But these commissions of my patrons 
came to an end ; they could afford me no permanent estab- 
lishment : and, ever since, my wife has continued urging me 
still more to go upon the stage again ; though, at present, 
alas ! her own situation is none of the favorablest for exhib- 
iting herself with honor in the eyes of the public. But 
now, I hope, the establishment which by your kind help I 
have the means of setting up, will prove a good beginning 
for me and mine : you I shall thank for all m^^ future happi- 
ness, let matters turn out as they will." 

Wilhelm listened to him with contentment : the whole 
fraternity of players were likewise moderately satisfied with 
the declarations of the new manager ; they secretly rejoiced 
that an offer of emplo3Tiient had occurred so soon, and were 
disposed to put up at first with a smaller salary, the rather, 
that most of them regarded the present one, so unexpectedly 
placed within their reach, as a kind of supplement, on which 
a short while ago they could not count. Melina made haste 
to profit by this favorable temper : he endeavored in a sly 
way to get a little talk with each in private, and erelong 
had, by various methods, so cockered them all, that they did 
not hesitate to strike a bargain with him without loss of 
time ; scarcely thinking of this new engagement, or reckon- 
ing themselves secure at worst of getting free again after 
six- weeks' warning. 

The terms were now to be reduced to proper form ; and 
Melina was considering with what pieces he would first en- 
tice the public, when a courier riding up informed the Stall- 
meister that his lord and lady were at hand ; on which the 
latter ordered out his horses. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 137 

In a short time after this, the coach with its masses of 
luggage rolled in ; two servants sprang down from the coach- 
box before the inn ; and Philina, according to her custom, 
foremost in the way of novelties, placed herself within the 
door. 

" Who are you? " said the countess, entering the house. 

"An actress, at your Excellency's service," was the an- 
swer ; while the cheat, with a most innocent sljx, and looks 
of great humility, courtesied, and kissed the lady's gown. 

The count, on seeing some other persons standing round, 
who also signified that they were players, inquired about the 
strength of their company, their last place of residence, 
their manager. "Had they but been Frenchmen," said he 
to his lady, " we might have treated the prince with an un- 
expected enjoyment, and entertained him with his favorite 
pastime at our house." 

" And could we not," said the countess, " get these peo- 
ple, though unluckily they are but Germans, to exhibit with 
us at the castle while the prince stays there? Without 
doubt they have some degree of skill. A large party can 
never be so well amused with any thing as with a theatre : 
besides, the baron would assist them." 

So speaking, they went up-stairs ; and Melina presented 
himself above, as manager. "Call your folk together," 
said the count, " and place them before me, that I may see 
what is in them. I must also have the list of pieces you 
profess to act." 

Melina, with a low bow, hastened from the room, and 
soon returned with his actors. They advanced in promis- 
cuous succession : some, out of too great anxiety to please, 
introduced themselves in a rather sorry style ; the others, 
not much better, by assuming an air of unconcern. Philina 
showed the deepest reverence to the countess, who behaved 
with extreme graciousness and condescension : the count, 
in the mean time, was mustering the rest. He questioned 
each about his special province of acting, and signified to 
Melina that he must rigorously keep them to their several 
provinces, — a precept which the manager received with the 
greatest devotion. 

The count then stated to each in particular what he ought 
especially to study, what about his figure or his postures 
ought to be amended ; showed them luminously in what 
points the Germans always fail ; and displayed such extraor- 
dinary knowledge, that all stood in the deepest humility. 



138 MEISTEK'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

scarcely daring to draw their breath before so enlightened 
a critic and so right honorable a patron. 

' ' What fellow is that in the corner ? ' ' said the count, 
looking at a subject who had not yet been presented to him.^ 
and who now approached, — a lean, shambling figure, with 
a rusty coat, patched' at the elbows, and a woful periwig 
covering his submissive head. 

This person, whom, from the last Book, we know already 
as Philina's darling, had been want to enact pedants, tutors, 
and poets, — generally undertaking parts in which any cud- 
gelling or ducking was to be endured. He had trained him- 
self to certain crouching, ludicrous, timid bows ; and his 
faltering, stammering speech befitted the characters he 
played, and created laughter in the audience ; so that he was 
always looked on as a useful member of the compan}^ being 
moreover very serviceable and obliging. He approached 
the count in his own peculiar way, bent himself before him, 
and answered every question with the grimaces and gestures 
he was used to on the stage. The count looked at him for 
some time with an air of attentive satisfaction and studious 
observation ; then, turning to the countess, " Child," said 
he, "consider this man well: I will engage for it he is a 
great actor, or may become so.'* The creature here, in the 
fulness of his heart, made an idiotic bow : the count burst 
into laughing, and exclaimed, '' He does it excellently well ! 
I bet this fellow can act any thing he likes : it is pity that 
he has not been already used to something better." 

So singular a prepossession was extremel}' galling to the 
rest : Melina alone felt no vexation, but completely coincided 
with the count, and answered, with a prostrate look, " Alas ! 
it is too true : both he and others of us have long stood in 
need of such encouragement, and such a judge, as we now 
find in your Excellency." 

" Is this the whole company? " inquired the count. 

"Some of them are absent," said the crafty Melina; 
" and at any rate, if we should meet with support, we 
could soon collect abundant numbers from the neighbor- 
hood." 

Pliilina in the mean while was saying to the countess, 
" There is a very pretty 5'oung man above, who without doubt 
would shortly become a first-rate amateur." 

" Why does he not appear? " said the countess. 

" I will bring him," cried Philina, hastening to the door. 
. She found our friend still occupied with Mignon : she per- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 139 

suaded him to come down. He followed her with some re- 
luctance : yet curiosity impelled him ; for, hearing that the 
family were people of rank, he longed much to know more 
of them. On entering the room, his eyes met those of the 
countess, which were directed towards him. Philina led him 
to the lady, while the count was busied with the rest. Wil- 
helm made his bow, and replied to several questions from 
the fair dame, not without confusion of mind. Her beauty 
and youth, her graceful dignity and refined manner, made 
the most delightful impression on him ; and the more so, as 
her words and looks were accompanied with a certain bash- 
fulness, one might almost say embarrassment. He was 
likewise introduced to the count, who, however, took no 
special notice of him, but went to the window with his lady, 
and seemed to ask her about something. It was eas}^ to ob- 
serve that her opinion accorded strongly with his own ; that 
she even tried to persuade him, and strengthen him in his 
intentions. 

In a short while he turned round to the company, and 
said, " I must not stay at present, but I will send a friend 
to you ; and if you make reasonable proposals, and will 
take very great pains, I am not disinclined to let you play at 
the castle." 

All testified their joy at this : Philina in particular kissed 
the hands of the countess with the greatest vivacity. 

" Look you, little thing," said the lady, patting the cheeks 
of the light-minded girl, " look 3'ou, child, you shall come 
to me again : I will keep my promise ; only you must dress 
better." Philina stated in excuse that she had little to lay 
out upon her wardrobe ; and the countess immediately or- 
dered her waiting-maids to bring from the carriage a silk 
neckerchief and an English hat, the articles easiest to come 
at, and give them to her new favorite. The countess her- 
self then decked Philina, who continued very neatly to sup- 
port, by her looks and conduct, that saintlike, guiltless 
character she had assumed at first. 

The count took his lady's hand, and led her down. She 
bowed to the whole company with a friendly air, in passing 
by them : she turned round again towards Wilhelm, and said 
to him, with the.most gracious mien, "We shall soon meet 
again." 

These happy prospects enlivened the whole party : every 
one of them gave free course to his hopes, his wishes, his 
imaginations ; spoke of the parts he would play, and the ap- 



140 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER n. 

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

The hero was an excellent, virtuous, magnanimous, and 
at the same time misunderstood and persecuted, man : this 
worthy person, after many trials, gained the victory at last 
over all his enemies ; on whom, in consequence, the most 
rigorous poetic justice would have been exercised, had he 
not pardoned them on the spot. 

While this piece was rehearsing, each of the auditors bad 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 141 

leisure enough to think of himself, and to mount up quite 
softly from the humble prostration of mind, to which, a little 
while ago, he had felt disposed, into a comfortable state of 
contentment with his own gifts and advantages, and, from 
this elevation, to discover the most pleasing prospects in the 
future. Such of them as found in the play no parts adapted 
for their own acting, internally pronounced it bad, and viewed 
the baron as a miserable author ; while the others, every 
time they noticed any passage which they hoped might pro- 
cure them a little clapping of the hands, exalted it with the 
greatest praise, to the immeasurable satisfaction of the 
author. 

The commercial part of their affair was soon completed. 
Melina made an aclvantageous bargain with the baron, and 
contrived to keep it secret from the rest. 

Of our friend, Melina took occasion to declare in passing, 
that he seemed to be successfully qualifying himself for be- 
coming a dramatic poet, and even to have some capacities 
for being an actor. The baron introduced himself to Wil- 
helm as a colleague ; and the latter by and by produced some 
short pieces, which, with a few other relics, had escaped by 
chance, on the da}^ when he threw the greater part of his 
works into the flames. The baron lauded both his pieces and 
delivery : he spoke of it as a settled thing, that Wilhelm 
should come over to the castle with the rest. For all, at his 
departure, he engaged to find the best reception, comfortable 
quarters, a good table, applauses, and presents ; and Melina 
further gave the promise of a certain modicum of pocket- 
money to each. 

It is easy to conceive how this visit raised the spirits of the 
party : instead of a low and harassing situation, they now at 
once saw honors and enjoyment before them. On the score 
of these great hopes they already made merry, and each 
thought it needless and stingy to retain a single groschen of 
money in his purse. 

Meanwhile our friend was taking counsel with himself 
about accompanying the troop to the castle ; and he found 
it, in more than one sense, advisable to do so. Melina was 
in hopes of paying off his debt, at least in part, by this 
engagement ; and Wilhelm, who had come from home to 
study men, was unwilling to let slip this opportunity of ex- 
amining the great world, where he expected to obtain much 
insight into life, into himself, and the dramatic art. With 
all this, he durst not confess how greatly he wished again to 



142 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

be near the beautiful couutess. He rather sought to per- 
suade himself in general of the mighty advantages which a 
more intimate acquaintance with the world of rank and wealth 
would procux'e for him. He pursued his reflections on the 
count, the countess, the baron ; on the security, the grace, 
and propriety of their demeai^or : he exclaimed with rapture 
when alone, — 

" Thrice happy are they to be esteemed, whom their birth 
of itself exalts above the lower stages of mankind ; who do 
not need to traverse those perplexities, not even to skirt them, 
in which many worthy men so painfully consume the whole 
period of life. Far-extending and unerring must their vision 
be, on that higher station ; easy each step of their progress 
in the world. From their very birth, they are placed, as it 
were, in a ship, which, in this voyage we have all to make, 
enables them to profit by the favorable winds, and to ride out 
the cross ones ; while others, bare of help, must wear their 
strength away in swimming, can derive little profit froni the 
favorable breeze, and in the storm must soon become ex- 
hausted, and sink to the bottom. "What convenience, what 
ease of movement, does a fortune we are born to confer upon 
us ! How securely does a traffic flourish, which is founded on a 
solid capital, where the failure of one or of many enterprises 
does not of necessity reduce us to inaction ! Who can better 
know the worth and worthlessness of earthly things, than he 
that has had within his choice the enjoyment of them from 
youth upwards ? and who can earlier guide his mind to the 
useful, the necessary, the true, than he that may convince 
himself of so man}^ errors in an age when his strength is yet 
fresh to begin a new career ? " 

Thus did our friend cry joy to all inhabitants of the upper 
regions, and, not to them only, but to all that were permitted 
to approach their circle, and draw water from their wells. So 
he thanked his own happy stars, that seemed preparing to 
grant this mighty blessing to himself. 

Melina, in the mean time, was torturing his brains to get 
the company arranged according to their several provinces, 
and each of them appointed to produce his own peculiar 
effect. In compliance with the count's injunctions and his 
own persuasions, he made many efforts ; but at last, when it 
came to the point of execution, he was forced to be content, 
if, in so small a troop, he found his people willing to adjust 
themselves to this or that part as they best were able. When 
matters would admit of it, Laertes played the lover ; Philina 



MEISTER'S APPKENTICESHIP. 143 

the lady's maid ; the two young girls took up between them 
the characters of the artless and tender loved ones ; the bois- 
terous old gentleman of the piece was sure to be the best 
acted. Melina himself thought he might come forth as cheva- 
lier ; Madam Melina, to her no small sorrow, was obliged to 
satisfy herself with personating young wives, or even affec- 
tionate mothers ; and as in the newer plays, a poet or pedant 
is rarely introduced, and still more rarely for the purpose of 
being laughed at, the well-known favorite of the count was 
now usuall}^ transformed into president or minister, — these 
being commonly set forth as knaves, and severely handled in 
the fifth act. Melina, too, in the part of chamberlain or the 
like, introduced, with great satisfaction, the ineptitudes put 
into his hands by various honest Germans, according to use 
and wont, in many well-accepted plays : he delighted in these 
characters, because he had an opportunity of decking himself 
out in a fashionable style, and was called upon to assume the 
airs of a courtier, which he conceived himself to possess in 
great perfection. 

It was not long till they were joined by several actors from 
different quarters ; who, being received without very strict 
examination, were also retained without very burdensome 
conditions. 

•Wilhelm had been more than once assailed with persua- 
sions from Melina to undertake an amateur part. This he 
declined ; yet he interested and occupied himself about the 
general cause with great alacrity, without our new manager's 
acknowledging his labors in the smallest. On the contrary, 
it seemed to be Melina' s opinion, that with his office he had 
at the same time picked up all the necessary skill for carrying 
it on. In particular, the task of curtailment formed one of 
his most pleasing occupations : he would succeed in reducing 
any given piece down to the regular measure of time, with- 
out the slightest respect to proprieties or proportions, or 
any thing whatever, but his watch. He met with great en- 
couragement ; the public was very much delighted ; the 
most knowing inhabitants of the burgh maintained, that the 
prince's theatre itself was Bot so well conducted as theirs. 



144 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER in. 

At last the time amved when the company had to prepare 
for travelling, and to expect the coaches and other vehicles 
that were to carry them to the count's mansion. Much alter- 
cation now took place about the mode of travelling, and who 
should sit with whom. The ordering and distribution of the 
whole was at length settled and concluded, with great labor, 
and, alas ! without effect. At the appointed hour, fewer 
coaches came than were expected : they had to accommodate 
themselves as the case would admit. The baron, who followed 
shortly afterwards on horseback, assigned, as the reason, 
that all was in motion at the castle, not only because the 
prince was to arrive a few days earlier than had been looked 
for, but also because an unexpected party of visitors were 
already come: the place, he said, was in great confusion; 
on this account perhaps they would not lodge so comfort- 
ably as had been intended, — a change which grieved him 
very much. 

Our travellers packed themselves into the carriages the 
best way they could ; and the weather being tolerable, and 
the castle but a few leagues distant, the heartiest of the troop 
preferred setting out on foot to waiting the return of the 
coaches. The caravan got under way with great jubilee, for 
the first time without caring how the landlord's bill was to 
be paid. The count's mansion rose on their souls like a 
palace of the fairies : they were the happiest and merriest 
mortals in the world. Each throughout the journey, in his 
own peculiar mode, kept fastening a continued chain of 
fortune, honor, and prosperity to that auspicious day. 

A heavy rain, which fell unexpectedly, did not banish these 
delightful contemplations ; though, as it incessantly continued 
with more and more violence, many of the party began to 
show traces of uneasiness. The night came on ; and no sight 
could be more welcome than the palace of the count, which 
shone upon them from a hill at some distance, glancing 
with light in all its stories, so that they could reckon every 
window. 

On approaching nearer, they found all the windows in the 
wings illuminated also. Each of the party thought within 
himself what chamber would be his ; and most of them pru- 
dently determined to be satisfied with a room in the attic, or 
some of the side buildings. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 145 

They were now proceeding through the village, past ihe 
inn. Wilhelm stopped the coach, in the mind to alight there ; 
but the landlord protested that it was not in his power to 
afford the least accommodation : his lordship the count, he 
said, being visited by some unexpected guests, had imme- 
diately engaged the whole inn ; every chamber in the house 
had been marked with chalk last night, specifying who was 
to lodge there. Our friend was accordingly obliged, against 
his will, to travel forward to the castle with the rest of the 
company. 

In one of the side buildings, round the kitchen fire, they 
noticed several cooks running busily about, — a sight which 
refreshed them not a little. Servants came jumping hastily 
with lights to the staircase of the main door, and the hearts 
of the worthy pilgrims overflowed at the aspect of such 
honors. But how great was their surprise, when this cordial 
reception changed into a storm of curses. The servants 
scouted the coachman for driving in hither ; they must wheel 
out again, it was bawled, and take their loading round to the 
old castle ; there was no room here for such guests ! To this 
unfriendly and unexpected dismissal, they joined all manner 
of jeering, and laughed aloud at each other for leaping out 
in the rain on so false an errand. It was still pouring ; no 
star was visible in the sky ; while our company were dragged 
along a rough, jolting road, between two walls, into the old 
mansion, which stood behind, inhabited by none since the 
present count's father had built the new residence in front of 
it. The carriages drew up, partly in the court-yard, partly 
in a long, arched gateway ; and the postilions, people hired 
from the village, unyoked their horses, and rode off. 

As nobody came forward to receive the travellers, they 
alighted from their places, they shouted, and searched. In 
vain ! All continued dark and still. The wind swept 
through the lofty gate : the court and the old towers were 
lying gray and dreary, and so dim that their forms could 
scarcely be distinguisned in the gloom. The people were all 
shuddering and freezing ; the women were becoming fright- 
ened ; the children began to cr}^ ; the general impatience was 
increasing every minute ; so quick a revolution of fortune, 
for which no one of them had been at all prepared, entirely 
destroyed their equanimity. 

Expectmg every minute that some person would appear 
and unbolt the doors, mistaking at one time the pattering 
of rain, at another the rocking of the wind, for the much- 



146 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

desired footstep of the castle bailiff, they continued down- 
cast and inactive : it occurred to none of them to go into the 
new mansion, and there solicit help from charitable souls. 
They could not understand where their friend the baron was 
lingering : they were in the most disconsolate condition. 

At last some people actually arrived : by their voices, they 
were recognized as the pedestrians who had fallen behind 
the others on the journey. They intimated that the baron 
had tumbled with his horse, and hurt his leg severely ; and 
that, on calling at the castle, they, too, had been roughly di- 
rected hither. 

The whole company were in extreme perplexity : they 
guessed and speculated as to what should now be done, but 
they could fix on nothing. At length they noticed from afar 
a lantern advancing, and took fresh breath at sight of it ; 
but their hopes of quick deliverance again evaporated, when 
the object approached, and came to be distinctly seen. A 
groom was lighting the well-known Stallmeister of the castle 
towards them : this gentleman, on coming nearer, very 
anxiously inquired for Mademoiselle Philina. No sooner 
had she stepped forth from, the crowd, than he very press- 
ingly offered to conduct her to the new mansion, where a 
little place had been provided for her with the countess's 
maids. She did not hesitate long about accepting his pro- 
posal ; she caught his arm, and, recommending her trunk to 
the care of the rest, was going to hasten off with him directly : 
but the others intercepted them, asking, entreating, conjur- 
ing the Stallmeister ; till at last, to get away with his fair one, 
he promised every thing, assuring them, that, in a little while, 
the castle should be opened, and they lodged in the most 
comfortable manner. In a few moments they saw the glim- 
mer of his lantern vanish : they long looked in vain for 
another gleam of light. At last, after much watching, scold- 
ing, and reviling, it actually appeared, and revived them with 
a touch of hope and consolation. 

An ancient footman opened the door of the old edifice, into 
which they rushed with violence. Each of them now strove 
to have his trunk unfastened, and brought in beside him. 
Most of this luggage, like the persons of its owners, was 
thoroughly wetted. Having but a single light, the process 
of unpacking went on very slowly. -In the dark passages 
they pushed against each other, they stumbled, they fell. 
They begged to have more lights, they begged to have some 
fuel. The monosyllabic footman, with much ado, consented 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 147 

to put down his own lantern ; then went his way, and came 
not again. 

They now began to investigate the edifice. The doors of 
all the rooms were open : large stoves, tapestry hangings, 
inlaid floors, yet bore witness to its former pomp ; but of 
other house-gear there was none to be seen, — no table, chair, 
or mirror, nothing but a few monstrous, empty bedsteads, 
stripped of every ornament and every necessary. The wet 
trunks and knapsacks were adopted as seats : a part of the 
tired wanderers placed themselves upon the floor. Wilhelm 
had sat down upon some steps : Mignon lay upon his knees. 
The child was restless ; and, when he asked what ailed her, 
she answered, " I am hungry." He himself had nothing 
that could still the craving of the child : iflie rest of the party 
had consumed their whole provision, so he was obliged to 
leave the little traveller without refreshment. Through the 
whole adventure he had been inactive, silently immersed in 
thought. He was very sullen, and full of indignant regret 
that he had not kept by his first determination, and remained 
at the inn, though he should have slept in the garret. 

The rest demeaned themselves in various wa3^s. Some of 
them had got a heap of old wood collected within a vast, gap- 
ing chimney in the hall : they set lire to the pile with great 
huzzaing. Unhappily, however, their hopes of warming 
and drying themselves by means of it were mocked in the 
most frightful manner. The chimney, it appeared, was there 
for ornament alone, and was walled up above ; so the smoke 
rushed quickly back, and at once filled the whole chamber. 
The dry wood rose crackling into flames ; the flame was also 
driven back ; the draught sweeping through the broken win- 
dows gave it a wavering direction. Terrified lest the castle 
should catch fire, the unhappy guests had to tear the burning 
sticks asunder, to smother and trample them under their feet ; 
the smoke increased ; their case was rendered more intolera- 
ble than before ; they were driven to the brink of despera- 
tion. 

Wilhelm had retreated from the smoke into a distant 
chamber, to which Mignon soon follovfed him, leading in a 
well-dressed servant, with a high, clear, double-lighted lan- 
tern in his hand. He turned to Willielra, and, holding out 
to him some fruits and confectionery on a beautiful porce- 
lain plate, "The young lady up-stairs," said he, "sends 
you this, with the request that you would join her party : 
she bids me tell you," added the lackey, with a sort of griui 



148 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

" that she is very well off yonder, and wishes to divide her 
enjoyments with her friends/' 

Wilhelm had not at all expected such a message ; for, 
ever since the adventure on the stone bench, he had treated 
Philina with the most decided contempt. He was still so 
resolute to have no more concern with her that he thought 
of sending back her dainty gifts untasted, when a suppli- 
cating look of Mignon's induced him to accept them. He 
returned his thanks in the name of the child. The invita- 
tion he entirely rejected. He desired the servant to exert 
himself a little for the stranger company, and made inquiry 
for the baron. The latter, he was told, had gone to bed, 
but had already, as the lackey understood, given orders to 
some other person to take charge of these unfortunate and 
ill-lodged gentlemen. 

The servant went away, leaving one of his lights, which 
Wilhelm, in the absence of a candlestick, contrived to fix 
upon the window- casement ; and now, at least in his medi- 
tations, he could see the four walls of his chamber. Nor 
was it long till preparations were commenced for conducting 
our travellers to rest. Candles arrived by degrees, though 
without snuffers ; then a few chairs ; an hour afterwards 
came bed-clothes ; then pillows, all well steeped in rain. It 
was far past midnight when straw beds and mattresses were 
produced, which, if sent at first, would have been extremely 
welcome. 

In the interim, also, somewhat to eat and drink had been 
brought in : it was enjoyed without much criticism ; though 
it looked like a most disorderly collection of remains, and 
offered no very singular proof of the esteem in which our 
guests were held. 



CHAPTER IV. 

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



METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 149 

awaited their arrival. However, to their great surprise and 
consolation, at an early hour the count himself, attended by 
a few servants, made his entrance, and inquired about their 
circumstances. He appeared much vexed on discovering 
how badly they had fared ; and the baron, who came limping 
along, supported on the arm of a servant, bitterly accused 
the steward for neglecting his commands on this occasion, — 
showing great anxiety to have that person punished for his 
disobedience. 

The count gave immediate orders that every thing, should 
be arranged, in his presence, to the utmost possible conven- 
ience of the guests. While this was going on, some officers 
arrived, who forthwith scraped acquaintance with the ac- 
tresses. The count assembled all the company before him, 
spoke to each by name, introduced a few jokes among his 
observations ; so that every one was charmed at the gracious 
condescension of his lordship. At last it came to Wilhelm's 
turn. He appeared with Mignon holding by his hand. Our 
friend excused himself, in the best terms he could, for the 
freedom he had taken. The count, on the other hand, spoke 
as if the visit had been looked for. 

A gentleman, who stood beside the count, and who, al- 
though he wore no uniform, appeared to be an officer, con- 
versed with Wilhelm : he was evidently not a common man. 
His large, keen blue eyes, looking out from beneath a high 
brow ; his light-colored hair, thrown carelessly back ; his 
middle stature ; every thing about him, — showed an active, 
firm, and decisive mode of being. His questions were lively. 
He seemed to be at home in all that he inquired about. 

Wilhelm asked the baron what this person was, but found 
that he had little good to say of him. " He held the rank 
of major, was the special favorite of the prince ; managed 
his most secret affairs ; was, in shorty regarded as his right 
arm, — nay, there was reason to believe him the prince's 
natural son. He had been on embassies in France, Eng- 
land, Italy. In all those places he had greatly distinguished 
himself, by which means he was grown conceited ; imagin- 
ing, among other pretensions, that he thoroughly understood 
the literature of Germany, and allowing himself to vent all 
kinds of sorry jests upon it. He, the baron, was in the habit 
of avoiding all intercourse with him ; and Wilhelm would 
do well to imitate that conduct, for it somehow happened 
that no one could be near him without being punished for it. 
He was called Jarno, though nobody knew rightly what to 
make of such a name." 



150 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

"Wilhelm had nothing to urge against all this : he had felt 
a sort of inclination for the stranger, though he noticed in 
him something cold and repulsive. 

The company being arranged and distributed throughout 
the castle, Melina issued the strictest orders that they should 
behave themselves with decency, the women live in a sepa- 
rate quarter, and each direct his whole attention to the study 
of dramatic art, and of the characters he had to play. He 
posted up written ordinances, consisting of many articles, 
upon all the doors. He settled the amount of fine which 
should be levied upou each transgressor, and put into a com- 
mon box. 

This edict was but little heeded. Young officers went out 
and in ; they jested, not in the most modest fashion, with 
the actresses ; made game of the actors, and annihilated the 
whole S3'stem of police before it had the smallest time to 
take root in the community. The people ran chasing one 
another through the rooms ; they changed clothes ; they dis- 
guised themselves. Melina, attempting to be rigorous with 
a few at first, was exasperated by every sort of insolence ; 
and, when the count soon after sent for him to come and 
view the place where his theatre was to be erected, mat- 
ters grew worse and worse. The young gentry devised a 
thousand broad jokes : by the help of some actors, they be- 
came yet coarser. It seemed as if the old castle had been 
altogether given up to an infuriate host, and the racket did 
not end till dinner. 

Meanwhile, the count had led Melina over to a large hall, 
which, though belonging to the old castle, communicated by 
a gallery with the new one : it seemed very well adapted for 
being changed into a little theatre. Here the sagacious lord 
of the mansion pointed out in person how he wanted every 
thing to be. 

The labor now commenced in the greatest haste ; the stage 
apparatus was erected and furbished up ; what decorations 
they had brought along with them and could employ were 
set in order, and what was wanting was prepared by some 
skilful workmen of the count's. AYilhelm likewise put his 
hand to the business ; he assisted in settling the perspec- 
tive, in laying off the outlines of the scenery : he was very 
anxious that nothing should be executed clumsily. The 
count, who frequently came in to inspect their progress, 
was highly satisfied : he showed particularly how they should 
proceed in every case, displa3'ing an uncommon knowledge 
of all the arts they were concerned with. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 151 

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



CHAPTER V. 

The baron had, for several days, been cheering Wilhelm 
with the hope of being formally presented to the countess. 
^' I have told this excellent lady," said he, '' so much about 
the talent and fine sentiment displayed in your compositions, 
that she feels quite impatient to see you, and hear one or two 
of them read. Be prepared, therefore, to come over at a 
moment's notice ; for, the first morning she is at leisure, you 
will certainly be called on." He then pointed out to him 
the afterpiece it would be proper to produce on that occa- 
sion ; adding, that doubtless it would recommend him to no 
usual degree of favor. The lady, he declared, was ex- 
tremely sorry that a guest like him had happened to arrive 
at a time of such confusion, when they could not entertain 
him in a style more suitable to his merits and their own 
wishes. 

In consequence of this information, Wilhelm, with the 
most sedulous attention, set about preparing the piece, 
which was to usher him into the great world. '' Hitherto," 
said he, " thou hast labored in silence for thyself, applauded 
only by a small circle of friends. Thou hast for a time 
despaired of thy abilities, and ar5 yet full of anxious doubts 
whether even thy present path is the right one, and whether 
thy talent for the stage at all corresponds with thy inclina- 
tion for it. In the hearing of such practised judges, in the 
closet where no illusion can take place, the attempt is far 
more hazardous than elsewhere ; and yet I would not will- 
ingly recoil from the experiment : I could wish to add 
this pleasure to my former enjoyments, and, if it might 
be, to give extension and stability to my hopes from the 
future." 

He accordingly went through some pieces ; read them with 
tie keenest critical eye ; made corrections here and there , 



152 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

recited them aloud, that he might be perfect in his tones and 
expression : and finally selected the work which he was best 
acquainted with, and hoped to gain most honor by. He put 
it in his pocket, one morning, on being summoned to attend 
the countess. 

The baron had assured him that there would be no one 
present but the lady herself and a worthy female friend of 

hers. On entering the chamber, the Baroness von C 

advanced with great friendliness to meet him, expressed 
her happiness at gaining his acquaintance, and introduced 
him to the countess, who was then under the hands of her 
hair-dresser. The countess received him with kind words 
and looks. But it vexed him to see Philina kneeling at her 
chair, and playing a thousand fooleries. " The poor child," 
said the baroness, '' has just been singing to us. Finish 
the song you were in the midst of : we should not like to 
lose it." 

Wilhelm listened to her quavering with great patience, 
being anxious for the friseur's departure before he should 
begin to read. They offered him a cup of chocolate, the 
baroness herself handing him the biscuit. Yet, in spite of 
these civilities, he relished not his breakfast : he was long- 
ing too eagerly to lay before the lovely countess some per- 
formance that might interest and gratify her. Philina, too, 
stood somewhat in his way : on former occasions, while 
listening to him, she had more than once been troublesome. 
He looked at the friseur with a painful feeling, hoping 
every moment that the tower of curls would be complete. 

Meanwhile the count came in, and began to talk of the 
fresh visitors he was expecting, of the day's occupations or 
amusements, and of various domestic matters that were 
started. On his retiring, some officers sent to ask permis- 
sion of the countess to pay their respects to her, as they had 
to leave the castle before dinner. The footman having come 
to his post at the door, she permitted him to usher in the 
gentlemen. 

The baroness, amid these interruptions, took pains to 
entertain our friend, and showed him much consideration ; 
all which he accepted with becoming reverence, though not 
without a little absence of mind. He often felt for the 
manuscript in his pocket, and hoped for his deliverance 
every instant. He was almost losing patience, when a man- 
milliner was introduced, and immediately began without 
mercy to open his papers, bags, and bandboxes ; pressing 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 153 

all his various wares upon the ladies, with an importunity 
peculiar to that species of creature. 

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



CHAPTER VI. 

This mingled feeling of vexation and gratitude spoiled the 
remainder of his day ; till, towards evening, he once more 
found employment. Melina informed him that the count 
had been speaking of a little prelude, which he wished to 
have produced in honor of the prince, on the day of his 
Highness' s arrival. He meant to have the great qualities of 
this noble hero and philanthropist personified in the piece. 
These Virtues were to advance together, to recite his praises, 
and finally to encircle his bust with garlands of flowers and 
laurels ; behind which a transparency might be inserted, 
representing the princely Hat, and his name illuminated on 
it. The count, Melina said, had ordered him to take charge 
of getting ready the verses and other arrangements ; and 
Wilhelm, he hoped, to whom it must be an easy matter, 
would stand by him on this occasion. 

"What!" exclaimed our friend, in a splenetic tone, 
" have we nothing but portraits, illuminated names, and 
allegorical figures, to show in honor of a prince, who, in my 
opinion, merits quite a different eulogy? How can it flatter 
any reasonable man to see himself set up in eflSgy, and his 
name glimmering on oiled paper? I am very much afraid 
that your allegories, particularly in the present state of the 
wardrobe, will furnish occasion for many ambiguities and 
jestings. If you mean, however, to compose the play, or 
have it composed, I can have nothing to object ; only I 
desire to have no part or lot in the matter." 



154 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Meliua excused himself ; alleging this to be only a casual 
hint of his lordship the count, who for the rest had left 
the arrangement of the piece entirely in their own hands. 
" With all my heart," replied our friend, " will I contribute 
something to the pleasure of this noble family : my Muse 
has never had so pleasant an emploj^ment as to sing, though 
in broken numbers, the praises of a prince who merits so 
much veneration. I will think of the matter : perhaps I 
may be able to contrive some way of bringing out our little 
troop, so as at least to produce some effect." 

From this moment Wilhelm eagerly reflected on his 
undertaking. Before going to sleep he had got it all re- 
duced to some degree of order ; early next morning his plan 
was ready, the scenes laid out ; a few of the most striking 
passages and songs were even versified and written down. 

As soon as he was dressed, our friend made haste to wait 
upon the baron, to submit the plan to his inspection, and 
take his advice upon certain points connected with it. The 
baron testified his approbation of it, but not without con- 
siderable surprise. For, on the previous evening, he had 
heard his lordship talk of having ordered some quite differ- 
ent piece to be prepared and versified. 

''To me it seems improbable," replied our friend, "that 
it could be his lordship's wish to have the piece got ready, 
exactly as he gave it to Melina. If I am not mistaken, he 
intended merely to point out to us from a distance the path 
we were to follow. The amateur and critic shows the artist 
what is wanted, and then leaves to him the care of produ- 
cing it by his own means." 

" Not at all," replied the baron : " his lordship under- 
stands that the piece shall be composed according to that and 
no other plan which he has himself prescribed. Yours has, 
indeed, a remote similarity with his idea ; but if we mean to 
accomplish our purpose, and get the count diverted from his 
first thought, we shall need to emplo}^ the ladies in the mat- 
ter. The baroness especially contrives to execute such 
operations in the most masterly manner : the question is 
now, whether your plan shall so please her, that she will 
undertake the business ; in that case it will certainly suc- 
ceed." 

'' We need the assistance of the ladies," said our friend, 
"at any rate; for neither our company nor our wardrobe 
would suffice without them. I have counted on some pretty 
children, that are running up and down the house, and belong 
to certain of the servauta." 



r 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHir. 155 

He then desired the baron to communicate his plan to the 
ladies. The baron soon returned with intelligence that they 
wished to speak with Wilhelm personally. That same even- 
ing, when the gentlemen sat down to pla}^ which, owing to 
the arrival of a certain general, was expected to be deeper 
and keener than usual, the countess and her friend, under 

-. pretext of some indisposition, would retire to their chamber, 
where Wilhelm, being introduced by a secret staircase, might 
submit his project without interruption. This sort of mys- 
tery, the baron said, would give the adventure a peculiar 
charm ; in particular the baroness was rejoicing like a child 
in the prospect of their rendezvous, and the more so, be- 
cause it was to be accomplished secretly, and against the in- 
clination of the count. 

Towards evening, at the appointed time, Wilhelm was sent 
for, and led in with caution. As the baroness advanced to 
meet him in a small cabinet, the manner of their interview 

) brought former happy scenes for a moment to his mind. She 

> conducted him along to the countess's chamber, and they 
=> now proceeded earnestly to question and investigate. He 

> exhibited his plan with the utmost warmth and vivacity, so 
? that his fan* audience were quite decided in its favor. Our 
? readers also will permit us to present a brief sketch of it 

here. 

The play was to open with a dance of children in some 
rural scene, — their dance representing that particular game 
wherein each has to wheel round, and gain the other's place. 
This was to be followed by several variations of their play ; 
till at last, in performing a dance of the repeating kind, they 
were all to sing a merry song. 

Here the old harper with Mignon was to enter, and, by the 
curiosity which they excited, gather several country-people 
round them ; the harper would sing various songs in praise 
of peace, repose, and joy ; and Mignon would then dance 
the egg-dance. 

In these innocent delights, they are disturbed by the sound 
of martial music ; and the party are surprised by a troop of 
soldiers. The men stand on the defensive, and are over- 
come : the girls flee, and are overtaken. In the tumult all 
seems going to destruction, when a person (about whose 
form and qualities the poet was not yet determined) enters, 
and, by signifying that the general is near, restores compos- 
ure. Whereupon the hero's character is painted in the finest 
colors ; security is promised in the midst of ai'ms ; violence 



156 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

aad lawless disorder are now to be restrained. A universal 
festival is held in honor of the noble-minded captain. 

The countess and her friend expressed great satisfaction 
with the plan ; only they maintained that there must of 
necessity be something of allegory introduced, to make it 
palatable to his lordship. The baron proposed that the 
leader of the soldiers should be represented as the Genius of 
Dissension and Violence ; that Minerva should then advance 
to bind fetters on him, to give notice of the hero's approach, 
and celebrate his praise. The baroness undertook the task 
of persuading the count that this plan was the one proposed 
by himself, with a few alterations ; at the same time ex- 
pressly stipulating, that without 'fail, at the conclusion of 
the piece, the bust, the illuminated name, and the princely 
Hat should be exhibited in due order ; since otherwise, her 
attempt was vain. 

Wilhelm had already figured in his mind how delicately and 
how nobly he would have the praises of his hero celebrated in 
the mouth of Minerva, and it was not without a long 
struggle that he yielded in this point. Yet he felt himself 
delightfully constrained to yield. The beautiful eyes of the 
countess, and her lovely demeanor, would easily have moved 
him to sin against his conscience as a poet ; to abandon the 
finest and most interesting invention, the keenly wished-for 
unity of his composition, and all its most suitable details. 
His conscience as a burgher had a trial no less hard to un- 
dergo, when the ladies, in distributing the characters, point- 
edly insisted that he must undertake one himself. 

Laertes had received for his allotment the part of that 
violent war-god ; Wilhelm was to represent the leader of the 
peasants, who had some very pretty and tender verses to 
recite. After long resistance he was forced to comply : he 
could find no excuse, when the baroness protested that their 
stage was in all respects to be regarded as a private one, 
and that she herself would very gladly play on it, if they 
could find her a fit occasion. On receiving his consent, they 
parted with our friend on the kindest terms. The baroness 
assured him that he was an incomparable man : she accom- 
panied him to the little stairs, and wished him good-night 
with a squeeze of the hand. 



MEISTER'S ArPRENTlCESHIP. 157 



CHAPTER Vn. 

The interest in his undertakings, which the countess and 
her friend expressed and felt so warmly, quickened Wil- 
helm's faculties and zeal : the plan of his piece, which the 
process of describing it had rendered more distinct, was now 
present in the most brilliant vividness before his mind. He 
spent the greater part of that night, and the whole of next 
morning, in the sedulous versification of the dialogue and 
songs. 

He had proceeded a considerable way, when a message 
came, requiring his attendance in the castle : the noble com- 
pany, who were then at breakfast, wished to speak with him. 
As he entered the parlor, the baroness advanced to meet 
him, and, under pretext of wishing him . good-morning, 
whispered cunningly, ' ' Say nothing of your piece but what 
you shall be asked." 

" I hear," cried the count to him, " that you are very 
busy working at my prelude, which I mean to present in 
honor of the prince. I consent that you introduce a Mi- 
nerva into it ; and we are just thinking beforehand how the 
goddess shall be dressed, that we may not blunder in cos- 
tume. For this purpose I am causing them to fetch from 
the library all the books that contain any figures of her." 

At the same instant, one or two servants entered the 
parlor, with a huge basket full of books of every shape and 
appearance. 

Montfaucon, the collections of antique statues, gems, and 
coins, all sorts of mythological writings, were turned up, 
and their plates compared. But this was sot enough. The 
count's faithful memory recalled to him all the Minervas to 
be found in frontispieces, vignettes, or anywhere else ; and 
book after book was, in consequence, carried from the library, 
till finally the count was sitting in a chaos of volumes. Un- 
able at last to recollect any other figure of Minerva, he ob- 
served with a smile, '' I durst bet, that now there is not a 
single Minerva in all the library ; and perhaps it is the first 
time that a collection of books has been so totally deprived 
of the presence of its patron goddess." 

The whole company were merry at this thought : Jaruo 
particularly, who had all along been spurring on the count to 
call for more and more books, laughed quite immoderately. 

" Now," said the count, turning to Wilhelm, " one chief 



158 MEISTEH'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

point is, — which goddess do you mean? Minerva, or Pallas? 
The goddess of war, or of the arts? '* 

" Would it not be best, your Excellency," said Wilhelm, 
" if we were not clearly to express ourselves on this head ; if, 
since the goddess plays a double part in the ancient mythol- 
ogy, we also exhibited her here in a double quality? She 
announces a warrior, but only to calm the tumults of the 
people ; she celebrates a hero by exalting his humanity ; she 
conquers violence, and restores peace and security." 

The baroness, afraid lest Wilhelm might betray himself, 
hastily pushed forward the countess's tailor, to give his 
opinion how such an antique robe could best be got ready. 
This man, being frequently employed in making masquerade 
dresses, very easily contrived the business : and as Madam 
Melina, notwithstanding her advanced state of pregnancy, 
had undertaken to enact the celestial virgin, the tailor was 
directed to take her measure ; and the countess, though with 
some reluctance, selected from the wardrobe the clothes he 
was to cut up for that purpose. 

The baroness, in her dexterous way, again contrived to 
lead AVilhelm aside, and let him know that she had been pro- 
viding all the other necessaries. Shortly afterwards she 
sent him the musician, who had charge of the count's private 
band ; and this professor set about composing what airs were 
wanted, or choosing from his actual stock such tunes as 
appeared suitable. From this time all went on according to 
the wishes of our friend : the count made no more inquiries 
about the piece ; being altogether occupied with the trans- 
parent decoration, destined to surprise the spectators at the 
conclusion of the play. His inventive genius, aided by the 
skill of his confectioner, produced, in fact, a very prett}^ 
article. In the course of his travels, the count had witnessed 
tne most splendid exhibitions of this sort : he had also 
brought home with him a number of copper-plates and draw- 
ings, and could sketch such things with considerable taste. 

Meanwhile Wilhelm finished the play, gave every one his 
part, and began the study of his own. The musician also, 
having great skill in dancing, prepared the ballet ; so that 
every thing proceeded as it ought. 

Yet one unexpected obstacle occurred, which threatened 
to occasion an unpleasant gap in the performance. He had 
promised to himself a striking effect from Mignon's e^g- 
dance, and was much surprised when the child, with her 
customary dryness of manner, refused to dance j sa3dng she 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 159 

was now his, and would no more go upon the stage. He 
sought to move her by every sort of persuasion, and did not 
discontinue his attempt till she began weeping bitterly, fell 
at his feet, and cried out, '' Dearest father ! stay thou from 
the boards thyself ! " Little heeding this caution, he studied 
how to give the scene some other turn that might be equally 
interesting. 

Philina, whose appointment was to act one of the peasant 
girls, and in the concluding dance to give the single- voice 
part of the song, and lead the chorus, felt exceedingly de- 
lighted that it had been so ordered. In other respects, too, 
her present life was altogether to her mind : she had her 
separate chamber ; was constantly" beside the countess, enter- 
taining her with fooleries, and daily received some present 
for her pains. Among other things, a dress had been ex- 
pressly made for her wearing in this prelude. And being of 
a light, imitative nature, she quickly marked in the procedure 
of the ladies whatever would befit herself : she had of late 
grown all politeness and decorum. The attentions of the 
/Stallmeister augmented rather than diminished ; and as the 
officers also paid zealous court to her, living in so genial an 
element, it came into her head for once in her life to play 
the prude, and, in a quiet, gradual way, to take upon her- 
self a certain dignity of manner to which she had not before 
aspired. Cool and sharp-sighted as she was, eight days had 
not elapsed till she knew the weak side of every person in 
the house ; so that, had she possessed the power of acting 
from any constant motive, she might very easily have made 
her fortune. But on this occasion, as on all others, she 
employed her advantages merely to divert herself, — to pro- 
cure a bright to-day, and be impertinent, wherever she ob- 
served that impertinence was not attended with danger. 

The parts were now committed to memory : a rehearsal of 
the piece was ordered ; the count purposed to be present at 
it, and his lady began to feel anxious how he might receive 
it. The baroness called Wilhelm to her privately. The nearer 
the hour approached, they all displayed the more perplexity ; 
for the truth was, that, of the count's original idea, nothing 
whatever had been introduced. Jarno, who joined them while 
consulting together, was admitted to the secret. Pie felt 
amused at the contrivance, and was heartily disposed to offer 
the ladies his good services in carrying it through. " It will 
go hard," said he, " if you cannot extricate yourselves with- 
out help from this affair ; but, at all events, I will wait, as a 



160 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

body of reserve.*' The baroness then told them how she 
had on various occasions recited the whole piece to the count, 
but only in fragments and without order ; that consequently 
he was prepared for each individual passage, yet certainly 
possessed with the idea that the whole would coincide with 
his original conception. " I will ^t by him," said she, " to- 
night at the rehearsal, and stud}' to divert his attention. 
The confectioner I have engaged already to make the decora- 
tion as beautiful as possible, but as yet he has not quite 
completed it." 

" I know of a court," said Jarno, " where I wish we had 
a few such active and prudent friends as you. If your skill 
to-night will not suffice, give me a signal : I will take out 
the count, and not let him in again till Minerva entex ; and 
you have speedy aid to expect from the illumination. For a 
day or two I have had something to report to him about his 
cousin, which for various reasons I have hitherto postponed. 
It will give his thoughts another turn, and that none of the 
pleasantest." 

Business hindered the count from being present when the 
play began ; the baroness amused him after his arrival : 
Jarno 's help was not required. For as the count had abun- 
dance of employment in pointing out improvements, rectifying 
and arranging the detached parts, he entirely forgot the pur- 
port of the whole ; and, as at last Madam Melina advanced, 
and spoke according to his heart, and the transparency did 
well, he seemed completely satisfied. It was not till the 
whole was finished, and his guests were sitting down to cards, 
that the difference appeared to strike him ; and he began to 
think whether after all this piece was actually of his inven- 
tion. At a signal from the baroness, Jarno then came for- 
ward into action ; the evening passed away ; the intelligence 
of the prince's approach was confirmed ; the people rode out 
more than once to see his vanguard encamping in the neigh- 
borhood ; the house was full of noise and tumult ; and our 
actors, not always served in the handsomest manner by un- 
willing servants, had to pass their time in practisings and 
expectations at their quarters in the old mansion, without 
any one particularly taking thought about them. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 161 



CHAPTER Vni. 

At length the prince arrived, with all his generals, staff- 
officers, and suite accompanying him. These, and the multi- 
tude of people coming to visit or do business with him, made 
the castle like a beehive on the point of swarming. All 
pressed forward to behold a man no less distinguished by his 
rank than by his great qualities, and all admired his urbanity 
and condescension : all were astonished at finding the hero 
and the leader of armies also the most accomplished and 
attractive courtier. 

By the count's orders, the inmates of the castle were re- 
quired to be aU at their posts when the prince arrived : not 
a player was allowed to show himself, that his Highness might 
have no anticipation of the spectacle prepared to welcome 
him. Accordingly, when at evening he was led into the lofty 
hall, glowing with light, and adorned with tapestries of the 
previous century, he seemed not at all prepared to expect a 
play, and still less a prelude in honor of himself. Every 
thing went off as it should have done : at the conclusion of 
the show, the whole troop were called and presented indi- 
vidually to the prince, who contrived, with the most pleasing 
and friendly air, to put some question, or make some remark, 
to every one of them. Wilhelm, as author of the piece, was 
particularly noticed, and had his tribute of applause liberally 
paid him. 

The prelude being fairly over, no one asked another word 
about it : in a few days, it was as if it never had existed ; 
except that occasionally Jarno spoke of it to Wilhejm, judi- 
ciously praised it, adding, however, "It is pity you should 
play with hollow nuts, for a stake of hollow nuts." This 
expression stuck in Wilhelm' s mind for several days : he 
knew not how to explain it, or what to infer from it. 

Meanwhile the company kept acting every night, as well 
as their capacities permitted ; each doing his utmost to attract 
the attention of spectators. Undeserved applauses cheered 
them on : in their old castle they fully believed, that the great 
assemblage was crowding thither solely on their account ; that 
the multitude of strangers was allured by their exhibitions ; 
that they were the centre round which, and by means of which, 
the whole was moving and revolving. 

Wilhelm alone discovered, to his sorrow, that directly the „/ 
reverse was true. For although the prince had waited out 
6— Goethe Vol 7 



162 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

the first exhibitions, sitting on his chair, with the greatest 
conscientiousness, yet by degrees he grew remiss in his at- 
tendance, and seized every plausible occasion of withdrawing. 
And those very people whom Wilhelm, in conversation, had 
found to be the best informed and most sensible, with Jarno 
at their head, were wont to spend but a few transitory mo- 
ments in the hall of the theatre ; sitting for the rest of their 
time in the ante-chamber, gaming, or seeming to employ them- 
selves in business. 

Amid all his persevering efforts, to want the wished and 
hoped for approbation grieved Wilhelm very deeply. In the 
choice of plays, in transcribing the parts, in numerous re- 
hearsals, and whatever further could be done, he zealously 
co-operated with Melina, who, being in secret conscious 
of his own insufficiency, at length acknowledged and pur- 
sued these counsels. His own parts Wilhelm diligently 
studied, and executed with vivacity and feeling, and with 
all the propriety the little training he had yet received would 
allow. 

At the same time, the unwearied interest the baron took 
in their performances obliterated every doubt from the 
minds of the rest of the company : he assured them that 
their exhibitions were producing the deepest effect, especially 
while one of his own pieces had been representing ; only 
he was grieved to say, the prince showed an exclusive in- 
clination for the French theatre ; while a part of his people, 
among whom Jarno was especially distinguished, gave a 
passionate preference to the monstrous productions of the 
English stage. 

If in this way the art of our players was not adequately 
noticed and admired, their persons on the other hand grew 
not entirely indifferent to all the gentlemen and all the 
ladies of the audience. We observed above, that, from the 
very first, our actresses had drawn upon them the attention 
of the young ofl?icers : in the sequel the}^ were luckier, and 
made more important conquests. But, omitting these, we 
shall merely observe, that Wilhelm every day appeared more 
interesting to the countess ; while in him, too, a silent inclina- 
tion towards her was beginning to take root. Whenever he 
was on the stage, she could not turn her eyes from him ; and, 
erelong, he seemed to play and to recite with his face towards 
her alone. To look upon each other, was to them the sweet- 
est satisfaction ; to which their harmless souls yielded with- 
out reserve, without cherishing a bolder wish, or thinking 
about any consequen9^» 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 163 

As two hostile outposts will sometimes peacefully and 
pleasantly converse together across the river which divides 
them, not thinking of the war in which both their countries 
are engaged : so did the countess exchange looks full of 
meaning with our friend, across the vast chasm of birth and 
rank ; both believing for themselves that they might safely 
cherish their several emotions. 

The baroness, in the mean time, had selected Laertes, 
who, being a spirited and lively young man, pleased her very 
much ; and who, woman-hater as he was, felt unwilling to 
refuse a passing adventure. He would actually on this occa- 
sion have been fettered, against his will, by the courteous 
and attractive nature of the baroness, had not the baron 
done him accidentally a piece of good, or, if you will, of 
bad, service, by instructing him a little in the habits and 
temper of this lady. 

Laertes, happening once to celebrate her praises, and give 
her the preference to every other of her sex, the baron, with 
a grin, replied, "I see how matters stand: our fair friend 
has got a fresh inmate for her stalls." This luckless com- 
parisoh, which pointed too clearly to the dangerous caresses 
of the Circe, grieved poor Laertes to the heart: he could not 
listen to the baron without, spite and anger, as the latter 
continued without mercy, — 

" Every stranger thinks he is the first whom this delightful 
manner of proceeding has concerned, but he is grievously 
mistaken ; for we have all, at one time or another, been 
trotted round this course. Man, youth, or boy, be who he 
like, each must devote himself to her service for a season, 
must hang about her, and toil and long to gain her favor." 

To the happy man just entering the garden of an enchant- 
ress, and welcomed by all the pleasures of an artificial 
spring, nothing can form a more unpleasant surprise, than 
if, while his ear is watching and drinking in the music of the 
nightingales, some transformed predecessor on a sudden 
grunts at his feet. 

After this discovery, Laertes felt heartily ashamed that 
vanity should have again misled him to think well, even in 
the smallest degree, of any woman whatsoever. He now 
entirely forsook the baroness ; kept by the Stallmeister^ with 
whom he diligently fenced and hunted ; conducting him- 
self at rehearsals and representations as if these were but 
secondary matters. 

The count and his lady would often in the mornings send 



164 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

for some of the company to attend them, and all had con- 
tinual cause to envy the undeserved good fortune of Philina. 
The count kept his favorite, the Pedant, frequently for hours 
together, at his toilet. This genius had been dressed out 
by degrees : he was now equipped and furnished, even to 
watch and snuff-box. 

Many times, too, particularly after dinner, the whole 
oompany were called out before the noble guests, — an honor 
which the artists regarded as the most flattering in the 
world ; not observing, that on these very occasions the ser- 
vants and huntsmen were ordered to bring in a multitude of 
bounds, and to lead strings of horses about the court of the 
castle. 

Wilhelm had been counselled to praise Racine, the prince's 
favorite, and thereby to attract some portion of his High- 
ness 's favor to himself. On one of these afternoons, being 
summoned with the rest, he found an opportunity to intro- 
duce this topic. The prince asked him if he diligently read 
the great French dramatic writers, to which Wilhelm an- 
swered with a very eager *' Yes.'* He did not observe that 
his Highness, without waiting for the answer, was already on 
the point of turning round to some one else : he fixed upon 
him, on the contrary, almost stepping in his way, and pro- 
ceeded to declare that he valued the French theatre very 
highly, and read the works of their great masters with de- 
light ; particularly he had learned with true joy that his 
Highness did complete justice to the great talents of Racine. 
"I can easily conceive,'' continued he, "how people of 
high breeding and exalted rank must value a poet who has 
painted so excellently and so truly the circumstances of their 
lofty station. Corneille, if I may say so, has delineated 
great men ; Racine, men of eminent rank. In reading his 
plays, I can always figure to myself the poet as living at a 
splendid court, with a great king before his eyes, in con- 
stant intercourse with the most distinguished persons, and 
penetrating into the secrets of human nature, as it works 
concealed behind the gorgeous tapestry of palaces. When 
I study his " Britannicus," his " B^r^nice," it seems as if I 
were transported in person to the court, were initiated into the 
great and the little, in the habitations of these earthly gods : 
through the fine and delicate organs of my author, I see 
kings whom a nation adores, courtiers whom thousands envy, 
in their natural fonns, with their failings and their pains. 
The anecdote of Racine's dying of a broken heart, because 



MJEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 165 

Louis Fourteenth would no- longer attend to him, and had 
shown him his dissatisfaction, is to me the key to all his 
works. It was impossible that a poet of his talents, whose 
life and death depended on the looks of a king, should not 
write such works as a king and a prince might applaud.** 

Jarno had stepped near, and was listening with astonish- 
ment. The prince, who had made no answer, and had only 
shown his approbation by an assenting look, now turned 
aside ; though Wilhelm, who did not know that it was con- 
trary to etiquette to continue a discussion under such circum- 
stances, and exhaust a subject, would gladly have spoken 
more, and convinced the prince that he had not read his 
favorite poet without sensibility and profit. 

"Have you never," said Jarno, taking him aside, ''read 
one of Shakspeare's plays?" 

"• No," replied Wilhelm : " since the time when they be- 
came more known in Germany, I have myself grown unac- 
quainted with the theatre ; and I know not whether I should 
now rejoice that an old taste, and occupation of my youth, 
has been by chance renewed. In the mean time, all I 
have heard of these plays has excited no wish to become 
acquainted with such extraordinary monsters, which appear 
to set probability and dignity alike at defiance." 

" I would advise you," said the other, " to make a trial, 
notwithstanding : it can do one no harm to look at what is 
extraordinary with one's own eyes. I will lend you a volume 
or two ; and you cannot better spend your time, than by 
casting every thing aside, and retiring to the solitude of 
your old habitation, to look into the magic-lantern of that 
unknown world. It is sinful of you to waste your hours 
in dressing out these apes to look more human, and teaching 
dogs to dance. One thing only I require, — you must not 
cavil at the form : the rest I can leave to your own good 
sense and feeling." 

The horses were standing at the door ; and Jarno mounted 
with some other cavaliers, to go and hunt. Wilhelm looked 
after him with sadness. He would fain have spoken much 
with this man, who, though in a harsh, unfriendly way, gave 
him new ideas, — ideas he had need of. 

Oftentimes a man, when approaching some development 
of his powers, capacities, and conceptions, gets into a per- 
plexity, from which a prudent friend might easily delirer 
him. He resembles a traveller who, at but a short distance 
from the inn he is to rest at, falls into the water : were any 



J'- 



166 MEISTER'S A.PPRENTICESHIP. 

ODe to catch him then, and pull him to the bank, with one 
good wetting it were over ; whereas, though he struggles out 
himself, it is often at the side where he tumbled in ; and he 
has to make a wide and dreary circuit before reaching his 
l.v' appointed object. 

