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میں کم له في و
WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP AND TRAVELS.
From the German of
GOETHE.
RUC
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
APPRENTICESHIP.
A NEW EDITION, REVISED.
LONDON:
CHAPMAN AND HALL, STRAND.
M. DCCC. XLII.



آلات
ا
شنا
+
TO THE READER.
THESE two Translations, Meister's Apprenticeship and
Meister's Travels, have long been out of print, but
wer altogether out of demand; nay, it would seem,
e originally somewhat moderate demand has gone
un increasing, and continues to increase. They are
therefore here republished; and the one being in
some sort a sequel to the other, though in rather
unexpected sort, they are now printed together. The
English version of Meister's Travels has been ex-
tracted, or extricated, from a Compilation of very
various quality named German Romance; and placed
by the side of the Apprenticeship, its forerunner, which,
in the translated as in the original state, appeared
hitherto as a separate work.
In the Apprenticeship, the first of these Transla-
tions, which was executed some fifteen years ago,
under questionable auspices, I have made many little
changes; but could not, unfortunately, change it into
a right translation: it hung, in many places, stiff and
vi
TO THE READER.
laboured, too like some unfortunate buckram cloak
round the light harmonious movement of the ori-
ginal; and, alas, still hangs so, here and there; and
may now hang. In the second Translation, Meister's
Travels, two years later in date, I have changed little or
nothing: I might have added much; for the original,
since that time, was as it were taken to pieces by
the Author himself in his last years, and constructed
anew; and in the Final Edition of his Works, appears
with multifarious intercalations, giving a great ex-
pansion both of size and of scope. Not Pedagogy
only, and Husbandry and Art and Religion and
Human Conduct in the Nineteenth Century, but
Geology, Astronomy, Cotton-spinning, Metallurgy,
Anatomical Lecturing, and much else, are typically
shadowed forth in this second form of the Travels;
which, however, continues a Fragment like the first,
significantly pointing on all hands towards infinitude ;
not more complete than the first was, or indeed
perhaps less so. It will well reward the trustful
student of Goethe to read this new form of the
Travels; and see how in that great mind, beaming
in mildest mellow splendour, beaming if also trem-
bling, like a great sun on the verge of the horizon,
near now to its long farewell, all these things were

TO THE READER.
vii
1
illuminated and illustrated: but for the mere English
reader there are probably in our prior edition of the
Travels already novelties enough; for us, at all events,
it seemed unadvisable to meddle with it farther at
present.
Goethe's position towards the English Public is
greatly altered since these Translations first made
their appearance.
Criticisms, near the mark, or
farther from the mark, or even altogether far, and
away from any mark; of these there has been enough.
These pass on their road; the man and his works
remain what they are and were; more and more
recognisable for what they are. Few English readers
can require now to be apprised that these two Books,
named Novels, come not under the Minerva- Press
category, nor the Ballantyne-Press category, nor any
such category; that the Author is one whose secret,
by no means worn upon his sleeve, will never, by any
ingenuity, be got at in that way.
For a Translator, in the present case, it is enough
to reflect that he who imports into his own country
any true delineation, a rationally spoken word on any
subject, has done well. Ours is a wide world, peace-
ably admitting many different modes of speech. In
our wide world, there is but one altogether fatal
A 2

viii
TO THE READER.
personage; the dunce; he that speaks irrationally,
that sees not, and yet thinks he sees. A genuine seer
and speaker, under what conditions soever, shall be
welcome to us: has he not seen somewhat, of great
Nature our common Mother's bringing forth; seen it,
loved it, laid his heart open to it and to the Mother
of it, so that he can now rationally speak it for us? He
is our brother, and a good not a bad man; his words
are like gold, precious, whether stamped in our mint,
or in what mint soever stamped.
London, Nov. 1839.
T. CARLYLE.
!

TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
TO THE
FIRST EDITION OF MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
G
[Edinburgh, 1824.]
WHETHER it be that the quantity of genius among our-
selves and the French, and the number of works more
lasting than brass produced by it, have of late been so
considerable as to make us independent of additional sup-
plies; or that, in our ancient aristocracy of intellect, we
disdain to be assisted by the Germans, whom, by a species.
of second sight, we have discovered, before knowing any
thing about them, to be a tumid, dreaming, extravagant,
insane, race of mortals; certain it is, that hitherto our
literary intercourse with that nation has been very slight
and precarious. After a brief period of not too judicious
cordiality, the acquaintance on our part was altogether
dropped: nor, in the few years since we partially resumed
it, have our feelings of affection or esteem been materially
increased. Our translators are unfortunate in their selec-
tion or execution, or the public is tasteless and absurd in
its demands; for, with scarcely more than one or two ex-
ceptions, the best works of Germany have lain neglected,
or worse than neglected, and the Germans are yet utterly
unknown to us. Kotzebue still lives in our minds as the
;
X
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
representative of a nation that despises him; Schiller is
chiefly known to us by the monstrous production of his
boyhood; and Klopstock by a hacked and mangled image
of his Messias, in which a beautiful poem is distorted into
a theosophic rhapsody, and the brother of Virgil and
Racine ranks little higher than the author of Meditations
among the Tombs.
But of all these people there is none that has been
more unjustly dealt with than Johann Wolfgang von
Goethe. For half a century the admiration, we might
almost say the idol of his countrymen, to us he is still a
stranger. His name, long echoed and re-echoed through
reviews and magazines, has become familiar to our ears:
but it is a sound and nothing more; it excites no definite
idea in almost any mind. To such as know him by the
faint and garbled version of his Werter, Goethe figures
as a sort of poetic Heraclitus; some woebegone hypo-
chondriac, whose eyes are overflowing with perpetual
tears, whose long life has been spent in melting into
ecstasy at the sight of waterfalls, and clouds, and the
moral sublime, or dissolving into hysterical wailings over
hapless love-stories and the miseries of human life. They
are not aware that Goethe smiles at this performance of
his youth; or that the German Werter, with all his faults,
is a very different person from his English namesake;
that his Sorrows are in the original recorded in a tone of
strength and sarcastic emphasis, of which the other offers
no vestige, and intermingled with touches of powerful
thought, glimpses of a philosophy deep as it is bitter,
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
xi
I
•
I
}
which our sagacious translator has seen proper wholly to
omit. Others again, who have fallen in with Retsch's
Outlines and the extracts from Faust, consider Goethe as
a wild mystic, a dealer in demonology and osteology, who
draws attention by the aid of skeletons and evil spirits,
whose excellence it is to be extravagant, whose chief aim
it is to do what no one but himself has tried.
The tyro
in German may tell us that the charm of Faust is alto-
gether unconnected with its preternatural import; that
the work delineates the fate of human enthusiasm strug-
gling against doubts and errors from within, against
scepticism, contempt, and selfishness from without; and
that the witchcraft and magic, intended merely as a sha-
dowy frame for so complex and mysterious a picture of
the moral world and the human soul, are introduced for
the purpose not so much of being trembled at as laughed
at. The voice of the tyro is not listened to; our indolence
takes part with our ignorance; Faust continues to be
called a monster; and Goethe is regarded as a man of
"some genius," which he has perverted to produce all
manner of misfashioned prodigies; things false, abortive,
formless, Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimeras dire.
Now, it must no doubt be granted, that so long as our
invaluable constitution is preserved in its pristine purity,
the British nation may exist in a state of comparative
prosperity with very inadequate ideas of Goethe: but, at
the same time, the present arrangement is an evil in its
kind; slight, it is true, and easy to be borne, yet still
more easy to be remedied, and which therefore ought to
xii
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
have been remedied ere now. Minds like Goethe's are
the common property of all nations; and, for many rea-
sons, all should have correct impressions of them.
It is partly with the view of doing something to supply
this want, that Wilhelm Meisters Lehrjahre is now pre-
sented to the English public. Written in its Author's
forty-fifth year, embracing hints or disquisitions on almost
every leading point in life and literature, it affords us a
more distinct view of his matured genius, his manner of
thought, and favourite subjects, than any of his other
works. Nor is it Goethe alone whom it portrays; the
prevailing taste of Germany is likewise indicated by it.
Since the year 1795, when it first appeared at Berlin,
numerous editions of Meister have been printed: critics
of all ranks, and some of them dissenting widely from its
doctrines, have loaded it with encomiums; its songs and
poems are familiar to every German ear; the people read
it, and speak of it, with an admiration approaching in
many cases to enthusiasm.
That it will be equally successful in England, I am
far indeed from anticipating. Apart from the above.
considerations, from the curiosity, intelligent or idle,
which it may awaken, the number of admiring, or even
approving judges it will find can scarcely fail of being
very limited.
To the great mass of readers, who read to
drive away the tedium of mental vacancy, employing
the crude phantasmagoria of a modern novel, as their
grandfathers employed tobacco and diluted brandy, Wil-
helm Meister will appear beyond endurance weary, flat,
I
}
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
xiii
stale, and unprofitable. Those in particular, who take
delight in "King Cambyses' vein," and open Meister
with the thought of Werter in their minds, will soon
pause in utter dismay, and their paroxysm of dismay
will pass by degrees into unspeakable contempt. Of
romance interest there is next to none in Meister; the
characters are samples to judge of, rather than persons
to love or hate; the incidents are contrived for other
objects than moving or affrighting us; the hero is a
milksop, whom, with all his gifts, it takes an effort to
avoid despising. The author himself, far from "doing
it in a passion," wears a face of the most still indifference
throughout the whole affair; often it is even wrinkled by
a slight sardonic grin. For the friends of the sublime,
then, for those who cannot do without heroical senti-
ments, and "moving accidents by flood and field," there