If/ Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things went 

) 1/ forward in the world differently from what he had supposed. 
He now viewed close at hand the solemn and imposing life 
of the great and distinguished, and w^ondered at the easy 
dignity which they contrived to give it. An army on its 
march, a princely hero at the head of it, such a multitude o) 
co-operating warriors, such a multitude of crowding wor- 
shippers, exalted his imagination. In this mood he received 
the promised books ; and erelong, as may be easily sup- 
posed, the stream of that mighty genius laid hold of him, and 
led him down to a shoreless ocean, where he soon com- 
pletely forgot and lost himself. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The connection between the baron and the actors had suf- 
fered various changes since the arrival of the latter. At the 
commencement it had been productive of great satisfaction 
to both parties. As the baron for the first time in his life 
now saw one of those plays, with which he had already 
graced a private theatre, put into the hands of real actors, 
and in the fair way for a decent exhibition, he showed the 
benignest humor in the world. He was liberal in gifts : he 
bought little presents for the actresses from every millinery 
hawker, and contrived to send over many an odd bottle of 
champagne to the actors. In return for all this, our com- 
pany took every sort of trouble with his play ; and Wilhelm 
spared no diligence in learning, with extreme correctness, 
the sublime speeches of that very eminent hero, whose part 
had fallen to his share. 

But, in spite of all these kind reciprocities, some clouds by 
degrees arose between the players and their patron. The 
baron's preference for certain actors became daily more ob- 
servable : this of necessity chagrined the rest. He exalted 
his favorites quite exclusively, and tlius, of course, intro- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 167 

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

*'Lord Baron, I, poor devil, own 

With envy, you your rank and state ; 
Your station, too, so near the throne ; 

Of heirs your possessions great ; 
Your father's seat, with walls and mounds, 
His game-preserves, and hunting-grounds. 

While me, poor devil, it appears. 

Lord Baron, you with envy view, 
Since Nature, from my early years, 

Has held me like a mother true. 
With heart and head both light, I poor, 
But no poor wight grew, to be sure. 

My dear Lord Baron, now to me 

It seems, we well alone should let, 
That you your father's son still be, 

And I remain my mother's pet: 
Let's free from envy live, and hate; 

Nor let's desire each other's title: 
No place you on Parnassus great. 

No noble rank I in requital." 

— Editor's Version. 

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



1/ 



168 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

"We Germans,'* he exclaimed, " deserve to have our 
Muses still continue in the low contempt wherein they have 
languished so long ; since we cannot value men of rank who 
take a share in our literature, no matter how ! Birth, rank, 
and fortune are no wise incompatible with genius and taste ; 
as foreign nations, reckoning among their best minds a great 
number of noblemen, can fully testify. Hitherto, indeed, it 
has been rare in Germany for men of high station to, devote 
themselves to science ; hitherto few famous names have be- 
come more famous by their love of art and learning ; while 
many, on the other hand, have mounted out of darkness to 
distinction, and risen like unknown stars on the horizon. 
Yet such will not always be the case ; and I greatly err, if 
the jBlrst classes of the nation are not even now in the way of 
also employing their advantages to earn the fairest laurels 
of the Muses, at no distant date. Nothing, therefore, grieves 
me more than to see the burgher jeering at the noble who 
can value literature ; nay, even men of rank themselves, with 
inconsiderate caprice, maliciously scaring off their equal from 
a path where honor and contentment wait on all." 

Apparently this latter observation pointed at the count, of 
whom Wilhelm had heard that he liked the poem very much. 
In truth, this nobleman, accustomed to rally the baron in his 
own peculiar way, was extremely glad of such an opportunity 
to plague his kinsman more effectually. As to who the 
writer of the squib might be, each formed his own hypoth- 
esis ; and the count, never willing that another should sur- 
pass him in acuteness, fell upon a thought, which, in a short 
time, he would have sworn to the truth of. The verses 
could be written, he believed, by no one but his Pedant, who 
was a very shrewd knave, and in whom, for a long while, he 
had noticed some touches of poetic genius. By way of 
proper treat, he therefore caused the Pedant one morning to 
be sent for, and made him read the poem, in his own man- 
ner, in presence of the countess, the baroness, and Jarno, — a 
service he was paid for by applauses, praises, and a present ; 
and, on the count's inquiring if he had not still some other 
poems of an earlier time, he cunningly contrived to evade 
the question. Thus did the Pedant get invested with the 
reputation of a poet and a wit, and, in the eyes of the baron's 
friends, of a pasquiuader and a bad-hearted man. From 
that period, play as he might, the count applauded him 
with greater zeal than ever ; so that the poor wight grew at 
last inflated till he nearly lost his senses, and began to medi- 
tate having a chamber in the castle, like Philiua. 



MELSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 169 

Had this project been fulfilled at once, a great mishap might 
have been spared him. As he was returning late one even- 
ing from the castle, groping about in the dark, narrow way, 
he was suddenty laid hold of, and kept on the spot by some 
persons, while some others rained a shower of blows upon 
him, and battered him so stoutly, that in a few seconds he 
was lying almost dead upon the place, and could not without 
difficulty crawl in to his companions. These, indignant as 
they seemed to be at such an outrage, felt their secret joy in 
the adventure : they could hardly keep from laughing, at see- 
ing him so thoroughly curried, and his new brown coat be- 
dusted through and through, and bedaubed with white, as if 
he had had to do with millers. 

The count, who soon got notice of the business, broke into 
a boundless rage. He treated this act as the most heinous 
crime, called it an infringement of the Burgfried, or peace 
of the castle, and caused his judge to make the strictest 
inquisition touching it. The whited coat, it was imagined, 
would afford a leading proof. Every creature that possibly 
could have the smallest trade with flour or powder in the 
castle was submitted to investigation, but in vain. 

The baron solemnly protested on his honor, that although 
this sort of jesting had considerably displeased him, and the 
conduct of his lordship the count had not been the friend- 
liest, yet he had got over the affair ; and with respect to the 
misfortune which had come upon the poet, or pasquinader, 
or whatsoever his title might be, he knew absolutely nothing, 
and had not the most remote concern in it. 

The operations of the strangers, and the general commo- 
tion of the house, soon effaced all recollection of the matter ; 
and so, without redress, the unlucky favorite had to pay 
dear for the satisfaction of pluming himself, a short while, in 
feathers not his own. 

Our troop, regularly acting every night, and on the whole 
very decently treated, now began to make more clamorous 
demands, the better they were dealt with. Erelong their 
victuals, drink, attendance, lodging, grew inadequate ; and 
they called upon the baron, their protector, to provide more 
liberally for them, and at last make good those promises of 
comfortable entertainment, which he had been giving them so 
long. Their complaints grew louder, and the efforts of our 
friend to still them more and more abortive. 

Meanwhile, excepting in rehearsals and hours of acting, 
Wilhelm scarcely ever came abroad. Shut up in one of the 



170 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

remotest chambers, to which Mignoii and the harper alone 
/ had free access, he lived and moved in the Shakspearian 
1/ world, feeling or knowing nothing but the movements of his 
own mind. 

We have heard of some enchanter summoning, by magic 
formulas, a vast multitude of spiritual shapes into his cell. 
The conjurations are so powerful that the whole space of the 
apartment is quickly full ; and the spirits, crowding on to the 
verge of the little circle which they must not pass, around 
this, and above the master's head, keep increasing in number, 
and ever whirling in perpetual transformation. Every corner 
is crammed, every crevice is possessed. Embryos expand 
themselves, and giant- forms contract into the size of nuts. 
Unhappih- the black-artist has forgot the counterword, with 
which he might command this flood of sprites again to ebb. 

So sat Wilhelm in his privacy : with unknown movements, 
a thousand feelings and capacities awoke in him, of which 
he formerly had neither notion nor anticipation. Nothing 
— could allure him from this state : he was vexed and restless 
if any one presumed to come to him, and talk of news or 
what was passing in the world. 

Accordingly, he scarce took notice of the circumstance, 
when told that a judicial sentence was about being executed 
in the castle-yard, — the flogging of a boy, who had incurred 
suspicions of nocturnal housebreaking, and who, as he wore 
a peruke-maker's coat, had most probably been one of the 
assaulters of the Pedant. The boy indeed, it seemed, denied 
most obstinatel}' ; so that they could not inflict a formal pun- 
ishment, but meant to give him a slight memorial as a vaga- 
bond, and send him about his business ; he having prowled 
about the neighborhood for several days, lain at night in the 
mills, and at last clapped a ladder to the garden-wall, and 
mounted over by it. 

Our friend saw nothing very strange in the transaction i and 
was dismissing it altogether, when Mignon came running in, 
and assured him that the criminal was Friedrich, who, since 
the rencounter with the Stallmeister^ had vanished from the 
company, and not again been heard of. 

Feeling an interest in the bo}- , Wilhelm hastily arose : he 
found, in the court-yard of the castle, the preparations almost 
finished. The count loved solemnity on these occasions. The 
boy being now led out, our friend stepped forward, and en- 
treated for dela}^ as he knew the boy, and had various things 
to say which might, perhaps, throw light on the affair. He 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 171 

had difficulty in succeeding, notwithstanding all his state- 
ments : at length, however, he did get permission to speak 
with the culprit in private. Friedrich averred, that, concern- 
ing the assault in which the Pedant had been used so harshly, 
he knew nothing whatever. He had merely been lurking 
about, and had come in at night to see Philina, whose room 
he had discovered, and would certainly have reached, had he 
not been taken by the way. 

For the credit of the company, Wilhelm felt desirous not 
to have the truth of his adventure published. He hastened to 
the Stallmeister : he begged him to show favor, and, with 
his intimate knowledge of men and things about the castle, 
to find some means of quashing the affair, and dismissing the 
boy. 

This whimsical gentleman, by Wilhelm 's help, invented a 
little story, — how the boy had belonged to the troop, had run 
away from it, but soon wished to get back, and be received 
again into his place ; how he had accordingly been trying in 
the night to come at certain of his well-wishers, and solicit 
their assistance. It was testified by others that his former 
behavior had been good : the ladies put their hands to the 
work, and Friedrich was let go. 

Wilhelm took him in, — a third person in that strange fam- 
ily, which for some time he had looked on as his own. The 
old man and little Mignon received the returning wanderer 
kindly ; and all the three combined to serve their friend and 
guardian with attention, and procure him all the pleasure in 
their power. 



i/ 



CHAPTER X. 

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



172 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

than all, his modest and respectful conduct to the fair sex. 
To all inquiries made about him she replied with equal pru- 
dence ; and the baroness, when she observed the growing 
inclination of her amiable friend, was likewise very glad at 
the discoverj^ Her own intrigues with several men, espe- 
cially of late with Jarno, had not remained hidden from the 
countess, whose pure soul could not look upon such levities 
without disapprobation, and meek, though earnest, cen- 
sures. 

In this way both Philina and the baroness were personally 
interested in establishing a closer intercourse between the 
countess and our friend. Philina hoped, moreover, that there 
would occur some opportunity when she might once more 
labor for herself, and, if possible, get back the favor of the 
3''0ung man she had lost. 

One day his lordship, with his guests, had ridden out to 
hunt ; and their return was not expected till the morrow. 
On this the baroness devised a frolic, which was altogether 
in her way, for she loved disguises, and, in order to surprise 
her friends, would suddenly appear among them as a peasant- 
girl at one time, at another as a page, at another as a hun- 
ter's bo}^ By which means she almost gave herself the air 
of a little fairy, that is present everywhere, and exactly in 
the place where it is least expected. Nothing could exceed 
this lady's joy, if, without being recognized, she could con- 
trive to wait upon the company for some time as a servant, 
or mix among them anyhow, and then at last in some sport- 
ful way disclose herself. 

Towards night she sent for Wilhelm to her chamber, and, 
happening to have something else to do just then, left Phi- 
lina to receive and prepare him. 

He arrived, and found to his surprise, not the honorable 
lady, but the giddy girl, in the room. She received him with 
a certain dignified openness of manner, which she had of 
late been practising, and so constrained him likewise to be 
courteous. 

At first she rallied him in general on the good fortune 
which pursued him everywhere, and which, as she could not 
but see, had led him hither in the present case. Then she 
delicately set before him the treatment with which of late he 
had afflicted her ; she blamed and upbraided herself ; con- 
fessed that she had but too well deserved such punishment ; 
described with the greatest candor what she called her former 
situation ; adding, that she would despise herself, if she were 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 173 

not capable of altering, and making herself worthy of his 
frienship. 

Wilhelm was struck with this oration. He had too little 
knowledge of the world to understand that persons quite 
unstable, and incapable of all improvement, frequently accuse 
themselves in the bitterest manner, confessing and deploring 
their faults with extreme ingenuousness, though they possess 
not the smallest power within them to retire from that course, 
along which the irresistible tendency of their nature is drag- 
ging them forward. Accordingly, he could not find in his 
heart to behave inexorably to the graceful sinner : he entered 
into conversation, and learned from her the project of a 
singular disguisement, wherewith it was intended to surprise 
the countess. 

He found some room for hesitation here, nor did he hide 
his scruples from Philina : but the baroness, entering at this 
moment, left him not an instant for reflection ; she hurried 
him away with her, declaring it was just the proper hour. 

It was now grown dark. She took him to the count's 
wardrobe, made him change his own coat with his lordship's 
silk night-gown, and put the cap with red trimmings on his 
head. She then led him forward to the cabinet ; and bidding 
him sit down upon the large chair, and take a book, she lit 
the Argand lamp which stood before him, and showed him 
what he was to do, and what kind of part he had to 
play. 

They would inform the countess, she said, of her husband's 
unexpected arrival, and that he was in very bad humor. The 
countess would come in, walk up and down the room once 
or twice, then place herself beside the back of his chair, lay 
her arm upon his shoulder, and speak a few words. He was 
to play the cross husband as long and as well as possible ; 
and, when obliged to disclose himself, he must behave politely, 
handsomely, and gallantly. 

Wilhelm was left sitting, restlessly enough, in this singular 
mask. The proposal had come upon him by surprise : the 
execution of it got the start of the deliberation. The bar- 
oness had vanished from the room, before he saw how dan- 
gerous the post was which he had engaged to fill. He could 
not deny that the beauty, the youth, the gracefulness, of the 
countess had made some impression on him : but his nature 
was entirel}^ averse to all empty gallantry, and his principles 
forbade any thought of more serious enterprises ; so that his 
perplexity at this moment was in truth extreme. The fear 



\/ 



174 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

of displeasing the countess, and that of pleasing her too 
well, were equally busy in his mind. 

Every female charm that had ever acted on him, now 
showed itself again to his imagination. Mariana rose before 
him in her white morning-gown, and entreated his remem- 
brance. Philina's loveliness, her beautiful hair, her insinuat- 
ing blandishments, had again become attractive by her late 
presence. Yet all this retired as if behind the veil of distance, 
when he figured to himself the noble, blooming countess, 
whose arm in a few minutes he would feel lipon his neck, 
whose innocent caresses he was there to answer. 

The strange mode in which he was to be delivered out of 
this perplexity he certainly did not anticipate. We may 
judge of his astonishment, nay, his terror, when the door 
opened behind him ; and, at the first stolen look in the miiTor, 
he quite clearly discerned the count coming in with a light in 
his hand. His doubt what he should do, whether he should 
sit still or rise, should flee, confess, deny, or beg forgiveness, 
lasted but a few instants. The count, who had remained 
motionless standing in the door, retired, and shut it softly. 
At the same moment, the baroness sprang forward by the 
side-door, extinguished the lamp, tore Wilhelm from his chair, 
and hurried him with her into the closet. Instantly he threw 
off the night-gown, and put it in its former place. The 
baroness took his coat under her arm, and hastened with him 
through several rooms, passages, and partitions into her 
chamber, where Wilhelm, so soon as she recovered breath, 
was informed, that on her going to the countess, and deliver- 
ing the fictitious intelligence about her husband's arrival, the 
countess had answered, '^ I know it already : what can have 
happened? I saw him riding in, at the postern, even now." 
On which the baroness, in an excessive panic, had run to the 
count's chamber to give warning. 

" Unhappily you came too late ! " said Wilhelm. -* The 
count was in the room before you, and saw me sitting." 

" And recognized you? " 

'' That I know not. He was looking at me in the glass, 
as I at him ; and, before I could well determine whether it 
was he or a spirit, he drew back, and closed the door behind 
him." 

The anxiety of the baroness increased, when a servant 
came to call her, signifjnng that the count was with his lady. 
She went with no light heart, and found the count silent 
and thoughtful, indeed, but milder and kinder in his words 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 175 

than usual. She knew not what to think of it. They spoke 
about the incidents of the chase, and the causes of \vs quick 
return. The conversation soon ran out. The count became 
taciturn ; and it struck the baroness particularly, when he 
asked for Wilhelm, and expressed a wish that he were sent 
for, to come and read something. 

Wilhelm, who had now dressed himself in the baroness's 
chamber, and in some degree recovered his composure, 
obeyed the order, not without anxiety. The count gave him 
a book, out of which he read an adventurous tale, very little 
at his ease. His voice had a certain inconstancy and quiver- 
ing in it, which fortunately corresponded with the import of 
the story. The count more than once gave kindly tokens 
of approval, and at last dismissed our friend, with praises 
of his exquisite manner of reading. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Wilhelm had scarcely read one or two of Shakspeare's 
plays, till their effect on him became so strong that he could 
go no farther. His whole soul was in commotion. He 
sought an opportunity to speak with Jarno ; to whom, on 
meeting with him, he expressed his boundless gratitude for 
such delicious entertainment. 

" I clearly enough foresaw," said Jarno, '' that you would 
not remain insensible to the charms of the most extraordinary 
and most admirable of all writers." 

" Yes ! " exclaimed our friend : "I cannot recollect that 
any book, any man, any incident of my life, has produced such 
important effects on me, as the precious works to which b}^ 
your kindness I have been directed. They seem as if they 
were performances of some celestial genius, descending 
among men, to make them, by the mildest instructions, ac- 
quainted with themselves. They are no fictions ! You 
would think, while reading them, you stood before the un- 
closed awful Books of Fate, while the whirlwind of most 
impassioned life was howling through the leaves, and tossing 
them fiercely to and fro. The strength and tenderness, the 
power and peacefulness, of this man, have so astonished and 
transported me, that I long vehemently for the time when I 
shall have it in my power to read farther.'' 



A 



176 METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

*' Bravo ! " said Jarno, holding out his hand, and squeez- 
ing our friend's. " This is as it should be ! And the con- 
sequences, which I hope for, will likewise surely follow.*' 
■^' "I wish," said Wilhelm, " I could but disclose to you all 

that is going on within me even now. Alt the anticipations I 
have ever had regarding man and his destiny, which have 
accompanied me from youth upwards, often unobserved by 
myself, I find developed and fulfilled in Shakspeare's writ- 
ings. It seems as if he cleared up every one of our enigmas 
/. ■ > to us, though we cannot say. Here or there is the word of 
^ 7 solution. His men appear like natural men, and yet they 
\ J^ \ ; are not. These, the most mysterious and complex produc- 



tions of creation, here act before us as if they were watches, 
whose dial-plates and cases were of crystal, which pointed 
out, according to their use, the course of the hours and 
minutes ; while, at the same time, you could discern the 
combination of wheels and springs that turned them. The 
few glances I have cast over Shakspeare's world incite me, 
more than any thing beside, to quicken my footsteps forward 
into the actual world, to mingle in the flood of destinies that 
is suspended over it, and at length, if I shall prosper, to 
draw a few cups from the great ocean of true nature, and 
to distribute them from off the stage among the thirsting 
people of my native land." 

' ' I feel delighted with the temper of mind in which I now 
behold you," answered Jarno, laying his hand upon the 
shoulder of the excited youth : ' ' renounce not the purpose 
of embarking in active life. Make haste to employ with 
alacrity the years that are granted you. If I can serve you, 
I will with all my heart. As yet I have not asked you how 
you came into this troop, for which you certainly were 
neither born nor bred. So much I hope and see, — you long 
to be out of it. I know nothing of your parentage, of your 
domestic circumstances : consider what you shall confide to 
me. Thus much only I can say : the times of war we live in 
may produce quick turns of fortune ; did you incline devot- 
ing your strength and talents to our service, not fearing 
labor, and, if need were, danger, I might even now have an 
opportunity to put you in a situation, which you would not 
afterwards be sorry to have filled for a time." Wilhelm 
could not sufficiently express his gratitude : he was ready 
to impart to his friend and patron the whole history of his 
life. 

In the course of this conversation, they had wandered far 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 177 

into the park, and at last came upon the highway that 
crossed it. Jarno stood silent for a moment, and then said, 
" Deliberate on my proposal, determine, give me your an- 
swer in a few days, and then let me have the narrative you 
mean to trust me with. I assure you, it has all along to me 
seemed quite incomprehensible how you ever could have any 
thing to do with such a class of people. I have often thought 
with spleen and disgust, how, in order to gain a paltry living, 
you must fix your heart on a wandering ballad-monger, and 
a silly mongrel, neither male nor female." 

He had not yet concluded, when an officer on horseback 
came hastily along ; a groom following him with a led horse. 
Jarno shouted a warm salutation to him. The oflScer sprang 
from his'horse ; Jarno and he embraced and talked together ; 
while Wilhelm, confounded at the last expressions of his war- 
like friend, stood thoughtfully at a side. Jarno turned over 
some papers which the stranger had delivered to him ; while 
the latter came to Wilhelm, held out his hand, and said with 
emphasis, " I find 3^ou in worthy company : follow the coun- 
sel of your friend, and, by doing so, accomplish likewise the 
desire of an unknown man, who takes a genuine interest in 
you." So saying, he embraced Wilhelm, and pressed him 
cordially to his breast. At the same instant Jarno advanced, 
and said to the stranger, " It is best that I ride on with you : 
by this means you may get the necessary orders, and set out 
again before night." Both then leaped into their saddles, 
and left our astonished friend to his own reflections. 

Jarno' s last words were still ringing in his ears. It galled 
him to see the two human beings that had most innocently 
won his affections so grievously disparaged by a man whom 
he honored so much. The strange embracing of the officer, 
whom he knew not, made but a slight impression on him ; it 
occupied his curiosity and his imagination for a moment : but 
Jarno' s speech had cut him to the heart ; he was deeply hurt 
by it : and now, in his way homewards, he broke out into re- 
proaches against himself, that he should for a single iostant 
have mistaken or forgotten the unfeeling coldness of Jarno, 
which looked out from his very eyes, and spoke in all his 
gestures. "No!" exclaimed he, "thou conceivest, dead- 
hearted worldling, that thou canst be a friend ! All that thou 
hast power to offer me is not worth the sentiment which binds 
me to these forlorn beings. How fortunate that I have 
discovered in time what I had to expect from thee ! '* 

Mignon came to meet him as he entered : he clasped her 



178 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

in his arms, exclaiming, " Notliing, nothing, shall part us, 
thou good little creature ! The seeming prudence of the 
world shall never cause me to forsake thee, or forget what I 
owe thee ! ' ' 

The child, whose warm caresses he had been accustomed 
to avoid, rejoiced with all her heart at this unlooked-for 
show of tenderness, and clung so fast to him that he had 
some difficulty to get loose from her. « 

From this period he kept a stricter eye on Jarno's con- 
duct : many parts of it he did not think quite praiseworthy ; 
na}', several things came out which totally displeased him. 
He had strong suspicions, for example, that the verses on 
the baron, which the poor Pedant had so dearly paid for, 
were composed by Jarno. And as the latter, in Wilhelm's 
presence, had made sport of the adventure, our friend 
thought here was certainly a symptom of a most corrupted 
heart ; for what could be more depraved than to treat a 
guiltless person, whose griefs one's self had occasioned, 
with jeering and mockery, instead of tr3'ing to satisfy or to 
indemnify him? In this matter Wilhelm would himself 
willingly have brought about reparation ; and erelong a very 
curious accident led him to obtain some traces of the persons 
concerned in that nocturnal outrage. 

Hitherto his friends had contrived to keep him un- 
acquainted with the fact, that some of the young officers 
were in the habit of passing whole nights in merriment and 
jollity, with certain actors and actresses, in the lower hall 
of the old castle. One morning, having risen early, accord- 
ing to his custom, he happened to visit this chamber, and 
found the gallant gentlemen just in the act of performing 
rather a singular operation. They had mixed a bowl of 
water with a quantity of chalk, and were plastering this 
gruel with a brush upon their waistcoats and pantaloons, 
without stripping ; thus very expeditiously restoring the 
spotlessness of their apparel. On witnessing this piece of 
ingenuity, our friend was at once struck with the recollection 
of the poor Pedant's whited and bedusted coat : his suspi- 
cions gathered strength when he learned that some relations 
of the baron were among the party. 

To throw some light on his doubts, he engaged the youths 
to breakfast with him. They were very lively, and told a 
multitude of pleasant stories. One of them especially, who 
for a time had been on the recruiting-service, was loud in 
praising the craft and activity of his captain ; who, it ap- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 179 

peared, understood the art of alluring men of all kinds 
towards him, and overreaching every one by the deception 
proper for him. He circumstantially described how several 
young people of good families and careful education had 
been cozened, by playing off to them a thousand promises 
of honor and prefernient ; and he heartily laughed at the 
simpletons, who felt so gratified, when first enlisted, at the 
thought of being esteemed and introduced to notice by so 
reputable, prudent, bold, and munificent an officer. 

Wilhelm blessed his better genius for having drawn him 
back in time from the abyss to whose brink he had ap- 
proached so near. Jarno he now looked upon as nothing 
better than a crimp : the embrace of the stranger officer was 
easily explained. He viewed the feelings and opinions of 
these men with contempt and disgust ; from that moment he 
carefully avoided coming into contact with any one that wore 
a uniform ; and, when he heard that the army was about to 
move its quarters, the news would have been extremely wel- 
come to him, if he had not feared, that, immediately on its 
departure, he himself must be banished from the neighbor- 
hood of his lovely friend, perhaps forever. 



CHAPTER XII. 

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



180 MEISTER'S APPKENTICESHIP. 

tleman and she already stood in a relation to each other 
where it is not usual to be very cautious in keeping secrets. 
For some time Jarno had been her dearest friend, yet they 
had been dexterous enough to conceal their attachment and 
joys from the noisy world in which they moved. To the 
countess alone this new romance had not remained unknown ; 
and very possibly the baroness might wish to get her fair 
friend occupied with some similar engagement, and thus to 
escape the silent reproaches she had often to endure from 
that noble-minded woman. 

Scarcely had the baroness related the occurrence to her 
lover, when he cried out laughing, "To a certainty the old 
fool believes that he has seen his ghost ! He dreads that 
the vision may betoken some misfortune, perhaps death, to 
him ; and so he is become quite tame, as all half-men do, in 
thinking of that consummation which no one has escaped 
or will escape. Softly a little ! As I hope he will live long 
enough, we may now train him at least, so that he shall not 
again give disturbance to his wife and household." 

They accordingly, as soon as any opportunity occurred, 
began talking, in the presence of the count, about warnings, 
visions, apparitions, and the like. Jarno played the sceptic, 
the baroness likewise ; and they carried it so far, that his 
lordship at last took Jarno aside, reproved him for his free- 
thinking, and produced his own experience to prove the pos- 
sibility, nay, actual occurrence, of such preternatural events. 
Jarno affected to be struck, to be in doubt, and finally to 
be convinced ; but, in private with his friend, he made him- 
1 self so much the merrier at the credulous weakling, who had 

thus been cured of his evil habits by a bugbear, but who, 
they admitted, still deserved some praise for expecting dire 
calamity, or death itself, with such composure. 

' ' The natural result which the present apparition might 
have had, would possibly have ruffled him ! " exclaimed 
the baroness, with her wonted vivacity ; to which, when 
anxiety was taken from her heart, she had instantly re- 
turned. Jarno was richly rewarded ; and the two con- 
trived fresh projects for frightening the count still further, 
) and still further exciting and confirming the affection of the 

\ countess for Wilhelm. 

With this inteiition, the whole story was related to the 
countess. She, indeed, expressed her displeasure at such 
conduct ; but from that time she became more thoughtful, 
and in peaceful moments seemed to be considering, pursuing, 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 181 

and painting out that scene which had been prepared for 
her. 

The preparations now going forward on every side left no 
room for doubt that the armies were soon to move in ad- 
vance, and the prince at the same time to change his head- 
quarters. It was even said that the count intended leaving 
his castle, and returning to the city. Our players could 
therefore, without difficulty, calculate the aspect of their 
stars ; yet none of them, except Melina, took any measures in 
consequence : the rest strove only to catch as much enjoyment 
as they could from the moment that was passing over them. 

Wilhelm, in the mean time, was engaged with a peculiar 
task. The countess had required from him a copy of his 
writings, and he looked on this request as the noblest recom- 
pense for his labors. 

A young author, who has not yet seen himself in print, 
will, in such a case, apply no ordinary care to provide a 
clear and beautiful transcript of his works. It is like the 
golden age of authorship : he feels transported into those 
centuries when the press had not inundated the world with 
so many useless writings, when none but excellent perform- 
ances were copied, and kept by the noblest men ; and he 
easily admits the illusion, that his own accurately ruled and 
measured manuscript may itself prove an excellent perform- 
ance, worthy to be kept and valued by some future critic. 

The prince being shortly to depart, a great entertainment 
had been appointed in honor of him. Many ladies of the 
neighborhood were invited, and the countess had dressed 
betimes. On this occasion she had taken a costlier suit 
than usual. Her head-dress, and the decorations of her 
hair, were more exquisite and studied : she wore all her 
jewels. The baroness, too, had done her utmost to appear 
with becoming taste and splendor. 

Philina, observing that both ladies, in expectation of their 
guests, felt the time rather tedious, proposed to send for 
Wilhelm, who was wishing to present his manuscript, now 
completed, and to read them some other little pieces. He 
came, and on his entrance was astonished at the form and 
the graces of the countess, which her decorations had but 
made more visible and striking. Being ordered by the la- 
dies, he began to read; but with so much absence of mind, 
and so badly, that, had not his audience been excessively 
indulgent, they would very soon have dismissed him. 

Every time he looked at the countess, it seemed to him as 



^ 



182 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

yi' A if a spark of electric fire were glancing before his eyes. In 

■P ' the end he knew not where to fhicl the breath he wanted for 

his reading. The countess had always pleased him, but 

^' v now it appeared as if he never had beheld ^ being so perfect 

and so lovely. A thousand thoughts flitted up and down 
his soul : what follows might be nearly their substance. 

^ \ "How foolish is it in so many poets, and men of senti- 

' ment as they are called, to make war on pomp and decora- 

tion ; requiring that women of all ranks should wear no 
dress but what is simple, and conformable to nature ! They 
rail at decoration, without once considering, that, when we 
see a plain or positively ugly person clothed in a costly and 
gorgeous fashion, it is not the poor decoration that dis- 
pleases us. I would assemble all the judges in the world, 
and ask them here if they wished to see one of these folds, 
of these ribbons and laces, these braids, ringlets, and glan- 
cing stones, removed? Would they not dread disturbing the 
delightful impression that so naturally and spontaneously 
meets us here? Yes, naturally I will say! As Minerva 
sprang in complete armor from the head of Jove ; so does 
this goddess seem to have stepped forth with a light foot, in 
all her ornaments, from the bosom of some flower." 

While reading, he turned his eyes upon her frequently, as 
if he wished to stamp this image on his soul forever : he 
more than once read wrong, yet without falling into confus- 
ion of mind ; though, at other times, he used to feel the mis- 
taking of a word or a letter as a painful deformity, which 
spoiled a whole recitation. 

A false alarm of the arrival of the guests put an end to 
the reading ; the baroness went out ; and the countess, 
while about to shut her writing-desk, which was standing 
open, took up her casket, and put some other rings upon her 
finger. "We are soon to part," said she, keeping her eyes 
upon the casket: " accept a memorial of a true friend, who 
wishes nothing more earnestly than that you may always 
prosper." She then took out a ring, which, underneath a 
crystal, bore a little plait of woven hair beautifully set with 
diamonds. She held it out to Wilhelm, who, on taking it, 
knew neither what to say nor do, but stood as if rooted to 
the ground. The countess shut her desk, and sat down 
upon the sofa. 

^' And I must go empty?" said Philina, kneeling down at 
the countess's right hand. "Do but look at the man: he 
carries such a store of ^ words in his mouth, when no one 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 183 

wants to hear them ; and now he cannot stammer out the 
poorest syllable of thanks. Quick, sir ! Express your ser- 
vices by way of pantomime at least ; and if to-day you can 
invent nothing, then, for Heaven's sake, be my imitator." 

Philina seized the right hand of the countess, and kissed 
it warmly. Wilhelm sank upon his knee, laid hold of the 
left, and pressed it to his lips. The countess seemed em- 
barrassed, yet without displeasure. 

''Ah!" cried Philina, "so much splendor of attire, I 
may have seen before, but never one so fit to wear it. What 
bracelets, but also what a hand ! What a neckdress, but 
also what a bosom." 

" Peace, little cozener ! " said the countess. 

"Is this his lordship, then? " said Philina. pointing to a 
rich medallion, which the countess wore on her left side, by 
a particular chain. 

"He is painted in his bridegroom-dress," replied the 
countess. 

" Was he, then, so young? " inquired Philina : "I know it 
is but a year or two since you were married." 

"His youth must be placed to the artist's account," re- 
plied the lady. 

" He is a handsome man," observed Philina. " But was 
there never," she continued, placing her hand on the count- 
ess's heart, "never any other image that found its way in 
secret hither ? ' ' 

" Thou art very bold, Philina," cried she : " I have spoiled 
thee. Let me never hear the like again." 

"If you are angry, then am I unhappy," said Philina, 
springing up, and hastening from the room. 

Wilhelm still held that lovely hand in both of his. His 
eyes were fixed on the bracelet- clasp : he noticed, with ex- 
treme surprise, that his initials were traced on it, in lines 
of brilliants. 

"Have I, then," he modestly inquired, "your own hair 
in this precious ring ? ' ' 

"Yes," replied she in a faint voice: then, suddenly col- 
lecting herself, she said, and pressed his hand, "Arise, and 
fare you well ! ' ' 

"Here is my name," cried he, "by the most curious 
chance ! " He pointed to the bracelet-clasp. 

' ' How ? ' ' cried the countess : " it is the cipher of a female 
friend!" 

"They are the initials of my name. Forget me not. 



184 METSTER'S ArPRENTTCESHTP. 

Your image is engraven on my heart, and will never be 
effaced. Farewell ! I must be gone." 

He kissed her hand, and meant to rise ; but, as in dreams, 
some strange thing fades and changes into something stran- 
ger, and the succeeding wonder takes us by surprise ; so, 
without knowing how it happened, he found the countess in 
his arms : her lips were resting upon his, and their warm 
mutual kisses were jaelding them that blessedness which 
mortals sip from the topmost sparkling foam on the freshly 
poured cup of love. 

Her head lay on his shoulder : the disordered ringlets and 
ruffles were forgotten. She had thrown her arm round him : 
he clasped her with vivacity, and pressed her again and 
again to his breast. Oh that such a moment could but last 
forever ! And woe to envious Fate that shortened even this 
brief moment to our friends ! 

How terrified was Wilhelm, how astounded did he start 
from his happy dream, when the countess, wdth a shriek, on 
a sudden tore herself away, and hastily pressed her hand 
against her heart. 

He stood confounded before her : she held the other hand, 
upon her eyes, and, after a moment's pause, exclaimed, 
" Away ! leave me ! delay not ! " 

He continued standing. 

" Leave me ! " she cried ; and, taking off her hand from 
her eyes, she looked at him with an indescribable expression 
of countenance, and added, in the most tender and affecting 
voice, " Flee, if you love me." 

Wilhelm was out of the chamber, and again in his room, 
before he knew what he was doing. 

Unhappy creatures ! What singular warning of chance or 
of destiny tore them asunder ? 



MElSTEli'S APPRENTICESHIP. 185 



BOOK IV. 



CHAPTER I. 

Laertes was standing at the window in a thoughtful 
mood, resting on his arm, and looking out into the fields. 
Philina came gliding towards him, across the large hall : she 
leaned upon him, and began to mock him for his serious 
looks. 

" Do not laugh," replied he : '' it is frightful to think how 
time goes on, how all things change and have an end. See 
here ! A little while ago there was a stately camp : how 
pleasantly the tents looked ! what restless life and motion 
was within them ! how carefully they watched the whole 
enclosure ! And, behold, it is all vanished in a day ! For a 
short while, that trampled straw, those holes which the cooks 
have dug, will show a trace of what was here ; and soon the 
whole will be ploughed and reaped as formerly, and the pres- 
ence of so many thousand gallant fellows in this quarter will 
but glimmer in the memories of one or two old men." 

Philina began to sing, and dragged forth her friend to 
dance with her in the hall. " Since Time is not a person we 
can overtake when he is past," cried she, " let us honor him 
with mirth and cheerfulness of heart while he is passing." 

They had scarcely made a step or two, when Frau Melina 
came walking through the hall. Philina was wicked enough 
to invite her to join them in the dance, and thus to bring her 
in mind of the shape to which her pregnancy had reduced 
her. ^ 

' ' That I might never more see a woman in an interesting 
situation! " said Philina, when her back was turned. 

" Yet she feels an interest in it," said Laertes. 

" But she manages so shockingly. Didst thou notice that 
wabbling fold of her shortened petticoat, which always 
travels out before her when she moves? She has not the 
smallest knack or skill to trim herself a little, and conceal 
her state, " 



186 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

" Let her be," said Laertes. "Time will soon come to 
her aid." 

''It were prettier, however," cried Philina, "if we could 
shake children from the trees." 

The baron entered, and spoke some kind words to them, 
adding a few presents, in the name of the count and the count- 
ess, who had left the place very early in the morning. He 
then went to Wilhelm, who was busy in the side-chamber with 
Mignon. She had been extremely affectionate and taking ; 
had asked minutely about Wilhelm 's parents, brothers, sis- 
ters, and relations ; and so brought to his mind the duty 
he owed his people, to send them some tidings of himself. 

With the farewell compliments of the famil}', the baron 
delivered him an assurance from the count, that his lordship 
had been exceedingly obliged b}' his acting, his poetical 
labors, and theatrical exertions. For proof of this state- 
ment, the baron then drew forth a purse, through whose 
beautiful texture the bright glance of new gold coin was 
sparkling out. Wilhelm drew back, refusing to accept of it. 

" Look upon this gift," said the baron, " as a compensa- 
tion for your time, as an acknowledgment of your trouble, 
not as the reward of your talents. If genius procures us a 
good name and good will from men, it is fair likewise, that, 
by our diligence and efforts, we should earn the means to 
satisfy our wants ; since, after all, we are not wholly spirit. 
Had we been in town, where every thing is to be got, we 
should have changed this little sum into a watch, a ring, or 
something of that sort ; but, as it is, I must place the magic 
rod in your own hands ; procure a trinket with it, such as 
may please j^ou best and be of greatest use, and keep it for 
our sakes. At the same time, you must not forget to hold 
the purse in honor. It was knit by the fingers of our ladies : 
they meant that the cover should give to its contents the 
most pleasing form." 

"Forgive my embarrassment," said Wilhelm, "and my 
doubts about accepting this present. It, as it were, anni- 
hilates the little I have done, and hinders the free play of 
happy recollection. Money is a fine thing, when any matter 
is to be completely settled and abolished : I feel unwilling to 
be so entirely abolished from the recollection of your house." 

" That is not the case," replied the baron ; " but, feeling 
so tenderly yourself, you could not wish that the count 
should be obliged to consider himself wholly your debtor, 
especially when I assure you that his lordship's highest 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 187 

ambition has always consisted in being punctual and just. 
He is not uninformed of the labor you have undergone, or 
of the zeal with which you have devoted all your time to 
execute his views ; nay, he is aware, that, to quicken certain 
operations, you have even expended money of your own. 
With what face shall I appear before him, then, if I cannot 
say that his acknowledgment has given you satisfaction ? ' ' 

" If I thought only of myself," said Wilhelm, " if I might 
follow merely the dictates of my own feelings, I should cer- 
tainly, in spite of all these reasons, steadfastly refuse this 
gift, generous and honorable as it is ; but I will not deny, 
that, at the very moment when it brings me into one per- 
plexit}', it frees me from another, into which I have lately 
fallen with regard to my relations, and which has in secret 
caused me much uneasiness. My management, not only of 
the time, but also of the money, for which I have to give 
account, has not been the best ; and now, by the kindness 
of his lordship, I shall be enabled, with confidence, to give 
my people news of the good fortune to which this curious 
by-path has led me. I therefore sacrifice those feelings of 
delicacy, which, like a tender conscience, admonish us on 
such occasions, to a higher duty ; and, that I may appear 
courageously before my father, I . must consent to stand 
ashamed before you." 

" It is singular," replied the baron, "to see what a world 
of hesitation people feel about accepting money from their 
friends and patrons, though ready to receive any other gift 
with joy and thankfulness. Human nature manifests some 
other such peculiarities, by which many scruples of a similar 
kind are produced and carefully cherished." 

"Is it not the same with all points of honor?" said our 
friend. 

"It is so," replied the baron, "and with several other 
prejudices. We must not root them out, lest in doing so we 
tear up noble plants along with them. Yet I am always 
glad when I meet with men that feel superior to such objec- 
tions, when the case requires it ; and I recall with pleasure 
the story of that ingenious poet who had written several 
plays for the court-theatre, which met with the monarch's 
warmest approbation. ' I must give him a distinguished 
recompense,' said the generous prince : ' ask him whether 
he would choose to have some jewel given him, or if he 
would disdain to accept a sum of money.' In his humor- 
ous way, the poet answered the inquiring courtier, ' I am 



188 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

thankful, with all my heart, for these gracious purposes; 
and, as the emperor is daily taking money from us, I see 
not wherefore I should feel ashamed of taking some from 
him/ '' 

Scarcely had the baron left the room, when Wilhelm 
eagerly began to count the cash, which had come to him 
so unexpectedly, and, as he thought, so undeservedly. It 
seemed as if the worth and dignity of gold, not usually felt 
till later years, had now, by anticipation, twinkled in his 
eyes for the first time, as the fine, glancing coins rolled out 
from the beautiful purse. He reckoned up, and found, that, 
particularly as Melina had engaged immediately to pay the 
loan, he had now as much or more on the right side of his 
account as on that day when Philina first asked him for the 
nosegay. With a little secret satisfaction, he looked upon 
his talents ; with a little pride, upon the fortune which had 
led and attended him. He now seized the pen, with an as- 
sured mind, to write a letter which might free his family 
from their anxieties, and set his late proceedings in the most 
favorable light. He abstained from any special narrative, 
and only by significant and mysterious hints left them room 
for guessing at what had befallen him. The good condition 
of his cash-book, the advantage he had earned by his tal- 
ents, the favor of the great and of the fair, acquaintance 
with a wider circle, the improvement of his bodily and men- 
tal gifts, his hopes from the future, altogether formed such 
a fair cloud-picture, that Fata Morgana itself could scarcely 
have thrown together a stranger or a better. 

In this happy exaltation, the letter being folded up, he 
went on to maintain a conversation with himself, recapitu- 
lating what he had been writing, and pointing out for him- 
self an active and glorious future. The example of so man}' 
gallant warriors had fired him ; the poetry of Shakspearc 
had opened a new world to him ; from the lips of the beau- 
tiful countess he had inhaled an inexpressible inspiration. 
All this could not and would not be without effect. 

The. Stallmeister came to inquire whether they were ready 
with their packing. Alas ! with the single exception of Me- 
lina, no one of them had thought of it. Now, however, they 
were speedily to be in motion. The count had engaged to 
have the whole party conveyed forward a few days' journey 
on their way : the horses were now in readiness, and could 
not long be wanted. Wilhelm asked for his trunk : Frau 
Melina had taken it to put her own things in. He asked for 



MEISTEirS APrilENTICKSHir. 189 

money : HeiT Melina had stowed it all far down at the bot- 
tom of his box. Philina said she had still some room in 
hers : she took Wilhelm's clothes, and bade Mignon bring 
the rest. Wilhelm, not without reluctance, was obliged to 
let it be so. 

While they were loading, and getting all things ready, Me- 
lina said, ' ' I am sorry we should travel like mountebanks and 
rope-dancers. I could wish that Mignon would put on girl's 
clothes, and that the harper would let his beard be shorn." 
Mignon clung firmly to Wilhelm, and cried, with great vi- 
vacity, "I am a boy — I will be no girl!" The old man 
held his peace ; and Philina, on this suggestion, made some 
merry observations on the singularity of their protector, the 
count. " If the harper should cut off his beard," said she, 
" let him sew it carefully upon a ribbon, and keep it by him, 
that he may put it on again whenever his lordship the count 
falls in with him in any quarter of the world. It was this 
beard alone that procured him the favor of his lord- 
ship." 

On being pressed to give an explanation of this singular 
speech, Philina said to them, "The count thinks it con- 
tributes very much to the completeness of theatrical illusion 
if the actor continues to play his part, and to sustain his 
character, even in common life. It was for this reason that 
he showed such favor to the Pedant : and he judged it, in 
like manner, very fitting that the harper not only wore his 
false beard at nights on the stage, but also constantly by 
day ; and he used to be delighted at the natural appearance 
of the mask." 

While the rest were laughing at this error, and the other 
strange opinions of the count, the harper led. our friend ^; 

aside, took leave of him, and begged, with tears, that he *' ^,,r 

would even now let him go. Wilhelm spoke to him, declar- '^ ^ 
ing that he would protect him against all the world ; that no 
one should touch a hair of his head, much less send him off 
against his will. 

The old man seemed affected deeply : an unwonted fire 
was glowing in his eyes. "It is not that," cried he, "which 
drives me away. I have long been reproaching myself in 
secret for staying with you. I ought to linger nowhere ; for 
misfortune flies to overtake me, and injures all that are con- 
nected with me. Dread every thing, unless you dismiss me ; 
but ask me no questions. I belong not to myself. I cannot 
stay." 



190 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

*'To whom dost thou belong? Who can exert such a 
power on thee ? " 

" Leave me my horrid secret, and let me go ! The ven- 
geance which pursues me is not of the earthly judge. I 
belong to an inexorable destin3\ I cannot stay, and I dare 
not/' 

" In the situation I see thee in, I shall certainly not let 
thee go." 

"It were high treason against you, my benefactor, if I 
should delay. I am secure while with you, but you are in 
peril. You know not whom you keep beside you. I am 
guilty, but more wretched than guilt}^ My presence scares 
happiness away, and good deeds grow powerless when I 
become concerned in them. Fugitive, unresting I should 
be, that my evil genius might not seize me, which pursues 
but at a distance, and only appears when I have found a 
place, and am laying down my head to seek repose. More 
grateful I cannot show myself than by forsaking 3'ou." 

" Strange man ! Thou canst neither take awa}^ the confi- 
dence I place in thee, nor the hope I feel to see thee happy. 
I wish not to penetrate the secrets of thy superstition ; but 
if thou livest in belief of wonderful forebodings, and entan- 
glements of fate, then, to cheer and hearten thee, I say, 
unite thyself to my good fortune, and let us see which gen- 
ius is the stronger, thy dark or my bright one." 

Wilhelm seized this opportunity of suggesting to him many 
other comfortable things ; for of late our friend had begun 
to imagine that this singular attendant of his must be a man, 
who, by chance or destiny, had been led into some weighty 
crime, the remembrance of which he was ever bearing on his 
conscience. 

A few days ago Wilhelm, listening to his singing, had ob- 
served attentively the following lines : — 

" For him the light of ruddy raorn 

But paints the horizon red with flame; 
And voices, from the depths of nature borne, 
Woe! woe! upon his guilty head proclaim." 

But, let the old man urge what arguments he pleased, our 
friend had constantly a stronger argument at hand. He 
turned every thing on its fairest side ; spoke so bravely, 
heartily, and cheerily, that even the old man seemed again 
(jX to gather spirits, and to throw aside his whims. 



- 
self contriving a few wild tricks, and presiding in the execu- 
tion of them. The people fenced, they danced, they devised 
all kinds of sports, and, in their gayety of heart, partook of 
what tolerable wine they could fall in with in copious pro- 
porjbions ; while, amid the disorder of this tumultuous life, 
Philina lay in wait for the coy hero, — over whom let his 
better genius keep watch ! 

One chief diversion, which yielded the company a frequent 
and very pleasing entertainment, consisted in producing an 
extempore play, in which their late benefactors and patrons 
were mimicked, and turned into ridicule. Some of our actors 
had seized very neatly whatever was peculiar in the outward 
manner of several distinguished people in the count's estab- 
lishment ; their imitation of these was received by the rest of 
the party with the greatest approbation : and when Philina 
produced, from the secret archives of her experience, certain 
peculiar declarations of love that had been made to her, the 
audience were like to die with laughing and malicious joy. 

Wilhelm censured their ingratitude ; but they told him in 
reply that these gentry well deserved what they were getting, 
their general conduct toward such deserving people, a sour 
friends believed themselves, not having been by any means 
the best imaginable. The little consideration, the neglect 
they had experienced, were now described with many aggra- 
vations. The jesting, bantering, and mimicry proceeded as 
before : our party were growing bitterer and more unjust 
every minute. 

" I wish," observed Wilhelm, " there were no envy or 
selfishness lurking under what you sa}- , but that you would 
regard those persons and their station in the proper point of 
view. It is a peculiar thing to be placed, by one's very 
bii'th, in an elevated situation in society. The man for whom 
inherited wealth has secured a perfect freedom of existence ; 
who finds himself from his youth upwards abundantly en- 
compassed with all the secondary essentials, so to speak, of 
human life, — will generally become accustomed to consider 
these qualifications as the first and greatest of all ; while the 
worth of that mode of human life, which nature from her 
own stores equips and furnishes, will strike him much more 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 193 

faintly. The behavior of noblemen to their inferiors, and 
likewise to each other, is regulated by external preferences. 
They give each credit for his title, his rank, his clothes, and 
equipage ; but his individual merits come not into play." 

This speech was honored with the company's unbounded 
applause. They declared it to be shameful, that men of 
merit should constantly be pushed into the background ; and 
that, in the great world, there should not be a trace of 
natural and hearty intercourse. On this latter point particu- 
larly they overshot all bounds. 

" Blame them not for it," said Wilhelm, " rather pity 
them ! They have seldom an exalted feeling of that happi- 
ness which we admit to be the highest that can flow from 
the inward abundance of nature. Only to us poor creatures 
is it granted to enjoy the happiness of friendship in its 
richest fulness. Those dear to us we cannot elevate by our 
countenance, or advance by our favor, or make happy by 
our presents. We have nothing but ourselves. This whole 
self we must give away ; and, if it is to be of any value, we 
must make our friend secure of it forever. What an enjoy- 
ment, what a happiness, for giver and receiver ! With what 
blessedness does truth of affection invest our situation ! It 
gives to the transitory life of man a heavenly certainty : it 
forms the crown and capital of all that we possess." 

While he spoke thus, Mignon had come near him : she 
threw her little arms round him, and stood with her cheek 
resting on his breast. He laid his hand on the child's head, 
and proceeded, "It is easy for a great man to win our 
minds to him, easy to make our hearts his own. A mild 
and pleasant manner, a manner only not inhuman, will of it- 
self do wonders, — and how many means does he possess of 
holding fast the affections he has once conquered? To us, 
all this occurs less frequently ; to us it is all more difficult ; 
and we naturally, therefore, put a greater value on whatever, 
in the way of mutual kindness, we acquire and accomplish. 
What touching examples of faithful servants giving them- 
selves up to danger and death for their masters ? How finely 
has Shakspeare painted out such things to us ! Fidelity, in 
this case, is the effort of a noble soul, struggling to become 
equal with one exalted above it. By steadfast attachment 
and love, the servant is made equal to his lord, who, but for 
this, is justified in looking on him as a hired slave. Yes, 
these virtues belong to the lower class of men alone : that 
43lass cannot do without them, and with them it has a beauty 
7— Goethe Vol T 



194 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

of its own. Whoever is enabled to requite all favors easily 
will likewise easily be tempted to raise himself above the 
habit of acknowledgment. Nay, in this sense, I am of opin- 
ion it might almost be maintained, that a great man may 
possess friends, but cannot be one." 

Mignon clung more and more closely to him. 

*' It may be so," replied one of the party : " we do not 
need their friendship, and do not ask it. But it were well if 
they understood a little more about the arts, which they affect 
to patronize. AVhen we played in the best style, there was 
none to mind us : it was all sheer partiality. Any one they 
chose to favor, pleased ; and they did not choose to favor 
those that merited to please. It was intolerable to obsei^ve 
how often silliness and mere stupidity attracted notice and 
applause." 

*' When I abate from this," said Wilhelm, " what seemed 
to spring from irony and malice, I think we may nearly say, 
that one fares in art as he does in love. And, after all, how 
shall a fashionable man of the world, with his dissipated 
habits, attain that intimate presence with a special object, 
which an artist must long continue in, if he would produce 
any thing approaching to perfection, — a state of feeling 
without which it is impossible for any one to take such an in-. 
terest, as the artist hopes and wishes, in his work? 

" Believe me, my friends, it is with talents as with virtue : 
one must love them for their own sake, or entirely renounce 
them. And neither of them is acknowledged and rewarded, 
except when their possessor can practise them unseen, like a 
dangerous secret." 

" Meanwhile, until some proper judge discovers us, we 
may all die of hunger," cried a fellow in the corner. 

'' Not quite inevitably," answered Wilhelm. " I have 
observed, that, so long as one stirs and lives, one always finds 
food and raiment, though the}^ be not of the richest sort. 
And why should we repine? Were we not, altogether unex- 
pectedly, and when our prospects were the very worst, taken 
kindly by the hand, and substantially entertained? And 
now, when we are in want of nothing, does it once occur to 
us to attempt any thing for our improvement, or to strive, 
though never so faintly, towards advancement in our art? 
We are busied about indifferent matters ; and, like school- 
boys, we are casting all aside that might bring our lesson to 
our thoughts." 

** In sad truth," said Philina, "it is even so! Let us 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 196 

choose a play ; we will go through it on the spot. Each of us 
must do his best, as if he stood before the largest audience." 

They did not long deliberate : tx play was fixed on. It was 
one of those which at that time were meeting great applause 
in Germany, and have now passed away. Some of the party 
whistled a symphony ; each speedily bethought him of his 
part ; they commenced, and acted the entire play with the 
greatest attention, and really well beyond expectation. Mu- 
tual applauses circulated : our friends had seldom been so 
pleasantly diverted. 

On finishing, they all felt exceedingly contented, partly on 
account of their time being spent so well, partly because 
each of them experienced some degree of satisfaction with 
his own performance. Wilhelm expressed himself copiously 
in their praise : the conversation grew cheerful and merry. 

'' You would see," cried our friend, " what advances we 
should make, if we continued this sort of training, and ceased ]\ Ay 
to confine our attention to mere learning by heart, rehears- \\ 
ing and playing mechanically, as if it were a barren duty, or 
some handicraft employment. How different a character do 
our musical professors merit ! What interest they take in 
their art ! how correct are they in the practisings they un- 
dertake in common ! What pains they are at in tuning their 
instruments ; how exactly they observe time ; how delicately 
they express the strength and the weakness of their tones ! 
No one there thinks of gaining credit to himself by a loud 
accompaniment of the solo of another. Each tries to play 
in the spirit of the composer, each to express well whatever 
is committed to him, be it much or little. 

" Should not we, too, go as strictly and as ingeniously to 
work, seeing we practise an art far more delicate than that 
of music, — seeing we are called on to express the commonest 
and the strangest emotions of human nature, with elegance, 
and so as to delight? Can any thing be more shocking than 
to slur over our rehearsal, and in our acting to depend on 
good luck, or the capricious choice of the moment? We 
ought to place our highest happiness and satisfaction in mu- 
tually desiring to gain each other's approbation : we should 
even value the applauses of the public only in so far as we 
have previously sanctioned them among ourselves. Why is 
the master of the band more secure about his music than the 
manager about his play? Because, in the orchestra, each 
individual would feel ashamed of his mistakes, which offend 
the outward ear ; but how seldom have I found an actor dis- 



196 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

posed to acknowledge or feel ashamed of mistakes, pardonable 
or the contrary, by which the inward ear is so outrageously 
offended ! I could wish, for my part, that our theatre were 
as narrow as the wire of a rope-dancer, that so no inept fel- 
low might dare to venture on it, instead of being, as it is, a 
place where every one discovers in himself capacity enough 
to flourish and parade." 

The company gave this apostrophe a kind reception ; each 
being convinced that the censure conveyed in it could not 
apply to him, after acting a little while ago so excellently 
with the rest. On the other hand, it was agreed, that during 
this journey, and for the future if they remained together, 
they would regularly proceed with their training in the man- 
ner just adopted. Only it was thought, that, as this was a 
thing of good humor and free will, no formal manager must 
be allowed to have a hand in it. Taking it for an estab- 
lished fact, that, among good men, the republican form of 
government is the best, they declared that the post of manager 
should go round among them : he must be chosen by uni- 
versal suffrage, and every time have a sort of little senate 
joined in authority along with him. So delighted did they 
feel with this idea, that they longed to put it instantly in 
practice. 

" I have no objection," said Melina, " if you incline mak- 
ing such an experiment while we are travelling : I shall 
willingl}^ suspend my own directorship until we reach some 
settled place." He was in hopes of saving cash by this 
arrangement, and of casting many small expenses on the 
shoulders of the little senate or of the interim manager. 
This fixed, they went very earnestly to counsel how the form 
of the new commonwealth might best be adjusted. 

" 'Tis an itinerating kingdom," said Laertes: " we shall 
at least have no quarrels about frontiers." 

They directly proceeded to the business, and elected "Wil- 
helm as their first manager. The senate also was appointed, 
the women having seat and vote in it : laws were propounded, 
were rejected, were agreed to. In such playing, the time 
passed on unnoticed ; and, as our friends had spent it pleas- 
antly, they also conceived that they had really been effecting 
something useful, and, by their new constitution, had been 
opening a new prospect for the stage of their native countrj. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 197 



CHAPTER III. 

Seeing the company so favorably disposed, Wilhelm now 
hoped he might further have it in his power to converse with 
them on the poetic merit of the plays which might come 
before them. " It is not enough," said he next day, when 
they were all again assembled, " for the actor merely to 
glance over a dramatic work, to judge of it by his first im- 
pression, and thus, without investigation, to declare his sat- 
isfaction or dissatisfaction with it. Such things may be 
allowed in a spectator, whose purpose it is rather to be 
entertained and moved than formally to criticise. But the 
actor, on the other hand, should be prepared to give a reason 
for his praise or censure ; and how shall he do this, if he 
have not taught himself to penetrate the sense, the views, 
and feelings of his author? A common error is, to form a 
judgment of a drama from a single part in it, and to look 
upon this part itself in an isolated point of view, not in its 
connection with the whole. I have noticed this within a few 
days, so clearly in my own conduct, that I will give you the 
account as an example, if you please to hear me patiently. 

" You all know Shakspeare's incomparable ' Hamlet : ' our 
public reading of it at the castle yielded every one of us the 
greatest satisfaction. On that occasion we proposed to act 
the play ; and I, not knowing what I undertook, engaged to 
play the prince's part. This I conceived that I was study- 
ing, while I began to get by heart the strongest passages, 
the soliloquies, and those scenes in which force of soul, ve- 
hemence and elevation of feeling, have the freest scope ; 
where the agitated heart is allowed to display itself. with 
touching expressiveness. 

'' I further conceived that I was penetrating quite into the 
spirit of the character, while I endeavored, as it were, to take 
upon myself the load of deep melancholy under which my 
prototype was laboring, and in this humor to pursue him 
through the strange labyrinths of his caprices and his singu- 
larities. Thus learning, thus practising, I doubted not but I 
should by and by become one person with my hero. 

" But, the farther I advanced, the more difficult did it be- 
come for me to form any image of the whole, in its general 
bearings ; till at last it seemed as if impossible. I next 
went through the entire piece, without interruption ; but here, 
too, I found much that I could not away with. At one time 



198 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

the characters, at another time the manner of displaying 
them, seemed inconsistent ; and I almost despaired of find- 
ing any general tint, in which I might present my whole 
part with all its shadings and variations. In such devious 
paths I toiled, and wandered long in vain ; till at length a 
hope arose that I might reach my aim in quite a new way. 

'' I set about investigating every trace of Hamlet's char- 
acter, as it had shown itself before his father's death : I en- 
deavored to distinguish what in it was independent of this 
mournful event, independent of the terrible events that fol- 
lowed ; and what most probably the 3^oung man would have 
been, had no such thing occurred. 

*' Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had 
sprung up under the immediate influences of majesty : the 
idea of moral rectitude with that of princely elevation, the 
feeling of the good and dignified with the consciousness of 
high birth, had in him been unfolded simultaneously. He 
was a prince, by birth a prince ; and he wished to reign, only 
that good men might be good without obstruction. Pleasing 
in form, polished by nature, courteous from the heart, he 
was meant to be the pattern of youth and the joy of the 
world. 

" Without any prominent passion, his love for Ophelia was 
a still presentiment of sweet wants. His zeal in knightly 
accomplishments was not entirely his own : it needed to 
be quickened and inflamed by praise bestowed on others for 
excelling in them. Pure in sentiment, he knew the honor- 
able-minded, and could prize the rest which an upright spirit 
tastes on the bosom of a friend. To a certain degree, he 
had learned to discern and value the good and the beautiful 
in arts and sciences ; the mean, the vulgar, was offensive to 
him ; and, if hatred could take root in his tender soul, it was 
only so far as to make him properly despise the false and 
changeful insects of a court, and play with them in easy 
scorn. He was calm in bis temper, artless in his conduct, 
neither pleased with idleness, nor too violently eager for em- 
ployment. The routine of a university he seemed to con- 
tinue vv^hen at court. He possessed more mirth of humor 
than of heart : he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, 
discreet, and able to forget and forgive an injury, yet never 
able to unite himself with those who overstepped the limits 
of the right, the good, and the becoming. 

" When we read the piece again, 3'ou shall judge whether 
I am yet on the proper track. 1 hope at least to bring for- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 199 

ward passages that shall support my opinion in its main 
points." 

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



CHAPTER IV. 

Our friends had to continue in the place for a day or two, 

and it was not long ere sundry of them got engaged in ad- 
ventures of a rather pleasant kind. Laertes in particular 
was challenged by a lady of the neighborhood, a person of 
some property ; but he received her blandishments with ex- 
treme, nay, unhandsome, coldness, and had in consequence 
to undergo a multitude of jibes from Philina. She took this 
opportunity of detailing to our friend the hapless love-story 
which had made the youth so bitter a foe to womankind. 
'' Who can take it ill of him," she cried, " that he hates a 
sex which has played him so foul, and given him to swallow, 
in one stoutly concentrated potion, all the miseries that man 
can fear from woman? Do but conceive it : within four and 
twenty hours, he was lover, bridegroom, husband, cuckold, 
patient, and widower ! I wot not how you could use a man 
worse." 

Laertes hastened from the room half vexed, half laughing ; 
and Philina in her sprightliest style began to relate the story : 
how Laertes, a young man of eighteen, on joining a company 
of actors, found in it a girl of fourteen on the point of 
departing with her father, who had quarrelled with the man- 
ager. How, on the instant, he had fallen mortally in love ; 
had conjured the father by all possible considerations to re- 
main, promising at length to marry the young woman. How, 
after a few pleasing hours of groomship, he had accordingly 
been wedded, and been happ}^ as he ought ; whereupon, 
next day, while he was occupied at the rehearsal, his wife, 
according to professional rule, had honored him with a pair 



200 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

of horns ,* and how as he, out of excessive tenderness, 
hastening home far too soon, had, alas ! found a former 
lover in his place, he had struck into the affair with thought- 
less indignation, had called out both father and lover, and 
sustained a grievous wound in the duel. How father and 
daughter had thereupon set off by night, leaving him be- 
hind to labor with a double hurt. How the leech he applied 
to was unhappily the worst in nature, and the poor fellow 
had got out of the adventure with blackened teeth and 
watering eyes. That he was greatly to be pitied, being 
otherwise the bravest young man on the surface of the earth. 
"Especially," said she, " it grieves me that the poor soul 
now hates women ; for, hating women, how can one keep 
living ? ' ' 

Melina interrupted them with news, that, all things being 
now ready for the journey, they would set out to-morrow 
morning. He handed them a plan, arranging how they were 
to travel. 

"If any good friend take me on his lap," said Philina, 
" I shall be content, though we sit crammed together never 
so close and sorrily : 'tis all one to me." 

"It does not signify," observed Laertes, who now en- 
tered. 

" It is pitiful," said Wilhelm, hastening away. By the aid 
of money, he secured another very comfortable coach ; though 
Melina had pretended that there were no more. A new dis- 
tribution then took place ; and our friends were rejoicing in 
the thought that they should now travel pleasantly, when in- 
telligence arrived that a party of military volunteers had 
been seen upon the road, from whom little good could be 
expected. 

In the town these tidings were received with great atten- 
tion, though they were but variable and ambiguous. As the 
contending armies were at that time placed, it seemed im- 
possible that any hostile corps could have advanced, or any 
friendly one hung a-rear, so far. Yet every man was eager 
to exhibit to our travellers the danger that awaited them as 
truly dangerous : every man was eager to suggest that some 
other route might be adopted. 

By these means, most of our friends had been seized with 
anxiety and fear; and when, according to the new repub- 
lican constitution, the whole members of the state had been 
called together to take counsel on this extraordinary case, 
they were almost unanimously of opinion that it would be 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 201 

proper either to keep back the mischief by abiding where 
they were, or to evade it by choosing another road. 

Wilhelm alone, not participating in the panic, regarded it 
as mean to abandon, for the sake of mere rumors, a plan 
they had not entered on without much thought. He en- 
deavored to put heart into them : his reasons were manly 
and convincing. 

" It is but a rumor,'' he observed ; " and how many such 
arise in time of war ! "Well-informed people say that the 
occurrence is exceedingly improbable, nay, almost impos- 
sible. Shall we, in so important a matter, allow a vague 
report to determine our proceedings ? The route pointed out 
to us by the count, and to which our passport was adapted, 
is the shortest and in the best condition. It leads us to the 
town, where you see acquaintances, friends, before you, and 
may hope for a good reception. The other way will also 
bring us thither ; but by what a circuit, and along what 
miserable roads ! Have we any right to hope, that, in this 
late season of the year, we shall get on at all? and what 
time and money shall we squander in the mean while ! ' * He 
added many more considerations, presenting the matter on 
so many advantageous sides, that their fear began to dis- 
sipate, and their courage to increase. He talked to them so 
much about the discipline of regular troops, he painted the 
marauders and wandering rabble so contemptuously, and 
represented the danger itself as so pleasant and inspiring, 
that the spirits of the party were altogether cheered. 

Laertes from the first had been of his opinion : he now 
declared that he would not flinch or fail. Old Boisterous 
found a consenting phrase or two to utter, in his own vein ; 
Philina laughed at them all ; and Madam Melina, who, not- 
withstanding her advanced state of pregnancy, had lost 
nothing of her natural stout-heartedness, regarded the pro- 
posal as heroic. Herr IMelina, moved by this harmonious 
feeling, hoping also to save somewhat by travelling the short 
road which had been first contemplated, did not withstand 
the general consent ; and the project was agreed to with 
universal alacrity. 

They next began to make some preparations for defence 
at all hazards. They bought large hangers, and slung them 
in well-quilted straps over their shoulders. Wilhelm further 
stuck a pair of pistols in his girdle. Laertes, independently 
of this occurrence, had a good gun. They all took the road 
in the highest glee. 



202 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

On the second day of their journey, the drivers, who knew 
the country well, proposed to take their noon's rest in a 
certain woody spot of the hills ; since the town was far off, 
and in good weather the hill-road was generally preferred. 

The day being beautiful, all easily agreed to the proposal. 
Wilhelm, on foot, went on before them through the hills; 
making every one that met him stare with astonishment at 
his singular figure. He hastened with quick and contented 
steps across the forest ; Laertes walked whistling after him ; 
none but the women continued to be dragged along in the 
carriages. Mignon, too, ran forward by his side, proud of 
the hanger, which, when the party were all arming, she would 
not go without. Around her hat she had bound the pearl 
necklace, one of Mariana's relics, which Wilhelm still pos- 
sessed. Friedrich, the fair-haired boy, carried Laertes's gun. 
The harper had the most pacific look ; his long cloak was 
tucked up within his girdle, to let him walk more freely ; he 
leaned upon a knotty staff ; his harp had been left behind him 
in the carriage. 

Immediately on reaching the summit of the height, a task 
not without its difficulties, our party recognized the appointed 
spot, by the fine beech-trees which encircled and screened it. 
A spacious green, sloping softly in the middle of the forest, 
invited one to tarry ; a trimly bordered well offered the most 
grateful refreshment ; and on the farther side, through 
chasms in the mountains, and over the tops of the woods, 
appeared a landscape distant, lovely, full of hope. Hamlets 
and mills were lying in the bottoms, villages upon the plain : 
and a new chain of mountains, visible in the distance, made 
the prospect still more significant of hope ; for they entered 
only like a soft limitation. 

The first comers took possession of the place, rested a while 
in the shade, lighted a fire, and so awaited, singing as they 
worked, the remainder of the party, who by degrees arrived, 
and with one accord saluted the place, the lovely weather, 
and still lovelier scene. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 203 



CHAPTER V. 

If our friends had frequently enjoyed a good and merry 
hour together while within four walls, they were naturally 
much gayer here, where the freedom of the sky and the beauty 
of the place seemed, as it were, to purify the feelings of every 
one. All felt nearer to each other: all wished that they 
might pass their whole lives in so pleasant an abode. They 
envied hunters, charcoal-men, and wood-cutters, — people 
whom their calling constantly retains in such happy places, — 
but prized, above all, -the delicious economy of a band of 
gypsies. They envied these wonderful companions, entitled 
to enjoy in blissful idleness all the adventurous charms of 
nature : they rejoiced at being in some degree like them. 

Meanwhile the women had begun to boil potatoes, and to 
unwrap and get ready the victuals brought along with them. 
Some pots were standing by the fire. The party had placed 
themselves in groups, under the trees and bushes. Their 
singular apparel, their various weapons, gave them a foreign 
aspect. The horses were eating their provender at a side. 
Could one have concealed the coaches, the look of this little 
horde would have been romantic^ even to complete illusion. 

Wilhelm enjoyed a pleasure he had never felt before. He 
could now imagine his present company to be a wandering 
colony, and himself the leader of it. In this character he 
talked with those around him, and figured out the fantasy of 
the moment as poetically as he could. The feelings of the 
party rose in cheerfulness : they ate and drank and made 
merry, and repeatedly declared that they had never passed 
more pleasant moments. 

Their contentment had not long gone on increasing, till 
activity awoke among the younger part of them. Wilhelm 
and Laertes seized their rapiers, and began to practise on 
this occasion with theatrical intentions. They undertook to 
represent the duel in which Hamlet and his adversary find 
so tragical an end. Both were persuaded, that, in this power- 
ful scene, it was not enough merely to keep pushing awkwardly 
hither and thither, as it is generally exhibited in theatres : 
they were in hopes to show by example how, in presenting 
it, a worthy spectacle might also be afforded to the critic in 
the art of fencing. The rest made a circle round them. 
Both fought with skill and ardor. The interest of the spec- 
tators rose higher every pass. 



204 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

But all at once, in the nearest bush, a shot went off, and 
immediately another ; and the party flew asunder in terror. 
Next moment armed men were to be seen pressing forward 
to the spot where the horses were eating their fodder, not far 
from the coaches that were packed with luggage. 

A universal scream proceeded from the women : our heroes 
threw away their rapiers, seized their pistols, and ran towards 
the robbers ; demanding, with violent threats, the meaning 
of such conduct. 

This question being answered laconically, with a couple of 
musket-shots, Wilhelm fired his pistol at a crisp-headed knave, 
who had got upon the top of the coach, and was cutting the 
cords of the package. Rightly hit, this artist instantly came 
tumbling down ; nor had Laertes missed. Both, encouraged 
by success, drew their side-arms ; when a number of the 
plundering party rushed out upon them, with curses and loud 
bellowing, fired a few shots at them, and fronted their im- 
petuosity with glittering sabres. Our 3'oung heroes made a 
bold resistance. The}^ called upon their other comrades, and 
endeavored to excite them to a general resistance. But, 
erelong, Wilhelm lost the sight of day, and the consciousness 
of what was passing. Stupefied by a shot that wounded him 
between the breast and the left arm, by a stroke that split 
his hat in two, and almost penetrated to his brain, he sank 
down, and only by the narratives of others came afterwards 
to understand the luckless end of this adventure. 

On again opening his e3'es, he found himself in the strangest 
posture. The first thing that pierced the dimness, which yet 
swam before his vision, was Philina's face bent down over 
his. He felt weak, and, making a movement to rise, dis- 
covered that he was in Philina's lap ; into which, indeed, he 
again sank down. She was sitting on the sward. She had 
softly pressed towards her the head of the fallen young man, 
and made for him an easy couch, as far as in her power. 
Mignon was kneeling with dishevelled and bloody hair at his 
feet, which she embraced with many tears. 

On noticing his bloody clothes, Wilhelm asked, in a broken 
voice, where he was, and what had happened to him and the 
rest. Philina begged him to be quiet : the others, she said, 
were all in safety, and none but he and Laertes wounded. 
Further she would tell him nothing, but earnestly entreated 
him to keep still, as his wounds had been but slightly and 
hastily bound. He stretched out his hand to Mignon, and 
inquired about the bloody locks ©f th© child, who he sup* 
posed was also woundedt 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 205 

For the sake of quietness, Philina let him know that this 
true-hearted creature, seeing her friend wounded, and in the 
hurry of the instant being able to think of nothing which 
would stanch ttie blood, had taken her own hair, that was 
flowing round her head, and tried to stop the wounds with 
it, but had soon been obliged to give up the vain attempt ; 
that afterwards they had bound him with moss and dry mush- 
rooms, Philina giving up her neckerchief for that purpose. 

Wilhelm noticed that Philina was sitting with her back 
against her own trunk, which still looked firmly locked and 
quite uninjured. He inquired if the rest also had been so 
lucky as to save their goods. She answered with a shrug of 
the shoulders, and a look over the green, where broken 
chests, and coffers beaten into fragments, and knapsacks 
ripped up, and a multitude of little wares, lay scattered all 
round. No person was to be seen in the place, this strange 
group thus being alone in the solitude. 

Inquiring further, our friend learned more and more par- 
ticulars. The rest of the men, it appeared, who, at all events, 
might still have made resistance, were struck with terror, 
and soon overpowered. Some fled, some looked with hor- 
ror at the accident. The drivers, for the sake of their cat- 
tle, had held out more obstinately ; but they, too, were at last 
thrown down and tied ; after which, in a few minutes, every 
thing was thoroughly ransacked, and the booty carried off. 
The hapless travellers, their fear of death being over, had 
begun to mourn their loss ; had hastened with the greatest 
speed to the neighboring village, taking with them Laertes, 
whose wounds were slight, and carrying off but a very few 
fragments of their property. The harper, having placed his 
damaged instrument against a tree, had proceeded in their 
company to the place, to seek a surgeon, and return with his 
utmost rapidity to help his benefactor, whom he had left ap- 
parently upon the brink of death. 



CHAPTER VI. 

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



206 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Philina's indifference was changing to anxiety ; Mignon ran 
to and fro, her impatience increasing every moment ; and at 
last, when their prayer was granted, and human creatures 
did approach, a new alarm fell upon them. They distinctly 
heard a troop of horses coming up the road they had lately 
travelled : they dreaded lest a second time some company 
of unbidden guests might be purposing to visit this scene of 
battle, and gather up the gleanings. 

The more agreeable was their surprise, when, after a few 
moments, a lady issued from the thickets, riding on a gray 
courser, and accompanied by an elderly gentleman and some 
cavaliers, followed by grooms, servants, and a troop of 
hussars. 

Philina started at this phenomenon, and was about to call, 
and entreat the fair Amazon for help, when the latter turned 
her astonished eyes on the group, instantly checked her horse, 
rode up to them, and halted. She inquired eagerly about the 
wounded man, whose posture in the lap of this light-minded 
Samaritan seemed to strike her as peculiarly strange. 

" Is he your husband? " she inquired of Philina. " Only 
a friend," replied the other, with a tone Wilhelm liked not 
at all. He had fixed his eyes upon the soft, elevated, calm, 
sympathizing features of the stranger : he thought he had 
never seen aught nobler or more lovely. Her shape he could 
not see : it was hid by a man's white great-coat, which she 
seemed to have borrowed from some of her attendants, to 
screen her from the chill evening air. 

By this the horsemen also had come near. Some of them 
dismounted : the lady did so likewise. She asked, with 
humane sympathy, concerning every circumstance of the 
mishap which had befallen the travellers, but especially con- 
cerning the wounds of the poor youth who lay before her. 
Thereupon she turned quickly round, and went aside with 
the old gentleman to some carriages, which were slowly com- 
ing up the hill, and which at length stopped upon the scene 
of action. 

The young lady having stood with her conductor a short 
time at the door of one of the coaches, and talked with the 
people in it, a man of a squat figure stepped out, and came 
along with them to our wounded hero. By the little box 
which he held in his hand, and the leathern pouch with in- 
struments in it, you soon recognized him for a surgeon. His 
manners were rude rather than attractive ; but his hand was 
light, and his help welcome. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 207 

Having examined strictly, he declared that none of the 
wounds were dangerous. He would dress them, he said, on 
the spot; after which the patient might be carried to the 
nearest village. 

The young lady's anxiety seemed to augment. " Do but 
look," she said, after going to and fro once or twice, and 
again bringing the old gentleman to the place : ' ' look how 
they have treated him ! And is it not on our account that 
he is suffering? " Wilhelm heard these words, but did not 
understand them. She went restlessly up and down : it 
seemed as if she could not tear herself away from the pres- 
ence of the wounded man ; while at the same time she feared 
to violate decorum by remaining, when they had begun, 
though not without difficulty, to remove some part of his ap- 
parel. The surgeon was just cutting off the left sleeve of 
his patient's coat, when the old gentleman came near, and 
represented to the lady, in a serious tone, the necessity of 
proceeding on their journey. Wilhelm kept his eyes bent on 
her, and was so enchanted with her looks, that he scarcely 
felt what he was suffering or doing. 

Philina, in the mean time, had risen to kiss the lady's 
hand. While they stood beside each other, Wilhelm thought 
he had never seen such a contrast. Philina had never till 
now appeared in so unfavorable a light. She had no right, 
as it seemed to him, to come near that noble creature, still 
less to touch her. 

The lady asked Philina various things, but in an under- 
tone. At length she turned to the old gentleman, and said, 
*' Dear uncle, may I be generous at your expense? " She 
took off the great-coat, with the visible intention to give it to 
the stripped and wounded youth. 

Wilhelm, whom the healing look of her eyes had hitherto 
held fixed, was now, as the surtout fell away, astonished at 
her lovely figure. She came near, and softly laid the coat 
above him. At this moment, as he tried to open his mouth 
and stammer out some words of gratitude, the lively impres- 
sion of her presence worked so strongly on his senses, al- 
ready caught and bewildered, that all at once it appeared to 
him as if her head were encircled with rays ; and a glancing 
light seemed by degrees to spread itself over all her form. 
At this moment the surgeon, making preparations to extract 
the ball from his wound, gave him a sharper twinge ; the 
angel faded away from the eyes of the fainting patient ; he 
lost all consciousness ; and, on returning to himself, the 



208 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER VII. 

"Wilhelm's wounds once dressed, and his clothes put on, 
the surgeon hastened off, just as the harper with a number 
of peasants arrived. Out of some cut boughs, which they 
speedily wattled with twigs, a kind of litter was constructed, 
upon which they placed the wounded youth, and under the 
conduct of a mounted huntsman, whom the noble company 
had left behind them, carried him softly down the mountain. 
The harper, silent, and shrouded in his own thoughts, bore 
with him his broken instrument. Some men brought on 
Philina's box, herself following with a bundle. Mignon 
skipped along through copse and thicket, now before the 
party, now beside them, and looked up with longing eyes at 
her hurt protector. 

He, meanwhile, wrapped in his warm surtout, was lying 
peacefully upon the litter. An electric waraath seemed to 
flow from the fine wool into his body : in short, he felt in the 
most delightful frame of mind. The lovely being, whom this 
garment lately covered, had affected him to the very heart. 
He still saw the coat falling down from her shoulders ; saw 
that noble form, begirt with radiance, stand beside him ; and 
his soul hied over rocks and forests on the footsteps of his 
vanished benefactress. 

It was nightfall when the party reached the village, and 
halted at the door of the inn where the rest of the company, 
in the gloom of despondency, were bewailing their irrepara- 
ble loss. The one little chamber of the house was crammed 
with people. Some of them were lying upon straw, some 
were occupying benches, some had squeezed themselves be- 
hind the stove. Frau Melina, in a neighboring room, was 
painfully expecting her delivery. Fright had accelerated 
this event. With the sole assistance of the landlady, a 
young, inexperienced woman, nothing good could be ex- 
pected. 

As the party just arrived required admission, there arose 
a universal murmur. All now maintained, that by Wilhelm's 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 209 

advice alone, and under his especial guidance, they had en- 
tered on this dangerous road, and exposed themselves to 
such misfortunes. They threw the blame of the disaster 
wholly on him : they stuck themselves in the door, to oppose 
his entrance ; declaring that he must go elsewhere and seek 
quarters. Philina they received with still greater indigna- 
tion, nor did Mignon and the harper escape their share. 

The huntsman, to whom the care of the forsaken party 
had been earnestly and strictly recommended by his beauti- 
ful mistress, soon grew tired of this discussion : he rushed 
upon the company with oaths and menaces ; commanding 
them to fall to the right and left, and make way for this new 
arrival. They now began to pacify themselves. He made 
a place for Wilhelm on a table, which he shoved into a cor- 
ner : Philina had her box put there, and then sat down upon 
it. All packed themselves as they best could, and the 
huntsman went away to see if he could not find for "the 
young couple'* a more convenient lodging. 

Scarcely was he gone, when spite again grew noisy, and 
one reproach began to follow close upon another. Each de- 
scribed and magnified his loss, censuring the foolhardiness 
they had so keenly smarted for. They did not even hide the 
malicious satisfaction they felt at Wilhelm' s wounds : they 
jeered Philina, and imputed to her as a crime the means by 
which she had saved her trunk. From a multitude of jibes 
and bitter innuendoes, you were required to conclude, that, 
during the plundering and discomfiture, she had endeavored 
to work herself into favor with the captain of the band, and 
had persuaded him. Heaven knew by what arts and complais- 
ance, to give her back the chest unhurt. To all this she 
answered nothing, only clanked with the large padlocks of 
her box, to impress her censurers completely with its pres- 
ence, and by her own good fortune to augment their des- 
peration. 



CHAPTER Vm. 



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



210 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

he continued silent, the discontented company went on utter- 
ing against him. Feeling himself strong enough to sit up, 
and expostulate on the annoyance they were causing to their 
friend and leader, he raised his bandaged head, and prop- 
ping himself with some difficulty, and leaning against the 
wall, he began to speak as follows : — 

" Considering the pain your losses occasion, I forgive you 
for assailing me with injuries at a moment when you should 
condole with me ; for opposing and casting me from you 
the first time I have needed to look to you for help. The 
services I did you, the complaisance I showed you, I re- 
garded as sufficiently repaid by your thanks, by your friendly 
conduct : do not warp my thoughts, do not force my heart to 
go back and calculate what I have done for you ; the calcu- 
lation would be painful to me. Chance brought me near 
you, circumstances and a secret inclination kept me with you. 
I participated in your labors and your pleasures : my slender 
abilities were ever at your service. If you now blame me 
with bitterness for the mishap that has befallen us, you do 
not recollect that the first project of taking this road came to 
us from stranger people, was weighed by all of you, and sanc- 
tioned by every one as well as by me. 

" Had our journey ended happily, each would have taken 
credit to himself for the happy thought of suggesting this 
plan, and preferring it to others ; each would joyfully have 
put us in mind of our deliberations, and of the vote he gave : 
but now you make me alone responsible ; you force a piece 
of blame upon me, which I would willingly submit to, if my 
conscience, with a clear voice, did not pronounce me inno- 
cent, na}^, if I might not appeal with safety even to your- 
selves. If you have aught to say against me, bring it 
forward in order, and I shall defend myself ; if you have 
nothing reasonable to allege, then be silent, and do not tor- 
ment me now, when I have such pressing n6ed of rest." 

By way of answer, the girls once more began whimpering 
and whining, and describing their losses circumstantially. 
Melina was quite beside himself ; for he had suffered more 
in purse than any of them, — more, indeed, than we can 
rightly estimate. He stamped like a madman up and down 
the little room, he knocked his head against the wall, he 
swore and scolded in the most unseemly manner ; and the 
landlady entering at this very time with news that his wife 
had been delivered of a dead child, he yielded to the most 
furious ebullitions ; while, in accordance with hiui, all howled 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 211 

and shrieked, and bellowed and uproared, with double 
vigor. 

Wilhelm, touched to the heart at the same time with sym- 
pathy for their sorrows and with vexation at their mean way 
of thinking, felt all the vigor of his soul awakened, notwith- 
standing the weakness of his body. "Deplorable as your 
case may be," exclaimed he, "I shall almost be compelled 
to despise you ! No misfortune gives us right to load an in- 
nocent man with reproaches. If I had share in this false 
step, am not I suffering my share? I lie wounded here; 
and, if the company has come to loss, I myself have come to 
most. The wardrobe of which we have been robbed, the 
decorations that are gone, were mine ; for you, Herr Melina, 
have not yet paid me ; and I here fully acquit you of all 
obligation in that matter." 

"It is well to give what none of us will ever see again," 
replied Melina. " Your money was lying in my wife's coffer, 
and it is your own blame that you have lost it. But, ah ! if 
that were all ! " And thereupon he began anew to stamp 
and scold and squeal. Every one recalled to memory the 
superb clothes from the count's wardrobe ; the buckles, 
watches, snuff-boxes, hats, for which Melina had so happily 
transacted with the head valet. Each, then, thought also of 
his own, though far inferior, treasures. They looked with 
spleen at Philina's box, and gave Wilhelm to understand 
that he had indeed done wisely to connect himself with that 
fair personage, and to save his own goods also, under the 
shadow of her fortune. 

" Do you think," he exclaimed at last, " that I shall keep 
any thing apart while you are starving ? And is this the first 
time I have honestly shared with you in a season of need? 
Open the trunk : aU that is mine shall go to supply the 
common wants." 

" It is my trunk," observed Philina, " and I will not open 
it till I please. Your rag or two of clothes, which I have 
saved for you, could amount to little, though they were sold 
to the most conscientious of Jews. Think of yourself, — 
what your cure will cost, what may befall you in a strange 
country." 

" You, Philina," answered Wilhelm, " will keep back from 
me nothing that is mine ; and that little will help us out of 
the first perplexity. But a man possesses many things besides 
coined money to assist his friends with. All that is in me 
shall be devoted to these hapless persons, who, doubtless, 



212 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

on returning to their senses, will repent their present conduct. 
Yes/' continued he, '' I feel that you have need of heJp ; and, 
what is mine to do, I will perform. Give me your confidence 
again ; compose yourselves for a moment, and accept of what 
I promise. Who will receive the engagement of me in the 
name of all? " 

Here he stretched out his hand, and cried, " I promise not 
to flinch from you, never to forsake you till each shall see 
his losses doubly and trebly repaired ; till the situation you 
are fallen into, by whose blame soever, shall be totally for- 
gotten by all of you, and changed with a better." 

He kept his hand still stretched out, but no one would 
take hold of it. "I promise it again," cried he, sinking back 
upon his pillow. All continued silent : they felt ashamed, but 
nothing comforted : and Philina, sitting on her chest, kept 
cracking nuts, a stock of which she had discovered in her 
pocket. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The huntsman now came back with several people, and 
made preparations for carrying away the wounded youth. 
He had persuaded the parson of the place to receive the 
" young couple " into his house ; Philina's trunk was taken 
out ; she followed with a natural air of dignity. Mignon ran 
before ; and, when the patient reached the parsonage, a wide 
couch, which had long been standing ready as guest's bed 
and bed of honor, was assigned him. Here it was first dis- 
covered that his wound had opened, and bled profusely. A 
new bandage was required for it. He fell into a feverish 
state : Philina waited on him faithfully ; and, when fatigue 
overpowered her, she was relieved by the harper. Mignon, 
with the firmest purpose to watch, had fallen asleep in a 
corner. 

Next morning Wilhelm, who felt himself in some degree 
refreshed, learned, by inquiring of the huntsman, that the 
honorable persons who last night assisted him so nobly, had 
shortly before left their estates, in order to avoid the move- 
ments of the contending armies, and remain, till the time of 
peace, in some more quiet district. He named the elderly 
nobleman, as well as his niece, mentioned the place they 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 213 

were first going to, and told how the young lady had charged 
him to take care of Wilhelm. 

The entrance of the surgeon interrupted the warm expres- 
sions of gratitude our friend was giving vent to. He made 
a circumstantial description of the wounds, and certified that 
they would soon heal, if the patient took care of them, and 
kept himself at peace. 

When the huntsman was gone, Philina signified that he had 
left with her a purse of twenty louis-d'or ; that he had giA^en 
the parson a remuneration for their lodging, and left with him 
money to defray the surgeon's bill when the cure should be 
completed. She added, that she herself passed everywhere 
for Wilhelm 's wife ; that she now begged leave to introduce 
herself once for all to him in this capacity, and would not 
allow him to look out for any other sick-nurse. 

'* Philina," said Wilhelm, '' in this disaster that has over- 
taken us, I am already deeply in your debt, for kindness 
shown me ; and I should not wish to see my obligations in- 
creased. I am uneasy so long as you are about me, for I 
know of nothing by which I can repay your labor. Give me 
what things of mine you have saved in your trunk ; join the 
rest of the company ; seek another lodging ; take my thanks, 
and the gold watch as a small acknowledgment : only leave 
me ; your presence disturbs me more than you can fancy." 

She laughed in his face when he had ended. " Thou art 
a fool," she said: " thou wilt not gather wisdom. I know 
better what is good for thee : I will stay, I will not budge 
from the spot. I have never counted on the gratitude of 
men, and therefore not on thine ; and, if I have a touch 
of kindness for thee, what hast thou to do with it? " 

She staid accordingly, and soon wormed herself into 
favor with the parson and his household ; being always cheer- 
ful, having the knack of giving little presents, and of talking 
to each in his own vein ; at the same time always contriving 
to do exactly what she pleased. Wilhelm's state was not 
uncomfortable : the surgeon, an ignorant but not unskilful 
man, let nature have sway ; and the patient was soon on the 
road to recovery. For such a consummation he vehemently 
longed, being eager to pursue his plans and wishes. 

Incessantly he kept recalling that event, which had made 
an ineffaceable impression on his heart. He saw the beautiful 
Amazon again come riding out of the thickets : she ap- 
proached him, dismounted, went to and fro, and strove to 
serve him. He saw the garment she was wrapped in fall 



214 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

down from her shoulders : he saw her countenance, her figure, 
vanish in their radiance. All the dreams of his youth now 
fastened on this image. Here he conceived he had at length 
beheld the noble, the heroic, Clorinda with his own eyes ; and 
again he bethought him of that royal youth, to whose sick- 
bed the lovely, sympathizing princess came in her modest 
meekness. 

" May it not be," said he often to himself in secret, " that, 
in youth as in sleep, the images of coming things hover 
round us, and mysteriously become visible to our unobstructed 
eyes ? May not the seeds of what is to betide us be already 
scattered by the hand of Fate ? may not a foretaste of the 
fruits we yet hope to gather possibl}^ be given us? " 

His sick-bed gave him leisure to repeat those scenes in every 
mood. A thousand times he called back the tone of that 
sweet voice : a thousand times he envied Philina, who had 
kissed that helpful hand. Often the whole incident appeared 
before him as a dream ; and he would have reckoned it a 
fiction, if the white surtout had not been left behind to con- 
vince him that the vision had a real existence. 

With the greatest care for this piece of apparel, he com- 
bined the most ardent wish to wear it. The first time he 
arose, he put it on, and was kept in fear all day lest it might 
be hurt by some stain or other injury. 



CHAPTER X. 

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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 215 

and he meant to require of Wilhelm an introductory letter 
to his friend, Manager Serlo, in whose company, the present 
undertaking having gone to wreck, he now wished to establish 
himself. 

For some days Mignon had been singularly quiet : when 
pressed with questions, she at length admitted that her right 
arm was out of joint. " Thou hast thy own folly to thank 
for that," observed Philina, and then told how the child had 
drawn her sword in the battle, and, seeing her friend in peril, 
had struck fiercely at the freebooters, one of whom had at 
length seized her by the arm, and pitched her to a side. 
They chid her for not sooner speaking of her ailment ; but 
they easily saw that she was apprehensive of the surgeon, 
who had hitherto looked on her as a boy. With a view to 
remove the mischief, she was made to keep her arm in a sling, 
which arrangement, too, displeased her ; for now she was 
obliged to surrender most part of her share in the manage- 
ment and nursing of our friend to Philina. That pleasing 
sinner but showed herself the more active and attentive on 
this account. 

One morning, on awakening, Wilhelm found himself 
strangely near to her. In the movements of sleep, he had 
hitched himself quite to the back of the spacious bed. 
Philina was lying across from the front part of it : she 
seemed to have fallen asleep on the bed while sitting there 
and reading. A book had dropped from her hand : she had 
sunk back ; and her head was lying near his breast, over 
which her fair and now loosened hair was spread in streams. 
The disorder of sleep enlivened her charms more than art or 
purpose could have done : a childlike smiling rest hovered 
on her countenance. He looked at her for a time, and 
seemed to blame himself for the pleasure this gave him. 
He had viewed her attentively for some moments, when she 
began to awake. He softly closed his eyes, but could not 
help glimmering at her through his eyelashes, as she trimmed 
herself again; and went away to see about breakfast. 

All the actors had at length successively announced them- 
selves to Wilhelm ; asking introductory letters, requiring 
money for their journey with more or less impatience and ill- 
breeding, and constantly receiving it, against Philina' s will. 
It was in vain for her to tell our friend that the huntsman 
had already left a handsome sum with these people, and that 
accordingly they did but cozen him. To these remonstrances 
he gave ao heed : on the coatrary, the two had a sharp quar- 



216 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

rel about it ; which ended by Wilhelm signifying, once for 
all, that Philina must now join the rest of the company, and 
seek her fortune with Serlo. 

For an instant or two she lost temper ; but, speedily recov- 
ering her composure, she cried, " If I had but my fair-haired 
boy again, I should not care a fig for any of you." She 
meant Friedrich, who had vanished from the scene of battle, 
and never since appeared. 

Next morning Mignon brought news to the bedside, that 
Philina had gone off by night ; leaving all that belonged to 
Wilhelm very neatly laid out in the next room. He felt her 
absence ; he had lost in her a faithful nurse, a cheerful com- 
panion ; he was no longer used to be alone. But Mignon 
soon filled up the blank. 

Ever since that light-minded beauty had been near the 
patient with her friendly cares, the little creature had by 
degrees drawn back, and remained silent and secluded in 
herself ; but, the field being clear once more, she again 
came forth with her attentions and her love, again was eager 
in serving, and lively in entertaining, him. 



CHAPTER XI. 

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

The desire of again beholding his beautiful deliverer aug- 
mented every day. To settle his route, he took counsel 
with the clergyman, — a person well skilled in statistics and 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 217 

geography, and possessing a fine collection of charts and 
books. They two searched for the place which this noble 
family had chosen as their residence while the war contin- 
ued : they searched for information respecting the family 
itself. But their place was to be found in no geography 
or map, and the heraldic manuals made no mention of their 
name. 

Wilhelm grew uneasy ; and, having mentioned the cause of 
his anxiety, the harper told him he had reason to believe 
that the huntsman, from whatever motive, had concealed the 
real designations. 

Conceiving himself now to be in the immediate neighbor- 
hood of his lovely benefactress, Wilhelm hoped he might 
obtain some tidings of her if he sent out the harper ; but in 
this, too, he was deceived. Diligently as the old man kept 
inquiring, he could find no trace of her. Of late daj'S a 
number of quick movements and unforeseen marches had 
taken place in that quarter ; no one had particularly noticed 
the travelling party ; and the ancient messenger, to avoid 
being taken for a Jewish spy, was obliged to return, and 
appear without any olive-leaf before his master and friend. 
He gave a strict account of his conduct in this commission, 
striving to keep far from him all suspicions of remissness. 
He endeavored by every means to mitigate the trouble of 
our friend ; bethought him of every thing that he had learned 
from the huntsman, and advanced a number of conjectures ; 
out of all which, one circumstance at length came to light, 
whereby Wilhelm could explain some enigmatic words of his 
vanished benefactress. 

The freebooters, it appeared, had lain in wait, not for the 
wandering troop, but for that noble company, whom they 
rightly guessed to be provided with store of gold and valua- 
bles, and of whose movements they must have had precise 
intelligence. Whether the attack should be imputed to some 
free corps, to marauders, or to robbers, was uncertain. It 
was clear, however, that, by good fortune for the high and 
rich company, the poor and low had first aiTived upon the 
place, and undergone the fate which was provided for the 
others. It was to this that the lady's words referred, which 
Wilhelm yet well recollected. If he might now be happy and 
contented, that a prescient Genius had selected him for the 
sacrifice, which saved a perfect mortal, he was, on the other 
hand, nigh desperate, when he thought that all hope of find- 
ing her and seeing her again was, at least for the present, 
completely gone. 



218 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

What increased this singular emotion still further, was the 
likeness which he thought he had observed between the 
countess and the beautiful unknown. They resembled one 
another as two sisters may, of whom neither can be called 
the younger or the elder, for they seem to be twins. 

The recollection of the amiable countess was to Wilhelm 
infinitely sweet. He recalled her image but too willingly into 
his memory. But anon the figure of the noble Amazon 
would step between : one vision melted and changed into the 
other, and the form of neither would abide with him. 

A new resemblance — the similarity of their handwritings 
— naturally struck him with still greater wonder. He had a 
charming song in the countess's hand laid up in his port- 
folio ; and in the surtout he had found a little note, inquiring 
with much tender care about the health of an uncle. 

Wilhelm was convinced that his benefactress must have 
penned this billet ; that it must have been sent from one 
chamber to another, at some inn during their journey, and 
put into the coat-pocket by the uncle. He held both papers 
together ; and, if the regular and graceful letters of the 
countess had already pleased him much, he found in the sim- 
ilar but freer lines of the stranger a flowing hannony which 
could not be described. The note contained nothing ; yet 
the strokes of it seemed to affect him, as the presence of 
their fancied writer once had done. 

He fell into a dreamy longing ; and well accordant with 
his feelings was the song which at that instant Mignon and 
the harper began to sing, with a touching expression, in the 
form of an irregular duet. 



^O' 



" 'Tis but who longing knows, 
My grief can measure. 
Alone, reft of repose, 
All joy, all pleasure, 
I thither look to those 
Soft lines of azure. 
Ah ! far is he who knows 
Me, and doth treasure. 
I faint, my bosom glows 
'Neath pain's sore pressure. 
'Tis but who longing knows. 
My grief can measure." 

— Editor^ 8 Version 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 219 



CHAPTER XII. 

The soft allurements of his dear presiding angel, far from 
leading our friend to any one determined path, did but 
nourish and increase the unrest he had previously expe- 
rienced. A secret fire was gliding through his veins : objects 
distinct and indistinct alternated within his soul, and awoke 
unspeakable desire. At one time he wished for a horse, at 
another for wings ; and not till it seemed impossible that he 
could stay, did he look round him to discover whither he was 
wanting to go. 

The threads of his destiny had become so strangely entan- 
gled, he wished to see its curious knots unravelled, or cut in 
two. Often when he heard the tramp of a horse, or the roll- 
ing of a carriage, he would run to the window, and look out, 
in hopes it might be some one seeking him, — some one, even 
though it were by chance, bringing him intelligence and cer- 
tainty and joy. He told stories to himself, how his friend 
Werner might visit these parts, and come upon him ; how, 
perhaps, Mariana might appear. The sound of every post's 
horn threw him into agitation. It would be Melina sending 
news to him of his adventures : above all, it would be the 
huntsman coming back to carry him to the beauty he wor- 
shipped. 

Of all these possibilities, unhappily no one occurred : he 
was forced at last to return to the company of himself ; and, 
in again looking through the past, there was one circum- 
stance which, the more he viewed and weighed it, grew the 
more offensive and intolerable to him. It was his unpros- 
perous generalship, of which he never thought without 
vexation. For although, on the evening of that luckless 
day, he had produced a pretty fair defence of his conduct 
when accused by the company, yet he could not hide from 
himself that he was guilty. On the contrary, in hypochon- 
driac moments, he took the blame of the whole misfortune. 

Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues. 
Wilhelm though the had awakened confidence in himself, had 
guided the will of the rest ; that, led by inexperience and 
rashness, they had ventured on, till a danger seized them, 
for which they were no match. Loud as well as silent 
reproaches had then assailed him ; and if, in their sorrowful 
condition, he had promised the company, misguided by him, 
never to forsake them till their loss had been repaid with 



220 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER Xin. 



Serlo received him with open arms, crying as he met him, 
'* Is it you? Do I see you again? You have scarcely 
changed at all. Is your love for that noblest of arts still as 
lively and strong? So glad am I at your arrival, that I even 
feel no longer the mistrust your last letters had excited iu 
me." 

Wilhelm asked with surprise for a clearer explanation. 

"You have treated me," said Serlo, "not like an old 
friend, but as if I were a great lord, to whom with a safe 
conscience you might recommend useless people. Our des- 
tiny depends on the opinion of the public ; and I fear Herr 
Melina and his suite can hardly be received among us." 

Wilhelm tried to say something in their favor ; but Serlo 
began to draw so merciless a picture of them, that our friend 
was happy when a lady came into the room, and put a stop 
to the discussion. She was introduced to him as Aurelia, 
the sister of his friend : she received him with extreme kind- 
ness ; and her conversation was so pleasing, that he did not 
even remark a shade of sorrow visible on her expressive 
countenance, to which it lent peculiar interest. 

For the first time during many months, Wilhelm felt once 
more in his proper element. Of late in talking, he had 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 221 

merely found submissive listeners, and even these not always ; 
but now he had the happiness to speak with critics and 
artists, who not only fully understood hiffi) but repaid his 
observations by others equally instructive. With wonderful 
vivacity they travelled through the latest plays, with won- 
derful correctness judged them. The decisions of the public 
they could try and estimate : they speedily threw light on 
each other's thoughts. 

Loving Shakspeare as our friend did, he failed not to lead 
round the conversation to the merits of that dramatist. Ex- 
pressing, as he entertained, the liveliest hopes of the new 
epoch which thes6 exquisite productions must form in Ger- 
many, he erelong introduced his " Hamlet," which play had 
busied him so much of late. 

Serlo declared that he would long ago have represented the 
play, had it at all been possible, and that he himself would 
willingly engage to act Polonius. He added, with a smile, 
'' An Ophelia, too, will certainly turn up, if we had but a 
Prince." 

Wilhelm did not notice that Aurelia seemed a little hurt at 
her brother's sarcasm. Our friend was in his proper vein, 
becoming copious and didactic, expounding how he would 
have "Hamlet" played. He circumstantially delivered to 
his hearers the opinions we before saw him busied with ; tak- 
ing all the trouble possible to make his notion of the matter 
acceptable, sceptical as Serlo showed himself regarding it. 
"Well, then," said the latter finally, "suppose we grant 
you all this, what will you explain by it? " 

" Much, every thing," said Wilhelm. " Conceive a prince 
such as I have painted him, and that his father suddenly 
dies. Ambition and the love of rule are not the passions 
that inspire him. As a king's son, he would have been con- 
tented ; but now he is first constrained to consider the differ- 
ence which separates a sovereign from a subject. The crown 
was not hereditary ; yet his father's longer possession of it 
would have strengthened the pretensions of an only son, 
and secured his hopes of succession. In place of this, he 
now beholds himself excluded by his uncle, in spite of spe- 
cious promises, most probably forever. He is now poor in 
goods and favor, and a stranger in the scene which from 
youth he had looked upon as his inheritance. His temper 
here assumes its first mournful tinge. He feels that now he / 

is not more, that he is less, than a private nobleman ; he 
offers himself as the servant of every one ; he is not cour- , 

teous and condescending^ he is needy and degraded. / 



222 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

" His past condition he remembers as a vanished dream- 
It is in vain that his uncle strives to cheer him, to present 
his situation in another point of view. The feehng of his 
nothingness will not leave him. 

'' The second stroke that came upon him wounded deeper, 
bowed still more. It was the marriage of his mother. The 
faithful, tender son had yet a mother, when his father passed 
away. He hoped, in the company of his surviving noble- 
minded parent, to reverence the heroic form of the departed : 
but his mother, too, he loses ; and it is something worse than 
death that robs him of her. The trustful image, which a 
good chilk loves to form of its parents, is gone. With the 
dead there is no help, on the living no hold. Moreover, she 
is a woman ; and her name is Frailty, like that of all her 
sex. 

*' Now only does he feel completely bowed down, now only 
orphaned ; and no happiness of life can repay what he has 
lost. Not reflective or sorrowful by nature, reflection and 
sorrow have become for him a heavy obligation. It is thus 
that we see him first enter on the scene. I do not think that 
I have mixed aught foreign with the play, or overcharged a 
single feature of it." 

Serlo looked at his sister, and said, ''Did I give thee a 
false picture of our friend ? He begins well : he has still 
many things to tell us, many to persuade us of.'* Wilhelm 
asseverated loudly, that he meant not to persuade, but to 
convince : he begged for another moment's patience. 

" Figure to yourselves this youth," cried he, " this son of 
princes ; conceive him vividly, bring his state before your 
eyes, and then observe him when he learns that his father's 
spirit walks ; stand by him in the terrors of the night, when 
even the venerable ghost appears before him. He is seized 
with boundless horror ; he speaks to the mysterious form ; 
he sees it beckon him ; he follows and hears. The fearful 
accusation of his uncle rings in his ears, the summons to 
revenge, and the* piercing, oft-repeated prayer, Remember 
me ! 

'' And, when the ghost has vanished, who is it that stands 
before us ? A young hero panting for vengeance ? A prince 
by birth, rejoicing to be called to punish the usurper of his 
crown ? No ! trouble and astonishment take hold of the 
solitary young man : he grows bitter against smiling villains, 
swears that he will not forget the spirit, and concludes with, 
the significant ejaculation, — 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 223 

** *The time is out of joint: O cursed spite, 
That ever I was born to set it right 1 ' 

*'In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to 
Hamlet's whole procedure. To me it is clear that Shak- 
speare meant, in the present case, to represent the effects of 
a great action laid upon a soul unfit for the performance 
of it. In this view the whole play seems to me to be com- 
posed. There is an oak-tree planted in a costly jar, which 
should have borne only pleasant flowers in its bosom ; the 
roots expand, the jar is shivered. 

''A lovely, pure, noble, and most moral nature, without 
the strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks beneath a 
burden it cannot bear and must not cast away. All duties 
are holy for him : the present is too hard. Impossibilities 
have been required of him, — not in themselves impossibili- 
ties, but sach for him. He winds and turns, and torments 
himself ; he advances and recoils ; is ever put in mind, ever 
puts himself in mind ; at last does all but lose his purpose 
from his thoughts, yet still without recovering his peace of 
mind." 



CHAPTER XIV. 



Several people entering interrupted the discussion. They 
were musical dilettanti^ who commonly assembled at Serlo's 
once a week, and formed a little concert. Serlo himself loved 
music much : he used to maintain, that a player without taste 
for it never could attain a distinct conception and feeling of 
the scenic art. " As a man performs," he would observe, 
'' with far more ease and dignity when his gestures are ac- 
companied and guided by a tune ; so the player ought, in 
idea as it were, to set to music even his prose parts, that he 
may not monotonously slight them over in his individual style, 
but treat them in suitable alternation by time and measure." 

Aurelia seemed to give but little heed to what was passing : 
at last she conducted Wilhelm to another room ; and going 
to the window, and looking out at the starry sky, she said to 
him, " You have more to tell us about Hamlet: I will not 
hurry you, — my brother must hear it as well as I ; but let mo 
beg to know your thoughts about Ophelia." 



'\} 



224 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

*' Of her there cannot much be said," he answered ; '* for 
a few master-strokes complete her character. The whole 
being of Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation. Kind- 
ness for the prince, to whose hand she may aspire, flows so 
spontaneously, her tender heart obeys its impulses so unre- 
sistingl}'^, that both father and brother are afraid : both give 
her warning harshly and directly. Decorum, like the thin 
lawn upon her bosom, cannot hide the soft, still movements 
of her heart : it, on the contrary, betrays them. Her fancy 
is smit ; her silent modesty breathes amiable desire ; and, if 
the friendly goddess Opportunity should shake the tree, its 
fruit would faU." 

''And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself 
forsaken, cast away, despised ; when all is inverted in the 
soul of her crazed lover, and the highest changes to the 
lowest, and, instead of the sweet cup of love, he offers her 
the bitter cup of woe ' * — 

"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm ; "the whole struc- 
ture of her being is loosened from its joinings ; her father's 
death strikes fiercely against it, and the fair edifice alto- 
gether crumbles into fragments." 

Our friend had not observed with what expressiveness 
Aurelia pronounced those words. Looking only at this work 
of art, at its connection and completeness, he dreamed not 
that his auditress was feeling quite a different influence ; 
that a deep sorrow of her own was vividly awakened in her 
breast by these dramatic shadows. 

Aurelia' s head was still resting on her arms ; and her eyes, 
now full of tears, were turned to the sky. At last, no longer 
able to conceal her secret grief, she seized both hands of her 
friend, and exclaimed, while he stood surprised before her, 
"Forgive, forgive a heavy heart! I am girt and pressed 
together by these people ; from my hard-hearted brother 
I must seek to hide myself ; your presence has untied these 
bonds. My friend ! " continued she, " it is but a few min- 
utes since we saw each other first, and already you are going 
to become my confidant." She could scarcely end the words, 
and sank upon his shoulder. "Think not worse of me," 
she said, with sobs, " that I disclose myself to you so hastily, 
that I am so weak before you. Be my friend, remain my 
friend : I shall deserve it." He spoke to her in his kindest 
manner, but in vain : her tears still flowed, and choked her 
words. 

At this moment Serlo entered* most unwelcomely, and. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 225 

most unexpectedly, Philina, with her hand in his. *' Here is 
your friend," said he to her: '^ he will be glad to welcome 
you." 

"What!" cried Wilhelm in astonishment: "are you 
here? " With a modest, settled mien, she went up to him ; 
bade him welcome ; praised Serlo's goodness, who, she said, 
without merit on her part, but purely in the hope of her im- 
provement, had agreed to admit her into his accomplished 
troop. She behaved, all the while, in a friendly manner 
towards Wilhelm, yet with a dignified distance. 

But this dissimulation lasted only till the other two were 
gone. Aurelia having left them, that she might conceal her 
trouble, and Serlo being called away, Philina first looked very 
sharply at the doors, to see that both were really out ; then 
began skipping to and fro about the room, as if she had been 
mad ; at last dropped down upon the floor, like to die of 
giggling and laughing. She then sprang up, patted and flat- 
tered our friend ; rejoicing above measure that she had been 
clever enough to go before, and spy the land, and get herself 
nestled in. 

" Pretty things are going on here," she said; "just of 
the sort I like. Aurelia has had a hapless love-affair with 
some nobleman, who seems to be a very stately person, one 
whom I myself could like to see some day. He has left her 
a memorial, or I much mistake. There is a boy running 
about the house, of three years old or so : the papa must be 
a very pretty fellow. Commonly I cannot suffer children, 
but this brat quite delights me. I have calculated Aurelia 's 
business. The death of her husband, the new acquaintance, 
the child's age, — all things agree. 

' ' But now her spark has gone his ways : for a year she 
has not seen a glimpse of him. She is beside herself and in- 
consolable on this account. The more fool she ! Her brother 
has a dancing-girl in his troop, with whom he stands on pretty 
terms ; an actress with whom he is intimate ; in the town, 
some other women whom he courts ; I, too, am on his list. 
The more fool he ! Of the rest thou shalt hear to-morrow. 
And now one word about Philina, whom thou knowest : the 
arch-fool is fallen in love with thee." She swore it was 
true and prime sport. She earnestly requested Wilhelm to 
fall in love with Aurelia, for then the chase would be worth 
beholding. " She pursues her faithless swain, thou her, I 
thee, her brother me. If that will not divert us for a quarter 
of a year, I engage to die at the first episode which occurs 

8— Goethe Vol 7 



226 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER XV. 

Next morning Wilhelm went to visit Frau Melina, but 
found her not at home. On inquiring here for the other 
members of the wandering community, he learned that Phi- 
lina had invited them to breakfast. Out of curiosity, he 
hastened thither, and found them all in very good spirits 
and of good comfort. The cunning creature had collected 
them, was treating them with chocolate, and giving them to 
understand that some prospects still remained for them ; 
that, by her influence, she hoped to convince the manager 
how advantageous it would be for him to introduce so many 
clever hands among his company. They listened to her with 
attention ; swallowed cup after cup of her chocolate ; thought 
the girl was not so bad, after all, and went away proposing 
to themselves to speak whatever good of her the}^ could. 

'' Do you think, then," said our friend, who staid behind, 
'* that Serlo will determine to retain our comrades ? " — " Not 
at all," replied Philina ; " nor do I care a fig for it. The 
sooner they are gone, the better ! Laertes alone I could 
wish to keep : the rest we shall by and by pack off." 

Next she signified to Wilhelm her firm persuasion that he 
should no longer hide his talent, but, under the direction of 
a Serlo, go upon the boards. She was lavish in her praises 
of the order, the taste, the spirit, which prevailed in this 
establishment: she spoke so flatteringly to Wilhelm, with 
such admiration of his gifts, that his heart and his imagina- 
tion were advancing towards this proposal as fast as his 
understanding and his reason were retreating from it. He 
concealed his inclination from himself and from Philina, and 
passed a restless day, unable to resolve on visiting his trad 
ing correspondents, to receive the letters which might there 
be lying for him. The anxieties of his people during all 
this time he easily conceived ; yet he shrank from the pre- 
cise account of them, particularly at the present time, as he 
promised to himself a great and pure enjoyment from the 
exhibition of a new play that evening. 



MEISTEE'S APPRENTICESHTP. 227 

Serlo had refused to let him witness the rehearsal.- " Yon 
must see us on the best side," he observed, " before we can 
allow you to look into our cards." 