is nothing here that can be of any service.
Nor among readers of a far higher character, can it
be expected that many will take the praiseworthy pains.
of Germans, reverential of their favourite author, and
anxious to hunt out his most elusive charms. Few
among us will disturb themselves about the allegories
and typical allusions of the work; will stop to inquire
whether it includes a remote emblem of human culture,
or includes no such matter; whether this is a light airy
sketch of the development of man in all his endowments
and faculties, gradually proceeding from the first rude
exhibitions of puppets and mountebanks, through the
perfection of poetic and dramatic art, up to the unfold-
xiv
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
*
ing of the principle of religion, and the greatest of all
arts, the art of life,-or is nothing more than a bungled.
piece of patch-work, presenting in the shape of a novel
much that should have been suppressed entirely, or at
least given out by way of lecture. Whether the cha-
racters do or do not represent distinct classes of men,
including various stages of human nature, from the gay
material vivacity of Philina to the severe moral grandeur
of the Uncle and the splendid accomplishment of Lothario,
will to most of us be of small importance: and the ever-
lasting disquisitions about plays and players, and polite-
ness and activity, and art and nature, will weary many a
mind that knows not and heeds not whether they are
true or false. Yet every man's judgment is, in this free
country, a lamp to himself: whoever is displeased will
censure; and many, it is to be feared, will insist on judg-
ing Meister by the common rule, and what is worse, con-
demning it, let Schlegel bawl as loudly as he pleases.
"To judge," says he, "of this book,-new and peculiar
as it is, and only to be understood and learned from itself,
by our common notion of the novel, a notion pieced to-
gether and produced out of custom and belief, out of
accidental and arbitrary requisitions, is as if a child
should grasp at the moon and stars, and insist on packing
them into its toy-box.' Unhappily, the most of us have
boxes; and some of them are very small!
""
Yet, independently of these its more recondite and
dubious qualities, there are beauties in Meister, which
* Charakteristik des Meister.
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
XV
་
cannot but secure it some degree of favour at the hands
of many. The philosophical discussions it contains; its
keen glances into life and art; the minute and skilful
delineation of men; the lively genuine exhibition of the
scenes they move in; the occasional touches of eloquence
and tenderness, and even of poetry, the very essence of
poetry; the quantity of thought and knowledge embodied
in a style so rich in general felicities, of which, at least,
the new and sometimes exquisitely happy metaphors
have been preserved,—cannot wholly escape an observ-
ing reader, even on the most cursory perusal. To those
who have formed for themselves a picture of the world,
who have drawn out, from the thousand variable circum-
stances of their being, a philosophy of life, it will be
interesting and instructive to see how man and his con-
cerns are represented in the first of European minds: to
those who have penetrated to the limits of their own
conceptions, and wrestled with thoughts and feelings
too high for them, it will be pleasing and profitable to
see the horizon of their certainties widened, or at least
separated with a firmer line from the impalpable obscure
which surrounds it on every side. Such persons I can
fearlessly invite to study Meister. Across the disfigure-
ment of a translation, they will not fail to discern
indubitable traces of the greatest genius in our times.
And the longer they study, they are likely to discern
them the more distinctly. New charms will successively
arise to view; and of the many apparent blemishes,
while a few superficial ones may be confirmed, the
xvi
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
greater and more important part will vanish, or even
change from dark to bright. For, if I mistake not, it is
with Meister as with every work of real and abiding
excellence, the first glance is the least favourable. A
picture of Raphael, a Greek statue, a play of Sophocles
or Shakspeare, appears insignificant to the unpractised
eye; and not till after long and patient and intense
examination, do we begin to descry the earnest features
of that beauty, which has its foundation in the deepest
nature of man, and will continue to be pleasing through
all ages.
If this appear excessive praise, as applied in any
sense to Meister, the curious sceptic is desired to read
and weigh the whole performance, with all its references,
relations, purposes; and to pronounce his verdict after
he has clearly seized and appreciated them all. Or if a
more faint conviction will suffice, let him turn to the
picture of Wilhelm's states of mind in the end of the first
Book, and the beginning of the second; the eulogies of
commerce and poesy, which follow; the description of
Hamlet; the character of histrionic life in Serlo and
Aurelia; that of sedate and lofty manhood in the Uncle
and Lothario. But above all, let him turn to the history
of Mignon. This mysterious child, at first neglected by
the reader, gradually forced on his attention, at length
overpowers him with an emotion more deep and thrilling
than any poet since the days of Shakspeare has succeeded
in producing. The daughter of enthusiasm, rapture,
passion, and despair, she is of the earth, but not earthly.
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
xvii
-
When she glides before us through the light mazes of her
fairy dance, or twangs her cithern to the notes of her
homesick verses, or whirls her tambourine and hurries
round us like an antique Mænad, we could almost fancy
her a spirit; so pure is she, so full of fervour, so dis-
engaged from the clay of this world. And when all
the fearful particulars of her story are at length laid
together, and we behold in connected order the image
of her hapless existence, there is, in those dim recollec-
tions, those feelings so simple, so impassioned and un-
speakable, consuming the closely-shrouded, woe-struck,
yet ethereal spirit of the poor creature, something which
searches into the inmost recesses of the soul. It is not
tears which her fate calls forth; but a feeling far too
deep for tears. The very fire of heaven seems miserably
quenched among the obstructions of this earth. Her
little heart, so noble and so helpless, perishes before the
smallest of its many beauties is unfolded; and all its
loves, and thoughts, and longings, do but add another
7 pang to death, and sink to silence utter and eternal.
It is as if the gloomy porch of Dis, and his pale king-
doms, were realised and set before us, and we heard the
ineffectual wail of infants reverberating from within their
prison-walls forever.
Continuò auditæ voces, vagitus et ingens,
Infantumque animæ flentes in limine primo :
Quos dulcis vitæ exsortes, et ab ubere raptos,
Abstulit atra dies, et funere mersit acerbo.
The history of Mignon runs like a thread of gold