The performance, however, where our friend did not fail 
to be present, yielded him a high satisfaction. It was the 
first time he had ever seen a theatre in such perfection. The 
actors were evidently all possessed of excellent gifts, supe- 
rior capacities, and a high, clear notion of their art ; they 
were not equal, but they mutually restrained and supported 
one another ; each breathed ardor into those around him ; 
throughout all their acting, they showed themselves decided 
and correct. You soon felt that Serlo was the soul of the 
whole : as an individual, he appeared to much advantage. 
A merry humor, a measured vivacity, a settled feeling of 
propriety, combined with a great gift of imitation, were to 
be observed in him the moment he appeared upon the stage. 
The inward contentment of his being seemed to spread Itself 
over all that looked on him ; and the intellectual style in 
which he could so easily and gracefully express the finest 
shadings of his part, excited more delight, as he could con- 
ceal the art which, by long-continued practice, he had made 
his own. 

Aurelia, his sister, was not inferior: she obtained still 
greater approbation ; for she touched the souls of the audi- 
ence, which he had it in his power to exhilarate and amuse. 

After a few days had passed pleasantly enough, Aurelia 
sent to inquire for our friend. He hastened to her : she was 
lying on a sofa ; she seemed to be suffering from headache ; , 

her whole frame had visibly a feverish movement. Her eye a $^ ^ 
lighted up as she noticed Wilhelm. "Pardon me!" she '; f^',.0 
cried, as he entered: " the trust you have inspired me with ''^^'* 
has made me weak. Till now I have contrived to bear up 
against my woes in secret ; nay, they gave me strength and 
consolation : but now, I know not how it is, you have loos- 
ened the bands of silence. You will now, even against your 
will, take part in the battle I am fighting with myself ! " 

Wilhelm answered her in kind and obliging terms. He 
declared that her image and her sorrows had not ceased to 
hover in his thoughts ; that he longed for her confidence, and 
devoted himself to be her friend. 

While he spoke, his eyes were attracted to the boy, who 
sat before her on the floor, and was busy rattling a multitude 
of playthings. This child, as Philina had observed, might 
be about three years of age j and Wilhelm now conceived 



i /' 



228 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

how that giddy creature, seldom elevated in her phraseology, 
had likened it to the sun. For its cheerful eyes and full 
countenance were shaded by the finest golden locks, which 
flowed round in copious curls ; dark, slender, softly bending 
eyebrows showed themselves upon a brow of dazzling white- 
ness ; and the living tinge of health was glancing on its 
cheeks. " Sit by me," said Aurelia: "you are looking at 
the happy child with admiration ; in truth, I took it into my 
arms with joy ; I keep it carefully ; yet, by it, too, I can 
measure the extent of my sufferings ; for they seldom let 
me feel the worth of such a gift. 

" Allow me," she continued, " to speak to you about my- 
self and my destiny ; for I have it much at heart that you 
should not misunderstand me. I thought I should have a 
few calm instants ; and, accordingly, I sent for you. You 
are now here, and the thread of my narrative is lost. 

' ' ' One more forsaken woman in the world ! ' you will 
say. You are a man. You are thinking, ' What a noise she 
makes, the fool, about a necessary evil ; which, certainly as 
death, awaits a woman, when such is the fidelity of men ! ' 
O my friend ! if my fate were common, I would gladly un- 
dergo a common evil ; but it is so singular ! why cannot I 
present it to you in a mirror, — why not command some one 
to tell it you? Oh! had I, had I been seduced, surprised, 
and afterwards forsaken, there would then still be comfort in 
despair ; but I am far more miserable. I have been my own 
deceiver ; I have wittingly betrayed myself ; and this, this, 
is what shall never be forgiven me." 

"With noble feelings, such as yours," said Wilhelm, 
" you cannot be entirely unhappy." 

"And do you know to what I am indebted for my feel- 
ings?" asked Aurelia. "To the worst education that ever 
threatened to contaminate a girl ; to the vilest examples for 
misleading the senses and inclinations. 

" My mother dying early, the fairest years of my youth 
were spent with an aunt, whose principle it was to despise 
the laws of decenc3^ She resigned herself headlong to 
every impulse, careless whether the object of it proved her 
tyrant or her slave, so she might forget herself in wild enjoy- 
ment. 

" By children, with the pure, clear vision of innocence, 
what ideas of men were necessarily formed in such a scene ! 
How stolid, brutally bold, importunate, unmannerly, was 
every one she allured! How sated, empty, insolent, and 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 229 

insipid, as soon as he had had his wishes gratified ! I have 
seen this woman live, for years, humbled under the control of 
the meanest creatures. What incidents she had to undergo ! 
With what a front she contrived to accommodate herself to 
her destiny ; nay, with how much skill, to wear these shame- 
ful fetters ! 

" It was thus, my friend, that I became acquainted with 
your sex ; and deeply did I hate it, when, as I imagined, I 
observed that even tolerable men, in their conduct to ours, 
appeared to renounce every honest feeling, of which nature 
might otherwise have made them capable. 

"Unhappily, moreover, on such occasions, a multitude of 
painful discoveries about my own sex were forced upon me ; 
and, in truth, I was then wiser, as a girl of sixteen, than I 
now am, now that I scarcely understand myself. Why are 
we so wise when young, — so wise, and ever growing less 
so?" 

The boy began to make a noise : Aurelia became impa- 
tient, and rang. An old woman came to take him out. 
"Hast thou toothache still?" said Aurelia to the crone, 
whose face was wrapped in cloth. " Unsufferable," said the 
other, with a muffled voice, then lifted the boy, who seemed 
to like going with her, and carried him away. 

Scarcely was he gone, when Aurelia began bitterly to weep. 
"I am good for nothing," cried she, "but lamenting and 
complaining ; and I feel ashamed to lie before you like a 
miserable worm. My recollection is already fled : I can re- 
late no more." She faltered, and was silent. Her friend, 
unwilling to reply with a commonplace, and unable to reply 
with any thing particularly applicable, pressed her hand, and 
looked at her for some time without speaking. Thus embar- 
rassed, he at length took up a book, which he noticed lying 
on the table before him : it was Shakspeare's works, and 
open at " Hamlet." 

Serlo, at this moment entering, inquired about his sister, 
and, looking in the book which our friend had hold of, cried, 
^ ' So you are again at ' Hamlet ' ? Very good ! Many doubts 
have arisen in me, which seem not a little to impair the ca- 
nonical aspect of the play as you would have it viewed. The 
English themselves have admitted that its chief interest con- 
cludes with the third act ; the last two lagging soiTily on, and 
scarcely uniting with the rest : and certainly about the end 
it seems to stand stock-still." 

^' It is very possible," said Wilhelm, " that some Individ- 



230 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

uals of a nation, which has so many masterpieces to feel 
proud of, may be led by prejudice and narrowness of mind 
to form false judgments ; but this cannot hinder us from 
looking with our own eyes, and doing justice where we see it 
due. I am very far from censuring the plan of ' Hamlet ' : on 
the other hand, I believe there never was a grander one in- 
vented ; nay, it is not invented, it is real.'* 

*' How do you demonstrate that? " inquired Serlo. 

''I will not demonstrate any thing," said Wilhelm : "I 
will merely show you what my own conceptions of it are." 

Aurelia raised herself from her cushion, leaned upon her 
hand, and looked at Wilhelm, who, with the firmest assur- 
ance that he was in the right, went on as follows : "It pleases 
us, it flatters us, to see a hero acting on his own strength, lov- 
ing and hating at the bidding of his heart, undertaking and 
completing, casting every obstacle aside, and attaining some 
great end. Poets and historians would willingly persuade us 
that so proud a lot may fall to man. In ' Hamlet ' we are 
taught another lesson : the hero is without a plan, but the play 
is full of plan. Here we have no villain punished on some 
self-conceived and rigidly accomplished scheme of vengeance : 
a horrid deed is done ; it rolls along with all its consequences, 
dragging with it even the guiltless : the guilty perpetrator 
would, as it seems, evade the abj^ss made ready for him ; yet 
he plunges in, at the very point by which he thinks he shall 
escape, and happily complete his course. 

" For it is the property of crime to extend its mischief 
over innocence, as it is of virtue to extend its blessings over 
many that deserve them not ; while frequently the author of 
the one or of the other is not punished or rewarded at all. 
Here in this play of ours, how strange ! The Pit of darkness 
sends its spirit and demands revenge : in vain ! All circum- 
stances tend one way, and hurry to revenge : in vain ! Nei- 
ther earthly nor infernal thing may bring about what is 
reserved for Fate alone. The hour of judgment comes ; the 
wicked falls with the good ; one race is mowed away, that 
another may spring up." 

After a pause, in which they looked at one another, Serlo 
said, " You pay no great compliment to Providence, in thus 
exalting Shakspeare ; and besides, it appears to me, that 
for the honor of your poet, as otliers for the honor of Provi- 
dence, you ascribe to him an object and a plan such as he 
himself had never thought of." 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 231 



CHAPTER XVI. 

''Let me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have 
looked at Ophelia's part again : I am contented with it, and 
confident, that, under certain circumstances, I could play it. 
But tell me, should not the poet have furnished the insane 
maiden with another sort of songs ? Could not some frag- 
ments out of melancholy ballads be selected for this purpose : 
Why put double meanings and lascivious insipidities in the 
mouth of this noble-minded girl ? * ' 

"Dear friend," said Wilhelm, " even here I cannot yield 
you one iota. In these singularities, in this apparent impro- 
priety, a deep sense is hid. Do we not understand from the 
very first what the mind of the good, soft-hearted girl was 
busied with ? Silently she lived within herself, yet she scarce 
concealed her wishes, her longing : the tones of desire were in 
secret ringing through her soul ; and how often may she have 
attempted, like an unskilful nurse, to lull her senses to repose 
with songs which only kept them more awake ? But at last, 
when her self-command is altogether gone, when the secrets 
of her heart are hovering on her tongue, that tongue betrays 
her ; and in the innocence of insanity she solaces herself, un- 
mindful of king or queen, with the echo of her loose and 
well-beloved songs, — ' To-morrow is Saint Valentine's Day,' 
and ' By Gis and by Saint Charity.' " 

He had not finished speaking, when all at once an extraordi- 
nary scene took place before him, which he could not in any 
way explain. 

Serlo had walked once or twice up and down the room, 
without evincing any special object. On a sudden, he stepped 
forward to Aurelia' s dressing-table, caught hastily at some- 
thing that was lying there, and hastened to the door with his 
booty. No sooner did Aurelia notice this, than, springing up, 
she threw herself in his way, laid hold of him with boundless 
vehemence, and had dexterity enough to clutch an end of the 
article he was carrying off. They struggled and wrestled 
with great obstinacy, twisted and threw each other sharply 
round ; lie laughed ; she exerted all her strength ; and as 
Wilhelm hastened towards them, to separate and soothe them, 
Aurelia sprang aside with a naked dagger in her hand ; while 
Serlo cast the scabbard, which had staid with him, angrily 
upon the floor. Wilhelm started back astonished ; and his 
dumb wonder seemed to ask the cause why so violent a strife, 



232 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

about so strange an implement, had taken place between 
them. 

'' You shall judge betwixt us," said the brother. *' What 
business she with sharp steel? Do but look at it. That 
dagger is unfit for any actress, — point like a needle's, edge 
like a razor's ! What good's the farce? Passionate as she 
is, she will one day chance to do herself a mischief. I have 
a heart's hatred at such singularities : a serious thought of 
that sort is insane, and so dangerous a plaything is not in 
taste." 

" I have it back ! " exclaimed Aurelia, and held the pol- 
ished blade aloft : "I will now keep my faithful friend more 
carefully. Pardon me," she cried, and kissed the steel, 
" that I have so neglected thee." 

Serlo was like to grow seriously angry. " Take it as thou 
wilt, brother," she continued : "how knowest thou but, under 
this form, a precious talisman may have been given me, so 
that, in extreme need, I may find help and counsel in it? 
Must all be hurtful that looks dangerous ? ' ' 

" Such talk without a meaning might drive one mad," said 
Serlo, and left the room with suppressed indignation. Aurelia 
put the dagger carefully into its sheath, and placed it in her 
bosom. " Let us now resume the conversation which our 
foolish brother has disturbed," said she, as Wilhelm was 
beginning to put questions on the subject of this quarrel. 

" I must admit your picture of Ophelia to be just," con- 
tinued she ; " I cannot now misunderstand the object of the 
poet : I must pity ; though, as you paint her, I shall rather pity 
her than sympathize with her. But allow me here to offer a 
remark, which in these few days you have frequently sug- 
gested to me. I observe with admiration the correct, keen, 
penetrating glance with which you judge of poetry, especially 
dramatic poetry : the deepest ab3'sses of invention are not 
hidden from you, the finest touches of representation cannot 
escape you. Without ever having viewed the objects in 
nature, you recognize the truth of their images : there seems, 
as it were, a presentiment of all the universe to lie in you, 
which by the harmonious touch of poetry is awakened and 
unfolded. For in truth," continued she, " from without, you 
receive not much : I have scarcely seen a person that so little 
tnew, so totally misknew, the people he lived with, as you 
do. Allow me to say it : in hearing you expound the mys- 
teries of Shakspeare, one would think you had just descended 
from a synod of the gods, and had listened there while they 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 233 

were taking counsel how to form men ; in seeing you transact 
with your fellows, I could imagine you to be the first large- 
born child of the Creation, standing agape, and gazing with 
strange wonderment and edifying good nature at lions and 
apes and sheep and elephants, and true-heartedly addressing 
them as your equals, simply because they were there, and 
in motion like yourself." 

" The feeling of my ignorance in this respect," said Wil- 
helm, " often gives me pain ; and I should thank you, worthy 
friend, if you would help me to get a little better insight 
into life. From youth, I have been accustomed to direct the 
eyes of my spirit inwards rather than outwards ; and hence 
it is very natural, that, to a certain extent, I should be ac- 
quainted with man, while of men I have not the smallest 
knowledge." 

''In truth," said Aurelia, ''I at first suspected, that, in 
giving such accounts of the people whom you sent to my 
brother, you meant to make sport of us : when I compared 
your letters with the merits of these persons, it seemed very 
strange." 

Aurelia's remarks, well founded as they might be, and 
willing as our friend was to confess himself deficient in this 
matter, carried with them something painful, nay, offensive, 
to him ; so that he grew silent, and retired within himself, 
partly to avoid showing any irritated feeling, partly to 
search his mind for the truth or error of the charge. 

"Let not this alarm you," said Aurelia: "the light of 
the understanding it is always in our power to reach, but 
this fulness of the heart no one can give us. If you are 
destined for an artist, you cannot long enough retain the 
dim-sightedness and innocence of which I speak ; it is the 
beautiful hull upon the young bud ; woe to us if we are forced 
too soon to burst it ! Surely it were well, if we never knew 
w^hat the people are for whom we work and study. 

" Oh ! I, too, was in that happy case, when I first betrod 
the stage, with the loftiest opinion of myself and of my 
nation. What a people, in my fancy, were the Germans ! 
what a people might they yet become ! I addressed this 
people, raised above them by a little joinery, separated from 
them by a row of lamps, whose glancing and vapor threw an 
indistinctness over every thing before me. How welcome 
was the tumult of applause which sounded to me from the 
crowd ! how gratefully did I accept the present offered me 
unanimously by so many hands ! For a time I rocked my- 



234 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

self in these ideas : I affected the multitude, and was again 
affected by them. With my public I was on the fairest foot- 
ing : I imagined that I felt a perfect harmony betwixt us, 
and that on each occasion I beheld before me the beat and 
noblest of the land. 

"Unhappily it was not the actress alone that inspired 
these friends of the stage with interest : they likewise made 
pretensions to the young and lively girl. They gave me to 
understand, in terms distinct enough, that my duty was, not 
only to excite emotion in them, but to share it with them 
personally. This, unluckily, was not my business : I wished 
to elevate their minds ; but, to what they called their hearts, 
I had not the slightest claim. Yet now men of all ranks, 
ages, and characters, by turns afflicted me with their ad- 
dresses ; and it did seem hard that I could not, like an hon- 
est young woman, shut my door, and spare myself such a 
quantity of labor. 

"The men appeared, for most part, much the same as 
I had been accustomed to about my aunt ; and here again I 
should have felt disgusted with them, had not their peculiari- 
ties and insipidities amused me. As I was compelled to see 
them, in the theatre, in open places, in my house, I formed 
the project of spying out their follies ; and my brother helped 
me with alacrity to execute it. And if you reflect, that up 
from the whisking shopman and the conceited merchant's 
son, to the polished, calculating man of the world, the bold 
soldier, and the impetuous prince, all in succession passed in 
review before me, each in his way endeavoring to found his 
small romance, you will pardon me if I conceived that I 
had gained some acquaintance with my nation. 

" The fantastically dizened student ; the awkward, humbly 
proud man of letters ; the sleek-fed, gouty canon ; the sol- 
emn, heedful man of office ; the heavy country-baron ; the 
smirking, vapid courtier ; the young, erring parson ; the cool 
as well as the quick and sharply speculating merchant, — all 
these I have seen in motion ; and I swear to you, that there 
were few among them fitted to inspire me even with a senti- 
ment of toleration : on the contrary, I felt it altogether irk- 
some to collect, with tedium and annoyance, the suffrages of 
fools ; to pocket those applauses in detail, which in their ac- 
cumulated state had so delighted me, which in the gross I had 
appropriated with such pleasure. 

" If I expected a rational compliment upon my acting, if 
I hoped that they would praise an author whom I valued. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 235 

they were sure to make one empty observation on the back 
of another, and to name some vapid play in which they 
wished to see me act. If I listened in their company, to 
hear if some noble, brilliant, witty thought had met with a 
response among them, and would re-appear from some of 
them in proper season, it was rare that I could catch an echo 
of it. An error that had happened, a mispronunciation, a 
provincialism of some actor, such were the weighty points 
by which they held fast, beyond which they could not pass. 
I knew not, in the end, to what hand I should turn : them- 
selves they thought too clever to be entertained ; and me they 
imagined they were well entertaining, if they romped and 
made noise enough about me. I began very cordially to de- 
spise them all : I felt as if the whole nation had, on purpose, 
deputed these people to debase it in my eyes. They 
appeared to me so clownish, so ill-bred, so wretchedly 
instructed, so void of pleasing qualities, so tasteless, I fre- 
quently exclaimed, " No German can buckle his shoes, till 
he has learned to do it of some foreign nation ! ' ' 

" You perceive how blind, how unjust and splenetic, I was ; 
and, the longer it lasted, my spleen increased. I might have 
killed myself with these things, but I fell into the contrary 
extreme : I married, or, rather, let myself be married. My 
brother, who had undertaken to conduct the theatre, wished 
much to have a helper. His choice lighted on a young man, 
who was not offensive to me, who wanted all that my brother 
had, — genius, vivacity, spirit, and impetuosity of mind ; but 
who also in return had all that my brother wanted, — love of 
order, diligence, and precious gifts in housekeeping, and the 
management of money. 

" He became my husband, I know not how : we lived to- 
gether, I do not well know why. Suffice it to say, our affairs 
went prosperously forward. We drew a large income : of 
this my brother's activity was the cause. We lived with a 
moderate expenditure, and that was the merit of my hus- 
band. I thought no more about world or nation. With the 
world I had nothing to participate : my idea of the nation 
had faded away. When I entered on the scene, I did so 
that I might subsist : I opened my lips because I durst not 
continue silent, because I had come out to speak. 

" Yet let me do the matter justice. I had altogether given 
myself up to the disposal of my brother. His objects were, 
applause and money ; for, between ourselves, he has no dis- 
like to hear his own praises ; and his outlay is always great- 



236 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

I no longer played according to my own feeling, to my own 
conviction, but as he directed me ; and, if I did it to his sat- 
isfaction, I was content. He steered entirely by the caprices 
of the public. Money flowed upon us : he could live ac- 
cording to his humor, and so we had good times with him. 

'' Thus had I fallen into a dull, handicraft routine. I spun 
out my days without joy or sympathy. My marriage was 
childless, and not of long continuance. My husband grew 
sick ; his strength was visibly decaying ; anxiety for him in- 
terrupted my general indifference. It was at this time that 
I formed an acquaintance which opened a new life forme, — 
a new and quicker one, for it will soon be done." 

She kept silence for a time, and then continued, "All at 
once my prattling humor falters : I have not the courage to 
go on. Let me rest a little. You shall not go, till you have 
learned the whole extent of my misfortune. Meanwhile, 
call in Mignon, and ask her what she wants." 

The child had more than once been in the room, while Au- 
relia and our friend were talking. As they spoke lower on 
her entrance, she had glided out again, and was now sitting 
quietly in the hall, and waiting. Being bid return, she 
brought a book with her, which its form and binding showed 
to be a small geographical atlas. She had seen some maps, 
for the first time, at the parson's house, with great astonish- 
ment ; had asked him many questions, and informed herself 
so far as possible about them. Her desire to learn seemed 
much excited by this new branch of knowledge. She now 
earnestly requested Wilhelm to purchase her the book ; say- 
ing she had pawned her large silver buckle with the print- 
seller for it, and wished to have back the pledge to-morrow 
morning, as this evening it was late. Her request was 
granted ; and she then began repeating several things she 
had already learned ; at the same time, in her own way, mak- 
ing many very strange inquiries. Here again one might ob- 
serve, that, with a mighty effort, she could comprehend but 
little and laboriously. So likewise was it with her writing, at 
which she still kept busied. She yet spoke very broken Ger- 
man : it was only when she opened her mouth to sing, when 
she touched her cithern, that she seemed to be employing an 
organ by which, in some degree, the workings of her mind 
could be disclosed and communicated. 

Since we are at present on the subject, we may also men- 
tion the perplexity which Wilhelm had of late experienced 
from certain parts of her procedure. "When she came or 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 237 

went, wished him good-morning or good-night, she clasped 
him so firmly in her arms, and kissed him with such ardor, 
that often the violence of this expanding nature gave him 
serious fears. The spasmodic vivacity of her demeanor 
seemed daily to increase : her whole being moved in a rest- 
less stillness. She would never be without some piece of 
packttn*ead to twist in her hands, some napkin to tie in 
knots, some paper or wood to chew. All her sports seemed 
but the channels which drained off some inward violent com- 
motion. The only thing that seemed to cause her any cheer- 
fulness was being near the boy Felix, with whom she could 
go on in a very dainty manner. 

Aurelia, after a little rest, being now ready to explain to 
her friend a matter which lay very near her heart, grew im- 
patient at the little girl's delay, and signified that she must 
go, — a hint, however, which the latter did not take ; and at 
last, when nothing else would do, they sent her off expressly 
and against her will. 

" Now or never," said Aurelia, " must I tell you the re- 
mainder of my story. Were my tenderly beloved and un- 
just friend but a few miles distant, I would say to you, 
' Mount on horseback, seek by some means to get acquainted 
with him : on returning, you will certainly forgive me, and 
pity me with all your heart.' As it is, I can only tell you 
with words how amiable he was, and how much I loved him. 

" It was at the critical season, when care for the illness of 
my husband had depressed my spirits, that I first became 
acquainted with this stranger. He had just returned from 
America, where, in company with some Frenchmen, he had 
served with much distinction under the colors of the United 
States. 

' ' He addressed me with an easy dignity, a frank kindli- 
ness : he spoke about myself, my state, my acting, like an 
old acquaintance, so affectionately and distinctly, that now 
for the first time I enjoyed the pleasure of perceiving my 
existence reflected in the being of another. His judgments 
were just, though not severe ; penetrating, yet not void of 
love. He showed no harshness : his pleasantry was cour- 
teous, with all his humor. He seemed accustomed to success 
with women ; this excited my attention : he was never in the 
least importunate or flattering ; this put me off my guard. 

' ' In the town , he had intercourse with few : he was often 
on horseback, visiting his many friends in the neighborhood, 
and managing the business of his house. On returning, he 



238 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

would frequently alight at my apartments ; he treated my 
ever-ailing husband with warm attention ; he procured him 
mitigation of his sickness by a good physician. And, taking 
part in all that interested me, he allowed me to take part in 
all that interested him. He told me the history of his cam- 
paigns : he spoke of his invincible attachment to military life, 
of his family relations, of his present business. He kept no 
secret from me ; he displayed to me his inmost thoughts, 
allowed me to behold the most secret corners of his soul : I 
became acquainted with his passions and his capabilities. It 
was the first time in my life that I enjoyed a cordial, intel- 
lectual intercourse with any living creature. I was attracted 
by him, borne along by him, before I thought about inquir- 
ing how it stood with me. 

'* Meanwhile I lost my husband, nearly just as I had taken 
him. The burden of theatrical affairs now fell entirely on 
me. My brother, not to be surpassed upon the stage, was 
never good for any thing in economical concerns : I took the 
charge of all, at the same time studying my parts with 
greater diligence than ever. I again pla3^ed as of old, — nay, 
with new life, with quite another force. It was by reason 
of my friend, it was on his account, that I did so ; yet my 
success was not always best when I knew him to be present. 
Once or twice he listened to me unobserved, and how pleas- 
antly his unexpected applauses surprised me you may con- 
ceive. 

" Certainly I am a strange creature. In every part I 
played, it seemed as if I had been speaking it in praise of 
him ; for that was the temper of my heart, the words might 
be any thing they pleased. Did I understand him to be 
present in the audience, I durst not venture to speak out 
with all my force ; just as I would not press my love or praise 
on him to his face : was he absent, I had then free scope ;. I 
did my best, with a certain peacefulness, with a contentment 
not to be described. Applause once more delighted me ; 
a«d, when I charmed the people, I longed to call down 
apaong them, ' This you owe to him ! ' 

'' Yes : my relation to the public, to the nation, had been 
altered by a wonder. On a sudden they again appeared to 
me in the most favorable light: I felt astonished at my 
former blindness. 

*' * How foolish,* said I often to myself, ' was it to revile 
a. nation, — foolish, simply because it was a nation. Is it 
necessary, is it possible, that individual men should generally 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 289 

interest us much ? Not at all ! The only question is, whether 
in the great mass there exists a sufficient quantity of talent, 
force, and capability, which lucky circumstances may de- 
velop, which men of lofty minds may direct upon a common 
object.* I now rejoiced in discovering so little prominent 
originality among my countrymen ; I rejoiced that they dis- 
dained not to accept of guidance from without ; I rejoiced 
that they had found a leader. 

" Lothario, — allow me to designate my friend by this, his 
first name, which I loved, — Lothario had always presented 
the Germans to my mind on the side of valor, and shown 
me, that, when well commanded, there was no braver nation 
on the face of the earth ; and I felt ashamed that I had 
never thought of this, the first quality of a people. History 
was known to him : he was in connection and correspond- 
ence with the most distinguished persons of the age. Young 
as he was, his eye was open to the budding 3'outhhood of his 
native country, to the silent labors of active and busy men in 
so many provinces of art. He afforded me a glimpse of Ger- 
man}^, — what it was and what it might be ; and I blushed at 
having formed my judgment of a nation from the motley 
crowd that squeeze into the wardrobe of a theatre. He 
made me look upon it as a duty that I too, in my own 
department, should be true, spirited, enlivening. I now felt 
as if inspired every time I stepped upon the boards. Medi- 
ocre passages grew golden in my mouth : had any poet been 
at hand to support me adequately, I might have produced 
the most astonishing effects. 

*' So lived the young widow for a series of months. He 
could not do without me, and I felt exceedingly unhappy 
when he staid away. He showed me the letters he received 
from his relations, from his amiable sister. He took an 
interest in the smallest circumstance that concerned me : 
more complete, more intimate, no union ever was than ours. 
The name of love was not mentioned. He went and came, 
came and went. And now, my friend, it is high time that 
you, too, should go." 



l^' 



A 



240 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER XVII. 

WiLHELM could put off HO loDgcr the visiting of his com- 
mercial friends. He proceeded to their place with some 
anxiety, knowing he should there find letters from his people. 
He dreaded the reproofs which these would of course con- 
tain : it seemed likely also that notice had been given to his 
trading correspondents, concerning the perplexities and fears 
which his late silence had occasioned. After such a series 
of knightly adventures, he recoiled from the school-boy 
aspect in which he must appear : he proposed within his mind 
to act with an air of sternness and defiance, and thus hide 
his embarrassment. 

To his great wonder and contentment, however, all went 
off very easily and well. In the vast, stirring, busy counting- 
room, the men had scarcely time to seek him out his packet : 
his delay was but alluded to in passing. And on opening 
the letters of his father, and his friend Werner,, he found 
them all of very innocent contents. His father, in hopes of 
an extensive journal, the keeping of which he had strongly 
recommended to his son at parting, giving him also a tabulary 
scheme for that purpose, seemed pretty well pacified about 
the silence of the first period ; complaining only of a certain 
enigmatical obscurity in the last and only letter despatched, 
as we have seen, from the castle of the count. Werner 
joked in his way ; told merry anecdotes, facetious burgh- 
news ; and requested intelligence of friends and acquaint- 
ances, whom Wilhelm, in the large trading-city, would now 
meet with in great numbers. Our friend, extremely pleased 
at getting off so well, answered without loss of a moment, in 
some very cheerful letters ; promising his father a copious 
joui-nal of his travels, with all the required geographical, 
statistical, and mercantile remarks. He had seen much on 
his jom-ney, he said, and hoped to make a tolerably large 
manuscript out of these materials. He did not observe that 
he was almost in the same case as he had once experienced 
before, when he assembled an audience and lit his lamps 
to represent a play which was not written, still less got by 
heart. Accordingly, so soon as he commenced the actual 
work of composition, he became aware that he had much to 
say about emotions and thoughts, and many experiences of 
the heart and spirit, but not a word concerning outward 
objects, on which, as he now discovered, he had not bestowed 
the least attention. ^^ 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 241 

In this embarrassment, the acquisitions of his friend 
Laertes came very seasonably to his aid. Custom had 
united these young people, unlike one another as they 
were ; and Laertes, with all his failings and singularities, 
was actually an interesting man. Endowed with warm and 
pleasurable senses, he might have reached old age without 
reflecting for a moment on his situation. But his ill-fortune 
and his sickness had robbed him of the pure feelings of 
youth, and opened for him instead of it a view into the 
transitoriness, the discontinuity, of man's existence. Hence 
had arisen a humorous, flighty, rhapsodical way of thinking 
about all things, or, rather, of uttering the immediate impres- 
sions they produced on him. He did not like to be alone ; 
he strolled about all the coffee-houses and tables-d' hdte ; and, 
when he did stay at home, books of travels were his favorite, 
nay, his only, kind of reading. Having lately found a large 
circulating library, he had been enabled to content his taste 
in this respect to the full ; and erelong half the world was 
figuring in his faithful memory. 

It was easy for him, therefore, to speak comfort to his 
friend, when the latter had disclosed his utter lack of matter 
for the narrative so solemnly promised by him. " Now is the 
time for a stroke of art," said Laertes, " that shall have no 
fellow ! 

" Has not Germany been travelled over, cruised over, 
walked, crept, and flown over, repeatedly from end to end? 
And has not every German traveller the royal privilege of 
drawing from the public a repayment of the great or small 
expenses he may have incurred while travelling? Give me 
your route previous to our meeting : the rest I know already. 
I will find you helps and sources of information : of miles 
that were never measured, populations that were never 
counted, we shall give them plenty. The revenues of 
provinces we will take from almanacs and tables, which, as 
all men know, are the most authentic documents. On these 
we will ground our political discussions : we shall not fail in 
side-glances at the ruling powers. One or two princes we 
will paint as true fathers of their country, that we may 
gain more ready credence in our allegations against others. 
If we do not travel through the residence of any noted man, 
we shall take care to meet such persons at the inn, and make 
them utter the most foolish stuff to us. Particularly, let us 
not forget to insert, with all its graces and sentiments, some 
love-story with a pastoral bar-maid. I tell you, it shall be a 



242 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

composition which will not only fill father and mother with 
delight, but which booksellers themselves shall gladly pay 
you current money for." 

They went accordingl}^ to work, and both of them found 
pleasure in their labor. Wilhelm, in the mean time, frequent- 
ing the play at night, and conversing with Serlo and Aurelia 
by day, experienced the greatest satisfaction, and was daily 
^ more and more expanding his ideas, which had been too long 

^f y^ j revolving in the same narrow circle. 



CHAPTER XVin. 



It was not without deep interest that he became acquainted 
with the history of Serlo's career. Piecemeal he learned it ; 
for it was not the fashion of that extraordinary man to be 
confidential, or to speak of any thing connectively. He had 
been, one may say, born and suckled in the theatre. While 
yet literally an infant, he had been produced upon the stage 
to move spectators, merely by his presence ; for authors even 
then were acquainted with this natural and very guiltless 
mode of doing so. Thus his first " Father ! " or " Mother ! " 
in favorite pieces, procured him approbation, before he un- 
derstood what was meant by that clapping of the hands. In 
the character of Cupid, he more than once descended, with 
terror, in his flying-gear ; as harlequin, he used to issue from 
the egg ; and, as a little chimney-sweep, to play the sharpest 
tricks. 

Unhappily, the plaudits of these glancing nights were too 
bitterly repaid by sufferings in the intervening seasons. His 
father was persuaded that the minds of children could be 
kept awake and steadfast by no other means than blows : 
hence, in the studying of any part, he used to thrash him at 
stated periods, not because the boy was awkward, but that 
he might become more certainly and constantly expert. It 
was thus that in former times, while putting down a land- 
mark, people were accustomed to bestow a hearty drubbing 
on the children who had followed them ; and these, it was 
supposed, would recollect the place exactly to the latest day 
of their lives. Serlo waxed in stature, and showed the 
finest capabilities of spirit and of body, — in particular, an 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 243 

admirable pliancy at once in his thoughts, looks, movements, 
and gestures. His gift of imitation was beyond belief. 
When still a boy, he could mimic persons, so that you would 
think you saw them ; though in form, age, and disposition, 
they might be entirely unlike him, and unlike each other. 
Nor with all this, did he want the knack of suiting himself 
to his circumstances, and picking out his way in life. Ac- 
cordingly, so soon as he had grown in some degree acquainted 
with his strength, he very naturally eloped from his father, 
who, as the boyfs understanding and dexterity increased, 
still thought it needful to forward their perfection by the 
harshest treatment. 

Happy was the wild boy, now roaming free about the world, 
where his feats of waggery never failed to secure him a good 
reception. His lucky star first led him in the Christmas season 
to a cloister, where the friar, whose business it had been to 
arrange processions, and to entertain the Christian community 
by spiritual masquerades, having just died, Serlo was wel- 
comed as a helping angel. On the instant he took up the 
part of Gabriel in the Annunication, and did not by any 
means displease the prett}' girl, who, acting the Virgin, very 
gracefully received his most obliging kiss, with external 
humility and inward pride. In their Mysteries, he continued 
to perform the most important parts, and thought himself 
no slender personage, when at last, in the character of Mar- 
tyr, he was mocked of the world, and beaten, and fixed upon 
the cross. 

Some pagan soldiers had, on this occasion, played their 
parts a little too naturally. To be avenged on these heathen 
in the proper style, he took care at the Da}^ of Judgment to 
have them decked out in gaudy clothes as emperors and kings ; 
and at that moment when they, exceedingly contented with 
their situation, were about to take precedence of the rest in 
heaven, as they had done on earth, he, on a sudden, rushed 
upon them in the shape of the Devil ; and to the cordial edi- 
fication of all the beggars and spectators, having thoroughly 
curried them with his oven-fork, he pushed them without 
mercy back into the chasm, where, in the midst of waving 
flame, they met with the sorriest welcome. 

He was acute enough, however, to perceive that these 
crowned heads might feel offended at such bold procedure, 
and perhaps forget the reverence due to his privileged office 
of Accuser and Turnkey. So in all silence, before the Mil- 
lennium commenced, he withdrew, and betook him to a 



244 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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

Here again young Serlo was altogether in his element. In- 
vention in its strictest sense, it is true, he had not ; but, on 
the other hand, he had the most consummate skill in employ- 
ing what he found before him, in ordering it, and shadowing 
it forth. His roguish turns, his gift of mimicry ; his biting 
wit, which at least one day weekly he might use with entire 
freedom, even against his benefactors, — made him precious, 
or rather indispensable, to the whole society. 

Yet his restless mind soon drove him from this favorable 
scene to other quarters of his country, where other means 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 245 

of instruction awaitecl him. He came into the polished, but 
also barren, part of Germany, where, in worshipping the 
good and the beautiful, there is indeed no want of truth, but 
frequently a grievous want of spirit. His masks would here 
do nothing for him : he had now to aim at working on the 
heart and mind. For short periods, he attached himself to 
small or to extensive companies of actors, and marked, on 
these occasions, what were the distinctive properties, both 
of the pieces and the players. The monotony which then 
reigned on the Gei:man theatre, the mawkish sound and 
cadence of their Alexandrines, the flat and yet distorted 
dialogue, the shallowness and commonness of these undis- 
guised preachers of morality, he was not long in compre- 
hending, or in seizing, at the same time, what little there 
was that moved and pleased. 

Not only single parts in the current pieces, but the pieces 
themselves, remained easily and wholly in his memory, and, 
along with them, the special tone of any player who had rep- 
resented them with approbation. At length, in the course 
of his rambles, his money being altogether done, the project 
struck him of acting entire pieces by himself, especially in 
villages and noblemen's houses, and thus in all places mak- 
ing sure at least of entertainment and lodging. In any tavern, 
any room, or any garden, he would accordingly at once set 
up his theatre : with a roguish seriousness and a show of 
enthusiasm, he would contrive to gain the imaginations of his 
audience, to deceive their senses, and before their eyes to 
make an old press into a tower, or a fan into a dagger. His 
youthful warmth supplied the place of deep feeling : his 
vehemence seemed strength, and his flattery tenderness. 
Such of the spectators as already knew a theatre, he put in 
mind of all that they had seen and heard : in the rest he 
awakened a presentiment of something wonderful, and a 
wish to be more acquainted with it. What produced an effect 
in one place he did not fail to repeat in others ; and his mind 
overflowed with a wicked pleasure when, by the same means, 
on the spur of the moment, he could make gulls of all the 
world. 

His spirit was lively, brisk, and unimpeded : by frequently 
repeating parts and pieces, he improved very fast. Erelong 
he could recite and play with more conformity to the sense 
than the models whom he had at first imitated. Proceeding 
thus, he arrived by degrees at playing naturally ; though he 
did not cease to feign. He seemed transported, yet he lay 



246 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP*. 

in wait for the effect ; and his greatest *J)ride was in moving, 
by successive touches, the passions of men. The mad trade 
he drove did itself soon force him to proceed with a certain 
moderation ; and thus, partly by constraint, partly by in- 
stinct, he learned the art of which so few players seemed to 
have a notion, — the art of being frugal in the use of voice 
and gestures. 

Thus did he contrive to tame, and to inspire with interest 
for him, even rude and unfriendly men. Being always con- 
tented with food and shelter ; thankfully accepting presents of 
any kind as readily as money, which latter, when he reckoned 
that he had enough of it, he frequently declined, — he be- 
came a general favorite, was sent about from one to another 
with recommendatory letters ; and thus he wandered many 
a day from castle to castle, exciting much festivity, enjoying 
much, and meeting in his travels with the most agreeable and 
curious adventures. 

With such inward coldness of temper, he could not prop- 
erly be said to love any one ; with such clearness of vision, 
he could respect no one ; in fact, he never looked beyond the 
external peculiarities of men ; and he merely carried their 
characters in his mimical collection. Yet withal, his selfish- 
ness was keenly wounded if he did not please every one and 
call forth universal applause. How this might be attained, 
he had studied in the course of time so accurately, and so 
sharpened his sense of the matter, that not only on the stage, 
but also in common life, he no longer could do otherwise 
than flatter and deceive. And thus did his disposition, his 
talent, and his way of life, work reciprocally on each other, 
till by this means he had imperceptibly been formed into a 
perfect actor. Nay, by a mode of action and re-action, which 
is quite natural, though it seems paradoxical, his recitation, 
declamation, and gesture improved, by critical discernment 
and practice, to a high degree of truth, ease, and frankness ; 
while, in his life and intercourse with men, he seemed to grow 
continually more secret, artful, or even hypocritical and con- 
strained. 

Of his fortunes and adventures we perhaps shall speak 
in another place : it is enough to remark at present, that in 
later times, when he had become a man of circumstance, in 
possession of a distinct reputation, and of a very good, though 
not entirely secure, employment and rank, he was wont, in 
conversation, partly in the way of irony, partly of mockery, 
in a delicate style, to act the sophist, and thus to destroy 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 247 

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



CHAPTER XIX. 



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



248 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

wonderful extent of power. Nor was it an unimportant item 
m his scheme, that he likewise had poems read before him in 
their meetings ; for by these he nourished in his people the 
feeling of that charm which a well-pronounced rhythm is cal- 
culated to awaken in the soul : whereas, in other companies, 
those prose compositions were already getting introduced for 
which any tyro was adequate. 

On occasions such as these, he had contrived to make him- 
self acquainted with tlie new-come players : he had decided 
what they were, and what they might be, and silently made 
up his mind to take advantage of their talents, in a revolu- 
tion which was now threatening his own company. For a 
while he let the matter rest ; declined every one of Wilhelm's 
intercessions for his comrades, with a shrug of the shoulders ; 
till at last he saw his time, and altogether unexpectedly made 
the proposal to our friend, ^' that he himself should come 
upon the stage ; that, on this condition, the others, too, might 
be admitted." 

" These people must not be so useless as you formerly de- 
scribed them," answered Wilhelm, ''if they can now be all 
received at once ; and I suppose their talents would remain 
the same without me as with me." 

Under seal of secrecy, Serlo hereupon explained his situa- 
tion, — how his first actor was giving hints about a rise of 
salary at the renewal of their contract ; how he himself did 
not incline conceding this, the rather as the individual in ques- 
tion was no longer in such favor with the public ; how, if he 
dismissed him, a whole train would follow ; whereby, it was 
true, his company would lose some good, but likewise some 
indifferent, actors. He then showed Wilhelm w^hat he hoped 
to gain in him, in Laertes, Old Boisterous, and even Frau 
Melina. Nay, he promised to procure for the silly Pedant 
himself, in the character of Jew, minister, but chiefly of 
villain, a decided approbation. 

Wilhelm faltered ; the proposal fluttered him ; he knew not 
what to say. That he might say something, he rejoined, 
with a deep-drawn breath, "You speak very graciously 
about the good you find and hope to find in us ; but how is it 
with our weak points, which certainly have not escaped your 
penetration ? ' ' 

"These," said Serlo, "by diligence, practice, and reflec- 
tion, we shall soon make strong points. Though you are yet 
but freshmen and bunglers, there is not one among you that 
does not warrant expectation more or less : for, so far as I 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 249 

can judge, no stick, properly so called, is to be met with in 
the company ; and your stick is the onl}' person that can 
never be improved, never bent or guided, whether it be self- 
conceit, stupidity, or hypochondria, that renders him un- 
pliant." 

The manager next stated, in a few words, the terms he 
meant to offer ; requested Wilhelm to determine soon, and 
left him in no small perplexity. 

In the marvellous composition of those travels, which he 
had at first engaged with, as it were, in jest, and was now 
carrying on in conjunction with Laertes, his mind had by 
degrees grown more attentive to the circumstances and the 
every-day life of the actual world than it was wont. He 
now first understood the object of his father in so earnestly 
recommending him to keep a journal. He now, for the first 
time, felt how pleasant and how useful it might be to become 
participator in so many trades and requisitions, and to take 
a hand in diffusiug activity and life into the deepest nooks 
of the mountains and forests of Europe. The busy trading- 
town in which he was ; the unrest of Laertes, who dragged 
him about to examine everj^ thing, — afforded him the most 
impressive image of a mighty centre, from which every thing 
was flowing out, to which ever^^ thing was coming back ; and 
it was the first time that his spirit, in contemplating this 
species of activity, had really felt delight. At such a junc- 
ture Serlo's offer had been made him ; had again awakened 
his desires, his tendencies, his faith in a natural talent, and 
again brought into mind his solemn obligation to his helpless 
comrades. 

" Here standest thou once more," said he within himself, 
" at the Parting of the Ways, between the two women who 
appeared before thee in thy youth. The one no longer looks 
so pitiful as then, nor does the other look so glorious. To 
obey the one, or to obey the other, thou art not without a 
kind of inward calling : outward reasons are on both sides 
strong enough, and to decide appears to thee impossible. 
Thou wishest some preponderancy from without would fix 
thy choice ; and ^^et, if thou consider well, it is external cir- 
cumstances only that inspire thee with a wish to trade, to 
gather, to possess ; whilst it is thy inmost want that has 
created, that has nourished, the desire still further to unfold 
and perfect what endowments soever for the beautiful and 
good, be they mental or bodily, may lie within thee. And 
ought I not to honor Fate, which, without furtherance of 



250 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

mine, has led me hither to the goal of all my wishes? Has 
not all that I, in old times, meditated and forecast, now hap- 
pened accidentally, and without my, co-operation? Singular 
enough! We seem to be so intimate with nothing as we are 
with our own wishes and hopes, which have long been kept 
and cherished in our hearts; yet when they meet us, when 
they, as it were, press forward to us, then we know them 
not, then we recoil from them. All that, since the hapless 
night which severed me from Mariana, I have but allowed 
myself to dream, now stands before me, entreating my ac- 
ceptance. Hither I intended to escape by flight; hither I 
am softly guided: with Serlo I meant to seek a place; he 
now seeks me, and offers me conditions, which, as a begin- 
ner, I could not have looked for. Was it, then, mere love 
to Mariana that bound me to the stage? Or love to art that 
bound me to her? Was that prospect, that outlet, which 
the theatre presented me, nothing but the project of a rest- 
less, disorderly, and disobedient boy, wishing to lead a life 
which the customs of the civic world would not admit of? 
Or was all this different, worthier, purer? If so, what moved 
thee to alter the persuasions of that period? Hast thou not 
hitherto, even without knowing it, pursued thy plan? Is 
not the concluding step still further to be justified, now 
that no side-purposes combine with it; now that in making 
it thou mayest fulfil a solemn promise, and nobly free thy- 
self from a heavy debt?" 

All that could affect his heart and his imagination was 
now moving, and conflicting in the liveliest strife within 
him. The thought that he might retain Mignon, that he 
should not need to put away the harper, was not an incon- 
siderable item in the balance, which, however, had not 
ceased to waver to the one and to the other side, when he 
went, as he was wont, to see his friend Aurelia. 



CHAPTER XX. 



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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 251 

but they will kill me. Last night I thought my very heart 
would break ! Once, when I used to please myself, I could 
endure this gladly ; when I had studied long, and well pre- 
pared myself, it gave me joy to hear the sound, 'It has 
succeeded 1 ' pealing back to me from every corner. But 
now I speak not what I like, nor as I like ; I am swept 
along, I get confused, I scarce know what I do ; and the im- 
pression I make is far deeper. The applause grows louder ; 
and I think. Did you but know what charms j^ou ! These 
dark, vague, vehement tones of passion move you, force you 
to admire ; and you feel not that they are the cries of agony, 
wrung from the miserable being whom you praise. 

" I learned my part this morning: just now I have been 
repeating it and trying it. I am tired, broken down ; and 
to-morrow I must do the same. To-morrow evening is the 
play. Thus do I drag myself to and fro : it is wearisome to 
rise, it is wearisome to go to bed. All moves within me in 
an everlasting circle. Then come their dreary consolations, 
and present themselves before me ; and I cast them out, and 
execrate them. I will not surrender, not surrender to neces- 
sity : why should that be necessary which crushes me to the 
dust ? Might it not be otherwise ? I am paying the penalty 
of being born a German : it is the nature of the Germans, 
that they bear heavily on every thing, that every thing bears 
heavily on them." 

" O my friend I " cried Wilhelm, "could 3'ou cease to whet 
the dagger wherewith you are ever wounding me ! Does 
nothing, then, remain for you? Are your youth, your form, 
your health, your 'talents, nothing? Having lost one bless- 
ing, without blame of yours, must you throw all the others 
after it ? Is that also necessary ? ' ' 

She was silent for a few moments, and then burst forth, 
" I know well, it is a waste of time, nothing but a waste of 
time, this love ! What might not, should not, I have done ! 
And now it is all vanished into air. I am a poor, wretched, 
lovelorn creature, — lovelorn, that is all ! Oh, have compas- 
sion on me ! God knows I am poor and wretched ! ' ' 

She sank in thought: then, after a brief pause, she ex- 
claimed with violence, "You are accustomed to have all 
things fly into your arms. No : you cannot feel, no man 
is qualified to feel, the worth of a woman that can reverence 
herself. By all the holy angels, by all the images of bless- 
edness, which a pure and kindly heart creates, there is not 
any thing more heavenly than the soul of a woman giving 
herself to the man she loves ! 



252 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

"We are cold, proud, high, clear-sighted, wise, while we 
deserve the name of women ; and all these qualities we lay 
down at your feet, the instant that we love, that we hope to 
excite a return of love. Oh, how have I cast away my whole 
existence wittingly and willingly ! But now will I clespi^ir, 
purposely despair. There is no drop of blood within me but 
shall suffer, no fibre that I will not punish. Smile, I pray 
you ; laugh at this theatrical display of passion." 

Wilhelm was far enough from any tendency to laugh. 
This horrible, half-natural, half-factitious condition of his 
friend afflicted him but too decpl}^ He sympathized in the 
tortures of that racking misery : his thoughts were wan- 
\ ^Y'^ dering in painful perplexities, his blood was in a feverish 

tumult. 

She had risen, and was walking up and down the room. 
'' I see before me," she exclaimed, '' all manner of reasons 
why I should not love him. I know he is not worthy of it ; 
I turn my mind aside, this way and that ; I seize upon what- 
ever business I can find. At one time I take up a part, 
though I have not to play it ; at another, I begin to practise 
old ones, though I know them through and through ; I prac- 
tise them more diligently, more minutely, — I toil and toil at 
them. My friend, my confidant, what a horrid task is it to 
tear away one's thoughts from one's self ! My reason suf- 
fers, my brain is racked and strained : to save myself from 
madness, I again admit the feeling that I love him. Yes, I 
love him, I love him ! " cried she, with a shower of tears: 
'' I love him, I shall die loving him ! " 

He took her by the hand, and entreated her in the most 

^ earnest manner not to waste herself in such self-torments. 

" Oh ! it seems hard," said he, " that not only so much that 

\ is impossible should be denied us, but so much also that is 

I possible ! It was not your lot to meet with a faithful heart 

that would have formed your perfect happiness. It was 

mine to fix the welfare of my life upon a hapless creature, 

whom, by the weight of my fidelity, I drew to the bottom 

like a reed, perhaps even broke in pieces ! " 

He had told Aurelia of his intercourse with Mariana, and 
^ could therefore now refer to it. She looked him intently in 

\ the face, and asked, "Can you say that you never yet be- 

trayed a woman, that you never tried with thoughtless gal- 
lantry, with false asseverations, with cajoling oaths, to 
wheedle favor from her ? ' ' 

^* I can," said Wilhelm, " and indeed without n;uch van- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 263 

ity ; my life has been so simple and sequestered, I have had 
but few enticements to attempt such things. And what a 
warning, my beautiful, my noble, friend, is this melancholy 
state in which I see you ! Accept of me a vow, which is 
suited to my heart ; which, under the emotion you have 
caused me, has settled into words and shape, and will be 
hallowed by the hour in which I utter it. Each transitory 
inclination I will study to withstand, and even the most ear- 
nest I will keep within my bosom : no woman shall receive 
an acknowledgment of love from my lips to whom I cannot 
consecrate my life ! " 

She looked at him with a wild indifference, and drew 
back some steps as he offered her his hand. " 'Tis of no 
moment!" cried she: "so many women's tears, more or 
fewer ; the ocean will not swell by reason of them. And 
yet,'* continued she, " among thousands, one woman saved ; 
that still is something : among thousands, one honest man 
discovered ; this is not to be refused. Do you know, then, 
what you promise ? ' ' 

" I know it," answered Wilhelm, with a smile, and hold- 
ing out his hand. 

" I accept it, then," said she, and made a movement with 
her right hand, as if meaning to take hold of his ; but in- 
stantly she darted it into her pocket, pulled out her dagger 
quick as lightning, and scored with the edge and point of it 
across his hand. He hastily drew it back, but the blood was 
already running down. 

"One must mark you men rather sharply, if one would 
have you take heed," cried she, with a wild mirth, which 
soon passed into a quick assiduity. She took her handker- 
chief, and bound his hand with it to stanch the fast-flowing 
blood. "Forgive a half-crazed being," cried she, "and 
regret not these few drops of blood. I am appeased. I am 
again myself. On my knees will I crave your pardon : leave 
me the comfort of healing you." 

She ran to her drawer, brought lint, with other apparatus, 
stanched the blood, and viewed the wound attentively. It 
went across the palm, close under the thumb, dividing the 
life-line, and running towards the little finger. She bound 
it up in silence, with a significant, reflective look. He asked, 
once or twice, " Aurelia, how could you hurt your friend? '* 

"Hush!" replied she. laying her finger on her mqutji: 
"Hush I" 



254 



MEISTER'S APriiENTICESIUP. 



BOOK V* 



CHAPTER I. 



Thus Wilbelm, to his pair of former wounds, which were 
yet scarcely healed, had now got the accession of a third, 
which was fresh and not a little disagreeable. Aurelia would 
not suffer him to call a surgeon : she dressed the hand with 
all manner of strange speeches, saws, and ceremonies, and 
so placed him in a very painful situation. Yet not he alone, 
but all persons who came near her, suffered by her restless- 
ness and singularity, and no one more than little Felix. 
This stirring child was exceedingly impatient under such 
oppression, and showed himself still naughtier the more she 
censured and instructed him. 

He delighted in some practices which commonly are thought 
bad habits, and in which she would not by any means indulge 
him. He would drink, for example, rather from the bottle 
than the glass ; and his food seemed visibly to have a better 
relish when eaten from the bowl than from the plate. Such 
ill-breeding was not overlooked : if he left the door standing 
open, or slammed it to ; if, when bid do any thing, he stood 
stock-still, or ran off violently, — he was sure to have a long 
lecture inflicted on him for the fault. Yet he showed no 
symptoms of improvement from this training : on the other 
hand, his affection for Aurelia seemed daily to diminish ; 
there was nothing tender in his tone when he called her 
mother ; whereas he passionately clung to the old nurse, 
who let him have his will in every thing. 

But she likewise had of late become so sick, that they had 
at last been obliged to take her from the house into a quiet 
lodging ; and Felix would have been entirely alone if Mig- 
nou had not, like a kindly guardian spirit, come to help him. 
The two children talked together, and amused each other in 
the prettiest style. She taught liim little songs ; and he, 
having an excellent memory, frequently recited them, to the 
surprisfi of those about him. She attempted also to explain 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 255 

her maps to him. With these she was still very busy, though 
she did not seem to take the fittest method. For, in study- 
ing countries, she appeared to care little about any other 
point than whether they were cold or warm. Of the north 
and south poles, of the horrid ice which reigns there, and of 
the increasing heat the farther one retires from them, she 
could give a very clear account. When any one was travel- 
ling, she merely asked whether he was going northward or 
southward, and strove to find his route in her little charts. 
Especially when Wilhelm spoke of travelling, she was all 
attention, and seemed vexed when any thing occurred to 
change the subject. Though she could not be prevailed 
upon to undertake a part, or even to enter the theatre when 
any play was acting, yet she willingly and zealously com- 
mitted many odes and songs to memory; and by unex- 
pectedly reciting some such poem she would often cause 
astonishment in every one. 

Serlo, accustomed to regard with favor every trace of 
opening talent, encouraged her in such performances; but 
what pleased him most in Mignon was her sprightly, va- 
rious, and often even mirthful, singing. 

Without himself possessing genius for music, or playing 
on any instrument, Serlo could rightly prize the value of 
the art; he failed not, as often as he could, to enjoy this 
pleasure, which cannot be compared with any other. He 
held a concert once a week; and now, with Mignon, the 
harper, and Laertes, who was not unskilful on the violin, 
he had formed a very curious domestic band. 

He was wont to say, "Men are so inclined to content 
themselves with what is commonest; the spirit and the 
senses so easily grow dead to the impressions of the beauti- 
ful and perfect, — that every one should study^ by all meth- 
ods, to nourish in his mind the faculty of feeling these 
things. For no man can bear to be entirely deprived of 
such enjoyments: it is only because they are not used to 
taste of what is excellent that the generality of people take 
delight in silly and insipid things, provided they be new. 
For this reason,'' he would add, "one ought, every day at 
least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine 
picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable 
words." With such a turn of thought in Serlo, which in 
some degree was natural to him, the persons who frequented 



256 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

his society could scarcely be in want of pleasant conversa- 
tion. 

It was in the midst of these instructive entertainments, 
that Wilhelm one day received a letter sealed in black. 
Werner's hand betokened mournful news ; and our friend 
was not a little shocked when, opening the sheet, he found it 
to contain the tidings of his father's death, conveyed in a 
very few words. After a short and sudden illness, he had 
parted from the world, leaving his domestic affairs in the 
best possible order. 

This unlooked-for intelligence struck Wilhelm to the heart. 
He deeply felt bow careless and negligent we often are of 
friends and relations while they inhabit with us this terres- 
trial sojourn ; and how we first repent of our insensibility 
. , when the fair union, at least for this side of time, is finally 

V . V cut asunder. His grief for the earl}^ death of this honest 

u*, \r' parent was mitigated only by the feeling that he had loved 

but little in the world, and the conviction that he had enjoyed 
but little. 

Wilhelm's thoughts soon turned to his own predicament, 
and he felt himself extremely discomposed. A person can 
scarcely be put into a more dangerous position, than when 
external circumstances have produced some striking change 
in his condition, without his manner of feeling and of think- 
ing having undergone any preparation for it. There is, then, 
an epoch without epoch ; and the contradiction which arises 
is the greater the less the person feels that he is not trained 
for this new manner of existence. 

Wilhelm saw himself in freedom, at a moment when he 
could not yet be at one with himself. His thoughts were 
noble, his motives pure, his purposes were not to be despised. 
All this he could, with some degree of confidence, acknowl- 
edge to himself : but he had of late been frequently enough 
compelled to notice, that experience was sadly wanting to 
him ; and hence, on the experience of others, and on the 
results which they deduced from it, he put a value far beyond 
its real one, and thus led himself still deeper into error. 
What he wanted, he conceived he might most readily acquire 
if he undertook to collect and retain whatever memorable 
thought he should meet with in reading or in conversation. 
He accordingly recorded his own or other men's opinions, 
nay, wrote whole dialogues, when they chanced to interest 
him. But unhappily by this means he held fast the false 
no less firmly than the true ; he dwelt far too long on one 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 257 

idea, particularly when it was of an aphoristic shape ; and 
thus he left his natural mode of thought and action, and fre- 
quentl}' took foreign lights for his loadstars. Aurelia's bit- 
terness, and Laertes's cold contempt for men, warped his 
judgment oftener than they should have done : but no one, 
in his present case, would have been so dangerous as Jarno, 
a man whose clear intellect could form a just and rigorous 
decision about present things, but who erred, withal, in 
enunciating these particular decisions with a kind of univer- 
sal application ; whereas, in truth, the judgments of the 
understanding are properly of force but once, and that in 
the strictest cases, and become inaccurate in some degree 
when applied to any other. 

Thus Wilhelm, striving to become consistent with himself, 
was deviating farther and farther from wholesome consist- 
ency ; and this confusion made it easier for his passions to 
employ their whole artillery against him, and thus still farther 
to perplex his views of duty. 

Serk) did not fail to take advantage of the late tidings ; 
and in truth he daily had more reason to be anxious about 
some fresh arrangement of his people. Either he must soon 
renew his old contracts, — a measure he was not specially fond 
of; for several of his actors, who reckoned themselves indis« 
pensable, were growing more and more arrogant, — or else he 
must entirely new-model and re-form his company ; which 
plan he looked upon as preferable. 

Though he did not personalty importune our friend, he set 
Aurelia and Philina on him ; and the other wanderers, long- 
ing for some kind of settlement, on their side, gave Wilhelm 
not a moment's rest ; so that he stood hesitating in his 
choice, in no slight embarrassment till he should decide. 
Who would have thought that a letter of Werner's, written 
with quite different views, should have forced him on resolv- 
ing ? We shall omit the introduction, and give the rest of it 
with little alteration.- 



CHAPTER II. 

**It was, therefore, and it always must be, right for every 
one, on any opportunity^ to follow his vocation and exhibit 
9— Goethfc Vol 7 



258 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

his activity. Scarcely had the good old man been gone a 
quarter of an hour, when every thing in the house began 
moving by a different plan than his. Friends, acquaintances, 
relations, crowded forward, especially all sorts of people 
who on such occasions use to gain any thing. They fetched 
and carried, they counted, wrote, and reckoned ; some 
brought wine and meat, others ate and drank ; and none 
seemed busier than the women getting out the mourn- 
ings. 

" Such being the case, thou wilt not blame me, that, in this 
emergency, I likewise thought of my advantage. I made 
myself as active, and as helpful to thy sister, as I could, and, 
so soon as it was any way decorous, signified to her that it 
had now become our business to accelerate a union which 
our parents, in their too great circumspection, had hitherto 
postponed. 

" Do not suppose, however, that it came into our heads to 
take possession of that monstrous empty house. We are 
more modest and more rational. Thou shalt hear our plan : 
thy sister, so soon as we are married, comes to our house ; 
and thy mother comes along with her. ^ How can that be ? ' 
thou wilt say : ' you have scarcely room for j^ourselves in 
that hampered nest.' There lies the art of it, my friend. 
Good packing renders all things possible : thou wouldst not 
believe what space one finds when one desires to occupy but 
little. The large house we shall sell, — an opportunity occurs 
for this ; and the money we shall draw for it will produce a 
hundred- fold. 

' ' I hope this meets thy views : I hope also thou hast not 
inherited the smallest particle of those unprofitable tastes for 
which thy father and thy grandfather were noted. The latter 
placed his greatest happiness in having about him a multitude 
of dull-looking works of ait, which no one, I may well say 
no one, could enjoy with him : the former lived in a stately 
pomp, which he suffered no one to enjoy with him. We 
mean to manage otherwise, and we expect thy approbation. 

*' It is true, I myself in all the house have no place what- 
ever but the stool before my writing-desk ; and I see not 
clearly where they will be able to put a cradle down : but, in 
return, the room we shall have out of doors will be the more 
abundant. Coffee-houses and clubs for the husband, walks 
and drives for the wife, and pleasant country jaunts for 
both. But the chief advantage in our plan is, that, the round 
table being now completely filled, our father cannot ask his 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 259 

friends to dinner, who, the more he strove to entertain them, 
used to laugh at him the more. 

'' Now no superfluity for us ! Not too much furniture and 
apparatus ; no coach, no horses ! Nothing but money, and 
the liberty, day after day, to do what you like in reason. 
No wardrobe ; still the best and newest on your back : the 
man may wear his coat till it is done ; the wife may truck her 
gown, the moment it is going out of fashion. There is noth- 
ing so unsufferable to me as an old huckster's shop of prop- 
erty. If you would offer me a jewel, on condition of my 
wearing it daily on my finger, I would not accept it ; for how 
can one conceive any pleasure in a dead capital ? This, then, 
is my confession of faith : To transact your business, to 
make money, to be merry with your household ; and about 
the rest of the earth to trouble j^ourself no farther than 
where you can be of service to it. 

" But ere now thou art saying, ' And, pray, what is to be 
done with me in this sage plan of yours ? Where shall J find 
shelter when you have sold my own house, and not the 
smallest room remains in j'ours ? ' 

" This is, in truth, the main point, brother; and in this, 
too, I shall have it in my power to serve thee. But first I 
must present the just tribute of my praise for time so spent 
as thine has been. 

"Tell me, how hast thou within a few weeks become so 
skilled in every useful, interesting object? Highly as I 
thought of thy powers, I did not reckon such attention and 
such diligence among the number. Thy journal shows us 
with what profit thou art travelling. The description of the 
iron and the copper forges is exquisite : it evinces a complete 
knowledge of the subject. I myself was once there ; but 
my relation, compared with this, has but a very bungled look. 
The whole letter on the linen-trade is full of information : 
the remarks on commercial competition are at once just and 
striking. In one or two plfvces, there are errors in addition, 
which indeed are very pardonable. 

"But what most delights my father and myself, is thy 
thorough knowledge of husbandry, and the improvement of 
landed property. We have thoughts of purchasing a large 
estate, at present under sequestration, in a very fruitful dis- 
trict. For paying it, we mean to use the money realized by 
the sale of the house ; another portion we shall borrow ; a 
portion may remain unpaid. And we count on thee for going 
thither, and superintending the improvement of it ; by which 



260 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



means, before many years are passed, the land, to speak in 
moderation, will have risen above a third in value. We shall 
then bring it to the market again, seek out a larger piece, 
improve and trade as formerly. For all this thou art the man. 
Our pens, meanwhile, will not lie idle here ; and so by and 
by we shall rise to be enviable people. 

" For the present, fare thee well ! Enjoy life on thy jour- 
ney, and turn thy face wherever thou canst find contentment 
and advantage. For the next half-year we shall not need 
thee ; thou canst look about thee in the world as thou pleas- 
est : a judicious person finds his best instruction in his trav- 
els. Farewell ! I rejoice at being connected with thee so 
closely by relation, and now united with thee in the spirit 
of activity." 

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



CHAPTER ni. 



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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 261 

ment : I need scarcely tell thee, that In all this I find little 
that can charm me. 

•' First, however, I am sorry to admit, that my journal is 
none of mine. Under the pressure of necessity, and to Ia /^*-*^' 
satisfy my father, it was patched together by a friend's help, 
out of many books : and though in words I know the objects 
it relates to, and more of the like sort, I by no means under- 
stand them, or can occupy myself about them. What good 
were it for me to manufacture perfect iron while my own 
breast is full of dross? What would it stead me to put 
properties of land in order, while I am at variance with 
myself ? 

"To speak it in a word, the cultivation of my individual 
self, here as I am, has from my youth upwards been con- 
stantly though dimly my wish and my purpose. The same 
intention I still cherish, but the means of realizing it are now 
grown somewhat clearer. I have seen more of life than thou 
believest, and profited more by it also. Give some attention, 
then, to what I say, though it should not altogether tally with 
thy own opinions. 

" Had I been a nobleman, our dispute would soon have 
been decided ; but, being a simple burgher, I must take a 
path of my own : and I fear it may be difficult to make thee 
understand me. I know not how it is in foreign countries, 
but in Germany, a universal, and, if I may say so, personal, 
cultivation is beyond the reach of any one except a nobleman. 
A burgher may acquire merit ; by excessive efforts he may 
even educate his mind ; but his personal qualities are lost, 
or worse than lost, let him struggle as he will. Since the 
nobleman, frequenting the society of the most polished, is 
compelled to give himself a polished manner ; since this man- 
ner, neither door nor gate being shut against him, grows at 
last an unconstrained one ; since, in court or camp, his fig- 
ure, his person, are a part of his possessions, and, it may be, 
the most necessary part, — he has reason enough to put some 
value on them, and to show that he puts some. A certain 
stately grace in common things, a sort of gay elegance in ear- 
nest and important ones, becomes him well ; for it shows him 
to be everywhere in equilibrium. He is a public person ; and 
the more cultivated his movements, the more sonorous his 
voice, the more staid and measured his whole being is, the 
more perfect is he. If to high and low, to friends and rela- 
tions, he continues still the same, then nothing can be said 
against liim, none may wish him otherwise. His coldness 



262 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

must be reckoned clearness of head, his dissimulation pru- 
dence. If he can rule himself externally at every moment 
of his life, no man has aught more to demand of him ; and, 
whatever else there may be in him or about him, capacities, 
talents, wealth, all seem gifts of supererogation. 

" Now, imagine any burgher offering ever to pretend to 
these advantages, he will utterly fail, and the more com- 
pletely, the greater inclination and the more endowments 
nature may have given him for that mode of being. 

" Since, in common life, the nobleman is hampered by no 
limits ; since kings, or kinglike figures, do not differ from 
him, — he can everywhere advance with a silent conscious- 
ness, as if before his equals : everywhere he is entitled to press 
forward, whereas nothing more beseems the burgher than the 
quiet feeling of the limits that are drawn round him. The 
burgher may not ask himself, ' What art thou ? ' He can only 
ask, ' What hast thou? What discernment, knowledge, tal- 
ent, wealth? ' If the nobleman, merely by his personal car- 
riage, offers all that can be asked of him, the burgher by his 
personal carriage offers notiiing, and can offer nothing. The 
former has a right to seem: the latter is compelled to be, 
and what he aims at seeming becomes ludicrous and taste- 
less. The former does and makes, the latter but effects and 
procures ; he must cultivate some single gifts in order to be 
useful ; and it is beforehand settled, that, in his manner of 
existence, there is no harmony, and can be none, since he is 
bound to make himself of use in one department, and so has 
to relinquish all the others. 

" Perhaps the reason of this difference is not the usurpa- 
tion of the nobles, and the submission of the burghers, but 
the constitution of society itself. Whether it will ever alter, 
and how, is to me of small importance : my present business 
is to meet my own case, as matters actually stand ; to con- 
sider by what means I may save myself, and reach the object 
which I cannot live in peace without. 

" Now, this harmonious cultivation of my nature, which 
has been denied me by birth, is exactly what I most long 
for. Since leaving thee, I have gained much by voluntary 
practice : I have laid aside much of my wonted embarrass- 
ment, and can bear myself in very tolerable style. My speech 
and voice I have likewise been attending to ; and I may say, 
without much vanity, that in society I do not cause displeas- 
ure. But I will not conceal from thee, that my inclination 
to become a public person, and to please and influence iu a 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 263 

larger circle, is daily growing more insuperable. With this, 
there is combined my love for poetry and aU that is related 
to it ; and the necessity I feel to cultivate my mental faculties 
and tastes, that so, in this enjoyment henceforth indispensa- 
ble, I ma}' esteem as good the good alone, as beautiful the 
beautiful alone. Thou seest well, that for me all this is no- 
where to be met with except upon the stage ; that in this ele- 
ment alone can I effect and cultivate myself according to my 
wishes. On the boards a polished man appears in his splen- 
dor with personal accomplishments, just as he does so in the 
upper classes of society ; body and spirit must advance with 
equal steps in all his studies ; and there I shall have it in my 
power at once to be and seem as well as an^^where. If I 
further long for solid occupations, we have there mechanical 
vexations in abundance : I may give my patience daily exer- 
cise. 

"Dispute not with me on this subject; for, ere thou 
writest, the step is taken. In compliance with the ruling 
prejudices, I will change my name ; as, indeed, that of Meis- 
ter, or Master, does not suit me. Farewell ! Our fortune is 
in good hands : on that subject I shall not disturb myself. 
What I need I will, as occasion calls, require from thee : it 
wdll not be much, for I hope my art will be sufficient to 
maintain me." 

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



264 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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



CHAPTER IV. 

One of the conditions under which our friend had gone 
upon the stage was not acceded to by Serlo without some 
limitations. Wilhelm had required that "Hamlet" should 
be played entire and unmutilated : th6 other had agreed to 
this strange stipulation, in so far as it was possible. On 
this point they had many a contest ; for as to what was pos- 
sible or not possible, and what parts of the piece could be 
omitted without mutilating it, the two were of very different 
opinions. 

Wilhelm was still in that happy season when one cannot 
understand how, in the woman one loves, in the writer one 
honors, there should be any thing defective. The feeling 
they excite in us is so entire, so accordant with itself, that 
we cannot help attributing the same perfect harmony to the 
objects themselves. Serlo again was willing to discriminate, 
perhaps too willing : his acute understanding could usually 
discern in any work of art nothing but a more or less im- 
perfect whole. He thought, that as pieces usually stood, 
there was little reason to be chary about meddling with 
them ; that of course Shakspeare, and particularly " Ham- 
let," would need to suffer much curtailment. 

But, when Serlo talked of separating the wheat from the 
chaff, Wilhelm would not hear of it. "It is not chaff and 
wheat together," said he : " it is a trunk with boughs, twigs, 
leaves, buds, blossoms, and fruit. Is not the one there with 
the others, and by means of them? " To which Serlo would 
reply, that people did not bring a whole tree upon the table ; 
that the artist was required to present his guests with silver 



I 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 265 

apples in platters of silver. They exhausted their inven- 
tion in similitudes, and their opinions seemed still farther to 
diverge. 

Our fnend was on the borders of despair, when on one 
occasion, after much debating, Serlo counselled him to take 
the simple plan, — to make a brief resolution, to grasp his 
pen, to peruse the tragedy ; dashing out whatever would not 
answer, compressing several personages into one : and if he 
was not skilled in such proceedings, or had not heart enough 
for going through with them, he might leave the task to him, 
the manager, who would engage to make short work with 
it. 

" That is not our bargain," answered Wilhelm. '' How 
can you, with all your taste, show so much levity? " 

" My friend," cried Serlo, " you yourself will erelong feel 
it and show it. I know too well how shocking such a mode 
of treating works is : perhaps it never was allowed on any 
theatre till now. But where, indeed, was ever one so 
slighted as ours? Authors force us on this wretched clip- 
ping system, and the public tolerates it. How many pieces 
have we, pray, which do not overstep the measure of our 
numbers, of our decorations and theatrical machinery, of the 
proper time, of the fit alternation of dialogue, and the phys- 
ical strength of the actor? And yet we are to play, and 
play, and constantly give novelties. Ought we not to profit 
by our privilege, then, since we accomplish just as much by 
mutilated works as by entire ones ? It is the public itself 
that grants the privilege. Few Germans, perhaps few men 
of any modern nation, have a proper sense of an aesthetic 
whole : — they praise and blame by passages ; they are 
charmed by passages ; and who has greater reason to re- 
joice at this than actors, since the stage is ever but a patched 
and piece-work matter? " 

" Is ! " cried Wilhelm ; ' ' but must it ever be so ? Must 
every thing that is continue ? Convince me not that you are 
right, for no power on earth should force me to abide by 
any contract which I had concluded with the grossest mis- 
conceptions." 

Serlo gave a merry turn to the business, and persuaded 
Wilhelm to review once more the many conversations they 
had had together about " Hamlet," and himself to invent 
some means of properly re-forming the piece. 

After a few days, which he had spent alone, our friend re- 
turned with a cheerful look. " I am much mistaken," cried 



266 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

he, "if I have not now discovered how the whole is to be 
managed : nay, I am convinced that Shakspeare himself 
would have arranged it so, had not his mind been too ex- 
clusively directed to the ruling interest, and perhaps misled 
by the novels which furnished him with his materials." 

" Let us hear," said Serlo, placing himself with an air of 
solemnit}^ upon the sofa: "I will listen calmly, but judge 
with rigor." 

" I am not afraid of you," said Wilhelm : " only hear me. 
In the composition of this l^lay, after the most accurate in- 
vestigation and the most mature reflection, I distinguish two 
classes of objects. The first are the grand internal relations 
of the persons and events, the powerful effects which arise 
from the characters and proceedings of the main figures : 
these, I hold, are individually excellent ; and the order in 
which they are presented cannot be improved. No kind of 
interference must be suffered to destroy them, or even 
essentially to change their form. These are the things 
which stamp themselves deep into the soul, which all men 
long to see, which no one dares to meddle with. Accord- 
ingly, I understand, the}" have almost wholly been retained 
in all our Oerman theatres. But our countrymen have 
erred, in my opinion, with regard to the second class of 
objects, which mny be observed in this tragedy : I allude 
to the external relations of the persons, whereby the}^ are 
brought from place to place, or combined in various ways, 
by certain accidental incidents. These they have looked 
upon as very unimportant ; have spoken of them only in 
passing, or left them out altogether. Now, indeed, it must 
be owned, these threads are slack and slender ; yet they run 
through the entire piece, and bind together much that would 
otherwise fall asunder, and does actually fall asunder, when 
you cut thorn off, and imagine you have done enough and 
more, if you have left the ends hanging. 

" Among these external relations I include the disturb- 
ances in Norway, the war with 3'^oung Fortinbras, the em- 
bassy to his uncle, the settling of that feud, the march of 
young Fortinbras to Poland, and his coming back at the 
end ; of the same sort are Horatio's return from Wittenberg, 
Hamlet's wish to go thither, the journe}^ of Laertes to 
France, his return, the despatch of Hamlet into England, 
his capture by pirates, the death of the two courtiers by the 
letter which they carried. All these circumstances and 
events would be very fit for expanding and lengthening a 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 267 

novel ; but here they injure exceedingly the unity of the 
l^iece, particularly as the hero has no plan, and are, in con- 
sequence, entirely out of place." 

'^ For once in the right ! " cried Serlo. 

"Do not interrupt me," answered Wilhelm : "perhaps 
you will not always think me right. These errors are like 
temporary props of an edifice : they must not be removed 
till we have built a firm wall in their stead. My project, 
therefore, is, not at all to change those first-mentioned grand 
situations, or at least as much as possible to spare them, 
both collectively and individually ; but with respect to these 
external, single, dissipated, and dissipating motives, to cast 
them all at once away, and substitute a solitary one instead 
of them." 

"And this?" inquired Serlo, springing up from his re- 
cumbent posture. 

" It lies in the piece itself," answered Wilhelm, " only I 
employ it rightly. There are disturbances in Norway. You 
shall hear my plan, and try it." 

"After the death of Hamlet the father, the Norwegians, 
lately conquered, grow unruly. The viceroy of that country 
sends his sou, Jloratio, an old school-friend of Hamlet's, 
and distinguished above every other for his bravery and pru- 
dence, to Denmark, to press forward the equipment of the 
fleet, which, under the new luxurious king, proceeds but 
slowly. Horatio has known the former king, having fought 
in his battles, having even stood in favor with him, — a cir^ 
cumstance by which the first ghost- scene will be nothing 
injured. The new sovereign gives Horatio audience, and 
sends Laertes into Norway with intelligence that the fleet 
will soon arrive ; whilst Horatio is commissioned to accel- 
erate the preparation of it : and the Queen, on the other 
hand, will not consent that Hamlet, as he wishes, should go 
to sea along with him." 

"Heaven be praised!" cried Serlo: "we shall now get 
rid of Wittenberg and the university, which was always a 
sorry piece of business. I think your idea extremely good ; 
for, except these two distant objects, Norway and the fleet, 
the spectator will not be required to fancy any thing : the 
rest he will see; the rest takes place before him; whereas, 
his imagination, on the other plan, was hunted over all the 
world." 

"You easily perceive," said Wilhelm, " how I shall con- 
trive to keep the other parts together. When Hamlet tells 



268 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

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

"Quick! quick!" said Serlo, "sit down and work the 
play : your plan has my entire approbation ; only let not 
your zeal evaporate." 



CHAPTER V. 

WiLHELM had already been for some time busied with 
translating " Hamlet ; " making use, as he labored, of Wie- 
land's spirited performance, through which he had first be- 
come acquainted with Shakspeare. What had been omitted 
in Wieland's work he replaced, and had secured a complete 
version, at the very time when Serlo and he were pretty well 
agreed about the way of treating it. He now began, accord- 
ing to his plan, to cut out and insert, to separate and unite, 
to alter, and often to restore ; for, satisfied as he was with 
his own conception, it still appeared to him as if, in execut- 
ing it, he w^ere but spoiling the original." 

When all was finished, he read his work to Serlo and the 
rest. The}' declared themselves exceedingly contented with 
it : Serlo, in particular, made many flattering observations. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 269 

'' You have felt very justly," said he, among other things, 
" that some external circumstances must accompany this 
play, but that they must be simpler than those which the 
great poet has employed. What takes place without the 
theatre, what the spectator does not see, but must imagine, 
is like a background, in front of which the acting figures 
move. Your large and simple prospect of the fleet and Nor- 
way will do much to improve the play ; if this were alto- 
gether taken from it, we should have but a family scene 
remaining ; and the great idea, that here a kingly house, by 
internal crimes and incongruities, goes down to ruin, would 
not be presented with its proper dignity. But if the former 
background were left standing, so manifold, so fluctuating 
and confused, it would hurt the impression of the figures." 

Wilhelni again took Shakspeare's part ; alleging that he 
wrote for islanders, for Englishmen, who generally, in the 
distance, were accustomed to see little else than ships and 
voyages, the coast of France and privateers ; and thus what 
perplexed and distracted others was to them quite natural. 

Serlo assented ; and both were of opinion, that, as the 
play was now to be produced upon the German stage, this 
more serious and simple background was the best adapted 
for the German mind. 

The parts had been distributed before : Serlo undertook 
Polonius ; Aurelia, Ophelia ; Laertes was already designated 
by his name ; a young, thick-set, jolly new-comer was to be 
Horatio ; the King and Ghost alone occasioned some per- 
plexity, for both of these no one but Old Boisterous remain- 
ing. Serlo proposed to make the Pedant, King ; but against 
this our friend protested in the strongest terms. They could 
resolve on nothing. 

Wilhelm had also allowed both Rosencrantz and Guilden- 
stern to continue in his play. "Why not compress them 
into one?" said Serlo. "This abbreviation will not cost 
you much." 

' ' Heaven keep me from all such curtailments ! ' ' answered 
Wilhelm : ' ' they destroy at once the sense and the effect. 
What these two persons are and do it is impossible to rep- 
resent by one. In such small matters we discover Shak- 
speare's greatness. These soft approaches, this smirking 
and bowing, this assenting, wheedling, flattering, this whisk- 
ing agility, this wagging of the tail, this allness and empti- 
ness, this legal knavery, this ineptitude and insipidity, — 
how can they be expressed by a single man? There ought 



270 MEISTEK'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

to be at least a dozen of these people, if they could be had ; 
for it is only in society that they are any thing ; they are 
society itself ; and Shakspeare showed no little wisdom and 
discernment in bringing in a pair of them. Besides, I need 
them as a couple that may be contrasted with the single, 
noble, excellent Horatio." 

"I understand you," answered Serlo, "and we can ar- 
range it. One of them we shall hand over to Elmira, Old 
Boisterous' s eldest daughter : it will all be right, if they 
look well enough ; and I will deck and trim the puppets so 
that it shall be first-rate fun to behold them." 

Philina was rejoicing not a little, that she had to act the 
Duchess in the small subordinate play. " I will show it so 
natural," cried she, " how you wed a second husband, with- 
out loss of time, when you have loved the first immensely. 
I mean to win the loudest plaudits, and every man shall 
wish to be the third." 

Aurelia gave a frown : her spleen against Philina was in- 
creasing every day. 

" 'Tis a pity, I declare," said Serlo, "that we have no 
ballet ; else you should dance me a pas de deux with your 
first, and then another with your second husband, — and the 
first might dance himself to sleep by the measure ; and your 
bits of feet and ankles would look so pretty, tripping to and 
fro upon the side stage." 

"Of my ankles you do not know much," replied she pertly ; 
" and as to my bits of feet," cried she, hastily reaching 
below the table, pulling off her slippers, and holding them 
together out to Serlo, "here are the cases of them; and I 
challenge you to find me more dainty ones." 

" I was in earnest," said he, looking at the elegant half- 
shoes. " In truth, one does not often meet with any thing 
so dainty." 

They were of Parisian workmanship : Philina had received 
them as a present from the countess, a lady whose foot was 
celebrated for its ])eauty. 

"A charming thing!" cried Serlo: "my heart leaps at 
the sight of them." 

" What gallant throbs ! " replied Philina. 

" There is nothing in the world beyond a pair of slippers,*' 
said he, "of such pretty manufacture, in their proper time 
and place, when " — 

Philina took her slippers from bis hands, crying, " You 
have squeezed them all I They are far too wide for me ! " 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 271 

She played with them, and nibbed the soles of them together. 
''How hot it is!" cried she, clapping the sole upon her 
cheek, then again rubbing, and holding it to Serlo. He was 
innocent enough to stretch out his hand to feel the warmth. 
" Clip ! clap ! " cried she, giving him a smart rap over the 
knuckles with the heel ; so that he screamed, and drew back 
his hand. "That's for indulging in thoughts of your own 
at the sight of my slippers." 

"And that's for using old folk like children," cried the 
other ; then sprang up, seized her, and plundered many a 
kiss, every one of which she artfully contested with a show 
of serious reluctance. In this romping, her long hair got 
loose, and floated round the group ; the chair overset ; and 
Aurelia, inwardly indignant at such rioting, arose in great 
vexation. 



CHAPTER VI. 

Though in this remoulding of " Hamlet " many characters 
had been cut off, a sufficient number of them still remained, 
— a number which the company was scarcely adequate to 
meet. 

" If this is the way of it," said Serlo, " our prompter him- 
self must issue from his den, and mount the stage, and 
become a personage like one of us." 

"In his own station," answered Wilhelm, "I have fre- 
quently admired him." 

" I do not think," said Serlo, " that there is in the world 
a more perfect artist of his kind. No spectator ever hears 
him : we upon the stage catch every syllable. He has formed 
in himself, as it were, a peculiar set of vocal organs for this 
purpose : he is like a Genius that whispers intelligibly to us 
in the hour of need. He feels, as if b}^ instinct, what por- 
tion of his task an actor is completely master of, and an- 
ticipates from afar where his memory will fail him. I have 
known cases in which I myself had scarcely read my part : 
he said it over to me word for word, and I played happily. 
Yet he has some peculiarities which would make another in 
his place quite useless. For example, he takes such an in- 
terest in the plays, that, in giving any moving passage, he 
does not indeed declaim it. but he reads.it with all pomp and 



272 MEISTER'8 APPKENTICESHIP. 

pathos. By this ill habit he has nonplussed me on more 
than one occasion.'* 

" As with another of his singularities," observed Aurelia, 
" he once left me sticking fast in a very dangerous passage." 

" How could this happen, with the man's attentiveness ? " 
said Wilhelm. 

"He is so affected," said Aurelia, "by certain passages, 
^that he weeps warm tears, and for a few moments loses all 
reflection ; and it is not properly passages such as we should 
call affecting that produce this impression on him ; but, if I 
express myself clearly, the beautiful passages, those out of 
which the pure spirit of the poet looks forth, as it were, 
through open, sparkling eyes, — passages which others at 
most rejoice over, and which many thousands altogether 
overlook." 

" And with a soul so tender, why does he never venture 
on the stage ? ' ' 

" A hoarse voice," said Serlo, " and a stiff carriage, ex- 
clude him from it ; as his melancholic temper excludes him 
from society. What trouble have I taken, and in vain, to 
make him take to me ! But he is a charming reader ; such 
another I have never heard ; no one can observe like him the 
narrow limit between declamation and graceful recital." 

" The very man ! " exclaimed our friend, " the very man ! 
What a fortunate discovery ! We have now the proper hand 
for delivering the passage of ' The rugged Pyrrhus.' " 

"One requires your eagerness," said Serlo, "before he 
can employ every object in the use it was meant for." 

" In truth," said Wilhelm, " I was very much afraid we 
should be obliged to leave this passage out : the omission 
would have lamed the whole play." 

"Well! That is what I cannot understand," observed 
Aurelia. 

"I hope you will erelong be of my opinion," answered 
Wilhelm. " Shakspeare has introduced these travelling 
players with a double purpose. The person who recites the 
death of Priam with such feeling, in the j^'rs^ place, makes a 
deep impression on the prince himself ; he sharpens the con- 
science of the wavering youth : and, accordingly, this scene 
becomes a prelude to that o Jier, where, in the second place, 
the little play produces such effect upon the King. Hamlet 
sees himself reproved and put to shame by the player, who 
feels so deep a sympathy in foreign and fictitious woes ; and 
the thought of making an experiment upon the conscience of 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 273 

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

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

What's Hecuba to him, or he to Hecuba, 
That he should weep for her ? ' " 

" If we can but persuade our man to come upon the stage," 
observed Aurelia. 

" We must lead him to it by degrees," said vSerlo. " At 
the rehearsal he may read the passage : we shall tell him 
that an actor whom we are expecting is to play it ; and so, 
by and by, we shall lead him nearer to the point." 

Having agreed on this affair, the conversation next turned 
upon the Ghost. Wilhelm could not bring himself to give 
the part of the living King to the Pedant, that so Old Bois- 
terous might play the Ghost : he was of opinion that they 
ought to wait a while ; because some other actors had an- 
nounced themselves, and among these it was probable they 
would find a fitter man. 

We can easily conceive, then, how astonished Wilhelm 
must have been when, returning home that evening, he found 
a billet lying on his table, sealed with singular figures, and 
containing what follows : — 

" Strange youth! we know thou art in great perplexity. 
For thy Hamlet thou canst hardly find men enough, not to 
speak of ghosts. Thy zeal deserves a miracle : miracles we 
cannot work, but somewhat marvellous shall happen. If 
thou have faith, the Ghost shall arise at the proper hour ! 
Be of courage and keep firm ! This needs no answer : thy 
determination will be known to us." 

With this curious sheet he hastened back to Serlo, who 
read and re-read it, and at last declared, with a thoughtful 
look, that it seemed a matter of some moment ; that they 
must consider well and seriously whether they could risk it. 
They talked the subject over at some length ; Aurelia was 
silent, only smiling now and then ; and a few days after, 



274 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

when speaking of the incident again, she gave our friend, 
not obscurely, to understand that she held it all a joke of 
Serlo's. She desired him to cast away anxiety, and to expect 
the Ghost with patience. 

Serlo, for most part, was in excellent humor : the actors 
that were going to leave him took all* possible pains to play 
well, that their absence might be much regretted ; and this, 
combined with the new-fangled zeal of the others, gave 
promise of the best results. 

His intercourse with Wilhelm had not failed to exert some 
influence on him. He began to speak more about art : for, 
after all, he was a German ; and Germans like to give them- 
selves account of what they do. Wilhelm wrote down many 
of their conversations ; which, as our narrative must not be 
so often interrupted here, we shall communicate to such of 
our readers as feel an interest in dramaturgic matters, by 
some other opportunity. 

In particular, one evening, the manager was very merry in 
speaking of the part of Polonius, and how he meant to take 
it up. "I engage," said he, "on this occasion, to present 
a very meritorious person in his best aspect. The repose 
and security of this old gentleman, his emptiness and his 
significance, his exterior gracefulness and interior meanness, 
his frankness and sycophancy, his sincere roguery and deceit- 
ful truth, I will introduce with all due elegance in their fit 
proportions. This respectable, gray-haired, enduring, time- 
serving half -knave, I will represent in the most courtly st^^le : 
the occasional roughness and coarseness of our author's 
strokes will further me here. I will speak like a book when 
I am prepared beforehand, and like an ass when I utter the 
overflowings of my heart. I will be insipid and absurd 
enough to chime in with every one, and acute enough never 
to observe when people make a mock of me. I have seldom 
taken up a part with so much zeal and roguishness." 

"Could I but hope as much from mine!" exclaimed 
Aurelia. " I have neither youth nor softness enough to be 
at home in this character. One thing alone I am too sure 
of, — the feeling that turns Ophelia's brain, I shall not 
want.'* 

" We must not take the matter up so strictly," said our 
friend. " For my share, I am certain, that the wish to act 
the character of Hamlet has led me exceedingly astray, 
throughout my study of the play. And now, the more I look 
into the part, the more clearly do I see, that, in my whole 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 275 

form and physiognomy, there is not one feature such as 
Shakspeare meant for Hamlet. When I consider with what 
nicety the various circumstances are adapted to each other, 
I can scarcely hope to produce even a tolerable effect.'' 

'•'' You are entering on your new career with becoming con- 
scientiousness," said Serlo. " The actor fits himself to his 
part as he can, and the part to him as it must. But how 
has Shakspeare drawn his Hamlet? Is he so utterly unlike 
you ? " 

"In the first place," answered Wilhelm, ''he is fair- 
haired." 

'' That I call far-fetched," observed Aurelia. " How do 
you infer that ? ' ' 

" As a Dane, as a Northman, he is fair-haired and blue- 
eyed by descent." 

'' And you think Shakspeare had this in view? " 

' ' I do not find it specially expressed ; but, by comparison 
of passages, I think ii incontestable. The fencing tires him ; 
the sweat is running from his brow ; and the Queen remarks, 
*• He's fat^ and scant of breath.'' Can you conceive him to be 
otherwise than plump and fair-haired ? Brown-complexioned 
people, in their youth, are seldom plump. And does not his 
wavering melancholy, his soft lamenting, his irresolute ac- 
tivity, accord with such a figure ? From a dark-haired young 
man, you would look for more decision and impetuosity." 

''You are spoiling my imagination," cried Aurelia: 
"away with your fat Hamlets! Do not set your well-fed 
prince before us ! Give us rather any succedaneum that will 
move us, will delight us. The intention of the author is of 
less importance to us than our own enjoyment, and we need 
a charm that is adapted for us." 



CHAPTER VII. 

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



■?^/ 



./tf' 



276 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

"About their limits and their kinds," .said Wilhelm, "I 
confess myself not altogether clear." 

' ' Who is so ? " said the other ; ' ' and yet perhaps it were 
worth while to come a little closer to the business." 

They conversed together long upon the matter ; and, in . 
fine, the following was nearly the result of their discussion : — 

" In the novel as well as in the drama, it is human nature 
and human action that we see. The difference between these 
sorts of fiction lies not merely in their outward form, — not 
merely in the circumstance that the personages of the one 
are made to speak, while those of the other have commonly 
their history narrated. Unfortunately many dramas are but 
novels, which proceed by dialogue ; and it would not be im- 
possible to write a drama in the shape of letters. 

'•' But, in the novel, it is chiefly sentiments and events that 
are exhibited ; in the drama, it is characters and deeds. The 
novel must go slowly forward ; and the sentiments of the 
hero, by some means or another, must restrain the tendency 
of the whole to unfold itself and to conclude. The drama, 
on the other hand, must hasten ; and the character of the 
hero must press forward to the end : it does not restrain, 
but is restrained. The novel-hero must be suffering, — at 
least he must not in a high degree be active : in the dramatic 
one, we look for activity and deeds. Grandison, Clarissa, 
Pamela, the Vicar of Wakefield, Tom Jones himself, are, if 
not suffering, at least retarding, personages ; and the inci- 
dents are all in some sort modelled by their sentiments. In 
the drama the hero models nothing by himself ; all things 
withstand him ; and he clears and casts away the hinderances 
from off his path, or else sinks under them." 

Our friends were also of opinion, that, in the novel, some 
degree of scope may be allowed to Chance, but that it must 
always be led and guided by the sentiments of the personages : 
on the other hand, that Fate, which, by means of outward, 
unconnected circumstances, carries forward men, without 
their own concurrence, to an unforeseen catastrophe, can 
have place only in the drama ; that Chance may produce 
pathetic situations, but never tragic ones ; Fate, on the 
other hand, ought always to be terrible, — and is, in the 
highest sense, tragic, when it brings into a ruinous concate- 
nation the guilty man, and the guiltless that was unconcerned 
with him. 

These considerations led them back to the play of ' ' Ham- 
let," and the peculiarities of its composition. The heroin 



MEISTER'S ArPRENTICESHlP. 277 

this case, it was observed, is endowed more properly with 
seutiments than with a character : it is events alone that 
push him on, and accordingly the play has in some measure 
the expansion of a novel. But as it is Fate that draws the 
plan, as the story issues from a deed of terror, and the hero 
is continually driven forward to a deed of terror, the work is 
tragic in the highest sense, and admits of no other than 
a tragic end. 

The book-rehearsal was now to take place, to which Wil- 
helm had looked forward as to a festival. Having previously 
collated all the parts, no obstacle on this side could oppose 
him. The whole of the actors were acquainted with the 
piece : he endeavored to impress their minds with the impor- \^ ., i>^- f. ^ 
tance of these book-rehearsals. " As you require," said he, ■'' .^,-'**^ 
'' of every musical performer, that he shall, in some degree, , l^'" 
be able to play from the book : so every actor, every edu- 
cated man, should train himself to recite from the book, to 
catch immediately the character of any drama, any poem, 
any tale he may be reading, and exhibit it with grace and 
readiness. No committing to memory will be of service, if 
the actor have not, in the first place, penetrated into the 
sense and spirit of his author : the mere letter will avail him 
nothing." 

Serlo declared that he would overlook all subsequent re- 
hearsals, — the last rehearsal itself, — if justice were but 
done to these rehearsals from the book. " For, commonly," 
said he, "there is nothing more amusing than to hear an 
actor speak of study : it is as if freemasons were to talk of 
building." 

The rehearsal passed according to their wishes ; and we 
may assert, that the fame and favor which our company 
acquired afterwards had their foundation in these few but 
well-spent hours. 

" You did right, my friend,'.' said Serlo, when they were 
alone, '' in speaking to our fellow-laborers so earnestly ; and 
yet I am afraid they will scarcely fulfil your wishes." 

" How so? " asked Wilhelm. 

" I have noticed," answered Serlo, '• that, as easily as 
you may set in motion the imaginations of men, gladly as 
they listen to your tales and fictions, it is yet very seldom 
that you find among them any touch of an imagination you 
can call productive. In actors this remark is strikingly 
exemplified. Any one of them is well content to undertake 
ft beautiful, praiseworthy, brilliant part ; and seldom will any 



278 MEISTER'S APPKENTICi:SHIP. 

one of them do more than self -complacently transport himself 
into his hero's place, without in the smallest troubling his 
head whether other people view him so or not. But to seize 
with vivacity what the author's feeling was in writing ; what 
portion of your individual qualities you must cast off, in order 
to do justice to a part ; how, by your own conviction that 3'ou 
are become another man, you may carry with you the convic- 
tions of the audience ; how, by the inward truth of your con- 
ceptive power, you can change these boards into a temple, 
this pasteboard into woods, — to seize and execute all this, 
is given to very few. That internal strength of soul, by 
which alone deception can be brought about ; that lying 
truth, without which nothing will affect us rightly, — have, 
by most men, never even been imagined. 

" Let us not, then, press too hard for spirit and feeling in 
our friends. The surest way is first coolly to instruct them 
in the sense and letter of the play, — if possible, to open their 
understandings. Whoever has the talent will then, of his 
own accord, eagerly adopt the spirited feeling and manner 
of expression ; and those who have it not will at least be 
prevented from acting or reciting altogether falsely. And 
among actors, as indeed in all cases, there is no worse arrange- 
ment than for any one to make pretensions to the spirit of a 
thing, while the sense and letter of it are not ready and clear 
to him/' 



CHAPTER VIII. 



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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 279 

strauge coincidence : he almost thought that perhaps on this 
very spot he would soon see her again. And, alas ! the truth 
was nothing more, than that an afterpiece, to which this 
scene belonged, was at that timpe very often played upon the 
German stage. 

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

The presence of these persons was of great service during 
the rehearsals. In particular they labored to convince our 



280 MEISTER'S APrREXTICESHIP. 

players, that, throughout the whole of their preparations, the 
posture and action, as they were intended ultimately to 
appear, should always be combined with the words, and thus 
the whole be mechanically united by habit. In rehearsing a 
tragedy especially, they said, no common movement with the 
hands should be allowed : a tragic actor that took snuff in 
the rehearsal always frightened them ; for, in all probability', 
on coming to the same passage in the exhibition, he would 
miss his pinch. Nay, on the same principles, they main- 
tained that no one should rehearse in boots, if his part were 
to be played in shoes. But nothing, the}' declared, afflicted 
them so much as when the women, in rehearsing, stuck their 
hands into the folds of their gowns. 

By the persuasion of our friends, another very good effect 
was brought about : the actors all began to learn the use of 
arms. Since militar}' parts occur so frequently, said they, 
can anj' thing look more absurd than men, without the small- 
est particle of discipline, trolling about the stage in captains' 
and majors' uniforms? 

Wilhelm and Laertes were the first that took lessons of a 
subaltern : they continued their practising of fence with the 
greatest zeal. 

Such pains did these two men take for perfecting a com- 
pany which had so fortunately come together. They were 
thus providing for the future satisfaction of the public, while 
the public was usually laughing at their taste. People did not 
know what gratitude they owed our friends, particularly for 
performing one service, — the service of frequently impress- 
ing on the actor the fundamental point, that it was his duty 
to speak so loud as to be heard. In this simple matter, they 
experienced more opposition and repugnance than could have 
been expected. Most part maintained that they were heard 
well enough already ; some laid the blame upon the building ; 
others said, one could not yell and bellow, when one had to 
speak naturally, secretly, or tenderly. 

Our two friends, having an immeasurable stock of patience, 
tried every means of undoing this delusion, of getting round 
this obstinate self-will. The}^ spared neither arguments nor 
flatteries ; and at last they reached their object, being aided 
not a little by the good example of Wilhelm. By him they 
were requested to sit down in the remotest corners of the 
house, and, everj^ time they did not hear him perfectly, to rap 
on the bench with a kay. He articulated well, spoke out in 
a measured manner, raised his tones gradually, and did not 



MELSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 281 

overcry himself in the most vehement passages. Tlie rap- 
ping of the key was heard less and less every new rehearsal : 
by and by the rest submitted to the same operation, and at 
last it seemed rational to hope that the piece would be heard 
by every one in all the nooks of the house. 

From this example we may see how desirous people are to 
reach their object in their own way ; what need there often is 
of enforcing on them truths which are self-evident ; and how 
difficult it may be to reduce the man who aims at effecting 
something to admit the primary conditions under which 
alone his enterprise is possible. 



CHAPTER IX. 

The necessary preparations for scenery and dresses, and 
whatever else was requisite, were now proceeding. In regard 
to certain scenes and passages, our friend had whims of his 
own, which Serlo humored, partly in consideration of their 
bargain, partly from conviction, and because he hoped by 
these civilities to gain Wilhelm, and to lead him according to 
his own purposes the more implicitly in time to come. 

Thus, for example, the King and Queen were, at the first 
audience, to appear sitting on the throne, with the courtiers 
at the sides, and Hamlet standing undistinguished in the 
crowd. "Hamlet," said he, "must keep himself quiet: 
his sable dress will sufficiently point him out. He should 
rather shun remark than seek it. Not till the audience is 
ended, and the King speaks with him as with a son, should 
he advance, and allovr the scene to take its course." 

A formidable obstacle still remained, in regard to the two 
pictures which Hamlet so passionatel}^ refers to in the scene 
with his mother. " We ought," said Wilhelm, " to have 
both of them visible, at full length, in the bottom of the 
chamber, near the main door ; and the former king must be 
clad in armor, like the Ghost, and hang at the side where it 
enters. I could wish that the figure held its right hand in a 
commanding attitude, were somewhat turned away, and, as 
it were, looked over its shoulder, that so it might perfectly 
resemble the Ghost at the moment when he issues from the 
door. It will produce a great effect, when at this instant 



282 METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Hamlet looks upon the Ghost, and the Queen upon the pic- 
ture. The stepfather may be painted in royal ornaments. 
l)ut not so striking/' 

There were several other points of this sort, about which 
we shall, perhaps, elsewhere have opportunity to speak. 

" Are you, then, inexorably bent on Hamlet's dying at 
the end?" inquired Serlo. 

" How can I keep him alive," said Wilhelm, " when the 
whole play is pressing him to death? We have already 
talked at large on that matter. ' ' 

" But the public wishes him to live." 

" I will show the public any other complaisance ; but, as 
to this, I cannot. We often wish that some gallant, useful 
man, who is dying of a chronical disease, might yet live 
longer. The family weep, and conjure the physician ; but he 
cannot stay him : and no more than this physician can with- 
stand the necessity of nature, can we give law to an acknowl- 
edged necessity of art. It is a false compliance with the 
multitude, to raise in them emotions which they wish, when 
these are not emotions which they ought, to feel." 

" Whoever pays the cash," said Serlo, " may require the 
ware according to his liking." 

"Doubtless, in some degree," replied our friend ; "but 
a great public should be reverenced, not used as children 
are, when pedlers wish to hook the money from them. By 
presenting excellence to the people, you should gradually 
excite in them a taste and feeling for the excellent ; and 
they will pay their money with double satisfaction wlien 
reason itself has nothing to object against this oiulay. The 
pul)lic you may flatter, as you do a well-beloved child, to 
better, to enlighten, it ; not as you do a pampered child of 
quality, to perpetuate the error 3^ou profit from." 

In this manner various other tojiics were discussed relat- 
ing to the question. What might still be changed in the play, 
and what must of necessity remain untouched? We shall 
not enter farther on those points at present; but, per- 
haps, at some future time we may submit this altered 
"Hamlet" itself to such of our readers as feel any inter- 
est in the subject. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 283 



CHAPTER X. 

The main rehearsal was at length concluded : it had lasted 
very long. Serlo and Wilhelm still found much to care for : 
notwithstanding all the time which had already been con- 
sumed in preparation, some highly necessary matters had been 
left to the very last moment. 

Thus, the pictures of the kings, for instance, were not ready : 
and the scene between Hamlet and his mother, from which 
so powerful an effect was looked for, had a very helpless 
aspect, as the business stood ; for neither Ghost nor painted 
image of him was at present forthcoming. Serlo made a 
jest of this perplexity : '' We should be in a pretty scrape," 
said he, " if the Ghost were to decline appearing, and the 
guard had nothing to fight with but the air, and our prompter 
were obliged to speak the spirit's part from the side-scenes." 

" We will not scare away our strange friend by unbelief," 
said Wilhelm : "doubtless at the proper season he will come, 
and astonish us as much as the spectators." 

"Well, certainly," said Serlo, "I shall be a happy man 
to-morrow night, when once the play will have been acted. 
It costs us more arrangement than I dreamed of." 

"But none of you," exclaimed Philina, "will be happier 
than I, little as my part disturbs me. Really, to hear a 
single subject talked of forever and forever, when, after all, 
there is nothing to come of it beyond an exhibition, which 
will be forgotten like so many hundred others, this is what I 
have not patience for. In Heaven's name, not so many pros 
and cons ! The guests you entertain have always something 
to object against the dinner ; nay, if you could hear them 
talk of it at home, they cannot understand how it was possible 
to undergo so sad a business." 

"Let me turn your illustration, pretty one, to my own 
advantage," answered Wilhelm. " Consider how much must 
be done by art and nature, by traffickers and tradesmen, be- 
fore an entertainment can be given. How many years the 
stag must wander in the forest, the fish in the river or the 
sea, before they can deserve to grace our table ! And what 
cares and consultations with her cooks and servants has the 
lady of the house submitted to ! Observe with what indiffer- 
ence the people swallow the production of the distant vin- 
tager, the seaman, and the vintner, as if it were a thing of 
course. And ought these men to cease from laboring, pro- 



284 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

viding, and preparing ; ought the master of the house to 
cease from purchasing and laying up the fruit of their exer- 
tions, — because at last the enjoyment it affords is transitory? 
But no enjoyment can be transitory ; the impression which it 
leaves is permanent : and what is done with diligence and 
effort communicates to the spectator a hidden force, of which 
we cannot say how far its influence may reach." 

" 'Tis all one to me," replied Philina : " only here again I 
must observe, that you men are constantly at variance with 
yourselves. With all this conscientious horror at curtailing 
Shakspeare, you have missed the finest thought there was in 
'Hamlet'!" 

'' The finest? " cried our friend. 

" Certainly the finest," said Philina : " the prince himself 
takes pleasure in it." 

" And it is? " inquired Serlo. 

" If you wore a wig," replied Philina, " I would pluck it 
very coolly off you ; for I think you need to have your under- 
standing opened." 

The rest began to think what she could mean : the conver- 
sation paused. The party arose ; it was now grown late ; 
they seemed about to separate. While they were standing in 
this undetermined mood, Philina all at once struck up a song, 
with a very graceful, pleasing tune : — 

" Sing me not with such emotion, 
How the night so lonesome is : 
Pretty maids, I've got a notion 
It is the reverse of this. 

For as wife and man are plighted, 

And the better half the wife; 
So is night to day united : 

Night's the better half of life. 

Can you joy in bustling daytime, 

Day when none can get his will? 
It is good for work, for hay time; 

For much other it is ill. 

But when, in the nightly glooming, 

Social lamp on table glows. 
Face for faces dear illuming. 

And such jest and joyance goes; 

When the fiery, pert young fellow. 

Wont by day to run or ride. 
Whispering now some tale would teJJ O 

All so gentle by your si(i*.. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 285 

When the nightingale to lovers 

Lovingly her songlet sings, 
Which for exiles and sad rovers 

Like mere woe and wailing rings, — 

With a heart how lightsome feeling, 

Do ye count the kindly clock. 
Which twelve times deliberate pealing, 

Tells you none to-night shall knock! 

Thereifore, on all fit occasions, 

Mark it, maidens, what I sing: 
Every day its own vexations, 

And the night its joys, will bring." 

She made a slight courtesy on conchiding, and Serlo gave 
a loud " Bravo ! " She scuttled off, and left the room with a 
teehee of laughter. They heard her singing and skipping as 
she went down-stairs. 

Serlo passed into another room : Wilhelm bade Aurelia 
good-night ; but she continued looking at him for a few mo- 
ments, and said, — 

" How I dislike that woman ! Dislike her from my heart, 
and to her very slightest qualities ! Those brown eyelashes, 
with her fair hair, which our brother thinks so charming, I 
cannot bear to look at ; and that scar upon her brow has 
something in it so repulsive, so low and base, that I could 
recoil ten paces every time I meet her. She was lately telling 
as a joke, that her father, when she was a child, threw a plate 
at her head, of which this is the mark. It is well that she is 
marked in the eyes and brow, that those about her may be 
on their guard." 

Wilhelm made no answer ; and Aurelia went on, apparently 
with greater spleen, — 

''It is next to impossible for me to speak a kind, civil 
word to her, so deeply do I hate her, with all her wheedling. 
Would that we were rid of her! And you, too, my friend, 
have a certain complaisance for the creature, a way of acting 
towards her, that grieves me to the soul, — an attention which 
borders on respect ; which, by Heaven ! she does not merit." 

"Whatever she may be," replied our friend, "I owe her 
thanks. Her upbringing is to blame : to her natural charac- 
ter I would do justice." 

"Character!" exclaimed Aurelia; "and do you think 
such a creature has a character ? O you men I It is so like 
you I These are the women you deserve ! " 



286 MEISTER'S APPRENTTCESHTP. 

"My friend, can you suspect me?" answered Wilhelm. 
" I will give account of every minute I have spent beside 
her." 

" Come, come," replied Aurelia: "it is late, we will not 
quarrel. All like each, and each like all ! Good-night, my 
friend ! Good-night, my sparkling bird-of -paradise ! '* 

Wilhelm asked how he had earned this title. 

" Another time," cried she ; " another time. They say it 
has no feet, but hovers in the air, and lives on ether. That, 
however, is a story, a poetic fiction. Good -night ! Dream 
sweetly, if you are in luck ! " 

She proceeded to her room ; and he, being left alone, made 
haste to his. 

Half angrily he walked along his chamber to and fro. The 
jesting but decided tone of Aurelia had hurt him : he felt 
deeply how unjust she was. Could he treat Philina with un- 
kindness or ill-nature ? She had done no evil to him ; but, 
for any Iqve to her, he could proudly and confidently take his 
conscience to witness that it was not so. 

On the point of beginning to undress, he was going for- 
ward to his bed to draw aside the curtains, when, not with- 
out extreme astonishment, he saw a pair of women's slippers 
Ijdng on the floor before it. One of them was resting on its 
sole, the other on its edge. They were Philina's slippers : 
he recognized them but too well. He thought he noticed some 
disorder in the curtains ; nay, it seemed as if they moved. 
He stood, and looked with unaverted eyes. 

A new impulse, which he took for anger, cut his breath : 
after a short pause, he recovered, and cried in a firm tone, — 

" Come out, Pbilina ! What do you mean by this ? Where 
is your sense, your modesty? Are we to be the speech of the 
house to-morrow? " 

Nothing stirred. 

" I do not jest," continued he: "these pranks are little 
to my taste." 

No sound ! No motion ! 

Irntated and determined, he at last went forward to the 
l^ed, and tore the curtains asunder. "Arise," said he, "if 
I am not to give you up my room to-night." 

With great surprise, he found his bed unoccupied ; the 
sheets and pillows in the sleekest rest. He looked around : 
he searched and searched, but found no traoes of the rouge. 
Behind the bed, the stove, the drawers, there was notliing 
to be seen : he sought Avith great and greater diligence ; a 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 287 

spiteful looker-on might have believed that he was seeking 
in the hope of finding. 

All thought of sleep was gone. He put the slippers on 
his table ; went past it, up and down ; often paused before 
it ; and a wicked sprite that watched him has asserted that 
our friend emplo3'ed himself for several hours about these 
dainty little shoes ; that he \'iewed them with a certain in- 
terest ; that he handled them and pla}- ed with them ; and it 
was not till towards morning that he threw himself on the bed, 
without undressing, where he fell asleep amidst a world of 
curious fantasies. 

He was still slumbering, when Serlo entered hastily. 
' ' Where are you ? ' ' cried he : " still in bed ? Impossible ! I 
want you in the theatre : we have a thousand things to do." 



CHAPTER XI. 

The forenoon and the afternoon fled rapidly away. The 
playhouse was already full : our friend hastened to dress. 
It was not with the joy which it had given him when he first 
essayed it, that he now put on the garb of Hamlet : he 
only dressed that he might be in readiness. On his joining 
the women in the stage-room, they unanimously cried that 
nothing sat upon him right ; the fine feather stood awry ; 
the buckle of his belt did not fit : they began to slit, to sew, 
and piece together. The music started : Philina still ob- 
jected somewhat to his ruff ; Aurelia had much to say against 
his mantle. ''Leave me alone, good people," cried he: 
" this negligence will make me liker Hamlet." The women 
would not let him go, but continued trimming him. The 
music ceased : the acting was begun. He looked at himself 
in the glass, pressed his hat closer down upon his face, and 
retouched the painting of his cheeks. 

At this instant somebody came rushing in, and cried, 
"The Ghost! the Ghost ! " 

Wilhelm had not once had time all day to think of the 
Ghost, and whether it would come or not. His anxiety on 
that head was at length removed, and now some strange 
assistant was to be expected. The stage-manager came in, 
inquiring after various matters : Wilhelm had not time to 



288 MEISTEK'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

ask about the Ghost ; he hastened to present himsell' before 
the throne, where King and Queen, surrounded with their 
court, were ah'eady glancing in all the splendors of roytilty, 
and waiting till the scene in front of them should be con- 
cluded. He caught the last words of Horatio, who was 
speaking of the Ghost, in extreme confusion, and seemed to 
have almost forgotten his part. 

The intermediate curtain went aloft, and Hamlet saw ttie 
crowded house before him. Horatio, having spoken his 
address, and been dismissed by the King, pressed through 
to Hamlet ; and, as if presenting himself to the Prince, he 
said, " The Devil is in harness : he has put us all in fright.'' 