xviii
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
܃
through the tissue of the narrative, connecting with the
heart much that were else addressed only to the head.
Philosophy and eloquence might have done the rest; but
this is poetry in the highest meaning of the word. It must
be for the power of producing such creations and emo-
tions, that Goethe is by many of his countrymen ranked
at the side of Homer and Shakspeare, as one of the only
three men of genius that have ever lived.
But my business here is not to judge of Meister or its
Author, it is only to prepare others for judging it; and
for this purpose the most that I had room to say is said.
All I ask in the name of this illustrious foreigner is, that
the court which tries him be pure, and the jury instructed
in the cause; that the work be not condemned for wanting
what it was not meant to have, and by persons nowise
called to pass sentence on it.
Respecting my own humble share in the adventure, it
is scarcely necessary to say any thing. Fidelity is all the
merit I have aimed at: to convey the Author's sentiments,
as he himself expressed them; to follow the original, in all
the variations of its style, has been my constant endeavour.
In many points, both literary and moral, I could have
wished devoutly that he had not written as he has done;
but to alter any thing was not in my commission. The
literary and moral persuasions of a man like Goethe are
objects of a rational curiosity; and the duty of a trans-
lator is simple and distinct. Accordingly, except a few
phrases and sentences, not in all amounting to a page,
which I have dropped as evidently unfit for the English
TO THE FIRST EDITION.
xix
taste, I have studied to present the work exactly as it
stands in German. That my success has been indifferent,
I already know too well. In rendering the ideas of
Goethe, often so subtle, so capriciously expressive, the
meaning was not always easy to seize, or to convey with
'adequate effect. There were thin tints of style, shades of
ridicule or tenderness, or solemnity, resting over large
spaces, and so slight as almost to be evanescent: some of
these I may have failed to see; to many of them I could
do no justice. Nor, even in plainer matters, can I pride
myself in having always imitated his colloquial familiarity
without falling into sentences bald and rugged, into idioms
harsh or foreign; or in having copied the flowing oratory
of other passages, without at times exaggerating or de-
facing the swelling cadences and phrases of my original.
But what work, from the translating of a German novel
to the writing of an epic, was ever as the workman wished
and meant it? This version of Meister, with whatever
faults it may have, I honestly present to my countrymen:
if, while it makes any portion of them more familiar with
the richest, most gifted of living minds, it increase their
knowledge, or even afford them a transient amusement,
they will excuse its errors, and I shall be far more than
paid for all my labour.
>
1
ļ