In the mean while, two men of large stature, in white 
cloaks and capouches, were observed standing in the side- 
scenes. Our friend, in the distraction, embarrassment, and 
hurry of the moment, had failed in the first soliloquy ; at 
least, such was his own opinion, though loud plaudits had 
attended his exit. Accordingly, he made his next entrance 
in no pleasant mood, with the dreary wintry feeling of dra- 
matic condemnation. Yet he girded up his mind, and spoke 
that appropriate passage on the "rouse and wassail," the 
" heavj^-headed revel" of the Danes, with suitable indiffer- 
ence ; he had, like the audience, in thinking of it, quite 
forgotten the Ghost ; and he started, in real terror, when 
Horatio cried out, " Look, my lord ! it comes ! " He whirled 
violently round ; and the tall, noble figure, the low, inaudible 
tread, the light movement in the heav^-looking armor, made 
such an impression on him, that he stood as if transformed 
to stone, and could utter only in a half-voice his "Angels 
and ministers of grace defend us ! " He glared at the form, 
drew a deep breathing once or twice, and pronounced his 
address to the Ghost in a manner so confused, so broken, so 
constrained, that the highest art could not have hit the mark 
so well. 

His translation of this passage now stood him in good 
stead. He had kept very close to the original, in which the 
arrangement of the words appeared to him expressive of a 
mind confounded, terrified, and seized with horror : — 

" ' Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damu'd, 

Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, 
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, 
Thou coni'st in sucli a questionable shape. 
That 1 will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, 
King, father, royal Dane- oh, answer me I' " 



c: 



c\ 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 289 

A. deep effect was visible in the audience. The Ghost beck- 
oned, the Prince followed him amid the loudest plaudits. 

The scene changed : and, when the two had re-appeared, 
the Ghost, on a sudden, stopped, and turned round ; by 
which means Hamlet came to be a little too close upon it. 
With a longing curiosity, he looked in at the lowered visor ; 
but except two deep-lying eyes, and a well-formed nose, he 
could discern nothing. Gazing timidly, he stood before the 
Ghost ; but when the first tones issued from the helmet, and 
a somewhat hoarse, yet deep and penetrating, voice, pro- 
nounced the words, "I am thy father's spirit," Wilhelm, 
shuddering, started back some paces ; and the audience shud- 
dered with him. Each imagined that he knew the voice : 
Wilhelm thought he noticed in it some resemblance to his |^,^ 
father's. These strange emotions and remembrances, the 
curiosity he felt about discovering his secret friend, the 
anxiety about offending him, even the theatric impropriety 
of coming too near him in the present situation, all this 
affected Wilhelm with powerful and conflicting impulses. 
During the long speech of the Ghost, he changed his place 
so frequently, he seemed so unsettled and perplexed, so 
attentive and so absent-minded, that his acting caused a 
universal admiration, as the Spirit caused a universal horror. 
The latter spoke with a feeling of melancholy*anger, rather 
than of sorrow ; but of an anger spiritual, slow, and inex- 
haustible. It was the mistemper of a noble soul, that is sev- 
ered from all earthly things, and yet devoted to unbounded 
woe. At last he vanished, but in a curious manner ; for a 
thin, gray, transparent gauze arose from the place of de- 
scent, like a vapor, spread itself over him, and sank along 
with him. 

Hamlet's friends now entered, and swore upon the sword. 
Old Truepenny, in the mean time, was so busy under ground, 
that, wherever they might take their station, he was sure to 
call out right beneath them, "Swear!" and they started, 
as if the soil had taken fire below them, and hastened to 
another spot. On each of these occasions, too, a little flame 
pierced through at the place where they were standing. The 
whole produced on the spectators a profound impression. 

After this, the play proceeded calmly on its course : noth- 
ing failed ; all prospered ; the audience manifested their con- 
tentment, and the actors seemed to rise in heart and spirits 
every scene. 

10— Goethe Vol 7 



Ki-^ 



290 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER XII. 

The curtain fell, and rapturous applauses sounded out of 
every corner of the house. The four princely corpses sprang 
aloft, and embraced each other. Polonius and Ophelia like- 
wise issued from their graves, and listened with extreme 
satisfaction, as Horatio, who had stepped before the curtain 
to announce the following play, was welcomed with the most 
thundering plaudits. The people would not hear of any 
other play, but violently required the repetition of the present. 

"We have won," cried Serlo, "and so not another rea- 
sonable word this night ! Every thing depends on the first 
impression : we should never take it ill of any actor, that, on 
occasion of his first appearance, he is provident, and even 
self-wUled." 

The box-keeper came, and delivered him a heavy sum. 
" We have made a good beginning," cried the manager, 
" and prejudice itself will now be on our side. But where 
is the supper you promised us ? To-night we may be allowed 
to relish it a little." 

It had been agreed that all the party were to stay together 
in their stage-dresses, and enjoy a little feast among them- 
selves. Wilbelm had engaged to have the place in readiness, 
and Frau Melina to provide the victuals. 

A room, which commonly was occupied by scene-painters, 
had accordingly been polished up as well as possible : our 
friends had hung it round with little decorations, and so 
decked and trimmed it, that it looked half like a garden, 
half like a colonnade. On entering it, the company were 
dazzled with the glitter of a multitude of lights, which, 
across the vapors of the sweetest and most copious perfumes, 
spread a stately splendor over a well-decorated and well-fur- 
nished table. These preparations were hailed with joyful 
interjections by the party ; all took their places with a cer- 
tain genuine dignity ; it seemed as if some royal family had 
met together in the Kingdom of the Shades. Wilhelm sat 
between Aurelia and the Frau Melina ; Serlo between Philina 
and Elmira ; nobody was discontented with himself or with 
his place. 

Our two theatric amateurs, who had from the first been 
present, now increased the pleasure of the meeting. While 
the exhibition was proceeding, they had several times stepped 
round, and come upon the stage, expressing, in the warmest 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 291 

terms, the delight which they and the audience felt. They 
now descended to particulars, and each was richly rewarded 
for his efforts. 

With boundless animation, the company extolled man after 
man, and passage after passage. To the prompter, who had 
modestly sat down at the bottom of the table, they gave a lib- 
eral commendation for his "rugged Pyrrhus ; '* the fencing of 
Hamlet and Laertes was beyond all praise ; Ophelia's mourn- 
ing had been inexpressibly exalted and affecting ; of Polo- 
nius they would not trust themselves to speak. 

Every individual present heard himself commended through 
the rest and by them, nor was the absent Ghost defrauded 
of his share of praise and admiration. He had played the 
part, it was asserted, with a very happy voice, and in a 
lofty style ; but what surprised them most, was the informa- 
tion which he seemed to have about their own affairs. He 
entirely resembled the painted figure, as if he had sat to the 
painter of it ; and the two amateurs described, in glowing 
language, how awful it had looked when the spirit entered 
near the picture, and stepped across before his own image. 
Truth and error, they declared, had been commingled in the 
strangest manner : they had felt as if the Queen really did 
not see the Ghost. And Frau Melina was especially com- 
mended, because on this occasion she had gazed upwards at 
the picture, while Hamlet was pointing downwards at the 
Spectre. 

Inquiry was now made how the apparition could have 
entered. The stage-manager reported that a back-door, 
usually blocked up by decorations, had that evening, as the 
Gothic hall was occupied, been opened ; that two large fig- 
ures in white cloaks and hoods, one of whom was not to be 
distinguished from the other, had entered by this passage ; 
and by the same, it was likely, they had issued when the 
third act was over. 

Serlo praised the Ghost for one merit, — that he had not 
whined and lamented like a tailor ; nay, to animate his son, 
had even introduced a passage at the end, which more be- 
seemed such a hero. Wilhelm had kept it in memory : he 
promised to insert it in his manuscript. 

Amid the pleasures of the entertainment, it had not been 
noticed that the children and the harper were absent. Ere- 
long they made their entrance, and were blithely welcomed 
by the company. They came in together, very strangely 
decked : Felix was beating a triangle, Mignon a tambourine ; 



292 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

the old man had his large harp hung round his neck, and waa 
playing on it whilst he carried it before him. They marched 
round and round the table, and sang a multitude of songs. 
Eatables were handed them ; and the guests seemed to think 
they could not do a greater kindness to the children, than by 
giving them as much sweet wine as they chose to have. For 
the company themselves had not by any means neglected a 
stock of savory flasks, presented by the two amateurs, which 
had arrived that evening in baskets. The children tripped 
about, and sang: Mignon, in particular, was frolicsome 
beyond all wont. She beat the tambourine with the greatest 
liveliness and grace : now, with her finger pressed against 
the parchment, she hummed across it swiftly to and fro ; now 
rattled on it with her knuckles, now with the back of her 
hand ; nay, sometimes, with alternating rhythm, she struck 
it first against her knee and then against her head ; and anon 
twirling it in her hand, she made the shells jingle by them- 
selves ; and thus, from the simplest instrument, elicited a 
great variety of tones. After she and Felix had long rioted 
about, they sat down upon an elbow-chair which was stand- 
ing empty at the table, exactly opposite to Wilhelm. 

" Keep out of the chair ! " cried Serlo : " it is waiting for 
the Ghost, I think ; and, when he comes, it will be worse 
for you." 

" I do not fear him," answered Mignon : " if he come, 
we can rise. He is my uncle, and will not harm me." To 
those who did not know that her reputed father had been 
named the Great Devil, this speech was unintelligible. 

The party looked at one another : they were more and 
more confirmed in their suspicion that the manager was in 
the secret of the Ghost. They talked and tippled, and the 
girls from time to time cast timid glances towards the door. 

The children, who, sitting in the big chair, looked from 
over the table but like puppets in their box, did actually at 
length start a little drama in the style of Punch. The 
screeching tone of these people Mignon imitated very well ; 
and Felix and she began to knock their heads together, and 
against the edges of the table, in such a way as only wooden 
puppets could endure. Mignon, in particular, grew frantic 
with gayety : the company, much as they had laughed at her 
at first, were in fine obliged to curb her. But persuasion was 
of small avail ; for she now sprang up, and raved, and shook 
her tambourine, and capered round the table. With her hair 
flying out behind her, with her head thrown back, and her 



METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 293 

liinbs, as it were, cast into the air, she seemed like one of 
those antique Maenads, whose wild and all but impossible 
positions still, on classic monuments, often strike us with 
amazement. 

Incited by the talents and the uproar of the children, each 
endeavored to contribute something to the entertainment of 
the night. The girls sung several canons ; Laertes whistled 
in the manner of a nightingale ; and the Pedant gave a 
sjm'phonj pianissimo upon the Jew's-harp. Meanwhile the 
youths and damsels, who sat near each other, had begun a 
great variety of games ; in which, as the hands often crossed 
and met, some pairs were favored with a transient squeeze, 
the emblem of a hopeful kindness. Madam Melina in par- 
ticular seemed scarcely to conceal a decided tenderness for 
Wilhelm. It was late ; and Aurelia, perhaps the only one 
retaining self-possession in the party, now stood up, and 
signified that it was time to go. 

By way of termination, Serlo gave a firework, or what 
resembled one ; for he could imitate the sound of crackers, 
rockets, and firewheels, with his mouth, in a style of nearly 
inconceivable correctness. You had only to shut your eyes, 
and the deception was complete. In the mean time, they 
had all risen : the men gave their arms to the women to 
escort them home. Wilhelm was walking last with Aurelia. 
The stage-manager met him on the stairs, and said to him, 
' ' Here is the veil our Ghost vanished in ; it was hanging 
fixed to the place where he sank ; we found it this moment." 
— "A curious relic ! " said our friend, and took it with him. 

At this instant his left arm was laid hold of, and he felt a 
smart twinge of pain in it. Mignon had hid herself in the 
place: she had seized him, and bit his arm. She rushed 
past him, down stairs, and disappeared. 

On reaching the open air, almost all of them discovered 
that they had drunk too liberally. They glided asunder 
without taking leave. 

The instant Wilhelm gained his room, he stripped, and, 
extinguishing his candle, hastened into bed. Sleep was over- 
powering him without delay, when a noise, that seemed to 
issue from behind the stove, aroused him. In the eye of his 
heated fancy, the image of the harnessed King was hovering 
there : he sat up that he might address the Spectre ; but he 
felt himself encircled with soft ?**ms, and his mouth was 
shut with kisses, which he had not force to push away. 



294 METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Next morning Wilhelm started up with an unpleasant 
feeling, and found himself alone. His head was still dim 
with the tumult, which he had not yet entirely slept off ; 
and the recollection of his nightly visitant disquieted his 
mind. His first suspicion lighted on Philina ; but, on second 
thoughts, he conceived that it could not have been she. He 
sprang out of bed : and, while putting on his clothes, he 
noticed that the door, which commonly he used to bolt, was 
now ajar ; though whether he had shut it on the previous 
night, or not, he could not recollect. 

But what surprised him most was the Spirit's veil, which 
he found lying on his bed. Having brought it up with him, 
he had most probablj^ thrown it there himself. It was a 
gray gauze : on the hem of it he noticed an inscription 
broidered in dark letters. He unfolded it, and read the 
words, '' For THE first and the last time! Flee, Youth! 
Flee!" He was struck with it, and knew not what to 
think or say. 

At this moment Mignon entered with his breakfast. The 
aspect of the child astonished Wilhelm, we may almost say 
frightened him. She appeared to liave grown taller over 
night : she entered with a stately, noble air, and looked him 
in the face so earnestly, that he could not endure her 
glances. She did not touch him, as at other times, when, 
for morning salutation, she would press his hand, or kiss his 
cheek, his lips, his arm, or shoulder ; but, having put his 
things in order, she retired in silence. 

The appointed time of a first rehearsal now arrived : our 
friends assembled, all of them entirely out of tune from yes- 
ternight's debauch. Wilhelm roused himself as much as 
possible, that he might not at the very outset violate the prin- 
ciples he had preached so lately with such emphasis. His 
practice in the matter helped him through ; for practice and 
habit must, in every ai-t, fill up the voids which genius and 
temper in their fluctuations will so often leave. 

But, in the present case, our friends had especial reason to 
admit the truth of the remark, that no one should begin 
with a festivity any situation that is meant to last, particularly 
that is meant to be a trade, a mode of living. Festivities 
are fit for what is happily concluded : at the commence- 
ment, they but waste the force and zeal which should inspire 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHTP. 295 

lis in the struggle, and support us through a long- continued 
labor. Of all festivities, the marriage festival appears the 
most unsuitable : calmness, humility, and silent hope befit no 
ceremon}' more than this. 

So passed the day, which to Wilhelm seemed the most in- 
sipid he had ever spent. Instead of their accustomed con- 
versation in the evening, the company began to yawn : the 
interest of Hamlet was exhausted ; they rather felt it disa- 
greeable than otherwise that the play was to be repeated 
next night. Wilhelm showed the veil which the royal Dane 
had left : it was to be infeiTed from this, that he would not 
come again. Serlo was of that opinion ; he appeared to be 
deep in the secrets of the Ghost : but, on the other hand, the 
inscription, " Flee, youth ! Flee ! " seemed inconsistent with 
the rest. How could Serlo be in league with any one whose 
aim it was to take away the finest actor of his troop ? 

It had now become a matter of necessity to confer on 
Boisterous the Ghost's part, and on the Pedant that of the 
King. Both declared that they had studied these sufficiently : 
nor was it wonderful ; for in such a number of rehearsals, 
and so copious a treatment of the subject, all of them had 
grown familiar with it : each could have exchanged his part 
with any other. Yet they rehearsed a little here p.nd there, 
and prepared the new adventurers, as fully as the hurry would 
admit. When the company was breaking up at a pretty late 
hour, Philina softly whispered Wilhelm as she passed, " I 
must have my slippers back : thou wilt not bolt the door? " 
These words excited some perplexity in Wilhelm, when he 
reached his chamber ; they strengthened the suspicion that 
Philina was the secret visitant : and we ourselves are forced 
to coincide with this idea ; particularly as the causes, which 
awakened in our friend another and a stranger supposition, 
cannot be disclosed. He kept walking up and down his 
chamber in no quiet frame : his door was actually not yet 
bolted. 

On a sudden Mignon rushed into the room, laid hold of 
him, and cried, " Master ! save the house ! It is on fire ! " 
Wilhelm sprang through the door, and a strong smoke came 
rushing down upon him from the upper story. On the street 
he heard the cry of fire ; and the harper, with his instru- 
ment in his hand, came down-stairs breathless through the 
smoke. Aurelia hurried out of her chamber, and threw littl^ 
Felix into Wilhelm 's arms. 

" Save the child ' " cried she, " and we will mind the 
rest." 



296 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Wilhelm did not look upon the danger as so great : his 
first thought was, to penetrate to the source of the fire, and 
try to stifle it before it reached a head. He gave Felix to 
the harper ; commanding him to hasten down the stone 
stairs, which led across a little garden- vault out into the 
garden, and to wait with the children in the open air. Mig- 
non took a light to show the way. He begged Aurelia to 
secure her things there also. He himself pierced upwards 
through the smoke, but it was in vain that he exposed him- 
self to such danger. The flame appeared to issue from a 
neighboring house : it had already caught the wooden floor 
and staircase : some others, who had hastened to his help, 
were suffering like himself from fire and vapor. Yet he 
kept inciting them ; he called for water ; he conjured them 
to dispute every inch with the flame, and promised to abide 
by them to the last. At this instant, Mignon came spring- 
ing up, and cried, " Master ! save thy Felix ! The old man 
is mad! He is killing him." Scarcely knowing what he 
did, Wilhelm darted down stairs ; and Mignon followed close 
behind him. 

On the last steps, which led into the garden- vault, he 
paused with horror. Some heaps of fire-wood branches, and 
large masses of straw, which had been stowed in the place, 
were burning with a clear flame ; Felix was lying on the 
ground, and screaming ; the harper stood aside, holding down 
his head, and leaned against the wall. " Unhappy creature ! 
what is this?" said Wilhelm. The old man spoke not; 
Mignon lifted Felix, and carried him with diflSculty to the 
garden ; while Wilhelm strove to pull the fire asunder and 
extinguish it, but only by his efforts made the flame more 
violent. At last he, too, was forced to flee into the garden, 
with his hair and his eyelashes burned ; tearing the harper 
with him through the conflagration, who, with singed beard, 
unwillingl}^ accompanied him. 

Wilhelm hastened instantl}- to seek the children. He 
found them on the threshold of a summer-house at some 
distance : Mignon was trying every effort to pacify her com- 
rade. Wilhelm took him on his knee : he questioned him, 
felt him, but could obtain no satisfactory account from either 
him or Mignon. 

Meanwhile, the fire had fiercely seized on several houses : 
it was now enlightening all the neighborhood. Wilhelm 
looked at the child in the red glare of the flames : he could 
find no wound, no blood, no hurt of any kind. He groped 



MEiSTER'S apprenticp:ship. 297 

over all the little creature's body, but the boy gave no sign of 
pain : on the contrary, he by degrees grew calm, and began to 
wonder at the blazing houses, and express his pleasure at the 
spectacle of beams and rafters burning all in order, like a 
grand illumination, so beautifully there. 

Wilhelm thought not of the clothes or goods he might have 
lost : he felt deeply how inestimable to him was this pair of 
human beings, who had just escaped so great a danger. He 
pressed little Felix to his heart with a new emotion : Mignon, 
too, he was about to clasp with joyful tenderness ; but she 
softly avoided this : she took him by the hand, and held it 
fast. 

' ' Master, ' ' said she (till the present evening she had 
hardly ever named him master ; at first she used to name him 
sir, and afterwards to call him father), — "Master! we 
have escaped an awful danger : thy Felix was on the point 
of death." 

By many inquiries, Wilhelm learned from her at last, that, 
when they came into the vault, the harper tore the light 
from her hand, and set on fire the straw. That he then put 
Felix down, laid his hands with strange gestures on the head 
of the child, and drew a knife as if he meant to sacrifice him. 
That she sprang forward, and snatched it from him ; that 
she screamed ; and some one from the house, who was carry- 
ing something down into the garden, came to her help, but 
must have gone away again in the confusion, and left the 
old man and the child alone. 

Two or even three houses were now flaming in a general 
blaze. Owing to the conflagration in the vault, no person 
had been able to take shelter in the garden. Wilhelm was 
distressed about his friends, and in a less degree about his 
property. Not venturing to quit the children, he was forced 
to sit, and see the mischief spreading more and more. 

In this anxious state he passed some hours. Felix had 
fallen asleep on his bosom : Mignon was lying at his side, 
and holding fast his hand. The efforts of the people finally 
subdued the fire. The burned houses sank, with successive 
crashes, into heaps ; the morning was advancing ; the children 
awoke, and complained of bitter cold ; even Wilhelm, in his 
light dress, could scarcely brook the chillness of the falling- 
dew. He took the young ones to the rubbish of the prostrate 
building, where, among the ashes and the embers, they found 
a very grateful warmth. 

The opening day collected, by degrees, the various indi- 



298 



MEISTER'S APPRENTTCESHIP. 



viduals of the party. All of tlioiii hud got jiwiiy unhurt : 
no one had lost much. Wilhelm's trunk was saved among 
the rest. 

Towards ten o'clock Serlo called them to rehearse their 
" Hamlet," at least some scenes, in which fresh players were 
to act. He had some debates to manage, on this point, with 
the municipal authorities. The clergy required, that, after 
such a visitation of Providence, the playhouse should be shut 
for some time ; and Serlo, on the other hand, maintained, that 
both for the purpose of repairing the damage he had suffered, 
and of exhilarating the depressed and terrified spirits of the 
people, nothing could be more in place than the exhibition 
of some interesting play. His opinion in the end prevailed, 
and the house was full. The actors played with singular fire, 
with more of a passionate freedom than at first. The feel- 
ings of the audience had been heightened by the horrors of 
the previous night, and their appetite for entertainment had 
been sharpened by the tedium of a wasted and dissipated 
day : every one had more than usual susceptibility for what 
was strange and moving. Most of them were new spectators, 
invited by the fame of the play : they could not compare 
the present with the preceding evening. Boisterous played 
altogether in the style of the unknown Ghost : the Pedant, 
too, had accurately seized the manner of his predecessor; 
nor was his own woful aspect without its use to him ; for it 
seemed as if, in spite of his purple cloak and his ermine 
collar, Hamlet were fully justified in calling him a '' king of 
shreds and patches." 

Few have ever reached the throne by a path more singular 
than his had been. But although the rest, and especially 
Philina, made sport of his preferment, he himself signified 
that the count, a consummate judge, had at the first glance 
predicted this and much more of him. Philina, on the other 
hand, recommended lowliness of mind to him ; saying, she 
would now and then powder the sleeves of his coat, that he 
might remember that unhappy night in the castle, and wear 
his crown with meekness. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 299 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Our friends had sought out other lodgings, on the spur of 
the moment, and were by this means much dispersed. Wil- 
helm had conceived a liking for the garden-house, where he 
had spent the night of the conflagration : he easiW obtained 
the key, and settled himself there. But Aurelia being greatly 
hampered in her new abode, he was obliged to retain little 
Felix with him. Mignon, indeed, would not part with the 
boy. 

He had placed the children in a neat chamber on the upper 
floor : he himself was in the lower parlor. The young ones 
were asleep at this time : Wilhelm could not sleep. 

Adjoining the lovely garden, which the full moon had just 
risen to illuminate, the black ruins of the fire were visible ; 
and here and there a streak of vapor was still mounting from 
them. The air was soft, the night • extremely beautiful. 
Philina, in issuing from the theatre, had jogged him with her 
elbow, and whispered something to him, which he did not 
understand. He felt perplexed and out of humor : he knew 
not what he siiould expect or do. For a day or two Philina 
had avoided him : it was not till to-night that she had given 
him any second signal. Unhappily the doors, that he was 
not to bolt, were now consumed : the slippers had evaporated 
into smoke. How the girl would gain admission to the 
garden, if her aim was such, he knew not. He wished she 
might not come, and yet he longed to have some explanation 
with her. 

But what lay heavier at his heart than this, was the fate 
of the harper, whom, since the fire, no one had seen. Wil- 
helm was afraid, that, in clearing off the rubbish, they would 
find him buried under it. Our friend had carefully concealed 
the suspicion which he entertained, that it was the harper 
who had fired the house. The old man had been first seen, 
as he rushed from the burning and smoking floor, and his 
desperation in the vault appeared a natural consequence of 
such a deed. Yet, from the inquiry which the magistrates 
had instituted touching the affair, it seemed likely that the 
fire had not originated in the house where Wilhelm lived, but 
had accidentally been kindled in the thu'd from that, and had 
crept along beneath the roofs before it burst into activity. 

Seated in a grove, our friend was meditating all these things, 
when he heard a low footfall in a neighboring walk. By the 



300 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

melancholy song which arose along with it, he recognized the 
harper. He caught the words of the song without difficulty : 
it turned on the consolations of a miserable man, conscious 
of being on the borders of insanity. Unhappily our friend 
fprgot the whole of it except the last verse : — 

" Wheresoe'er my steps may lead me, 

Meekly at the door I'll stay: 
Pious hands will come to feed me, 

And I'll wander on my way. 
Each will feel a touch of gladness 

When my aged form appears : 
Each will shed a tear of sadness, 

Though I reck not of his tears." 

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



CHAPTER XV. 

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



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 301 

business to attend to people in such situations. In the present 
instance, as in many others, his treatment had succeeded : he 
was still in town, and the friends of the patient were show- 
ing him the greatest honor. 

Wilhelm hastened to find out this person : he disclosed the 
case to him, and agreed with him about the terms. The 
harper was to be brought over to him, under certain pre- 
texts. The separation deeply pained our friend ; so used 
was he to see the man beside him, and to hear his spirited 
and touching strains. The hope of soon beholding him re- 
covered, served, in some degree, to moderate this feeling. 
The old man's harp had been destroyed in the burning of the 
house : they purchased him another, and gave it him when 
he departed. 

Mignon's little wardrobe had in like manner been con- 
sumed. As Wilhelm was about providing her with new 
apparel, Aurelia proposed that now at last they should dress 
her as a girl. 

*' No ! no ! not at all ! " cried Mignon, and insisted on it 
with such earnestness, that they let her have her way. 

The company had not much leisure for reflection : the ex- 
hibitions followed close on one another. 

Wilhelm often mingled with the audience, to ascertain 
their feelings ; but he seldom heard a criticism of the kind 
he wished : more frequently the observations he listened to 
distressed or angered him. Thus, for instance, shortly after 
"Hamlet" had been acted for the first time, a youth was 
telling, with considerable animation, how happy he had been 
that evening in the playhouse. Wilhelm hearkened, and was 
scandalized to learn that his neighbor had, on that occasion, 
in contempt of those behind him, kept his hat on, stubbornly 
refusing to remove it till the play was done ; to which hero- 
ical transaction he still looked back with great contentment. 

Another gentleman declared that Wilhelm played Laertes 
very well, but that the actor who had undertaken Hamlet 
did not seem too happy in his part. This permutation was 
not quite unnatural ; for Wilhelm and Laertes did resemble 
one another, though in a very distant manner. 

A third critic warmly praised his acting, particularly in the 
scene with his mother ; only he regretted much, that, in this 
fiery moment, a white strap had peered out from below the 
Prince's waistcoat, whereby the illusion had been greatly 
marred. 

Meanwhile, in the interior of the company, a multitude of 



302 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

alterations were occurring. Philina, since the evening sub- 
sequent to that of the fire, had never given our friend the 
smallest' sign of closer intimac3^ She had, as it seemed on 
purpose, hired a remote lodging : she associated with Elmira, 
and came seldomer to Serlo, — an arrangement very gratify- 
ing to Aurelia. Serlo continued still to like her, and often 
visited her quarters, particularly when he hoped to find El- 
mira there. One evening he took Wilhelm with him. At 
their entrance, both of them were much surprised to see 
Philina, in the inner room, sitting in close contact with a 
young officer. He wore a red uniform with white panta- 
loons ; but, his face being turned away, they could not see it. 
Philina came into the outer room to meet her visitors, and 
shut the door behind her. " You surprise me in the middle 
of a very strange adventure," cried she. 

'' It does not appear so strange," said Serlo ; " but let us 
see this handsome, young, enviable gallant. You have us in 
such training, that we dare not show any jealousy, however 
it may be." 

" I must leave you to suspicion for a time," replied Phil- 
ina in a jesting tone ; " yet I can assure you, the gallant is 
a lady of my friends, who wishes to remain a few days un- 
discovered. You shall know her histor}- in due season ; nay, 
perhaps you shall even behold the beautiful spinster in 
person ; and then most probably I shall have need of all my 
prudence and discretion, for it seems too likely that j^our 
new acquaintance will drive your old friend out of favor." 

Wilhelm stood as if transformed to stone. At the first 
glance, the red uniform had reminded him of Mariana : the 
figure, too, was hers ; the fair hair was hers ; only the pres- 
„V. ent individual seemed to be a little taller. 

" For Heaven's sake," cried he, " lot us know something 
more about your friend ! let us see this lady in disguise ! 
We are now partakers of your secret : we will promise, we 
will swear ; only let us see the lady ! ' ' 

" What a fire he is in ! " cried Philina : " but be cool, be 
calm ; for to-day there will nothing come of it." 

" Let us only know her name ! " cried Wilhelm. 

" It were a fine secret, then," replied Philina. 

" At least her first name ! " 

" If you can guess it, be it so. Three guesses I will give 
you, — not a fourth. You might lead me through the whole 
calendar. ' ' 

" Well ! " said Wilhelm • " Cecilia, then? " 



X 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 303 

" None of your Cecilias ! " 

"Henrietta?" 

" Not at all ! Have a care, I pray you : guess better, or 
your curiosity will have to sleep unsatisfied." 

Willielm paused and shivered : he tried to speak, but the 
sound died away within him. "Mariana?" stammered he 
at last, " Mariana? " 

"Bravo!" cried Philina. "Hit to a hair's-breadth ! " 
said she, whirling round upon her heel, as she was wont on 
such occasions. 

Wilhelm could not utter a word ; and Serlo, not' observing 
his emotion, urged Philina more and more to let them in. 

Conceive the astonishment of both, when Wilhelm, suddenly 
and vehemently interrupting their raillery, threw himself at 
Philina 's feet, and, with an air and tone of the deepest 
passion, begged and conjured her, " Let me see the stran- 
ger," cried he: "she is mine; she is my Mariana! She 
for whom I have longed all the days of my life, she who is 
still more to me than all the women in this world ! Go in to 
her at least, and tell her that I am here, — that the man is here 
who linked to her his earliest love, and all the happiness of 
his youth. Say that he will justify himself, though he left 
her so unkindly ; he will pray for pardon of her ; and will 
grant her pardon, whatsoever she may have done to him ; he 
will even make no pretensions further, if he may but see her, 
if he may but see that she is living and in happiness." 

Philina shook her head, and said, " Speak low! Do not 
betray us ! If the lady is indeed your friend, her feelings 
must be spared ; for she does not in the least suspect that 
you are here. Quite a different sort of business brings her 
hither ; and you know well enough, one had rather see a 
spectre than a former lover at an inconvenient time. I will 
ask her, and prepare her : we will then consider what is 
further to be done. To-morrow I shall write you a note, 
saying when you are to come, or whether you may come at 
all. Obey me punctually; for I protest, that, without her 
own and my consent, no eye shall see this lovely creature. I 
shall keep my doors better bolted ; and, with axe and crow, 
you surely will not visit me." 

Our friend conjured her, Serlo begged of her ; but all in 
vain : they were obliged to yield, and leave the chamber and 
the house. 

With what feelings Wilhelm passed the night is easy to 
conceive. How slowly the hours of the day flowed on, while 



304 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

he sat expecting a message from Philina, may also be ima- 
gined. Unhappily he had to play that evening : such mental 
pain he had never endured. The moment his part was done, 
he hastened to Philina' s house, without inquiring whether he 
had got her leave or not. He found her doors bolted : and 
the people of the house informed him that mademoiselle had 
set out early in the morning, in company with a young ofli- 
cer ; that she had talked about returning shortly ; but they 
had not believed her, she having paid her debts, and taken 
every thing along with her. 

This intelligence drove Wilhelm almost frantic. He has- 
tened to Laertes, that he might take measures for pursuing 
her, and, cost what it would, for attaining certainty regard- 
ing her attendant. Laertes, however, represented to him the 
imprudence of such passion and credulity. " I dare wager, 
after all," said he, " that it is no one else but Friedrich. 
The boy is of a high family, I know ; he is madly in love 
with Philina ; it is likely he has cozened from his friends a 
fresh supply of money, so that he can once more live with 
her in peace for a while." 

These considerations, though they did not quite convince 
our friend, sufficed to make him waver. Laertes showed 
him how improbable the story was with which Philina had 
amused them ; reminded him how well the stranger's hair 
and figure answered Friedrich ; that with the start of him by 
twelve hours, they could not easily be overtaken ; and, what 
was more than all, that Serlo could not do without him at 
the theatre. 

By so many reasons, Wilhelm was at last persuaded to 
postpone the execution of his project. That night Laertes 
got an active man, to whom they gave the charge of follow- 
ing the runaway's. It was a steady person, who had often 
officiated as courier and guide to travelling-parties, and was 
at present without employment. They gave him money, the} 
informed him of the whole affair ; instructing him to seek 
and overtake the fugitives, to keep them in his eye, and in 
stantly to send intelligence to Wilhelm where and how he 
found them. That very hour he mounted horse, pursu- 
ing this ambiguous pair; by which exertions, Wilhelm 
was in some degree at least, composed. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 305 



CHAPTER XVI. 

The departure of Philina did not make a deep sensation, 
either in the theatre or in the public. She never was in 
earnest with any thing : the women universally detested her ; 
the men rather wished to see her selves-two than on the 
'boards. Thus her fine, and, for the stage, even happy, tal- 
ents were of no avail to her. The other members of the 
company took greater labor on them to supply her place : 
the Frau Melina, in particular, was much distinguished by 
her diligence and zeal. She noted down, as formerly, the 
principles of Wilhelm ; she guided herself according to his 
theory and his example ; there was of late a something in 
her nature that rendered her more interesting. She soon 
acquired an accurate mode of acting : she attained the nat- 
ural tone of conversation altogether, that of keen emotion 
she attained in some degree. She contrived, moreover, to 
adapt herself to Serlo's humors : she took pains in singing 
for his pleasure, and succeeded in that matter moderately 
well. 

By the accession of some other players, the company was 
rendered more complete : and while Wilhelm and Serlo were 
busied each in his degree, the former insisting on the general 
tone and spirit of the whole, the latter faithfuU}^ elaborating 
the separate passages, a laudable ardor likewise inspired the 
actors ; and the public took a lively interest in their concerns. 

" We are on the right path," said Serlo once : "if we can 
continue thus, the public, too, will soon be on it. Men are 
easily astonished and misled by wild and barbarous exhibi- 
tions ; yet lay before them any thing rational and polished, 
in an interesting manner, and doubt not they will catch at 
it." 

"What forms the chief defect of our German theatre, ^ 
what prevents both actor and spectator from obtaining 
proper views, is the vague and variegated nature of the 
objects it contains. You nowhere find a barrier on which to 
prop your judgment. In my opinion, it is far from an ad- 
vantage to us that we have expanded our stage into, as it 
were, a boundless arena for the whole of nature ; yet neither 
manager nor actor need attempt contracting it, until the 
taste of the nation shall itself mark out the proper circle. 
Every good society submits to certain conditions and restric- 
tions ; so also must every good theatre. Certain planners, 



306 MEISTER'S APrREXTICESHIP. 

certain modes of speech, certain objects, and fashions of 
proceeding, must altogether be exchuled. You do not gi*ow 
poorer by limiting your household expenditure.'* 

On these points our friends were more or less accordant 
or at variance. The majority, with Wilhelm at their head, 
were for the English theatre ; Serlo and a few others for the 
French. 

It was also settled, that in vacant hours, of which unhap- 
pily an actor has too many, they should in company peruse 
the finest plays in both these languages ; examining what 
parts of them seemed best and worthiest of imitation. They 
accordingly commenced with some French pieces. On these 
occasions, it was soon observed, Aurelia went away when- 
ever they began to read. At first they supposed she had 
been sick : Wilhelm once questioned her about it. 

" I would not assist at such a reading,'* said she, "for 
how could I hear and judge, when my heart was torn in 
pieces ? I hate the French language from the bottom of my 
soul." 

" How can you be hostile to a language," cried our friend, 

y " to which we Germans are indebted for the greater part of 

our accomplishments ; to which we must become indebted 

still more, if our natural qualities are ever to assume their 

proper form ? " 

" It is no prejudice ! " replied Aurelia, " a painful impres- 
sion, a hated recollection of my faithless friend, has robbed 
me of all enjoyment ir that beautiful and cultivated tongue. 
How I hate it now with my whole strength and heart ! Dur- 
ing the period of our kindliest connection, he wrote in Ger- 
man ; and what genuine, powerful, cordial German ! It was 
not till he wanted to get quit of me that he began seriously 
to write in French. I marked, I felt, what he meant. What 
he would have blushed to utter in his mother tongue, he 
could by this means write with a quiet conscience. It is the 
language of reservations, equivocations, and lies : it is a 
perfidious language. Heaven be praised ! I cannot find 
another word to express this perfide of theirs in all its com- 
pass. Our poor treulos^ the faithless of the English, are 
innocent as babes beside it. Perfide means faithless with 
pleasure, with insolence and malice. How enviable is the 
culture of a nation that can figure out so many shades of 
meaning by a single word ! French is exactly the language 
of the world, — worthy to become the universal language, 
that all may have it in their power to cheat and cozen and 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 307 

betray each other ! His French letters were always smooth 
and pleasant, while you read them. If you chose to believe 
it, they sounded warmly, even passionately ; but, if you ex- 
amined narrowly, they were but phrases, — accursed phrases ! 
He has spoiled my feeling to the whole language, to French 
literature, even to the beautiful, delicious expressions of noble 
souls which may be found in it. I shudder when a French 
word is spoken in my hearing.*' 

In such terms she could for hours continue to give utter- 
ance to her chagrin, interrupting or disturbing every other 
kind of conversation. Sooner or later, Serlo used to put an 
end to such peevish lamentations by some bitter sally ; but 
by this means, commonly, the talk for the evening was de- 
stroyed. 

In all provinces of life, it is unhappily the case, that 
whatever is to be accomplished by a number of co-operating 
men and circumstances cannot long continue perfect. Of 
an acting company as well as of a kingdom, of a circle of 
friends as well as of an army, you may commonly select the 
moment when it may be said that all was standing on the 
highest pinnacle of harmony, perfection, contentment, and 
activity. But alterations will ere long occur ; the individuals 
that compose the body often change ; new members are 
added ; the persons are no longer suited to the circum- 
stances, or the circumstances to the persons ; what was for- 
merly united quickly falls asunder. Thus it was with Serlo' s 
company. For a time 3'ou might have called it as complete 
as any German company could ever boast of being. Most 
of the actors were occupying their proper places : all had 
enough to do, and all did it willingly. Their private personal 
condition was not bad ; and each appeared to promise great 
things in his art, for each commenced with animation and 
alacrity. But it soon became apparent that a part of them 
were mere automatons, who could not reach beyond what 
was attainable without the aid of feeling. Nor was it long 
till grudgings and envyings arose among them, such as com- 
monly obstruct every good arrangement, and easily distort 
and tear in pieces every thing that reasonable and thinking 
men would wish to keep united. 

The departure of Philina was not quite so insignificant as 
it had at first appeared. She had always skilfully contrived 
to entertain the manager, and keep the others in good humor. 
She had endured Aurelia's violence with amazing patience, 
and her dearest task had been to flatter Wilhelm. Thus she 



308 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

was, in some respects, a bond of union for the whole : the 
loss of her was quickly felt. 

Serlo could not live without some little passion of the love 
sort. Elmira was of late grown up, we might almost say 
grown beautiful ; for some time she had been attracting his 
attention : and Philina, with her usual dexterity, had favored 
this attachment so soon as she observed it. "We should 
train ourselves in time," she would say, " to the business of 
procuress: nothing else remains for us when we are old." 
Serlo and Elmira had by this means so approxunated to each 
other, that, shortly after the departure of Philina, both were 
of a mind : and their small romance was rendered doubly 
interesting, as they had to hide it sedulously from the father ; 
Old Boisterous not understanding jokes of that description. 
Elmira' s sister had been admitted to the secret ; and Serlo 
was, in consequence, obliged to overlook a multitude of things 
in both of them. One of their worst habits was an exces- 
sive love of junketing, — nay, if you will, an intolerable glut- 
tony. In this respect they altogether differed from Philina, 
to whom it gave a new tint of loveliness, that she seemed, 
as it were, to live on air, eating very little ; and, for drink, 
merely skimming off, with all imaginable grace, the foam 
from a glass of champagne. 

Now, however, Serlo, if he meant to please his doxies, 
was obliged to join breakfast with dinner ; and with this, by 
a substantial bever, to connect the supper. But, amid gor- 
mandizing, Serlo entertained another plan, which he longed 
to have fulfilled. He imagined that he saw a kind of attach- 
ment between Wilhelm and Aurelia, and he anxiously wished 
that it might assume a serious shape. He hoped to cast the 
whole mechanical department of his theatrical economy on 
Wilhelm's shoulders ; to find in him, as in the former brother, 
a faithful and industrious tool. Already he had, by degrees, 
shifted over to him most of the cares of management ; Aure- 
lia kept the strong-box ; and Serlo once more lived as he had 
done of old, entirely according to his humor. Yet there wan 
a circumstance which vexed him in secret, as it did his sister 
likewise. 

The world has a particular way of acting towards public 
persons of acknowledged merit : it gradually begins to be 
indifferent to them, and to favor talents which are new, 
though far inferior ; it makes excessive requisitions of the 
former, and accepts of any thing with approbation from the 
latter. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 309 

Serlo and Aurelia had opportunity enough to meditate on 
this peculiarity. The strangers, especially the young and 
handsome ones, had drawn the whole attention and applause 
upon themselves ; and Serlo and his sister, in spite of the 
most zealous efforts, had in general to make their exits with- 
out the welcome sound of clapping hands. It is true, some 
special causes were at work on this occasion. Aurelia' s 
pride was palpable, and her contempt for the public was 
known to many. Serlo, indeed, flattered every individual ; 
but his cutting jibes against the whole were often circulated 
and repeated. The new members, again, were not only 
strangers, unknown, and wanting help, but some of them 
were likewise young and amiable : thus all of them found 
patrons. 

Erelong, too, there arose internal discontents, and many 
bickerings, among the actors. Scarcely had they noticed that 
our friend was acting *as director, when most of them began 
to grow the more remiss, the more he strove to introduce a 
better order, greater accuracy, and chiefly to insist that every 
thing mechanical should be performed in the most strict and 
regular manner. 

Thus, b}^ and by, the whole concern, which actually for a 
time had nearly looked ideal, grew as vulgar in its attributes 
as any mere itinerating theatre. And, unhappily, just as 
Wilhelm, by his labor, diligence, and vigorous efforts, had 
made himself acquainted with the requisitions of the art, and 
trained completely both his person and his habits to comply 
with them, he began to feel, in melancholy hours, that this 
craft deserved the necessary outlay of time and talents less 
than any other. The task was burdensome, the recompense 
was small. He would rather have engaged with any occupa- 
tion in which, when the period of exertion is passed, one 
can enjoy repose of mind, than with this, wherein, aftei 
undergoing much mechanical drudgery, the aim of one's 
activity cannot still be attained but by the strongest effort of 
thought and emotion. Besides, he had to listen to Aurelia's 
complaints about her brother's wastefulness : he had to mis- 
conceive the winks and nods of Serlo, trying from afar to 
lead him to a marriage with Aurelia. He had, withal, to 
hide his own secret sorrow, which pressed heavy on his heart, 
because of that ambiguous officer whom he had sent in quest 
of. The messenger returned not, sent no tidings ; and Wil- 
helm feared that his Mariana was lost to him a second time. 

About this period, there occurred a public mourning, which 



310 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

obliged our friends to shut their theatre for several weeks. 
Wilhelm seized this opportunity to pay a visit to the clergy- 
man with whom the harper had been placed to board. He 
found him in a pleasant district ; and the first thing that he 
noticed in the parsonage was the old man teachin- a boy to 
play upon his instrument. The harper showed great joy at 
sight of Wilhelm : he rose held out his, hand, and said, 
" You see, I am still good for something in the world : 
permit me to continue ; for my hours are all distributed, and 
full of business." 

The clerg3^man saluted Wilhelm very kindly, and told him 
that the harper promised well, already giving hopes of a 
complete recovery. 

Their conversation naturally turned upon the various modes 
of treating the insane. 

''Except physical derangements," observed the clergy- 
man, " which often place insuperable difficulties in the wa}^ 
and in regard to which I follow the prescriptions of a wise 
physician, the means of curing madness seem to me ex- 
tremely simple. They are the very means by which you 
hinder sane persons from becoming mad. Awaken their ac- 
tivity ; accustom them to order ; bring them to perceive that 
they hold their being and their fate in common with many mil- 
lions ; that extraordinary talents, the highest happiness, the 
deepest misery, are but slight variations from the general 
lot : in this way, no insanity will enter, or, if it has entered, 
will gradually disappear. I have portioned out the old man's 
hours : he gives lessons to some children on the harp ; he 
works in the garden ; he is already much more cheerful. He 
wishes to enjoy the cabbages he plants : my son, to whom in 
case of death he has bequeathed his harp, he is ardent to 
instruct, that the boy may be able to make use of his inher- 
itance. I have said but little to him, as a clergyman, about 
his wild, mysterious scruples ; but a busy life brings on so 
many incidents, that erelong he must feel how true it is, that 
doubt of any kind can be removed by nothing but activity. 
I go softly to work : yet, if I could get his beard and hood 
removed, I should reckon it a weighty point ; for nothing 
more exposes us to madness than distinguishing ourselves 
from others, and nothing more contributes to maintain our 
common sense than living in the universal way with multi- 
tudes of men. Alas ! how much there is in education, in 
our social institutions, to prepare us and our children for 
insanity ! ' ' 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 311 

Wilhelm staid some days with this intelligent divine ; 
heard from him many curious narratives, not of the insane 
alone, but of persons such as commonly are reckoned wise 
and rational, though they may have peculiarities which 
border on insanity. 

The conversation became doubly animated, on the entrance 
of the doctor, with whom it was a custom to pay frequent 
visits to his friend the clergyman, and to assist him in his 
labors of humanit}^ The physician was an oldish man, who, 
though in weak health, had spent many years in the practice 
of the noblest virtues. He was a strong advocate for coun- 
try life, being himself scarcely able to exist except in the 
open air. Withal, he was extremely active and companion- 
able. For several j^ears he had shown a special inclination 
to make friends with all the country clergymen within his 
reach. Such of these as were employed in any useful oc- 
cupation he strove by every means to help ; into others, who 
were still unsettled in their aims, he endeavored to infuse a 
taste for some profitable species of exertion. Being at the 
same time in connection with a multitude of noblemen, ma- 
gistrates, judges, he had in the space of twenty years, in 
secret, accomplished much towards the advancement of many 
branches of husbandry : he had done his best to put in motion 
every project that seemed capable of benefiting agriculture, 
animals, or men, and had thus forwarded improvement in 
its truest sense. ''For man," he used to say, "there is 
but one misfortune, — when some idea lays hold of him, which 
exerts no influence upon active life, or, still more, which with- 
draws him from it. At the present time," continued he, on 
this occasion, '' I have such a case before me : it concerns a 
rich and noble couple, and hitherto has baflfled all my skill. 
The affair belongs in part to your department, worthy pastor ; 
and your friend here will forbear to mention it again. 

'' In the absence of a certain nobleman, some persons of 
the house, in a frolic not entirely commendable, disguised a 
young man in the master's clothes. The lady was to be 
imposed upon by this deception ; and, although it was de- 
scribed to me as nothing but a joke, I am much afraid the 
purpose of it was to lead this noble and most amiable lady 
from the path of honor. Her husband, however, unexpect- 
edly returns ; enters his chamber ; thinks he sees his spirit ; 
and from that time falls into a melancholy temper, firmly 
believing that his death is near. 

'' He has now abandoned himself to men who pamper 



312 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

him with religious ideas ; and T see not how he is to be pre- 
vented from going among the Hernhuters with his lady, 
and, as he has no children, from depriving his relations of 
the chief part of his fortune." 

"With his lady?" cried our friend in great agitation*, 
for this story had frightened him extremely. 

" And, alas ! " replied the doctor, who regarded Wilhelm's 
exclamation only as the voice of common sympathy, " this 
lady is herself possessed with a deeper sorrow, which renders 
a removal from the world desirable to her also. The same 
young man was taking leave of her ; she was not circumspect 
enough to hide a nascent inclination towards him ; the youth 
grew bolder, clasped her in his arms, and pressed a large 
portrait of her husband, which was set with diamonds, 
forcibly against her breast. She felt a sharp pain, which 
gradually went off, leaving first a little redness, then no 
trace at all. As a man, I am convinced that she has nothing- 
further to reproach herself with, in this affair ; as a physician, 
I am certain that this pressure could not have the smallest 
ill effect. Yet she will not be persuaded that an induration 
is not taking place in the part ; and, if you try to overcome 
her notion b}^ the evidence of feeling, she* maintains, that, 
though the evil is away this moment, it will return the next. 
She conceives that the disease will end in cancer, and thus 
her youth and loveliness be altogether lost to others and 
herself." 

"Wretch that I am! " cried Wilhelm, striking his brow, 
and rushing from the company into the fields. He had never 
felt himself in such a miserable case. 

The clergyman and the physician were of course exceed- 
ingly astonished at this singular discovery. In the evening 
all their skill was called for, when our friend returned, and, 
with a circumstantial disclosure of the whole occurrence, 
uttered the most violent accusations of himself. Both took 
interest in him : both felt a real concern about his general 
condition, particularly as he painted it in the gloomy colors 
which arose from the humor of the moment. 

Next day the physician, without much entreaty, was pre- 
vailed upon to accompany him in his return ; both that he 
might bear him company, and that he might, if possible, do 
something for Aurelia, whom our friend had left in rather 
dangerous circumstances. 

Id fact, they found her worse than they expected. She 
was atflicted with a sort of intermittent fever, which could 



I 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 313 

the less be mastered, as she purposely maintained and ag- 
gravated the attacks of it. The stranger was not introduced 
as a physician : he behaved with great courteousness and 
prudence. They conversed about her situation, bodily and 
mental : her new friend related many anecdotes of persons 
who, in spite of lingering disorders, had attained a good old 
age ; adding, that, in such cases, nothing could be more 
injurious than the intentional recalling of passionate and 
disagreeable emotions. In particular he stated, that, for 
persons laboring under chronical and partly incurable dis- 
tempers, he had always found it a very happy circumstance 
when they chanced to entertain, and cherish in their minds, 
true feelings of religion. This he signified in the most un- 
obtrusive manner, as it were historically ; promising Aurelia 
at the same time the reading of a very interesting manuscript, 
which he said he had received from the hands of an excellent 
lady of his friends, who was now deceased. "To me," he 
said, " it is of uncommon value ; and I shall trust you even 
with the original. Nothing but 'the title is in my hand- 
writing : I have called it, ' Confessions of a Fair Saint.' " 

Touching the medical and dietetic treatment of the racked 
and hapless patient, he also left his best advice with Wilhelm. 
He then departed; promising to write, and, if possible, to 
come again in person. 

Meanwhile, in Wilhelm 's absence, there had changes been 
preparing such as he was not aware of. During his director- 
ship, our friend had managed all things with a certain 
liberality and freedom ; looking chiefl}^ at the main result. 
Whatever was required for dresses, decorations, and the like, 
he had usually provided in a plentiful and handsome style ; 
and, for securing the co-operation of his people, he had 
flattered their self-interest, since he could not reach them by 
nobler motives. In this he felt his conduct justified the 
more ; as Serlo for his own part never aimed at being a strict 
economist, but liked to hear the beauty of his theatre com- 
mended, and was contented if Aurelia. who conducted the 
domestic matters, on defraying all expenses, signified that 
she was free from debt, and could besides afford the neces- 
sary sums for clearing off such scores as Serlo in the interim, 
by lavish kindness to his mistresses or otherwise, might have 
incurred. 

Melina, who was charged with managing the wardrobe, 
had all the while been silentl}^ considering these things, with 
the cold, spiteful temper peculiar to him. On occasion of our 



314 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

friend's departure, and Aurelia's increasing sickness, he con- 
trived to signify to Serlo, that more money might be raised 
and less expended, and, consequently, something be laid up, 
or at least a merrier life be led. Serlo hearkened gladly 
to such allegations, and Melina risked the exhibition of his 
plan. 

*' I will not say," continued he, '' that any of your actors 
has at present too much salary : they are meritorious people, 
they would find a welcome anywhere ; but, for the income 
which they bring us in, they have too much. My project 
would be, to set up an opera ; and, as to what concerns the 
playhouse, I may be allowed to say it, you are the person 
for maintaining that establishment upon your single strength. 
Observe how at present your merits are neglected ; and jus- 
tice is refused you, not because your fellow-actors are excel- 
lent, but merely good. 

"Come out alone, as used to be the case; endeavor to 
attract around you middling, I will even say inferior people, 
for a slender salary ; regate the public with mechanical dis- 
pla3's, as you can so cleverly do ; apply your remaining 
means to the opera, which I am talking of ; and you will 
quickly see, that, with the same labor and expense, you will 
give greater satisfaction, while you draw incomparably more 
money than at present." 

These observations were so flattering to Serlo, that they 
could not fail of making some impression on him. He readily 
admitted, that, loving music as he did, he had long wished 
for some arrangement such as this ; though he could not 
but perceive that the public taste would thus be still more 
widely led astray, and that with such a mongrel theatre, not 
properly an opera, not properly a playhouse, an}^ residue of 
true feeling for regular and perfect works of art must shortly 
disappear. 

Melina ridiculed, in terms more plain than delicate, our 
friend's pedantic notions in this matter, and his vain attempts 
-^. to form the public mind, instead of being formed by it : Serlo 
and he at last agreed, with full conviction, that the sole con- 
cern was, how to gather money, and grow rich, or live a 
joyous life ; and they scarcely concealed their wish to be 
delivered from those persons who at present hindered them. 
Melina took occasion to lament Aurelia's weak health, and the 
speedy end which it threatened ; thinking all the while directly 
the reverse. Serlo affected to regret that Wilhehn could not 
sing, thus signifying that his presence was by no means* 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 315 

indispensable. Melina then came forward with a whole cat- 
alogue of savings, which, he said, might be effected ; and 
Serlo saw in him his brother-in-law replaced threefold. They 
both felt that secrecy was necessary in the matter, but this 
mutual obligation only joined them closer in their interests. 
They failed not to converse together privately on every thing 
that happened ; to blame whatever Wilhelm or Aurelia un- 
dertook ; and to elaborate their own project, and prepare it 
more and more for execution. 

Silent as they both might be about their plan, little as 
their words betrayed them, in their conduct they were not so 
politic as constantly to hide their purposes. Melina now- 
opposed our friend in many points that lay within the prov- 
ince of the latter ; and Serlo, who had never acted smoothly 
to his sister, seemed to grow more bitter the more her sick- 
ness deepened, the more her passionate and variable humors 
would have needed toleration. 

About this period they took up the " Emilie Galotti " of 
Lessing. The parts were very happilj^ distributed and filled : 
within the narrow circle of this tragedy, the company found 
room for showing all the complex riches of their acting. 
Serlo, in the character of Marinelli, was altogether in his 
place ; Odoardo was very well exhibited ; Madam Melina 
played the Mother with considerable skill ; Elmira gained 
distinction as Emilie ; Laertes made a stately Appiani ; and 
Wilhelm had bestowed the study of some months upon the 
Prince's part. On this occasion, both internally and with 
Aurelia and Serlo, he had often come upon this question : 
What is the distinction between a noble and a well-bred 
manner? and how far must the former be included in the 
latter, though the latter is not in the former? 

Serlo, who himself in Marinelli had to act the courtier ac- 
curately, without caricature, afforded him some valuable 
thoughts on this. "A well-bred carriage," he would say, 
'•'' is difficult to imitate ; for in strictness it is negative, and 
it implies a long-continued previous training. You are not 
required to exhibit in your manner any thing that specially 
betokens dignity ; for, by this means, you are like to run 
into formality and haughtiness : you are rather to avoid 
whatever is undignified and vulgar. You are never to for- 
get yourself ; are to keep a constant watch upon yourself 
and others ; to forgive nothing that is faulty in your own 
conduct, in that of others neither to forgive too little nor 
too much. Nothing must appear to touch you nothing to 



316 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

agitate : you must never overhaste yourself, must ever keep 
yourself composed, retaining still an outward calmness, 
whatever storms may rage within. The noble character at 
certain moments may resign himself to his emotions ; the 
well-bred never. The latter is like a man dressed out in 
fair and spotless clothes : he will not lean on any thing ; 
every person will beware of rubbing on him. He distin- 
guishes himself from others, yet he may not stand apart ; 
for as in all arts, so in this, the hardest must at length be 
done with ease : the well-bred man of rank, in spite of every 
separation, always seems united with the people round him ; 
he is never to be stiff or uncomplying ; he is always to ap- 
pear the first, and never to insist on so appearing. 

"It is clear, then, that, to seem well-bred, a man must 
actually be so. It is also clear why women generall}' are 
more expert at taking up the air of breeding than the other 
sex ; why courtiers and soldiers catch it more easily than 
other men.'* 

Wilhelm now despaired of doing justice to his part ; but 
Serlo aided and encouraged him, communicated the acutest 
observations on detached points, and furnished him so well, 
that, on the exhibition of the piece, the public reckoned him 
a very proper Prince. 

Serlo had engaged to give him, when the play was over, 
such remarks as might occur upon his acting : a disagreea- 
ble contention with Aurclia prevented any conversation of 
that kind. Aurelia had acted the character of Orsina, in such 
a style as few have ever done. She was well acquainted with 
the part, and during the rehearsals she had treated it indiffer- 
ently : but, in the exhibition of the piece, she had opened, as 
it were, all the sluices of her personal sorrow ; and the char- 
acter was represented so as never poet in the first glow of 
invention could have figured it. A boundless applause re- 
warded her painful efforts ; but her friends, on visiting her 
when the play was finished, found her half fainting in her 
chair. 

Serlo had already signified his anger at her overcharged 
acting, as he called it ; at this disclosure of her inmost heart 
before the public, to many individuals of which the history 
of her fatal passion was more or less completely known. 
He had spoken bitterly and fiercely ; grinding with his teeth 
and stamping with his feet, as was his custom when enraged. 
"• Never mind her," cried he, when he saw her in the chair, 
surrounded by the rest : ' ' she will go upon the stage stark- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 317 

naked one of these days, and then the approbation will be 
perfect." 

''Ungrateful, inhuman man!" exclaimed she: *' soon 
shall I be carried naked to the place where approbation or 
disapprobation can no longer reach our ears ! ' ' With these 
words she started up, and hastened to the door. The maid 
had not yet brought her mantle ; the sedan was not in wait- 
ing ; it had been raining lately ; a cold, raw wind was blow- 
ing through the streets. They endeavored to persuade her 
to remain, for she was very warm. But in vain : she pur- 
posely walked slow ; she praised the coolness, seemed to in- 
hale it with peculiar eagerness. No sooner was she home, 
than she became so hoarse that she could hardly speak a 
word : she did not mention that there was a total stiffness in 
her neck and along her back. Shortly afterwards a sort of 
palsy in the tongue came on, so that she pronounced one 
word instead of another. They put her to bed : by numer- 
ous and copious remedies, the evil changed its form, but 
was not mastered. The fever gathered strength : her case 
was dangerous. 

Next morning she enjoyed a quiet hour. She sent for 
Wilhelm, and delivered him a letter. ''This sheet," said 
she, " has long been waiting for the present moment. I 
feel that my end is drawing nigh : promise me that you 
yourself will take this paper ; that, by a word or two, you 
will avenge my sorrows on the faithless man. He is not 
void of feeling : my death will pain him for a moment." 

Wilhelm took the letter ; still endeavoring to console her, 
and to drive away the thought of death. 

" No," said she : " do not deprive me of my nearest hope. 
I have waited for him long : I will joyfully clasp him when 
he comes." 

Sliortly after this the manuscript arrived which the phy- 
sician had engaged to send her. She called for Wilhelm, — 
made him read it to her. The effect which it produced upon 
her, the reader will be better able to appreciate after look- 
ing at the following Book. The violent and stubborn temper 
of our poor Aurelia was mollified by hearing it. She took 
back the letter, and wrote another, as it seemed, in a meeker 
tone ; charging Wilhelm at the same time to console her 
friend, if he should be distressed about her death ; to assure 
him that shfc had forgiven him, and wished him every kind 
of happiness. 

From this time she was very quiet, and appeared to oc- 



318 MEISTER'S APPREXTICESHIP. 

cupy herself with but a'^few ideas, which she endeavored to 
extract and appropriate from the manuscript, out of which 
she frequently made Wilhelm read to her. The deca}^ of 
her strength was not perceptible : nor had Wilhelm been 
anticipating the event, when one morning, as he went to visit 
her, he found that she was dead. 

Entertaining such respect for her as he had done, and 
accustomed as he was to live in her society, the loss of her 
affected him with no common sorrow. She was the only 
person that had truly wished him well : the coldness of Serlo 
he had felt of late but too keenly. He hastened, therefore, 
to perform the service she had intrusted to him : he wished 
to be absent for a time. 

On the other hand, this journey was exceedingly con- 
venient for Melina : in the course of his extensive corre- 
spondence, he had lately entered upon terms with a male 
and a female singer, who, it was intended, should, by their 
performances in interludes, prepare the public for his future 
opera. The loss of Aurelia, and Wilhelm's absence, were 
to be supplied in this manner ; and our friend was satisfied 
with any thing that could facilitate his setting out. 

He had formed, within himself, a singular idea of the im- 
portance of his errand. The death of his unhappy friend 
had moved him deeply ; and, having seen her pass so early 
from the scene, he could not but be hostilely inclined against 
the man who had abridged her life, and made that shortened 
term so full of woe. 

Notwithstanding the last mild words of the dying woman, 
he resolved, that, on delivering his letter, he would pass a 
strict sentence on her faithless friend ; and, not wishing to 
depend upon the temper of the moment, he studied an ad- 
dress, which, in the course of preparation, became more 
pathetic than just. Having fully convinced himself of the 
good composition of his essay, he began committing it to 
memory, and at the same time making ready for departure. 
Mignon was present as he packed his articles : she asked 
him whether he intended travelling south or north ; and, learn- 
ing that it was the latter, she replied, " Then, I will wait here 
for thee." She begged of him the pearl necklace which had 
once been Mariana's. He could not refuse to gratify the 
dear little creature, and he gave it her : the neckerchief she 
had already. On the other hand, she put the veil of Ham- 
let's Ghost into his travelling-bag ; though he told her it 
could not be of any service to him. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 319 

Melina took upon him the directorship : his wife engaged 
to keep a mother's eye upon the children, whom Wilhelm 
parted with unwillingly. Felix was very merry at the set- 
ting out ; and, when asked what pretty thing he wished to 
have brought back for him, he said, " Hark you ! bring me 
a papa ! " Mignon seized the traveller's hand ; then, stand- 
ing on her tiptoes, she pressed a warm and cordial, though 
not a tender, kiss^ upon his lips, and cried, " Master ! forget 
us not, and come soon back." 

And so we leave our friend, entering on his journey, amid 
a thousand different thoughts and feelings ; and here sub- 
join, by way of close, a little poem, which Mignon had re- 
cited once or twice with great expressiveness, and which the 
hurry of so many singular occurrences prevented us from 
inserting sooner : — 

" Not speech, bid silence, I implore thee ; 
For secrecy's my duty still: 
My heart entire I'd fain lay bare before thee, 
But such is not of fate the will. 

In season due the sun's course backward throws 
Dark night; ensue must light ; the mountain's 

Hard rock, at length, its bosom doth unclose, 
Now grudging earth no more the hidden fountains. 

Each seeks repose upon a friend's true breast, 
Where by laments he frees his bosom lonely ; 

Whereas an oath my lips hold closv3ly pressed, 
The which to speech a God can open only." 

— Editor's Version, 



320 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 



BOOK VL 



CONFESSIONS OF A FAIR SAINT. 

Till my eighth year I was always a healthy child, but of 
that period I can recollect no more than of the day when I 
was born. About the beginning of my eighth year, I was 
seized with a hemorrhage ; and from that moment my soul 
became all feeling, all memory. • The smallest circumstances 
of that accident are yet before my eyes as if they had oc- 
curred but yesterday. 

During the nine months which I then spent patiently upon 
a sick-bed, it appears to me the groundwork of my whole 
turn of thought was laid ; as the first means were then 
afforded my mind of developing itself in its own manner. 

I suffered and I loved : this was the peculiar form of my 
heart. In the most violent fits of coughing, in the depress- 
ing pains of fever, I lay quiet, like a snail drawn back within 
its house : the moment I obtained a respite, I wanted to 
enjoy something pleasant ; and, as every other pleasure was 
denied me, I endeavored to amuse myself with the innocent 
delights of eye and ear. The people brought me dolls and 
picture-books, and whoever would sit by my bed was obliged 
to tell me something. 

From my mother I rejoiced to hear the Bible histories, and 
my father entertained me with natural curiosities. He had a 
very pretty cabinet, from which he brought me first one 
drawer and- then another, as occasion served ; showing me 
the articles, and pointing out their properties. Dried plants 
and insects, with many kinds of anatomical preparations, 
such as human skin, bones, mummies, and the like, were in 
succession laid upon the sick-bed of the little one ; the birds 
and animals he killed in hunting were shown to me, before 
they passed into the kitchen ; and, that the Prince of the 
World might also have a voice in this assembly, my aunt re- 
lated to me love-adventures out of fair3'-tales. All was 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 321 

accepted, all took root. There were hours in which I vividly 
conversed with the Invisible Power. I can still repeat some 
verses which I then dictated, and my mother wrote down. 

Often I would tell my father back again what I had 
learned from him. Rarely did I take any physic without 
asking where the simples it was made of grew, what look 
they had, wiiat names they bore. Nor had the stories of my 
aunt lighted on stony ground. I figured myself out in pretty 
clothes, and met the most delightful princes, who could find 
no peace or rest till they discovered who the unknown beauty 
was. One adventure of this kind, with a charming little 
angel dressed in white, with golden wings, who warmly 
courted me, I dwelt upon so long, that my imagination 
painted out his form almost to visibility. 

After a year I was pretty well restored to health, but 
nothing of the giddiness of childhood remained with me. I 
could not pla}' with dolls : I longed for ])eings able to return 
my love. Dogs, cats, and birds, of which my father kept a 
great variety, afforded me delight ; but what would I have 
given for such a creature as my aunt once told me of ! It 
was a lamb which a peasant-girl took up and nourished in a 
wood ; but, in the guise of this pretty beast, an enchanted 
prince was hid, who at length appeared in his native shape, 
a lovely youth, and rewarded his benefactress by his hand. 
Such a lamb I would have given the world for. 

But there was none to be had ; and, as every thing about me 
went on in such a quite natural manner, I by degrees all but 
abandoned nearly all hopes of such a treasure. Meanwhile 
I comforted myself by reading books in which the strangest 
incidents were set forth. Among them aJl, my favorite was 
the " Christian German Hercules : " that devout love-history 
was altogether in my way. Whenever any thing befell his 
dear Valiska, and cruel things befell her, he always prayed 
before hastening to her aid ; and the prayers stood there 
verbatim.. My longing after the Invisible, which I had always 
dimly felt, was strengthened by such means ; for, in short, 
it was ordained that God should also be my confidant. 

As I grew older I continued reading, Heaven knows what, 
in chaotic order. Tlie ' ' Roman Octavia' ' was the book I liked 
beyond all others. The persecutions o^f the first Christians, 
decorated with the charms of a romance, awoke the deepest 
interest in me. 

But my mother now began to murmur at my constant read- 
W ; and, to humor her, my father took away my books to- 
ll—Goethe Vol 7 



322 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

day, but gave them back to-morrow. She was wise enough 
to see that nothinp: could be done in this way : she next in- 
sisted merely that my Bible should be read with equal dili- 
gence. To this I was not disinclined, and I accordingly 
perused the sacred volume with a lively interest. Withal 
my mother was extremely careful that no books of a corrup- 
tive tendency should come into my hands : immodest writings 
I would, of my own accord, have cast away ; for my princes 
and my princesses were all extremely virtuous. 

To my mother, and my zeal for knowledge, it was owing, 
that, with all my love of books, I also learned to cook ; for 
much WHS to be seen in cookery. To cut up a hen, a pig, 
was quite a feast for me. I used to bring the entrails to my 
father, and he talked with me about them as if I had been a 
student of anatomy. With suppressed joy he would often 
call me his misfashioned son. 

I had passed my twelfth year. I learned French, dancing, 
and drawing: I received the usual instructions in religion. 
In the latter, many thoughts and feelings wei"e awakened, 
but nothing properly relating to my own condition. I liked 
to hear the people speak of God : I was proud that I could 
speak on these points better than my equals. I zealously 
read many books which put me in a condition to talk about 
religion ; but it never once struck me to think how matters 
stood with we, whether my soul was formed according to 
these holy precepts, whether it was like a glass from which 
the everlar.ting sun could be reflected in its glancing. From 
the first 1 had presupposed all this. 

My French I learned with eagerness. My teacher was a 
clever man. He was not a vain empiric, not a dry gram- 
marian : he had learning, he had seen the world. Instruct- 
ing me in language, he satisfied my zeal for knowledge in 
a thousand ways. I loved him so much, that I used to wait 
his coming with a palpitating heart. Drawing was not hard 
for me : I should have made greater progress had my teacher 
possessed head and science ; he had only hands and practice. 

Dancing was at first one of my smaDest amusements ; 
my body was too sensitive for it ; I learned it only in the 
company of my sisters. But our dancing-master took a 
thought of gathering ^1 his scholars, male and female, and 
giving them a ball. This event gave dancing quite another 
charm for me. 

Amid a throng of boys and girls, the most remarkable 
were two sons of the marshal of the court. The youngest 



MEISTER'S ArPRENTICESIIIP. 323 

was of my age ; the other, two years older : they were chil- 
dren of such beauty, that, according to the universal voice, 
no one had seen their like. For my part, scarcely had I no- 
ticed them when I lost sight of all the other crowd. From 
that moment I began to dance with care, and to wish that I 
could dance with grace. How came it, on the other hand, 
that these two boys distinguished me from all the rest? No 
matter : before an hour had passed we had become the 
warmest friends, and our little entertainment did not end 
till we had fixed upon the time and place where we were 
next to meet. What a joy for me ! And how charmed was 
I next morning when both of them inquired for my health, 
each in a gallant note, accompanied with a nosegay ! I have 
never since felt as I then did. Compliment was met by com- 
pliment : letter answered letter. The church and the public- 
walks were grown a rendezvous ; our young acquaintances, 
in all their little parties, now invited us together ; while, at 
the same time, we were sl}^ enough to veil the business from 
our parents, so that they saw no more of it than we thought 
good. 

Thus had I at once got a pair of lovers. I had yet decided 
upon neither : they both pleased me, and we did extremely 
well together. All at once the eldest of the two fell very 
sick. I myself had often been sick ; and thus I was ena- 
bled, by rendering him many little dainties and delicacies 
suited for a sick person, to afford some solace to the sufferer. 
His parents thankfully acknowledged my attention : in com- 
pliance with the prayer of their beloved son, they invited me, 
with all my sisters, to their house so soon as he had arisen 
from his sick-bed. The tenderness which he displayed on 
meeting me was not the feeling of a child : from that day I 
gave the preference to him. He warned me to keep our 
secret from his brother ; but the fame could no longer be 
concealed, and the jealousy of the younger completed our 
romance. He played us a thousand tricks : eager to annilii- 
late our joys, he but increased the ])assion he was seeking to 
destroy. 

At last I had actually found the wished-for lamb, and this 
attachment acted on me like my sickness : it made me calm, 
and drew me back from noisy pleasures. I was solitary, I 
was moved ; and thoughts of God again occurred to me. 
He was again my confidant ; and I well remember with what 
tears I often prayed for this poor boy, who still continued 
Bickly. 



324 MEISTERS APPRENTICESHIP. 

The more childishness there was in this adventure, the 
more did it contribute to the forming of ni}- heart. Our 
French teacher had now turned us from transhiting into daily 
writing him some letter of our own invention. I brought my 
little history to market, shrouded in the names of Phyllis and 
Damon. The old man soon saw through it, and, to render 
me communicative, praised my labor very much. I still 
waxed bolder ; came openly out with the affair, adhering, 
even in the minute details, to truth. I do not now remember 
what the passage was at which he took occasion to remark, 
*' How pretty, how natural, it is ! But the good I'liyllis had 
better have a care : the thing may soon grow serious." 

I felt vexed that he did not look upon the matter as al- 
ready serious ; and I asked him, with an air of pique, what 
he meant by serious. I had not to repeat the question : he 
explained himself so clearly, that I could scarcely hide my 
terror. Yet as anger came along with it, as I took it ill 
that he should entertain such thoughts, I kept m3'self com- 
posed : I tried to justify my nymph, and said, with glowing 
cheeks, "But, sir, Phyllis is an honorable girl." 

He was rogue enough to banter me about my honorable 
heroine. While we were speaking French, he played upon 
the word JionnHe, and hunted the honorableness of Phyllis 
over all its meanings. I felt the ridicule of this, and ex- 
tremely puzzled. He, not to frighten me, broke off, but 
afterwards often led the conversation to such topics. Plays, 
and little histories, such as I was reading and translating 
with him, gave him frequent opportunity to show how feeble 
a security' against the calls of inclination our boasted virtue 
was. I no longer contradicted him, but I was in secret 
scandalized ; and his remarks became a burden to me. 

With ray worthy Damon, too, I by degrees fell out of all 
connection. The chicanery of the younger boy destroyed 
our intercourse. Soon after, both these blooming creatures 
died. I lamented sore : however, in a short time, I forgot. 

But Phyllis rapidly increased in stature, was altogether 
healthy, and began to see the world. The hereditary prince 
now married, and a short time after, on his father's death, 
began his rule. Court and town were in the liveliest motion : 
my curiosity had copious nourishment. There were plays 
and balls, with all their usual accompaniments ; and, though 
my parents kept retired as much as possible, they were 
obliged to show themselves at court, where I was of course 
introduced. Strangers were pouring in from every side; 



MEISTER'S APPKEXTICESrilP. 325 

high company was in every house ; even to us some cavaliers 
were recommended, others introduced ; and, at my uncle's, 
men of every nation might be met with. 

My honest mentor still continued, in a modest and yet 
striking way, to warn me, and I in secret to take it ill of 
him. With regard to his assertion, that women under every 
circumstance were weak, I did not feel at all convinced ; and 
here, perhaps, I was in the right, and my mentor in the 
wrong : but he spoke so earnestly that once I grew afraid he 
might be right, and said to him, with much vivacity, " Since 
the danger is so great, and the human heart so weak, I will 
pray to God that be n ay keep me." 

This simple answer seemed to please him, for he praised 
my purpose f but, on my side, it was any thing but seriously 
meant. It was, in truth, but an empty word ; for my feel- 
ings towards the Invisible were almost totally extinguished. 
The hurry and the crowd I lived in dissipated my attention, 
and carried me along as in a rapid stream. Those were the 
emptiest years of my life. All day long to speak of noth- 
ing, to have no solid thought, never to do any thing but 
revel, — such was my employment. On my beloved books I 
never once bestowed a thought. The people I lived among 
had not the slightest tinge of literature or science : they were 
German courtiers, a class of men at that time altogether des- 
titute of culture. 

Such society, it may be tliougiit, must naturally have led 
me to the brink of ruin. I lived away in mere corporeal 
cheerfulness : I never took myself to task, I never prayed, I 
never thought a])out myself or God. Yet I look upon it as 
a providential guidance, that none of tiiese many handsome, 
rich, and well-dressed men could take my fancy. They were 
rakes, and did not conceal it ; this scared me back : they 
adorned their speech with double meanings ; this offended 
me, made me act with coldness towards them. Many times 
their improprieties exceeded belief, and I did not restrain 
myself from being rude. 

Besides, my ancient counsellor had once in confidence con- 
trived to tell me, that, with the greater part of these lewd 
fellows, health, as well as virtue, was in danger. I now 
shuddered at tlie sight of them : I was afraid if one of them 
in any way approached too near me. I would not touch 
their cups or glasses, — even the chairs the}^ had been sitting 
on. Thus, morally and physically, I remained apart from 
them : all the compliments they paid me I haughtily ac- 
cepted, as incense that was due- 



326 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Among the strangers then resident among ns was one 
young man peculiarly distinguished, whom we used in sport 
to call Narciss. He had gained a reputation in the diplo- 
matic line ; and, among the various changes now occurring 
at court, he was in hopes of meeting with some advantageous 
place. He soon became acquainted with m}' father : h'v.i ac- 
quirements and manners opened for him the wa}' to a select 
society of most accomplished men. IMy father often spoke 
in praise of him : his figure, which was very handsome, would 
have made a still better impression, had it not been for 
something of self-complacency which breathed from the 
whole carriage of the man. I had seen him, I thought well 
of him ; but we had never spoken. 

At a great ball, where we chanced to be in company, I 
danced a minuet with him ; but this, too, passed without re- 
sults. The more violent dances, in compliance with my 
father, who felt anxious about my health, 1 was accustomed 
to avoid : in the present case, when these came on, I retired 
to an adjoining room, and began to talk with certain of my 
friends, elderly ladies, who had set themselves to cards. 

Narciss, who had jigged it for a while, at last came into 
the room where I was ; and having got the l)ettor of a bleed- 
ing at the nose, which had overtaken him in dancing, he be- 
gan speaking with me about a multitude of things. In half 
an hour the talk had grown so interesting, that neither of us 
could think of dancing any more. We were rallied by our 
friends, but we did not let their bantering disturb us. Next 
evening we recommenced our conversation, and were very 
careful not to hurt our health. 

The acquaintance then was made. Narciss was often with 
my sisters and myself ; and I now once more began to reckon 
over and consider what I knew, what I thought of, what I 
had felt, and what I could exi)rcss myself about in conversa- 
tion. My new friend had mingled in the best society ; be- 
sides the department of history and politics, with every part 
of which he was familiar, he had gained extensive literary 
knowledge ; there was nothing new that issued from the press, 
especially in France, that he was unacquainted with. He 
brought or sent me many a pleasant book, but this we had to 
keep as secret as forbidden love. Learned women had been 
made ridiculous, nor were well-informed women tolerated, — 
apparently because it would have been uncivil to put so 
many ill-informed men to shame. Even my father, much 
as he delighted in this new opportunity of cultivating my 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 327 

mind, expressly stipulated that our literary commerce should 
remain secret. 

Thus our intercourse continued for almost year and day ; 
and still I could not say, that, in any wise, Narciss had ever 
shown me aught of love or tenderness. He was always com- 
plaisant and kind, but manifested nothing like attachment : 
on the contrary, he- even seemed to be in some degree affected 
l)y the charms of my youngest sister, who was then extremely 
beautiful. lu sport, he gave her many little friendly names 
out of foreign tongues ; for he could speak two or three of 
these extremely well, and loved to mix their idiomatic phrases 
with his German. Such compliments she did not answer 
very liberally ; she was entangled in a different noose : and 
being very sharp, while he was very sensitive, the two were 
often quarrelling about trifles. With my mother and my 
aunt he kept on very pleasant terms ; and thus, by gradual 
advances, he was grown to be a member of the family. 

Who knows how long we might have lived in this way, had 
not a curious accident altered our relations all at once? My 
sisters and I were invited to a certain house, to which we did 
not like to go. The company was too mixed ; and persons 
of the stupidest, if not the rudest, stamp were often to be 
met there. Narciss, on this occasion, was invited also; and 
on his account I felt inclined to go, for I was sure of finding 
one, at least, whom I could converse with as I desired. Even 
at table we had m.any things to suffer, for several of the 
gentlemen had drunk too much : then, in the drawing-room, 
they insisted on a game at forfeits. It went on with great 
vivacity and tumult. Narciss had lost a forfeit : they ordered 
hiin, by way of penalty, to whisper something pleasant in the 
ear of every member of the company. It seems he staid 
too long beside my next neighbor, the lady of a captain. The 
latter on a sudden struck hinq such a box with his list, that 
the powder flew about me, into my ej^es. When I had got 
my eyes cleared, and in some degree recovered from my 
terror, I saw that both gentlemen had drawn their swords. 
Narciss was bleeding ; and the other, mad with wine and 
rage and jealousy, could scarcely be held back by all the 
company. I seized Narciss, led him by the arm up-stairs ; 
and, as I did not think my friend safe even here from his 
frantic enemy, I shut the door and bolted it. 

Neither of us considered the wound serious, for a slight 
cut across the hand was all we saw. Soon, however, I dis- 
covered that there was a stream of blood runninor down his 



S28 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

back, that there was a deep wound on the head. I now be- 
gan to be afraid. I hastened to tlie lol)by, to get help : but 
I could see no person ; every one had staid below to calm 
the raving captain. At last a daughter of the family came 
skipping up : her mirth annoyed me ; she was like to die with 
laughing at the bedlam spectacle. I conjured her, for the 
sake of Heaven, to get a surgeon ; and she, in her wild way, 
sprang down-stairs to fetch me one herself. 

Returning to my wounded friend, I bound ray handkerchief 
about his hand, and a neckerchief, that was hanging on the 
door, about his head. He was still bleeding copiousl}^ : he 
now grew pale, and seemed as if he were about to faint. 
There was none at hand to aid me : I verj- freely put my arm 
round him, patted his cheek, and tried to cheer him by little 
flatteries. It seemed to act on him like a spiritual remedy : 
he kept his senses, but sat as pale as death. 

At last the active housewife arrived : it is easy to conceive 
her terror when she saw my friend in this predicament, lying 
in my arms, and both of us bestreamed with blood. No one 
had supposed he was wounded : all imagined I had carried 
him away in safety. 

Now smelling-bottles, wine, and every thing that could 
support and stimulate, were copiously produced. The sur- 
geon also came, and I might easily have been dispensed with. 
Narciss, however, held me (irmly by the hand : I would have 
staid without holding. During the dressing of his wounds, 
I continued wetting his lips with wine : I minded not, though 
all the company were now about us. The surgeon having 
finished, his patient took a mute but tender leave of me, and 
was conducted home. 

The mistress of the house now led me to her bedroom : she 
had to strip me altogether ; and I must confess, while they 
washed the blood from me, I saw with pleasure, for the first 
time, in a mirror, that I might be reckoned beautiful without 
help of dress. No portion of my clothes could be put on 
again ; and, as the people of the house were all either less or 
larger than myself, 1 was taken home in a btrange disguise. 
My parents were, of course, astonished. They felt exceed- 
ingly indignant at my fright, at tlie wounds of their friend, at 
the captain's madness, at the whole occurrence. A very little 
would have made my father send the captain a challenge, 
that he might avenge his friend without delay. He blamad 
the gentlemen that had been there, because they had not 
punished on the spot such a murderous attempt ; for it was 



MEISTEirS APPREXTICESIIIP. 329 

but too clear, that the captain, instantly on striking, had 
drawn his sword, and wounded the other from behind. The 
cut across the hand had been given just wlien Narciss him- 
self was grasping at his sword. I felt unspeakably affected, 
altered ; or how shall I express it ? The passion which was 
sleeping at the deepest bottom of my heart had at once broken 
loose, like a flame getting air. And if joy and pleasure are 
well suited for the first producing and the silent nonilshing 
of love, yet this passion, bold by nature, is most easily im- 
pelled by terror to decide and to declare itself. My mother 
gave her little flurried daughter some medicine, and made her 
go to bed. With the earliest morrow my father hastened to 
Narciss, whom he found lying very sick of a wound-fever. 

He told me little of what passed between them, but tried 
to quiet me about the probable results of this event. They 
were now considering whether an apology should be accepted, 
whether the affair should go before a court of justice, and 
many other points of that description. I knew my father too 
well to doubt that he would be averse to see the matter end 
without a duel : but I held my peace ; for I had learned from 
him before, that women should not meddle in such things. 
For the rest, it did not strike me as if any thing had passed 
between the friends, in which my interests were specially 
concerned ; but my father soon communicated to my mother 
the purport of their further conversation. Narciss, he said, 
appeared to be exceedingly affected at the help afforded by 
me ; had embraced him, declared himself my debtor forever , 
signified that he desired no happiness except what he could 
share with me, and concluded by entreating that he might 
presume to ask my hand. All this mamma repeated to me, 
but subjoined the safe reflection, that, " as for what was said 
in the first agitation of mind in such a case, there was little 
trust to be placed in it." — '' Of course, none," I answered 
with affected coldness ; though all the while I was feeling, 
Heaven knows what. 

Narciss continued sick for two months ; owing to the wound 
in his right hand, he could not even write. Yet, in the mean 
time, he showed me his regard by the most obliging courtesies. 
All these unusual attentions I combined with what my mother 
had disclosed to me, and constantly my head was full of 
fancies. The whole city talked of the occurrence. With me 
they spoke of it in a peculiar tone : they drew inferences, 
which, greatly as I struggled to avoid them, touched me very 
close. What had formerly been habitude and trifling, was^ 



330 MEISTER'S APPRKXTICESIIIP. 

now grown seriousness and inclination. The anxiety in 
which I lived was the more violent, the more carefully I stud- 
ied to conceal it from every one. The idea of losing him 
frightened me : the pt)ssibility of any closer union made me 
tremble. For a half -prudent girl, there is really something 
awful in the thought of marriage. 

By such incessant agitations I was once more led to recol- 
lect myself. The gaudy imagery of a thoughtless life, which 
used to hover day and night before my eyes, was at once 
blown away. My soul again began to awaken, but the 
greatly interrupted intimacy with m}^ invisible friend was 
not so easy to renew. We still continued at a frigid dis- 
tance : it was again something, but little to the times of old. 

A duel had been fought, and the captain severely wounded, 
before I ever heard of it. The public feeling was, in all 
senses, strong on the side of my lover, who at length 
again appeared upon the scene. But, first of all, he came, 
with his head tied up and his arm in a sling, to visit us. 
How my heart beat while he was there ! The whole family 
was present : general thanks and compliments were all that 
passed on either side. Narciss, however, found an opportu- 
nity to show some secret tokens of his love to me ; by which 
means my inquietude was but increased. After his recovery 
he visited us throughout the winter on the former footing ; 
and in spite of all the soft, private marks of tenderness 
which he contrived to give me, the whole affair remained 
unsettled, undiscussed. 

In this manner was I kept in constant practice. I could 
trust my thoughts to no mortal, and from God I was too 
far removed. Him I had quite forgotten those four wild 
years : I now again began to think of him occasionally, but 
our acquaintauce had grown cool ; they were visits of mere 
ceremony these ; and as, moreover, in waiting on him, I used 
to dress in fine apparel, to set before him self -complacently 
my virtue, honor, and superiorities to others, he did not seem 
to notice me, or know me in that finery. 

A courtier would have been exceedingly distressed, if the 
prince who held his fortune in his hands had treated him in 
this way ; but, for me, I did not sorrow at it. I had what I 
required, — health and conveniences : if God should please 
to think of me, vrell ; if not, I reckoned I had done my duty. 

This, in truth, I did not think at that period ; yet it was 
the true figure of my soul. But, to change and purify my 
feelings, preparations were already made. 



MEISTEirS APrRENTICKSHIP. 381 

The spring came on : Narciss once visited me unan- 
nounced, and at a time when I happened to be quite alone. 
He now appeared in the character of lover, and asked me if 
I could bestow on him my heart, and, so soon as he should 
obtain some lucrative and honorable place, my hand along 
with it. 

He had been received into our service ; but at first they 
kept him back, and w^ould not rapidly promote him, because 
they dreaded his ambition. Having some little fortune of 
his own, he was left with a slender salary. 

Notwithstanding my regard for him, I knew that he was 
not a man to treat with altogether frankly. I drew up, 
therefore, and referred him to my father. About my father 
he did not seem to doubt, but wished first to be v.t one with 
me, now and here. I at last said. Yes ; but stipulated, as an 
indispensable condition, that my parents should concur. He 
then spoke formally with both of them ; they signified their 
satisfaction : mutual promises were given, on the faith of 
his advancement, which it was expected would be speedy. 
Sisters and aunts were informed of this arrangement, and 
the strictest secrecy enjoined on them. 

Thus had my lover become my bridegroom, and great 
was the difference between the two. If one could change 
the lovers of all honorable maidens into bridegrooms, it 
would be a kindness to our sex, even though marriage 
should not follow the connection. The love between two 
persons does not lessen by the change, but it becomes more 
reasonable. Innumerable little follies, all coquetries and 
caprices, disappear. If the bridegroom tells us that we 
please him better in a morning-cap than in the finest head- 
dress, no discreet young woman will disturb herself about 
her hair-dressing ; and nothing is more natural than that he, 
too, should think solidl}', and rather wish to form a house- 
wife for himself than a gaudy doll for others. And thus it 
is in every province of the business. 

Should a young woman of this kind be fortunate enough 
to have a bridegroom who possesses understanding and ac- 
quirements, she learns from him more than universities and 
foreign lands can teach. She not only willingly receives in- 
struction when he offers it, but she endeavors to elicit more 
and more from him. Love makes much that was impossible 
possible. By degrees, too, that subjection, so necessary and 
so graceful for the female sex, begins : the bridegroom does 
not govern like the husband ; he only asks : but his mistress 



332 MEISTKR'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

seeks to discover what he wants, and to offer it before he 
asks it. 

So did experience teach me what I would not for much 
have missed. I was happy, trul}^ h^PPy ^s woman could 
be in the world, — that is to say, for a while. 

Amid these quiet joys, a summer passed away. Narciss 
gave not the slightest reason to complain of him : he daily 
became more dear to me ; my whole soul was his. This he 
well knew, and knew also how to prize it. Meanwhile, from 
seeming trifles, something rose, which by and by grew hurt- 
ful to our union. 

Narciss behaved to me as to a bride, and never dared to 
ask of me such favors as were yet forbidden us. But, about 
the boundaries of virtue and decorum, we were of very dif- 
ferent opinions. I meant to walk securely, and so never 
granted him the smallest freedom which the whole world 
might not have witnessed. Pie, used to dainties, thought 
this diet very strict. On this point there was continual vari- 
ance : he praised my modesty, and sought to undermine my 
resolution. 

The serious of my old French teacher now occurred to 
me, as well as the defence which I had once suggested in 
regard to it. 

With God I had again become a little more acquainted. 
He had given me a bridegroom whom I loved, and for this 
I felt some thankfulness. Earthly love itself concentrated 
m}^ soul, and put its powers in motion ; nor did it contradict 
my intercourse with God. I naturally complained to him 
of what alarmed me, but T did not perceive that I m3'self 
was wishing and desiring it. In my own eyes 1 was strong : 
I did not pray, "Lead us not into temptation!" My 
thoughts were far be3^ond temptation. In this flimsy tinsel- 
work of virtue I came to God. He did not drive me back. 
On the smallest movement towards him, he left a soft im- 
pression in my soul ; and this impression caused me always 
to return. 

Except Narciss, the world was altogether dead to me : 
excepting him, tnere was nothing in it that had any charm. 
Even my love for dress was but the wish to please him : if I 
knew that he was not to see me, I could spend no care upon 
it. I liked to dance ; but, if he was not beside me, it seemed 
as if I could not bear the motion. At a brilliant festival, if 
he was not invited, I could neither take the trouble of pro- 
viding new things, nor of putting on the old according to 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 333 

the mode. To me they were alike agreeable, or rather, I 
might say, alike burdensome. I used to reckon such an 
evening very fairly spent when I could join myself to any 
ancient card-party, though formerly I had not the smallest 
taste for such things ; and, if some old acquaintance came 
and rallied me about it, I would smile, perhaps for the first 
time all that night. So, likewise, it was with promenades, 
and every social entertainment that can be imagined : — 

''Him had I chosen from all others; 
His would I be, and not another's: 
To me his love was all in all." 

Thus was I often solitary in the midst of company, anc 
real solitude was generally acceptable to me. But my busy 
soul could neither sleep nor dream : I felt and thought, and 
acquired by degrees some faculty to speak about my feel- 
ings and my thoughts with God. Then were feelings of 
another sort unfolded, but these did not contradict the for- 
mer feelings : my affection to Narciss accorded with the uni- 
versal scheme of nature ; it nowhere hindered the perform- 
ance of a duty. They did not contradict each other, yet 
they were immensely different. Narciss was the only living 
form which hovered in my mind, and to which my love was 
all directed ; but the other feeling was not directed towards 
any form, and yet it was unspeakabl}' agreeable. I no 
longer have it : I no longer can impart it. 

My lover, whom I used to trust with all my secrets, did not 
know of this. I soon discovered that he thought far other- 
wise : he often gave me writings which opposed, with light 
and heavy weapons, all that can be called connection with 
the Invisible. I used to read the books because they came 
from him ; but, at the end, I knew no word of all that had 
been argued in them. 

Nor, in regard to sciences and knowledge, was there want 
of contradiction in our conduct. He did as all men do, — he 
mocked at learned women ; and yet he kept continually in- 
structing me. He used to speak with me on all subjects, 
law excepted ; and, while constantly procuring books of every 
kind for me, he frequently repeated the uncertain precept, 
' ' That a lady ought to keep the knowledge she might have 
more secret than the Calvinist his creed in Catholic coun- 
tries." And while I, by natural consequence, endeavored 
not to show myself more wise or learned than formerly be- 
fore the world, Narciss himself was commonly the first who 



334 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

yielded to the vanity of speaking about me and my supe- 
riorities. 

A nobleman of high repute, and at that time valued for 
his influence, his talents, and accomplishments, was living 
at our court with great applause. He bestowed especial 
notice on Narciss, whom he kept continually about him. 
They once had an argument about the virtue of women. 
Narciss repeated to me what had passed between them : I 
was not wanting with my observations, and my friend re- 
quired of me a written essay on the subject. I could write 
French fluently enough : I had laid a good foundation with 
my teacher. My correspondence with Narciss was likewise 
carried on in French : except in French books, there was 
then no elegant instruction to be had. My essay pleased the 
count : I was obliged to let him have some little songs, 
which I had lately been composing. In short, Narciss ap- 
peared to revel without stint in the renown of his beloved : 
and the story, to his great contentment, ended with a French 
epistle in heroic verse, which the count transmitted to him 
on departing ; in which their argument was mentioned, and 
my friend reminded of his happiness in being destined, after 
all his doubts and errors, to learn most certainly what virtue 
was, in the arms of a virtuous and charming Avife. 

He showed this poem first of all to me, and then to almost 
every one ; each thinking of the matter what he pleased. 
Thus did he act in several cases : every stranger, whom he 
valued, must be made acquainted in our house. 

A noble family was staying for a season in the place, to 
profit by the skill of our physician. In this house, too, 
Narciss was looked on as a son ; he introduced me there •, 
we found among tliese worthy persons the most pleasant en- 
tertainment for mind and heart. Even the common pastimes 
of society appeared less empty here than elsewhere. All 
knew how matters stood with us : thc}^ treated us as circum^ 
stances would allow, and left the main relation unalluded to. 
I mention this one family ; because, in the after-period of 
my life, it had a powerful influence upon me. 

Almost a year of our connection had elapsed ; and, along 
with it, our spring was over. The summer came, and all 
grew drier and more earnest. 

By several unexpected deaths, some oflSces fell vacant, 
which Narciss might make pretensions to. The instant was 
at hand when my whole destiny must be decided ; and while 
Narciss, and all our friends, were making every effort to 



METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 335 

efface some impressions which obstructed him at court, and 
to obtain for him the wished-for situation, I turned with my 
request to my Invisible Friend. I was received so kindly, 
that I gladl}^ came again. I confessed, without disguise, 
my wisii that Narciss might obtain the place ; but my prayer 
was not importunate, and I did not require that it should 
happen for the sake of my petition. 

The place was' obtained by a far inferior competitor. I 
was dreadfully troubled at this news : I hastened to my room, 
the door of which I locked behind me. The first fit of grief 
went off in a shower of tears : the next thought was, " Yet 
it was not by chance that it happened;" and instantly I 
formed the resolution to be well content with it, seeing even 
this apparent evil would be for my true advantage. The 
softest emotions then pressed in upon me, and divided all 
the clouds of sorrow. I felt, that, with help like this, there 
was nothing one might not endure. At dinner I appeared 
quite cheerful, to the great astonishment of all the house. 

Narciss had less internal force than I, and I was called 
upon to comfort him. In his family, too, he had many 
crosses to encounter, some of which afflicted him consider- 
ably ; and, such true confidence subsisting between us, he 
intrusted me with all. His negotiations for entering on 
foreign service were not more fortunate ; all this I felt deeply 
on his account and mine ; all this, too, I ultimately carried 
to the place where my petitions had already been so well 
received. 

The softer these experiences were, the oftener did I en- 
deavor to renew them : I hoped continually to meet with com- 
fort where I had so often met with it. Yet I did not always 
meet with it : I was as one that goes to warm him in the 
sunshine, while there is something standing in the way that 
makes a shadow. "What is this?" I asked myself. I 
traced the matter zealously, and soon perceived that it all 
depended on the situation of my soul : if this was not turned 
in the straightest direction towards God, I still continued 
cold ; I did not feel his counter-influence ; I could obtain no 
answer. The second question was, "What hinders this 
direction ? ' ' Here I was in a wide field : I perplexed myself 
in an inquiry which lasted nearly all the second year of my 
attachment to Narciss. I might have ended the investiga- 
tion sooner, for it was not long till I had got upon the 
proper trace ; but I would not confess ft, and I sought a 
thousand outlets. 



336 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

I very soon discovered that the straight direction of my 
soul was marred b}^ foolish dissipations, and employment 
with unworthy things. The how and the where were clear 
enough to me. Yet by what means could I help myself, or 
extricate my mind from the calls of a world where every 
thing was either cold indifference or hot insanity? Gladly 
would I have left things standing as they were, and lived 
from day to day, floating down with the stream, like other 
people whom I saw quite happy ; but I durst not : my inmost 
feelings contradicted me too often. Yet if I determined to 
renounce society, and alter my relations to others, it was 
not in my power. I was hemmed in as by a ring drawn 
round me ; certain connections I could not dissolve ; and, in 
the matter which lay nearest to my heart, fatalities accumu- 
lated and oppressed me more and more. I often went to 
bed with tears, and, after a sleepless night, arose again with 
tears : I required some strong support ; and God would not 
vouchsafe it me while I was running with the cap and bells. 

I proceeded now to estimate my doings, all and each : 
dancing and play were first put upon their trial. Never was 
there any thing spoken, thought, or written, for or against 
these practices, which I did not examine, talk of, read, 
weigh, reject, aggravate, and plague myself about. If I 
gave up these habits, I was certain that Narciss would be 
offended ; for he dreaded exceedingly the ridicule which any 
look of straitlaced conscientiousness gives one in the eyes of 
the world. And doing what I now looked upon as folly, 
noxious folly, out of no taste of my own, but merely to 
gratify him, it all grew wofully irksome to me. 

Without disagreeable prolixities and repetitions, it is not 
in my power to represent what pains I took, in trying so to 
counteract those occupations which distracted my attention 
and disturbed my peace of mind, that my heart, in spite of 
them, might still be open to the influences of the Invisible 
Being. But at last, with pain, I was compelled to admit, 
that in this way the quarrel could not be composed. For no 
sooner had I clothed myself in the garment of folly, than it 
came to be something more than a mask, than the foolish- 
ness pierced and penetrated me through and through. 

May I here overstep tlie province of a mere historical 
detail, and offer one or two remarks on what was then taking 
place within me? What could it be which so changed my 
tastes and feelings, that, in my twenty-second year, nay, 
earlier, I lost all relish for the recreations with which people 



1 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 337 

of that age are harmlessly delighted? Why were they not 
harmless for me ? I may answer, ' ' Just because they were 
not harmless ; because I was not, like others of my years, 
unacquainted with my soul. No ! I knew, from experiences 
which had reached me unsought, that there are loftier emo- 
tions, which afford us a contentment such as it is vain to 
seek in the amusements of the world ; and that, in these 
higher joys, there is also kept a secret treasure for strength- 
ening the spirit in misfortune. 

But the pleasures of society, the dissipations of youth, 
must needs have had a powerful charm for me ; since it was 
not in my power to engage in them without participation, to 
act among them as if they were not there. How many 
things could I now do, if I liked, with entire coldness, which 
then dazzled and confounded me, nay, threatened to obtain 
the mastery over me ! Here there could no medium be ob- 
served : either those delicious amusements, or my nourishing 
and quickening internal emotions, must be given up. 

But, in my soul, the strife had, without my own conscious- 
ness, already been decided. Even if there still was any 
thing within me that longed for earthly pleasures, I had now 
become unfitted for enjoying them. Much as a man might 
hanker after wine, all desire of drinking would forsake him, 
if he should be placed among full barrels in a cellar, where 
the foul air was like to suffocate him. Free air is more than 
wine ; this I felt but too keenly : and, from the first, it would 
have cost me little studying to prefer the good to the delight- 
ful, if the fear of losing the affection of Narciss had not 
restrained me. But at last, when after many thousand strug- 
gles, and thoughts continually renewed, I began to cast a 
steady eye upon the bond which held me to him, I discovered 
that iu was but weak, that it might be torn asunder. I at 
once perceived it to be only as a glass bell, which shut me 
up in the exhausted, airless space : one bold stroke to break 
the bell in pieces, and thou art delivered ! 

No sooner thought than tried. I drew off the mask, and 
on aU occasions acted as my heart directed. Narciss I still 
cordially loved : but the thermometer, which formerly had 
stood in hot water, was now hanging in the natural air ; it 
could rise no higher than the warmth of the atmosphere 
directed. 

Unhappily it cooled very much. Narciss drew back, and 
began to assume a distant air : this was at his option, but 
my thermometer descended as he drew back. Our family ob- 



338 MEISTEirS APPRENTICESHIP. 

served this, questioned me, and seemed to be surprised. 
1 explained to them, with stout defiance, that heretofore I 
had made abundant sacrifices ; that I was ready, still far- 
ther and to the end of my life, to share all crosses that 
befell him ; but that I required full freedom in my conduct, 
that my doings and avoidings must depend upon my own 
conviction ; that, indeed, I would never bigotedly cleave to 
my own opinion, but, on the other hand, would willingly be 
reasoned with ; yet, as it concerned my own happiness, the 
decision must proceed from myself, and be liable to no man- 
ner of constraint. The greatest physician could not move 
me, by his reasonings, to take an article of food, which per- 
haps was altogether wholesome and agreeable to many, so 
soon as my experience had shown, that on all occasions it was 
noxious to me ; as I might producer coffee for an instance : 
and just as little, nay, still less, would I have any sort of 
conduct which misled me, preached up and demonstrated 
upon me as morally profitable. 

Having so long prepared myself in silence, these debates 
were rather pleasant than vexatious to me. I gave vent to 
my soul : I felt the whole worth of my determination. I 
yielded not a hair's-breadth, and those to whom I owed no 
filial respect were sharply handled and despatched. In the 
family I soon prevailed. My mother from her youth had 
entertained these sentiments, though in her they had never 
reached maturity ; for no necessity had pressed upon her, 
and exalted her courage to achieve her purpose. She re- 
joiced in beholding her silent wishes fulfilled through me. 
My younger sisters seemed to join themselves with me : the 
second was attentive and quiet. Our aunt had the most to 
object. The arguments which she employed appeared to her 
irrefragable ; and they were irrefragable, being altogether 
commonplace. At last I was obliged to show her, that she 
had no voice in the affair in any sense ; and, after this, she 
seldom signified that she persisted in her views. She was, 
indeed, the only person that observed this transaction close 
at hand, without in some degree experiencing its influence. 
I do not calumniate her, when I say that she had no charac- 
ter, and the most limited ideas. 

My father had acted altogether in his own way. He spoke 
not much, but often, with me on the matter: his arguments 
were rational ; an-d, being his arguments, they could not be 
impugned. It was only the deep feeling of my right that 
gave me strength to dispute against him. But the* scenes 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 339 

soon changed : I was forced to make appeal to his heart. 
Straitened by his understanding, I came out with the most 
pathetic pleadings. I gave free course to my tongue and to 
my tears. I showed him how much I loved Narciss ; how 
much constraint I had for two years been enduring ; how 
certain I was of being in the right ; that I was ready to tes- 
tify that certainty, by the loss of my beloved bridegroom 
and prospective happiness, — nay, if it were necessary, by 
the loss of all that I possessed on earth ; that I would rather 
leave my native country, my parents, and my friends, and 
beg my bread in foreign lands, than act against these dic- 
tates of my conscience. He concealed his emotion : he said 
nothing on the subject for a while, and at last he openly de- 
clared in my favor. 

During all this time Narciss forbore to visit us ; and my 
father now gave up the weekly club, where he was used to 
meet him. The business made a noise at court, and in the 
town. People talked about it, as is common in such cases, 
which the public takes a vehement interest in, because its 
sentence has usurped an influence on tlie resolutions of weak 
minds. I knew enough about the world to understand that 
one's conduct is often censured by the very persons who 
would have advised it, had one consulted them ; and inde- 
pendently of this, with m}' internal composure, I should have 
looked on all such transitory speculations just as if they had 
not been. 

On the other hand, I hindered not myself from yielding to 
my inclination for Narciss. To me he had become invisible, 
and to him my feelings had not altered. I loved him ten- 
derly ; as it were anew, and much more steadfastly than be- 
fore. If he chose to leave my conscience undisturbed, then 
I was his : wanting this condition, I would have refused a 
kingdom with him. For several months I bore these feel- 
ings and these thoughts about with me ; and, finding at last 
that I was calm and strong enough to go peacefully and 
firmly to work, I wrote him a polite but not a tender note, 
inquiring why he never came to see me. 

As I knew his manner of avoiding to explain himself in 
little matters, but of silently doing what seemed good to him, 
I purposely urged him in the present instance. I got a long, 
and, as it seemed to me, pitiful, reply, in vague style and un- 
meaning phrases, stating, that, without a better place, he 
could not fix himself, and offer me his hand ; that I best 
knew how hard it had fared with him hitherto ; that as he 



340 MEISTER'S A.PPRENTICESHIP. 

was afraid lest a fruitless intercourse, so long continued, 
might prove hurtful to my reputation, I would give him 
leave to continue at his present distance ; so soon as it was in 
his power to make me happy, he would look upon the word 
which he had given me as sacred. 

I answered him on the spot, that, as our intercourse was 
known to all the world, it might, perhaps, be rather late to 
spare my reputation ; for which, at any rate, my conscience 
and my innocence were the surest pledges ; however, that I 
hereby freel}^ gave him back his word, aud hoped the change 
would prove a happy one for liim. The same hour I re- 
ceived a short reply, which was, in all essential particulars, 
entirely synonymous with the first. He adhered to his for- 
mer statement, that, so soon as he obtained a situation, he 
would ask me, if I pleased, to share his fortune with him. 

This I interpreted as meaning simply nothing. I signified 
to my relations and acquaintances, that the affair was alto- 
gether settled ; and it was so in fact. Having, nine months 
afterwards, obtained the much-desired preferment, he offered 
me his hand, but under the condition, that, as the wife of a 
man who must keep house like other people, I should alter 
my opinions. I returned him many thanks, and hastened 
with my lieart and mind awa}' from this transaction, as one 
hastens from the playhouse when the curtain falls. And as 
he, a short time afterwards, had found a rich and advanta- 
geous match, a thing now easy for him ; and as I now knew 
him to be happy in the way he liked, — my own tranquillity 
was quite complete. 

I must not i)ass in silence the fact, that several times be- 
fore he got a place, and after it, there were respectable pro- 
posals made to me ; which, however, I declined without the 
smallest hesitation, much as my father and my mother could 
have wished for more compliance on my part. 

At length, after a stormy March and April, the loveliest 
May weather seemed to be allotted me. With good health, 
I enjoyed an indescribable composure of mind : look around 
me as I pleased, my loss appeared a gain to me. Young and 
full of sensibility, I thought the universe a thousand times 
more beautiful than formerly, when I required to have society 
and play, that in the fair garden tedium might not overtake 
me. And now, as I did not conceal my piety, I likewise 
took heart to own my love for the sciences aud arts. I drew, 
painted, read, and found enough of people to support me : 
instead of the great world, which I had left, or, rather, which 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 841 

had left me, a smaller one form eel itself about me, which was 
infinitel}^ richer and more entertaining. I had a turn for 
social life ; and I do not deny, that, on giving up my old ac- 
quaintances, I trembled at the thought of solitude. I now 
found myself abundantly, perhaps excessively, indemnified. 
My acquaintances erelong were very numerous, not at home 
only, but likewise among people at a distance. My story 
had been noised abroad, and many persons felt a curiosity 
to see the woman who had valued God above her bridesfroom. 
There was a certain pious tone to be observed, at that time, 
generally over Germany. In the families of several counts 
and princes, a care for the welfare of the soul had been 
awakened. Nor were there wanting noblemen who showed 
a like attention ; while, in the inferior classes, sentiments of 
this kind were diffused on every side. 

The noble family, whom I mentioned above, now drew me 
nearer to them. They had, in the mean while, gathered 
strength ; several of their relations having settled in the town. 
These estimable persons courted my familiarity, as I did 
theirs. They had high connections : I became acquainted, 
in their house, with a great part of the princes, counts, and 
lords of the empire. My sentiments were not concealed 
from any one : they might be honored or be tolerated ; I 
obtained my object, — none attacked me. 

There was yet another wa}' by which I was again led back 
into the world. About this period a step-brother of my 
father, who till now had never visited the house except in 
passing, staid with us for a considerable time. He had left 
the service of his court, where he enjoyed great influence 
and honor, simply because all matters were not managed 
quite according to his mind. His intellect was just, his char- 
acter was rigid. In these points he was very like my father : 
only the latter had withal a certain touch of softness, which 
enabled him with greater ease to yield a little in affairs, and 
though not to do, yet to permit, some things against his own 
conviction ; and then to evaporate his anger at them, either 
in silence by himself, or in confidence amid his family. My 
uncle was a. great deal younger, and his independence of 
spirit had been favored by his outward circumstances. His 
mother had been very rich, and he still had large possessions 
to expect from her near and distant relatives ; so he needed 
no foreign increase : whereas my father, with his moderate 
fortune, was bound to his place by the consideration of his 
salary. 



342 MEISTEJi'S APrRENTICESIIIP. 

My uncle had become still more unbendmg from domestic 
sufferings. He had early lost an amiable wife and a hopeful 
son ; and, from that time, he appeared to wish to push away 
from him every thing that did not hang upon his individual will. 
' In our family it was whispered now and then with some 
complacency, that probably he would not wed again, and so 
we children might anticipate inheriting his fortune. I paid 
small regard to this, but the demeanor of the rest was not a 
little modified by their hopes. In his own imperturbable firm- 
ness of character, my uncle had grown into the habit of never 
contradicting any one in conversation. On the other hand, 
he listened with a friendl}'' air to every one's opinion, and 
would himself elucidate and strengthen it by instances and 
reasons of his own. All who did not know him fancied that 
he thought as they did ; for he was possessed of a prepon- 
derating intellect, and could transport himself into the mental 
state of any man, and imitate his manner of conceiving. 
AVith me he did not prosper quite so well ; for here the ques- 
tion was about emotions, of which he had not any glimpse : 
and, with whatever tolerance and sympathy and rationality 
he spoke about my sentiments, it was palpable to me, that he 
had not the slightest notion of what formed the ground of 
all my conduct. 

With all his secrecy, we by and by found out the aim of 
his unusual stay with us. He had, as we at length dis- 
covered, cast his eyes upon our youngest sister, with the view 
of giving her in marriage, a,nd rendering her happy as he 
pleased ; and certainly, considering her personal and mental 
attractions, particularly vvhen a handsome fortune was laid 
into the scale along with them, she might pretend to the first 
matches. His feelings towards me he likewise showed us 
pantomimieally, by procuring me a post of canoness, the 
income of which I very soon began to draw. 

My sister was not so contented with his care as I. She 
now disclosed to me a tender secret, which hitherto she had 
very wisely kept back ; fearing, as in truth it happened, that 
I would by all means counsel her against connection with a 
man who was not suited to her. I did my utmost, and suc- 
ceeded. The purpose of my uncle was too serious and too 
distinct : the prospect for my sister, with her worldly views, 
was too delightful to be thwarted by a passion which her own 
understanding disapproved ; she mustered force to give it up. 

On her ceasing to resist the gentle guidance of my uncle, 
the foundation of his plan was quickly laid. She was ap- 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 343 

pointed maid of honor at a neighboring court, where he 
could commit her to the oversight and the instructions of a 
lady, his friend, who presided there as governess with great 
applause. I accompanied her to the place of her new abode. 
Both of us had reason to be satisfied with the reception we 
met with ; and frequently I could not help, in secret, smiling 
at the character,- which now as canoness, as young and pious 
canoness, I was enacting in the world. 

In earlier times a situation such as this would have con- 
fused me dreadfully, perhaps have turned my head ; but 
now, in the midst of all the splendors that surrounded me, 
I felt extremely cool. With great quietness I let them 
frizzle me, and deck me out for hours, and thought no more 
of it than that my place required me to wear that gala livery. 
In the thronged saloons I spoke with all and each, though 
no shape or character among them made ^ny impression on 
me. On returning to my house, nearly all the feeling I 
brought back with me was that of tired limbs. Yet my un- 
derstanding drew advantage from the multitude of persons 
whom I saw : and I became acquainted with some ladies, 
patterns of every virtue, of a noble and good demeanor ; 
particularly with the governess, under vfhom my sister was 
to have the happiness of being formed. 

At my return, however, the consequences of this journey, 
in regard to health, were found to be less favorable. With 
the greatest temperance, the strictest diet, I had not been, 
as I used to be, completely" mistress of my time and strength. 
Food, motion, rising, and going to sleep, dressing and visiting, 
had not depended, as at home, on my own conveniency and 
will. In the circle of social life you cannot stop without a 
breach of courtesy : all that was needful I had willingly per- 
formed ; because I looked upon it as my duty, because I 
knew that it would soon be over, and because I felt mj^self 
completely healthy. Yet this unusual, restless life must have 
had more effect vipon me than I was aware of. Scarcely had 
I reached home, and cheered my parents with a comfortable 
narrative, when I was attacked by a hemorrhage, which, al- 
though it did not prove dangerous or lasting, yet left a weak- 
ness after it, perceptible for many a day. 

Here, then, I had another lesson to repeat. I did it joy- 
full}^ Nothing bound me to the world, and I was convinced 
that here the true good was never to be found ; so I waited 
in the cheerf iillest and meekest state : and, after having ab- 
dicated life, I was retained in it. 



344 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

A new trial was awaiting me : my mother took a painful 
and oppressive ailment, which she had to bear five years, 
before she paid the debt of nature. All this time we were 
sharply proved. Often, when her terror grew too strong, she 
would have us all summoned, in the night, to her bed, that 
so at least she might be busied, if not bettered, by our pres- 
ence. The load grew heavier, na}', scarcely to be borne, 
when my father, too, became unwell. From his youth he 
had frequently had violent headaches, which, however, at 
longest never used to last bej^ond six and thirty hours. But 
now they were continual ; and, when they mounted to a high 
degree of pain, his moanings tore my very heart. It was in 
these tempestuous seasons that I chiefly felt ni}^ bodih' weak- 
ness ; because it kept me from my holiest and dearest du- 
ties, or rendered the performance of them hard to an extreme 
degree. 

It was now that I could try whether the path which I had 
chosen was the path of fantasy or truth ; whether I had 
merely thought as others showed me, or the object of my 
trust had a reality. To my unspeakable support, I always 
found the latter. The straight direction of my heart to 
God,* the fellowship of the " Beloved Ones," ^ I had sought 
and found ; and this was what made all things light to me. 
jf' As a traveller in the dark, my soul, when all was pressing on 
me from without, hastened to the place of refuge ; and never 
did it return empty. 

In later times some champions of religion, who seem to be 
animated more by zeal than feeling for it, have required of 
their brethren to produce examples of prayers actukUy heard ; 
apparently as wishing to have seal and signature, that so 
they might proceed juridically in the matter. How unknown 
must the true feeling be to these persons ! how few real 
experiences can they themselves have made ! 
\\ I can say that I never returned empty, when in straits and 
1] oppression I called on God. This is saying infinitely much : 
more I must not and can not say. Important as each experi- 
ence was at the critical moment for myself, the recital of 
them would be flat, improbable, and insignificant, were I to 
specify the separate cases. Happy was I,. that a thousand 
little incidents in combination proved, as clearl}' as the draw- 
ing of my breath proved me to be living, that I was not 
without God in the world. He was near to me : I was be- 
fore him. This is what, with a diligent avoidance of all 

I So in the origiiaal. — Ed. 



MEISTER'S APPRE^^TICESHIP. 345 

theological sjstematic terms, T can with the greatest truth 
declare. 

Much do I wish, that, in those thnes too, I had been en- 
tirely without system. But which of us arrives early at the 
happiness of being conscious of his individual self, in its 
own pure combination, without extraneous forms? I was in 
earnest with rehgion. I timidly trusted in the judgments of 
others : I entirely gave in to the Hallean system of con- 
version, but m}^ nature would by no means tally with it. 

According to this scheme of doctrine, the alteration of the 
heart must begin with a deep terror on account of sin : the 
heart in this agony must recognize, in a less or greater 
degree, the punishment which it has merited, must get a 
foretaste of hell, and so embitter the delight of sin. At last 
it feels a very palpable assurance of grace ; which, however, 
in its progress often fades away, and must again be sought 
with earnest prayer. 

Of all this no jot or tittle happened with me. When I 
sought God sincerely, he let himself be found of me, and did 
not reproach me about by-gone things. On looking back, I 
saw well enough where I had been unworthy, where I still 
was so ; but the confession of my faults was altogether with- 
out terror. Not for a moment did the fear of hell occur to 
me ; nay, the very notion of a wicked spirit, and a place of 
punishment and torment after death, could nowise gain 
admission into the circle of my thoughts. I considered the 
men who lived without God, whose hearts were shut against 
the trust in and the love of the Invisible, as already so 
unhappy, that a hell and external pains appeared to promise 
rather an alleviation than an increase of their misery. I 
had but to look upon the persons, in this world, who in their 
breasts gave scope to hateful feelings ; who hardened their 
hearts against the good of whatever kind, and strove to force 
the evil on themselves and others ; who shut their eyes by 
day, that so they might deny the shining of the sun. How 
unutterably wretched did these persons seem to me ! "Who 
could have formed a hell to make their situation worse ? 

This mood of mind continued in me, without change, for 
half a score of years. It maintained itself through many 
trials, even at the moving death-bed of my beloved mother. 
I was frank enough, on this occasion, not to hide my comfort- 
able frame of mind from certain pious but rigoi'ously ortho- 
dox people ; and I liad to suffer many a friendly admonition 
on that score. They reckoned they were just in season, for 



346 MEISTEirS APrRENTICESHIP. 

explaining with what earnestness one should be diligent to 
lay a right foundation in the days of health and youth. 

In earnestness I, too, determined not to fail. For the 
moment I allowed myself to l^e convinced ; and fain would 
I have grown, for life, distressed and full of fears. But 
what was my surprise on finding that I absolutely could not. 
When I thought of God, I was cheerful and contented : even 
at the painful end of my dear mother, I did not shudder at 
the thought of death. Yet I learned many and far other 
things than my uncalled teachers thought of, in these solemn 
hours. 

By degrees I grew to doubt the dictates of so many 
famous people, and retained my own sentiments in silence. 
A certain lady of my friends, to whom I had at fust disclosed 
too much, insisted always on interfering with my business. 
Of her, too, I was obliged to rid myself : I at last firmly told 
her, that she might spare herself this labor, as I did not need 
her counsel ; that I knew my God, and would have no guide 
but him. She was greatly offended : I believe she never 
quite forgave me. 

Such determination to withdraw from the advices and the 
influence of my friends, in spiritual matters, produced the con- 
sequence, that also in my temporal affairs I gained sufficient 
courage to obey my own persuasions. But for the assistance 
of my faithful, invisible Leader, 1 could not have prospered 
here. I am still gratefully astonished at his wise and happy 
guidance. No one knew how matters stood with me : even 
I myself did not know. 

The thing, the wicked and inexplicable thing, which sepa- 
rates us from the Being to whom we owe our life, and in 
whom all that deserves the name of life must find it?, nour- 
ishment, — the thing which we call sin I yet knew nothing 
of. 

In my intercourse with my invisible Friend, I felt the 
sweetest enjoyment of all my powers. . My desire of con- 
stantly enjoying this felicity was so predominant, that I 
abandoned without hesitation whatever marred our inter- 
course ; and here experience was my best teacher. But it 
was with me as with sick persons who have no medicine, and 
try to help themselves by diet : something is accomplished, 
but far from enough. 

I could not always live in solitude, though in it I found 
the best preservative against the dissipation of my thoughts. 
On returning to the tumult * the impression it produced upoo 



MEISTER'S APrHKNTICESHIP. 347 

me was the deeper for my previous loneliness. My most 
peculiar advantage lay in this, that love for quiet was my 
ruling passion, and that in the end I still drew back to it. I 
perceived, as in a kind of twilight, my weakness and my misery, 
and tried to save myself by avoiding danger and exposure. 

For seven years I had used my dietetic scheme. I held 
myself not wicked, and I thought my state desirable. But 
for some peculiar circumstances and occurrences 1 had re- 
mained in this position : it was by a curious path that I got 
farther. Contrary to the advice of all my friends, I entered 
on a new connection. Their objections, at first, made me 
pause. I turned to my invisible Leader ; and, as he per- 
mitted me, I went forward without fear. 

A man of spirit, heart, and talents had bought a property 
beside us. Among the strangers whom I grew acquainted 
with, were this person and his family. In our manners, 
domestic economy, and habits we accorded well ; and thus 
we soon approximated to each other. 

Philo, as I propose to call him, was already middle-aged : 
in certain matters he was highly serviceable to my father, 
whose strength was now decaying. lie soon became the 
friend of the family : and finding in me, as he was pleased 
to say, a person free alike from the extravagance and empti- 
ness of the great vv^oiid, and from the narrowness and arid- 
ness of the still world in the country, he courted intimacy 
with me ; and erelong we were in one another's confidence. 
To me he was very pleasing and useful. 

Though I did not feel the smallest inclination or capacity 
for mingling in public business, or seeking any influence on 
it, yet I liked to hear about such matters, — liked to know 
whatever happened far and near. Of worldly things, I loved 
to get a clear though unconcerned perception : feeling, sym- 
pathy, affection, I reserved for God, for my people, and my 
friends. 

The latt(;r v/ere, if I may say so, jealous of Philo, in my 
new connection with him. In more than one sense, the}' were 
right in warning me about it. I suffered much in secret, 
for even I could not consider their remonstrances as alto- 
gether empty or selfish. I l^ad been accustomed, from of 
old, to give a reason for my views and conduct ; but in this 
case my conviction would not follow. I prayed to God, that 
here, as elsewhere, he would warn, restrain, and guide me ; 
and. as my heart on this did not dissuade me, I went for* 
ward on my way with comfort. 



h^ 



% 



348 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

Philo, on the whole, had a remote resemblance to Naroiss, 
only a pious education had more enlivened and concentrated 
^ his feelings. He had less vanity, more character ; and in 

y business, if Narciss was delicate, exact, persevering, inde- 

^^^ fatigable, the other was clear, sharp, quick, and capable of 

working with incredible ease. By means of him I learned 
the secret history of almost every noble personage with 
whose exterior I had got acquainted in society. It was pleas- 
ant for me to behold the tumult, off my watch-tower from 
afar. Philo could now hide nothing irom me : he confided 
to me, by degrees, his own concerns, both inward and out- 
ward. I was in fear because of him, for I foresaw certain 
circumstances and entanglements ; and the mischief came 
more speedily than I had looked for. There were some confes- 
sions he had still kept back, and even at last he told me only 
what enabled me to guess the worst. 

What an effect had this upon my heart ! I attained experi- 
ences which to me were altogether new. With infinite sor- 
row I beheld an Agathon, who, educated in the groves of 
Delphi, still owed his school-fees, which he was now obliged 
to pay with their accumulated interest ; and tnis Agathon 
was my especial friend. My sympathy was lively and com- 
plete ; I suffered with him ; both of us were in the strangest 
state. 

After having long occupied myself with the temper of his 
mind, 1 at last turned round to contemplate my own. The 
thought, " Thou art no better than he," rose like a little 
cloud before me, and gradually expanded till it darkened all 
my soul. 

I now not only thought myself no better than he : I felt 
this, and felt it as I should not wish to do again. Nor was 
it any transitory mood. P'or more than a year, I was com- 
pelled to feel, that, had not an unseen hand restrained me, I 
might have become a Girard, a Cartouche, a Damiens, or 
any wretch you can imagine. The tendencies to this I traced 
too clearly in my heart. Heavens, what a discovery ! 

.If hitherto I had never been able, in the faintest degree, 
to recognize in myself the reality of sin by experience, its 
possibility was now become apparent to me by anticipation 
in the frightfullest manner. And yet I knew not evil ; I but 
feared it : I felt that I might be guilty, and could not accuse 
myself of being so. 

Deeply as I was convinced that such a temperament of 
soul, as I now saw mine to be, could iiever be adapted for 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 349 

that union with the invisible Being which I hoped for after 
death, I did not, in the smallest, fear that I should finally 
be separated from him. With all the wickedness which I 
discovered in my heart, I still loved Him: I hated what 
I felt, nay, wished to hate it still more earnestly ; my whole 
desire was, to be delivered from this sickness, and this ten- 
dency to sickness ; and I was persuaded that the great Physi- 
cian would at length vouchsafe his help. 

The sole question was. What medicine will cure this 
malady? The practice of virtue? This 1 could not for a 
moment think. For ten years 1 had already practised more 
than mere virtue ; and the horrors now first discovered had, all 
the while, lain hidden at the bottom of my soul. Might they 
not have broken out with me, as they did with David when 
he looked on Bathsheba ? Yet was not he a friend of God ! 
and was not I assured, in my inmost heart, that God was my 
friend ? 

Was it, then, an unavoidable infirmity of human nature? 
Must we just content ourselves in feeling and acknowledging 
the sovereignty of inclination? And, with the best will, is 
there nothing left for us but to abhor the fault we have com- 
mitted, and on the like occasion to commit it again? 

From systems of morality I could obtain no comfort. 
Neither their severity, by which they ivy to bend our inclina- 
tions, nor their attractiveness, by which they try to place our 
inclinations en the side of virtue, gave me any satisfaction. 
The fundamental notions, which I had imbibed from inter- 
course with my invisible Friend, were of far higher value to 
me. 

Once, while I was studying the songs composed by David 
after that tremendous fall, it struck me very much that he 
traced his indwelling corruption even in the substance out of 
which he had been shaped ; yet that he wished to be freed 
from sin, and that he earnestly entreated for a pure heart. 

But how was this to be attained ? The answer from Scrip- 
ture I was well aware of : " that the blood of Jesus cleanseth 
us from all sin," was a Bible truth which 1 had long known. 
But now, for the first time, I observed that as yet I had never 
understood this oft-repeated saying. The questions. What 
does it mean ? How is it to be ? were day and night work- 
ing out their answers in me. At last I thought T saw, as by 
a gleam of light, that what I sought was to be found in the 
incarnation of the everlasting Word, by whom all things, 
even we ourselves, were made. That the Eternal desceiided 



350 MEISTER'S APPRP:NTICESHIP. 

as an inhabitant to the depths in which we dwell, which he 
surveys and comprehends ; that he passed througn our lot 
from stage to stage, from conception and birth to the grave ; 
that by this marvellous circuit he again mounted to those 
shining heights, whither we too must rise in order to be 
happy : all this was revealed to me, as in a dawning remote- 
ness. 

Oh ! why must we, in speaking of such things, make use 
of figures which can only indicate external situations ? Where 
is there in his eyes aught high or deep, aught dark or clear? 
It is we onl}^ that have an Under and Upper, a night and 
day. And even for this did he become like us, since other- 
wise we could have had no part in him. 

But how shall we obtain a share in this priceless benefit? 
*' By faith," the Scripture says. And what is faith? To 
consider the account of an event as true, what help can this 
afford me? I must be enabled to appropriate its effects, its 
consequences. This appropriating faith must be a state of 
mind peculiar, and, to the natural man, unknown. 

"Now, gracious Father, grant me faith!" so prayed I 
once, in the deepest heaviness of heart. I was leaning on a 
little table, where I sat : my tear-stained countenance was 
hidden in my hands. I was now in the condition in which 
we seldom are, but in which we are required to be, if God 
is to regard our prayers. 

Ob, that I could but paint what I felt then ! A sudden 
force drew my soul to the cross where Jesus once expired : 
it was a sudden force, a pull, I cannot name it otherwise, 
such as leads our soul to an absent Icvcd one ; rn doing. I reverenced my father's 
memory too much : I trusted in destiny ; I trusted in myself. 

' ' There was a lady in the neighborhood possessed of large 
property, with whom I had always been on good terms : she 
gladly received me ; I engaged to superintend her household, 
and erelong the task grew very easy to me. She lived reg- 
ularly, she loved order in every thing ; and I faithfully 
assisted her in struggling with her steward and domestics. 
I am neither of a niggardly nor grudging temper ; but we 
women are disposed to insist, more earnestly than men, that 
nothing shall be wasted. Embezzlement of all sorts is in- 
tolerable to us : we require that each enjoy exactly in so far 
as right entitles him. 

'' Here I was in my element once more: I mourned my 
father's death in silence. My protectress was content with 
me : one small circumstance alone disturbed my peace. 
Lydia returned : m}^ mother had been harsh enough to cast 
the poor girl off, after having altogether spoiled her. Lydia 
had learned with her mistress to consider passions as her 
occupation : she was wont to curb herself in nothing. On 
her unexpected re-appearance, the lady whom I lived with 
took her in : she wished to help me, but could train herself 
to nothing. 

'' About this time the relatives and future heirs of my 
protectress often visited the house, to recreate themselves 
with hunting. Lothario was frequently among them : it was 
not long till I had noticed, though without the smallest refer- 
ence to myself, how far he was superior to the rest. He was 
courteous towards all, and Lydia seemed erelong to have 
attracted his attention to her. Constantly engaged in some- 
thing, I was seldom with the company : while he was there 
I did not talk so much as usual ; for, I will confess it, lively 
conversation, from of old, had been to me the finest season- 
ing of existence. With my father I was wont to talk of 
every thing that happened. What you do not speak of, you 



398 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

will seldom accurately think of. No man bad I ever heard 
with greater pleasure than I did Lothario, when he told us of 
his travels and campaigns. The world appeared to lie before 
him clear and open, as to me the district was in which I lived 
and managed. We were not entertained with marvellous 
personal adventures, the extravagant half-truths of a shallow 
"traveller, who is always painting out himself, and not the 
country he has undertaken to describe. Lothario did not tell 
us his adventures : he led us to the place itself. I have 
seldom felt so pure a satisfaction. 

'' But still higher was my pleasure when I heard him talk, 
one evening, about women. The subject happened to be in- 
troduced : some ladies of the neighborhood had come to see 
us, and were speaking, in the common style, about the cul- 
tivation of the female mind Our sex, they said, was treated 
unjustly : every sort of higner education men insisted on 
retaining for themselves ; they admitted us to no science, 
they required us either to be dolls or family drudges. To all 
this Lothario said not much ; but, when the party was a 
little thinned, he gave us his opinion more explicitly. ' It 
is very strange,' cried he, ' that men are blamed for their 
proceeding here : they have placed woman on the highest 
station she is capable of occupying. And where is there any 
station higher than the ordering of the house? AVhile the 
husband has to vex himself with outward matters, while he 
has wealth to gather and secure, while perhaps he takes part 
in the administration of the state, and everywhere depends 
on circumstances ; ruling nothing, I may say, while he con- 
ceives that he is ruling much ; compelled to be but politic 
where he would willingly be reasonable, to dissemble where 
he would be open, to be false where he would be upright ; 
while thus, for the sake of an object which he never reaches, 
he must every moment sacrifice the first of objects, harmony 
with himself, — a reasonable housewife is actually governing 
in the interior of her family ; has the comfort and activity 
of every person in it to provide for, and make possible. 
What is the highest happiness of mortals, if not to execute 
what we consider right and good, — to be really masters of 
the means conducive to our aims ? And where should or can 
our nearest aims be, but in the interior of our home? All 
those indispensable and still to be renewed supplies, where do 
we expect, do we require, to find them, if not in the place 
where we rise and where we go to sleep, where kitchen and 
cellar, and every species of accommodation for ourselves 



METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 399 

and ours, is to be always ready? What unvarying activity is 
needed to conduct this constantly recurring series in unbroken 
living order ! How few are the men to whom it is given to 
return regularly like a star, to command their day as they 
command their night ; to form for themselves their household 
instruments, to ^ow and to reap, to gain and to expand, 
aud to travel round their circle with perpetual success and 
peace and love ! It is when a woman has attained this inward 
mastery, that she trul}^ makes the husband wiiom she loves, 
a master : her attention will acquire all sorts of knowledge ; 
her activity will turn them all to profit. Thus is she depend- 
ent upon no one ; and she procures her husband genuine 
independence, that which is interior and domestic : whatever 
he possesses, Le oeholds secured ; what he earns, well em- 
ployed : and thus he can direct his mind to lofty objects ; and, 
if fortune favors, he may act in the state the same char- 
acter which so well becomes his wife at home.' 

" He then described to us the kind of wife he wished. I 
reddened ; for he was describing me, as I looked and lived. 
I silently enjoyed my triumph ; and the more, as I perceived, 
from all the circumstances, that he had not meant me indi- 
vidually, that, indeed, he did not know me. I cannot recol- 
lect a more delightful feeling in my life than this, when a 
man whom I so highly valued gave the preference, not to 
my person, but to my inmost nature. What a recompense 
did I consider it ! What encouragement did it afford me ! 

" So soon as they were gone, my worthy benefactress with 
a smile observed to me, ^ Pity that men often think and 
speak of what they will never execute, else here were a 
special match, the exact thing for my dear Theresa ! ' I 
made sport of her remark, and added, that indeed men's 
understanding gave its vote for household waives, but that 
their heart and imagination longed for other qualities ; and 
that we household people could not stand a rivalry with 
beautiful and lovely women. This was spoken for the ear 
of Lydia ; she did not hide from us that Lothario had made 
a deep impression on her heart : and, in reality, he seemed 
at each new visit to grow more and more attentive to her. 
She was poor, and not of rank ; she could not think of mar- 
riage ; but she was unable to resist the dear delight of 
charming and of being charmed. I had never loved, nor 
did I love at present ; but though it was unspeakably agree- 
able to see in what light my turn of mind was viewed, how 
high it was ranked by such a man, I will confess I still was 



400 MP]ISTER'S APPREXTrCESIIIP. 

not altogether satisfied. I now wished thiit he should be 
acquainted with me, and should take a personal interest in 
me. This wish arose, without the smallest settled thought 
of any thing that could result from it. 

' ^ The greatest service I did my benefactress was in bring- 
ino; into order the extensive forests which belonged to her. 
In this precious property, whose value time and circum- 
stances were continually increasing, matters still went on 
according to the old routine, — without regularity, without 
plan, no end to theft and fraud. Many hills were standing 
bare : an equal growth was nowhere to be found but in the 
oldest cuttings. I personally visited the whole of them, 
with an experienced forester. I got the woods correctly 
measured: I set men to hev^, '".o sow, to plant; in a short 
time, all things were in progress. That I might mount more 
readil}^ on horseback, and also walk on foot with less ob- 
struction, I had a suit of men's clothes made for me : I was 
present in many places, I was feared in all. 

'^ Hearing that our young friends, with Lothario, were 
purposing to have another hunt, it came into m}^ head, for 
the first time in my life, to make a figure, or, that I may 
not do myself injustice, to pass in the eyes of this noble 
gentleman for what I was. I put on my men's clothes, took 
my gun upon my shoulder, and went forward with our hunt- 
ers, to await the party on our marches. They came : Lotha- 
no did not know me ; a nephew of the lady introduced 
me to him as a clever forester, joked about my youth, and 
carried on his jesting in my praise, till at last Lothario 
recognized me. The nephew seconded my project, as if we 
had concocted it together. He circumstantially and grate- 
fully described what I had done for the estates of his aunt, 
and consequently for himself. 

' *• Lothario listened with attention : he talked with me, 
inquired concerning all particulars of the estates and district. 
I, of course, was glad to have such an opportunity of showing 
him my knowledge : I stood my ordeal verj' well ; I submitted 
certain projects of improvement to him, which he sanctioned, 
telling me of similar examples, and strengthening my argu- 
ments by the connection which he gave them. My satisfac- 
tion grew more perfect every moment. Happily, however, 
I merely wished that he should be acquainted with me, not 
that he should love me. We came home ; and I observed, 
more clearly tlian before, that the attention he showed Lydia 
seemed expressive of a secri't attachment. 1 had reached 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 401 

my object, yet I was not at rest : from that day he showed 
a true respect for me, a fine trust in me ; in company he 
usually spoke to me, asked my opinion, and appeared to be 
persuaded, that, in household matters, nothing was unknown 
to me. His sympathy excited me extremely : even when the 
conversation was of general finance and political economy, 
he used to lead me to take part in it ; and, in his absence, I 
endeavored to acquire more knowledge of our province, nay, 
of all the empire. The task was easy for me : it was but 
repeating on the great scale what I knew so accurately on 
the small. 

' ' From this period he visited our house of tener. We 
talked, I may say, of every thing ; yet in some degree our 
conversation always in the end grew economical, if even but 
in a secondary sense vVhat immense effects a man, by the 
continuous application of his powers, his time, his money, 
even by means which seem but small, may bring about, was 
frequently and largely spoken of. 

^ ' I did not withstand the tendency which drew me towards 
him ; and, alas ! I felt too soon how deep, how cordial, how 
pure and genuine, was my love, as I believed it more and 
more apparent that Lydia, and not myself, was the occasion 
of these visits. She, at least, was most vividly persuaded 
so : she made me her confidant ; and this, again, in some de- 
gree, consoled me. For, in truth, what she explained so 
much to her advantage, I reckoned nowise of importance : 
there was not a trace of any serious lasting union being 
meditated, but the more distinctly did I see the wish of the 
impassioned girl to be his at any price. 

" Thus did matters stand, when the lady of the house sur- 
prised me with an unexpected message. ' Lothario,' said 
she, ' offers you his hand, and desires through life to have 
you ever at his side.' She enlarged upon my qualities, and 
told me, what I liked sufficiently to hear, that in me Lothario 
was persuaded he had found the person whom he had so long 
been seeking for. 

' ' The height of happiness was now attained for me : my 
hand was asked by a man for whom I had the greatest value, 
beside whom, and along with whom, I might expect a full, 
expanded, f^'ee, and profitable employment of my inborn 
tendency, of my talent perfected by practice. The sum of 
my existence seemed to have enlarged itself into infinitude. 
I gave my consent : he himself came, and spoke with me in 
private j he held out his hand to me ; he looked into my 



402 METSTER'S APPREXTTCESHIP. 

eyes, be clasped me in his arms, and pressed a kiss upon my 
lips. It was the lirst and the last. He confided to me all 
his circumstances ; told me how much his American campaign 
had cost him , what debts he had accumulated on his property ; 
that, on this score, he had in some measure quarrelled willi 
his grand-uncle ; that the worthy gentleman intended to re- 
lieve him, though truly in his own peculiar way, being 
minded to provide him with a rich wife, whereas, a man of 
sense would choose a household wife, at all events ; that, 
however, by his sister's influence, he hoped his noble rela- 
tive would be persuaded. He set before me the condition of 
his fortune, his plans, his prospects, and requested my co- 
operation. Till his uncle should consent, our promise was 
to be a secret. 

" Scarcely was he gone when Lydia asked me whether he 
had spoken of her. I answered no, and tired her with a 
long detail of economical affairs. She was restless, out of 
humor; and his conduct, when he came again, did not im- 
prove her situation. 

"But the sun, I see, is bending to the place of rest. 
Well for you, my friend ! You would otherwise have had to 
liear this story, which I often enough go over by myself, in 
all its most minute particulars. Let me hasten : we are com- 
ing to an epoch on which it is not good to linger. 

" By Lothario I was made acquainted with his noble sis- 
ter ; and she, at a convenient time, contrived to introduce me 
to the uncle. I gained the old man : he consented to our 
wishes, and I returned with happy tidings to my benefac- 
tress. The affair was now no secret in the house : Lydia 
heard of it ; she thought the thing impossible. When she 
could no longer doubt of it, she vanished all at once : we 
knew not whither she had gone. 

' ^ Our maiTiage-day was coming near : I had often asked 
iiim for his portrait; just as he was going off, I reminded 
him that he had promised it. He said, ' You have never 
given me the case you want to have it fitted into.' This was 
true : I had got a present from a female friend, on which I 
set no ordinary value. Her name, worked from her own hair, 
was fastened on the outer glass : within, there was a vacant 
piece of ivory, on which her portrait was to have been 
painted, when a sudden death snatched her from me. 
liOthario's love had cheered me at the time her death lay 
heavy on my spirits, and I wished to have the void which she 
had left me in her present filled by the picture of my friend. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTrCESHIP. 403 

"Iran to my chamber, fetched my jewel-box, and opened 
it in his presence. Scarcely had he looked into it, when he 
noticed a medallion with the portrait of a lady. He took it 
in his hand, considered it attentively, and asked me hastily 
whose face it was. 'My mother's,' answered I. 'I could 
have sworn,' said he, ' that it was the portrait of a Madame 
Saint Alban, whom I met some years ago in Switzerland.' — 
' It is the same,' replied I, smiling, ' and so you have un- 
wittingly become acquainted with your stepmother. Saint 
Alban is the name my mother has assumed for travelling 
with: she passes under it in France at present.' 

'^ ' I am the miserablest man alive ! ' exclaimed he, as he 
threw the portrait back into the box, covered his eyes with 
his hand, and hurried from the room. He sprang on horse- 
back : I ran to the balcony, and called out after him ; he 
turned, waved his hand to me, went speedily away, — and I 
have never seen him more." 

The sun went down : Theresa gazed with unaverted looks 
upon the splendor, and both her fine eyes filled with tears. 

Theresa spoke not : she laid her hand upon her new 
friend's hands ; he kissed it with emotion : she dried her 
tears, and rose. '' Let us return, and see that all is right," 
said she. 

The conversation was not lively by the wa3^ They en- 
tered the garden-door, and noticed Lydia sitting on a bench : 
she rose, witlidrcw before them, and walked in. She had a 
paper in her hand: two little girls were by her. " I see," 
observed Theresa, "she is still carrying her only comfort, 
Lothario's letter, with her. He promises that she shall live 
with him again so soon as he is well : he begs of her till 
then to stay in peace with me. On these words she hangs, 
with these lines she solaces herself ; but with his friends she 
is extremely angry." 

Meanwhile the two children had approached. They cour- 
tesied to Theresa, and gave her an account of all that had 
occurred while she was absent. " You see here another part 
of my employment," said Theresa. " Lothario's sister and 
I have made a league : we educate some little ones in com- 
mon ; such as promise to be lively, serviceable housewives I 
take charge of, she of such as show a finer and more quiet 
talent : it is right to provide for the happiness of future hus- 
bands, both in household and in intellectual matters. When 
you become acquainted with my noble friend, a new era in 
yoiu' life will open. Hor beauty, her goodness, make her 



404 MEISTER'S APPRENTTCESHTP. 

worthy of the reverence of the world." AVilhelm did not 
venture to confess, that unhappily the lovely countess was 
already known to him ; that his transient connection with 
her would occasion him perpetual sorrow. He was well 
pleased that Theresa let the conversation drop, that some 
business called for her within. He was now alone : the in- 
telligence which he had just received of the 3'oung and 
lovely countess being driven to replace, by deeds of benevo- 
lence, her own lost comfort, made him very sad ; he felt, 
that, with her, it was but a need of self-oblivion, an attempt 
to supply, by the hopes of happiness to others, the want of 
a cheerful enjoyment of existence in herself. He thought 
Theresa happy, since, even in that unexpected melancholy 
alteration which had taken place in, her prospects, there was 
no alteration needed in herself. *' How fortunate beyond all 
others," cried he, " is the man, who, in order to adjust himself 
to fate, is not required to cast away his whole preceding life ! " 

Theresa came into his room, and begged pardon for dis- 
turbing him. "My whole library," said she, "is in the 
wall-press here : they are rather books which I do not throw 
aside, than which I have taken up. Lydia wants a pious 
book : there are one or two of that sort among them. Per- 
sons who throughout the whole twelve months are worldly, 
think it necessary to be godly at a time of straits : all moral 
and religious matters they regard as physic, which is to be 
taken with aversion when they are unwell ; in a clergyman, 
a moralist, they see nothing but a doctor, whom they cannot 
soon enough get rid of. Now, I confess, I look upon reli- 
gion as a kind of diet, which can only be so when I make a 
constant practice of it, when throughout the whole twelve 
months I never lose it out of sight." 

She searched among the books : she found some edifying 
works, as they are called. " J^ was of my mother," said 
Theresa, " that poor Lydia learned to have recourse to 
books like these. While her gallant continued faithful, 
plays and novels were her life : his departure brought re- 
ligious writings once more into credit. I, for my share, 
cannot understand," continued she, " how men have made 
themselves believe that God speaks to us through books and 
histories. The man to whom the universe does not reveal 
directly what relation it has to him, whose heart does not 
tell him what he owes to himself and others, that man will 
scarcely learn it out of books, which generally do little more 
than give our errors names." 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 405 

She left our friend alone : he passed his evening in exam- 
ining the little library ; it had, in truth, been gathered quite 
at random. 

Theresa, for the few days Wilhelm spent with her, con- 
tinued still the same: she related to him at different times 
the consequences of that singular incident with great minute- 
ness. Day and hour, place and name, were present to her 
memory : we shall here compress into a word or two so 
much of it as will be necessary for the information of our 
readers. 

The reason of Lothario's quick departure was, unhappily, 
too easy to explain. He had met Theresa's mother on her 
journey : her charms attracted him ; she was no niggard of 
them ; and this luckless transitory aberration came at length 
to shut him out from being united to a lady whom nature 
seemed to have expressly made for him. As for Theresa, 
she continued in the pure circle of her duties. They learned 
that Lydia had been living in the neighborhood in secret. 
She was happy that the marriage, though for unknown 
causes, had not been completed. She endeavored to renew 
her intimacy with Lothario ; and more, as it seemed, out of 
desperation than affection, by surprise than with considera- 
tion, from tedium than of purpose, he had met her wishes. 

Theresa was not uneasy on this account ; she waived all 
further claims ; and, if he had even been her husband, she 
would probably have had sufficient spirit to endure a matter 
of this kind, if it had not troubled her domestic order : at 
least, she often used to say, that a wife who properly con- 
ducted her economy should t'^ke no umbrage at such little 
fancies of her husband, but be always certain that he would 
return. 

Erelong Theresa's mother had deranged her fortune : the 
losses fell upon the daughter, whose share of the effects, in 
consequence, was small. The old lady, who had been The- 
resa's benefactress, died, leaving her a little property in land, 
and a handsome sum by way of legacy. Theresa soon con- 
trived to make herself at home in this new, narrow circle. 
Lothario offered her a better property, Jarno endeavoring to 
negotiate the business ; but she refused it. "I will show," 
said she, "in this little, that I deserved to share the great 
with him ; but I keep this before me, that, should accident 
embarrass me, on my own account or that of others, I will 
betake myself without the smallest hesitation to my generous 
friend." 



406 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

There is nothing less liable to be concealed and unem- 
ployed than well-directed practical activity. Scarcely had 
she settled in her little property- , when her acquaintance and 
advice began to be desired by many of her neighbors ; and 
the proprietor of the adjacent lands gave her plainly enough 
to understand that it depended on herself alone whether she 
would take his hand, and be heiress of the greater part of 
his estates. She had already mentioned the matter to our 
friend : she often jested with him about marriages, suitable 
and unsuitable. 

" Nothing," said she once, '' gives a greater loose to peo- 
ple's tongues than when a mannage happens which they can 
denominate unsuitable : and yet the unsuitable are far more 
common than the suitable ; for, alas ! with most marriages, 
it is not long till things assume a very piteous look. The 
confusion of ranks by marriage can be called unsuitable 
only when the one party is unable to participate in the 
manner of existence which is native, habitual, and which at 
length grows absolutely necessary, to the other. The ditfer- 
ent classes have different ways of living, which they cannot 
change or communicate to one another ; and this is the rea- 
son why connections such as these, in general, were better 
not be formed. Yet exceptions, and exceptions of the 
happiest kind, are possible. Thus, too, the marriage of a 
young woman with a man advanced in life is generally un- 
suitable ; yet I have seen some such turn out extremel}^ well. 
For me, I know but of one kin^" ^f marriage that would be 
entirely unsuitable, — that in which I should be called upon 
to make a show, and manage ceremonies : I would rather give 
m}^ hand to the son of any honest farmer in the neighbor- 
hood. 

Wilhelm at length made ready for returning. He re- 
quested of Theresa to obtain for him a parting word with 
Lydia. The impassioned girl at last consented : he said 
some kindly things to her, to which she answered, "The 
iirst burst of anguish I have conquered. Lothario will be 
ever dear to me : but for those friends of his, I know them ; 
and it grieves me that they are about him. The abb6, for 
a whim's sake, could leave a person in extreme need, or even 
plunge one into it ; the doctor would have all things go on 
like clock-work ; Jarno has no heart ; and 3"ou — at least no 
force of character ! Just go on : let these three people use 
you as their tool ; they w411 have many an execution to com- 
mit to you. For a long ti^l(^ as I know v>'elL my presence 



MEISTER'8 APPRENTICESHIP. 407 

has been hateful to them. I had not found out their secret, 
but I had observed that they had one. Why thesb bolted 
rooms, these strange passages ? Why can no one ever reach 
the central tower? Why did they banish me, whenever they 
could, to my own chamber? I will confess, jealousy at first 
incited me to these discoveries : I feared some lucky rival 
might be hid there. I have now laid aside that suspicion : I 
am well convinced that Lothario loves me, that he means 
honorably by me ; but I am quite as well convinced that his 
false and artful friends betray him. If you would veally do 
him service, if you would ever be forgiven for the injury 
which I have suffered fiom you, free him from the hands of 
these men. But what am I expecting ! Give this letter to 
him ; repeat what it contains, — that I will love him forever, 
that I depend upon his word. Ah I " cried she, rising, and 
throwing herself with tears upon Theresa's neck: ^'he is 
surrounded by my foes ; they will endeavor to persuade him 
that I have sacrificed nothing for his sake. Oh ! Lothario 
may well believe that he is worthy of any sacrifice, without 
needing to be grateful for it." 

Wilhelm's parting with Theresa was more cheerful : she 
wished they might soon meet again. ''Me you wholly 
know," said she : " I alone have talked while we have been 
together. It will be your duty, next time, to repay my 
candor." 

During his return he kept contemplating this new and 
bright phenomenon with the liveliest recollection. What 
confidence had she inspired him with. He thought of Mig- 
non and Felix, and how happy they might be if under her 
direction ; then he thought of himself, and felt what pleas- 
ure it would be to live beside a being so entirely serene and 
clear. As he approached Lothario's castle, he observed, 
Avith more than usual interest, the central tower and the 
many passages and side-buildings : he resolved to question 
Jarno or the abbe on the subject, by the earliest oppor- 
tunity. 



CHAPTER Vn. 

On arriving at the castle, Wilhelm found its noble ownef 
in the way of full recovery : the doctor and the abb6 had 



408 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

gone off ; Jariio alone was there. It was not long till the 
patient now and then could ride, sometimes by himself, 
sometimes with his friends. His conversation was at once 
courteous and earnest, instructive and enlivening : you could 
often notice in it traces of a tender sensibility ; although he 
strove to hide it, and almost seemed to blame it, when, in 
spite of him, it came to view. 

One evening while at table he was silent, though his look 
was very cheerful. 

"To-day," said Jarno, ''you have met with an adven- 
ture; and, no doubt, you relished it." 

" I give you credit for your penetration," said Lothario. 
"Yes, I have met witii a very pleasing adventure. At an- 
other time, perhaps, I should not have considered it so 
charming as to-day, when it came upon me so attractively. 
Towards night I rode out beyond the river, through the 
hamlets, by a path which I had often visited in former years. 
My bodily ailings must have reduced me more than I sup- 
posed : I felt weak ; but, as my strength was re-awakening, I 
was, as it were, new-born. All objects seemed to wear the 
hues they had in earlier times : all looked graceful, lovely, 
charming, as they have not looked to me for many years. I 
easily observed that it was mere debility, yet I continued to 
enjoy it : I rode softly onwards, and could now conceive 
how men may grow to like diseases which attune us to those 
sweet emotions. You. know, perhaps, what used of old so 
frequently to lead me that way ? ' ' 

" If I mistake not," answered Jarno, " it was a little love- 
concern you were engaged in with a farmer's daughter." 

" It might be called a great one," said Lothario ; " for we 
loved each other deeply, seriously, and for a long time. 
To-day, it happened, every thing combined to represent be- 
fore me in its liveliest color the earliest season of our love. 
The boys were again shaking may-bugs from the trees : the 
ashen grove had not grown larger since the day I saw her 
first. It was now long since I had met with Margaret. She 
is married at a distance ; and I had heard by chance that she 
was come with her children, some weeks ago, to pay a visit 
to her father." 

" This ride, then, was not altogether accidental? " 

"I will not deny," replied Lothario, "that I wished to 
meet her. On coming near the house, I saw her father sit- 
ting at the door : a chUd of probably a year old was standing 
by him. As I approached, a female gave a hasty look from 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 409 

an upper window ; and a minute afterwards I heard some 
person tripping down-stairs. I thought surely it was she ,* 
and, I will confess, I was flattering myself that she had 
recognized me, and was hastening to meet me. But what 
was my surprise and disappointment, when she bounded from 
the door, seized the child, to whom the horses had come 
pretty close, and took it in ! It gave me a painful twinge : 
my vanity, however, was a little solaced when I thought I 
saw a tint of redness on her neck and on the ear, which were 
uncovered. 

" I drew up, and, while speaking with the father, glanced 
sideways over all the windows, to observe if she would not 
appear at some of them ; but no trace of her was visible. 
Ask I would not, so i rode away. My displeasure was a 
little mollified by wonder ; though I had not seen the face, it 
appeared to me that she was scarcely changed ; and ten years 
are a pretty space ! Nay, she looked even younger, quite as 
slim, as light of foot; her neck, if possible, was lovelier 
than before ; her cheeks as quick at blushing ; yet she was 
the mother of six children, perhaps of more. This appari- 
tion suited the enchantment which surrounded me so well, 
that I rode along with feelings grown still younger ; and I 
did not turn till I was at the forest, when the sun was going 
down. Strongly as the falling dew and the prescription of 
our doctor called upon me to proceed direct homewards, I 
could not help again going round by the farmhouse. I ob- 
served a woman walking up and down the garden, which is 
fenced by a light hedge. I rode along the footpath to it, and 
found myself at no great distance from the person whom I 
wanted. 

" Though the evening sun was glancing in my eyes, I saw 
that she was busy with the hedge, which only slightly cov- 
ered her. I thought I recognized my mistress. On coming 
up, I halted, not without a palpitation at the heart. Some 
high twigs of wild roses, which a soft air was blowing to and 
fro, made her figure indistinct to me. I spoke to her, asked 
her how she was. She answered, in an under- tone, ' Quite 
well.' In the mean time I perceived a child behind the hedge, 
engaged in plucking roses ; and I took the opportunity of 
asking where her other children were. Mt is not my child,' 
said she : ' that were rather early ! ' And at this moment it 
happened that the twigs were blown aside, and her face could 
be distinctly seen. I knew not what to make of the affair. 
It was my mistress, and it was not. Almost younger, almost 



410 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

lovelier, than she used to be ten years before. ' Are not you 
the farmer's daughter?' inquired I, half confused. 'No,' 
said she : ' I am her cousin.' 

'' ' You resemble one another wonderfully,' added I. 

" 'Yes, so saj's every one that knew her half a score of 
years ago.' 

"I continued putting various questions to her: my mis- 
take was pleasant to me, even after I had found it out. I 
could not leave this living image of by-gone blessedness that 
stood before me. The child, meanwhile, had gone away : it 
had wandered to the pond in search of flowers. She took 
her leave, and hastened after it. 

"I had now, however, learned that my former love was 
really in her father's house. While riding forward, I em- 
ployed myself in guessing whether it had been her cousin or 
she that had secured the child from harm. I more than once, 
in thought, repeatea all the circumstances of the incident : 
1 can remember few things that have affected me more grate- 
fully. But I feel that I am still unwell : we must ask the 
doctor to deliver us from the remains of this pathetic humor." 

With confidential narratives of pretty love adventures, it 
often happens as with ghost stories : when the first is told, 
the others follow of themselves. 

Our little party, in recalling other times, found numerous 
passages of this description. Lothario had the most to tell. 
Jarno's histories were all of one peculiar character: what 
Wilhelm could disclose we already know. He was appre- 
hensive they might mention his adventure with the countess ; 
but it was not hinted at, not even in the remotest manner. 

" It is true," observed Lothario, " there can scarcely any 
feeling in the world be more agreeable than when the heart, 
after a pause of indifference, again opens to love for some 
new object ; yet I would forever have renounced that happi- 
ness, had fate been pleased to unite me with Theresa. We 
are not always youths : we ought not always to be children. 
To the man who knows the world, who understands what he 
should do in it, what he should hope from it, notliing can be 
more desirable than meeting with a wife who will everywhere 
co-operate with him, who will everywhere prepare his way for 
him ; whose diligence takes up what his must leave ; whose 
occupation spreads itself on every side, while his must travel 
forward on its single patli. What a heaven had f figured for 
myself beside Tlieresa ! Not the heaven of an enthusiastic 
bliss, but of a sure life on earth ; order in prosperity, courage 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 411 

in adversity, care for the smallest, and a spirit capable of 
coniprehendiug and managing the greatest. Oh ! I saw in 
her the qualities which, when developed, make such women 
as we find in history, whose excellence appears to us far 
preferable to that of men, — -this clearness of view, this ex- 
pertness in all emergencies, this sureness in details, which 
brings the whole so accurately out, although they never seem 
to think of it. You may well forgive me," added he, and 
turning to Wilhelm, with a smile, " that I forsook Aurelia 
for Theresa : with the one I could expect a calm and cheer- 
ful life, with the other not a happy hour." 

''I will confess," said Wilhelm, ''that, in coming hither, 
I had no small anger in my heart against you ; that I pro- 
posed to censiin. with severity your conduct to Au- 
relia." 

" It was really censurable," said Lothario : "I should not 
have exchanged my friendship for her with the sentiment of 
love ; I should not, in place of the respect which she deserved, 
have intruded an attachment she was neither calculated to 
excite nor to maintain. Alas ! she was not lovely when she 
loved, — the greatest misery that can befall a woman." 

"Well, it is past! " said Wilhelm. "We cannot always 
shun the things we blame ; in spite of us, our feelings and 
our actions sometimes strangely swerve from their natural 
and right direction ; yet there are certain duties which we 
never should lose sight of. Peace be to the ashes of our 
friend ! Without censuring ourselves or her, let us with 
sympathizing hearts strew flowers upon her grave. But, at 
the grave in which the hapless mother sleeps, let me ask why 
you acknowledge not the child, — a son whom any father 
might rejoice in, and whom you appear entirely to overlook? 
With your pure and tender nature, how can you altogether 
cast away the instinct of a parent ? All this while you have 
not spent one syllable upon that precious creature, of whose 
attractions I could say so much." 

" Whom do you speak of ? " asked Lothario : " I do not 
understand you." 

" Of whom but of your son, Aurelia's son, the lovely child, 
to whose good fortune there is nothing wanting, but that a 
tender father should acknowledge and receive him." 

" You mistake, my friend ! " exclaimed Lothario ; " Au- 
relia never had a son, at least by me : I know of no child, or 
I would with joy acknowledge it ; and, even in the present 
case, I will gladly look upon the little creature as a relic of 



412 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

her, and take charge of educating it. But did she ever give 
you to believe that the boy was hers, was mine? " 

" I cannot recollect that I ever heard a word from her ex- 
pressly on the subject ; but we took it up so, and I never for 
a moment doubted it." 

" I can give you something like a clew to this perplexity," 
said Jarno. " An old woman, whom you must have noticed 
often, gave Aurelia the child : she accepted it with passion, 
hoping to alleviate her sorrows by its presence ; and, in truth, 
it gave her many a comfortable hour." 

This discovery awoke anxieties in Wilhelm : he thought of 
his dear Mignon and his beautiful Felix with the liveliest dis- 
tinctness. He expressed his wish to remove them both from 
the state in which the}^ were. 

"We shall soon arrange it," said Lothario. " The little 
girl may be committed to Theresa : she cannot be in better 
hands. As for the boy, I think you should yourself take 
charge of him : what in us the women leave uncultivated, 
children cultivate when we retain them near us." 

" But first, I think," said Jarno, " you will once for all re- 
nounce the stage, as you have no talent for it." 

Our friend was struck : he had to curb himself, for Jarno' s 
harsh sentence had not a little wounded his self-love. " If 
you convince me of that," replied he, forcing a smile, " you 
will do me a sei'vice, though it is but a mournful service to 
rouse one from a pleasing dream." 

" Without enlarging on the subject," answered Jarno, " I 
could merely wish you would go and fetch the children. The 
rest will come in course." 

" I am ready," answered Wilhelm: " I am restless, and 
curious to see if I can get no further knowledge of the boy : 
I long to see the little girl who has attached herself so 
strangely to me." 

It was agreed that he should lose no time in setting out. 
Next day he had prepared himself : his horse was saddled ; 
he only waited for Lothario to take leave of him. At the 
dinner-hour they went as usual to table, not waiting for 
the master of the house. He did not come till late, and 
then sat down by them. 

" I could bet," said Jarno, " that to-day you have again 
been making trial of your tenderness of heart : you have not 
been able to withstand the curiosity to see your quondam 
love." 

" Guessed! " replied Lothario. 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 413 

*^' Let us hear," said Jarno, "how it went: I long to 
know." 

" I confess," replied Lothario, " the affair lay nearer my 
heart than it reasonably ought : so I formed the resolution of 
again riding out, and actually seeing the person whose re- 
newed young image had affected me with such a pleasing 
illusion. I alighted at some distance from the house, and 
sent the horses to a side, that the children, who were playing 
at the door, might not be disturbed. I entered the house : 
by chance she met me just within the threshold ; it was her- 
self ; and I recognized her, notwithstanding the striking 
change. She had grown stouter, and seemed to be larger ; 
her gracefulness was shaded by a look of staidness ; her 
vivacity had passed into a calm reflectiveness. Her head, 
which she once bore so airily and freely, drooped a little : 
slight furrows had been traced upon her brow. 

" She cast down her eyes on seeing me, but no blush 
announced any inward movement of the heart. I held out 
my hand to her, she gave me hers ; I inquired about her 
husband, he was absent ; about her children, she stepped out 
and called them ; all came in and gathered round her. Noth- 
ing is more charming than to see a mother with a child upon 
her arm ; nothing is more reverend than a mother among 
many children. That I might say something, I asked the 
name of the youngest. She desired me to walk in and see 
her father ; I agreed ; she introduced me to the room, where 
every thing was standing almost just as I had left it ; and, 
what seemed stranger still, the fair cousin, her living image, 
was sitting on the very seat behind the spinning-wheel, 
where I had found my love so often in the self- same form. 
A little girl, the very figure of her mother, had come after 
us ; and thus I stood in the most curious scene, between 
the future and the past, as in a grove of oranges, where 
within a little circle flowers and fruits are living, in succes- 
sive stages of their growth, beside each other. The cousin 
went away to fetch us some refreshment : I gave the woman 
I had loved so much my hand, and said to her, ' I feel a true 
joy in seeing you again.' — ' You are very good to say so,' 
answered ; she ' but I also can assure you I feel the highest 
joy. How often have I wished to see you once more in my 
life ! I have wished it in moments which I regarded as my 
last.' She said this with a settled voice, without appearance 
of emotion, with that natural air which of old delighted me 
so much. The cousin returned, the father with her ; and I 



414 MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

leave 3011 to conceive with what feelings I remained, and 
with what I came away." 



CHAPTER VIII. 



In his journey to the town, our friend was thinking of the 
lovely women whom he knew or had heard of : their curious 
fortunes, which contained so little happiness, were present to 
him with a sad distinctn^js... " Ah ! " cried he, " poor Ma- 
riana ! What shall I yet learn of thee? And thou, noble 
Amazon, glorious, protecting spirit, to whom I owe so much, 
whom I everywhere expect to meet, and nowhere see, in what 
mournful circumstances may I find thee, shouldst thou again 
appear before me ! " 

On his arrival in the town, there was not one of his 
acquaintances at home : he hastened to the theatre ; he suj)- 
posed they would be rehearsing. Here, however, all was still ; 
the house seemed empty : one little door alone was open. 
Passing through it to the stage, he found Aurelia's ancient 
serving-maid, employed in sewing linen for a new decora- 
tion : there was barely light enough to let her work. Felix 
and Mignon were sitting by her on the floor : they had a 
book between them ; and, while Mignon read aloud, Felix 
was repeating all the words, as if he, too, knew his letters, — 
as if he, too, could read. 

The children started up, and ran to him : he embraced 
them with the tenderest feelings, and brought them closer to 
the woman. '' Art thou the person," said he to her with an 
earnest voice, "from whom Aurelia received this child?" 
She looked up from her work, and turned her face to him • 
he saw her in full light ; he started back in terror, — it was 
old Barbara. 

" Where is Mariana? " cried he. "Far from here," re- 
plied the crone. 

"And Felix" — 

"Is the son of that unhappy and too true and tender- 
hearted girl. May you never feel what you have made us 
suffer ! May the treasure which I now deliver you make you 
as happy as he made us wretched ! " 

She arose to go away : Wilhelm lield her fast. " I mean 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 415 

not to escape you," said she: "let me fetch a paper that 
will make you glad and sorrowful." 

She retired, and Wilhelm gazed upon the child with a 
painful joy : he durst not reckon him his own. " He is 
thine ! " cried Mignon, "he is thine ! " and passed the child 
to Wilhelm 's knee. 

Barbara came back, and handed him a letter. " Here are 
Mariana's last words," said she. 

" She is dead ! " cried he. 

" Dead," said the old woman. " I wish to spare you all 
reproaches." 

Astonished and confounded, Wilhelm broke up the letter ; 
but scarcely had he read the first words of it when a bitter 
grief took hold of him : he let the letter fall, and sank upon 
a seat. Mignon hurried to him, trying to console him. In 
the mean time Felix had picked up the letter : he teased his 
playmate till she yielded, till she knelt beside him and read 
it over. Felix repeated the words, and Wilhelm was com- 
pelled to hear them twice. " If this sheet should ever reach 
thee, then lament thy ill-starred friend. Thy love has caused 
her death. The boy, whose birth I survive but a few days, 
is thine : I die faithful to thee, much as appearances may "be 
against me ; with thee I lost every thing that bound mc to 
life. I die content, for they have assured me that the child 
is healthy and will live. Listen to old Barbara ; forgive her : 
farewell, and forget me not." 

What a painful, and yeL, uO his comfort, half enigmatic let- 
ter ! Its contents pierced through his heart, ar3 the children, 
stuttering and stammering, pronounced and repeated them. 

" That's what has come of it ! " said the crone, not wait- 
ing till he had recovered. "Thank Heaven, that, having 
lost so true a love, you have still left you so fine a child. 
Your grief will be unequalled when you learn how the poor, 
good girl stood faithful to you to the end, how miserable she 
became, and what she sacrificed for your sake." 

" Let me drain the cup of sorrow and of joy at once ! " 
cried Wilhelm. " Convince me, even persuade me, that she 
was a good girl, that she deserved respect as well as love : 
then leave me to my grief for her irreparable loss." 

" It is not yet time," said Barbara : "I have work to do, 
and I would not we were seen togeth-ir. Let it be a secret 
that Felix is your son : I should have too much abuse to 
suffer from tlie company, for having I'ormerly deceived them. 
Mignon will not betray us : she is good and close." 



416 METSTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 

" I have known it long, and I said nothing," answered Mig- 
non. " How is it possible? " cried Barbara. " Whence? " 
cried Wilhelm. 

" The spirit told it me.'* 

''Where? Where?" 

*'In the vault, when the old man drew his knife, it called 
to me, ' Bring his father ; ' and 1 thought it must be thou." 

'' WIio called to thee?" 

*' I know not : in my heart, in my head, I was terrified ; I 
trembled, I prayed ; then it called, and I iniderstood it." 

Wilhelm pressed her to his hcait, recommended Felix to 
her, and retired. He had not observed till then that she 
was grown much paler and thinner than when he left her. 
Madam Melina was the first acquaintance he met : she re- 
ceived him in the friendliest manner. Oh that you might find 
every thing among us as you wished ! " exclaimed she. 

"I doubt it," answered Wilhelm: '^I do not expect it. 
Confess that they have taken all their measures to dispense 
with me." 

" Why would you go away? " replied his friend. 

"We cannot soon enough convince ourselves," said he, 
" how very simply we may be dispensed with in the world. 
What important personages we conceive ourselves to be ! 
We think that it is we alone who animate the circle we move 
in; that, in our absence, life, nourishment, and breath will 
make a general pause : and, alas ! the void which occurs is 
scared}^ remarked, so soon is it filled up again ; nay, it is 
often but the place, if not for something better, at least for 
something more agreeable." 

"And the sorrows oi uur friends we are not to take into 
account? " 

" For our friends, too, it is well, when they soon recover 
their composure, when they sa}' each to himself, there where 
thou art, there where thou remainest, accomplish what thou 
canst ; be busy, be courteous, and let the present scene de- 
light thee." 

On a narrower inquiry, he found what he had looked for : 
the opera had been set up, and was exclusively attracting the 
attention of the public. His parts had in the mean while 
been distributed between Horatio and Laertes, and botli of 
them were in the habit of eliciting from the spectators far 
more liberal applause than he had ever been enabled to 
obtain. 

Laertes entered: and Madam Melina cried, "Look yon 



MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP. 417 

here at this lucky fellow ; he is soon to be a capitalist, or 
Heaven knows what!'* Wilhelm, in embracing him, dis- 
covered that his coat was superfine : the rest of his apparel 
was simple, but of the very best materials. 

" Solve me the riddle ! " cried our friend. 

"You are still in time to learn," replied Laertes, "that 
my running to and fro is now about to be repaid ; that a part- 
ner in a large commercial house is turning to advantage my 
acquirements from books or observation, and allowing me a 
share with him. I would give something, could I purchase 
back my confidence in women : there is a pretty niece in the 
house ; and I see well enough, that, if I pleased, I might 
soon be a made man." 

"You have not heard," said Frau Melina, " that a mar- 
riage has already taken place among ourselves? Serlo is 
actually wedded to the fair Elmira : her father would not tol- 
erate their secret correspondence." 

They talked in this manner about many things that had 
occurred while he was absent : nor was it diflBcult for him to 
observe, that, according to the present temper and constitu- 
tion of the company, his dismissal had already taken place. 

He impatiently expected Barbara, who had appointed him 
to wait for her far in the night. She was to come when all 
were sleeping : she required as many preparations as if she 
had been the youngest maiden gliding in to her beloved. 
Meanwhile he read a hundred times the letter she had given 
him, — read with unspeakable delight the word faithful in the 
hand of his darling, with horror the announcement of her 
death, whose approaches she appeared to view unmoved. 

Midnight was past, when something rustled at the half- 
open door, and Barbara came in with a little basket. " I am 
to tell you the story of our woes," said she : " and I must 
believe that you will sit Ui-Axoved at the recital ; that you are 
waiting for me but to satisfy your curiosit}^ ; that you will 
now, as you did formerly, retire within your cold selfishness, 
while our hearts are breaking. But look you here ! Thus, 
on that happy evening, did I bring you the bottle of cham- 
pagne ; thus did I place the three glasses on the table : and 
as you then began, with soft nursery tales, to cozen us and 
lull us asleep ; so will I now with stern truths instruct you 
and keep you waking." 

Wilhelm knew not what to say, when the old woman, in 
fact, let go the cork, and filled the three glasses to the brim. 

**Dnnk!" cried she, having emptied at a draught her 
14— Goethe Vol 7
The Complete Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe - Part 7