な
​WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.

BOOK I.

9
}
WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER I.
THE play was late in breaking up: old Barbara went
more than once to the window, and listened for the sound
of carriages. She was waiting for Mariana, her pretty
mistress, who had that night, in the afterpiece, been acting
the part of a young officer, to the no small delight of the
public. Barbara's impatience was greater than it used to
be, when she had nothing but a frugal supper to present:
on this occasion, Mariana was to be surprised with a
packet, which Norberg, a young and wealthy merchant,
had sent by the post, to shew that, in absence, he still
thought of his love.
As an old servant, as confidant, counsellor, manager,
and housekeeper, Barbara assumed the privilege of open-
ing seals; and this evening she the less had been able to
restrain her curiosity, as the favour 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 ribands of the newest fashion, for
Mariana; with a quantity of calico, two or three necker-
chiefs, and a moderate rouleau of money, for herself.
Her esteem for the absent Norberg was of course un-
bounded: she meditated only how she might best present
VOL. I.
B




2
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
him to the mind of Mariana, best bring to her recollection
what she owed him, and what he had a right to expect
from her fidelity and thankfulness.
The muslin, with the ribands half unrolled, to set it
off by their colours, lay like a Christmas present on the
small table; the position of the lights increased the glitter
of the gift; 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
generous than ever.”
Barbara went to the table, that she might exhibit the
memorials with which Norberg had likewise honoured her,
when Mariana, turning away from the presents, exclaimed
with vehemence, "Off! off! Not a word of all this to-
night! I have yielded to thee; thou hast willed it; be it
so!
When Norberg comes, I am his, am thine, am any
one's; make of me what thou pleasest: but till then I will
be my own; and, if thou hadst a thousand tongues, thou
shouldst never talk me from my purpose. All, all that is
my own will I give up to him who loves me; whom I love.
No sour faces! I will abandon myself to this affection, as
if it were to last for ever."
The old damsel had abundance of objections and serious
considerations to allege; in the progress of the dialogue,

BOOK I. CHAP. I.
00
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
foolish 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 had laid hands upon her mistress:
Mariana 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
"Just for him," replied Mariana.
son ?"
"Generosity appears to be growing your ruling pas-
sion," 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
worshipped 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 which 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 for ever. I will shew him all my love; will enjoy all
his in its whole extent."
"Moderate yourself," said the old dame coolly; "mo-
derate yourself! A single word will interrupt your rap-
ture: 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 fort-
night! An age! Within a fortnight, what may not
happen, what may not alter ?"

MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
Here Wilhelm entered. We need not say how fast
she flew to meet him; with what rapture he clasped the
red uniform, and pressed the beautiful wearer of it to his
bosom. It is not for us to describe the blessedness of two
lovers. Old Barbara went grumbling away: we shall
retire with her, and leave the happy two alone.
CHAPTER II.
WHEN Wilhelm saluted his mother, next morning, she
informed him that his father was very greatly discontented
with him, and meant to forbid him these daily visits to the
playhouse. "Though I myself often go with pleasure to
the theatre," she continued, "I could almost detest it
entirely, when I think that our fireside-peace is broken by
your excessive passion for that amusement. Your father
is ever repeating: What is the use of it?
How can any
one waste his time so?"
"He has already told me this," said Wilhelm; "and
perhaps I answered him too hastily: but, for Heaven's
sake, mother, is nothing then of use but what immediately
puts money in our purse; but what procures us some pro-
perty that we can lay our hands on? Had we not, for
instance, room enough in the old house; and was it indis-
pensable 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 bas-
kets, and figures, produce a really disagreeable effect upon
+
BOOK I. CHAP. II.
5
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 dissipates your attention; and
when he grows ill-humoured 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 provide for you at Christmas, twelve years
ago! It was the first thing that put these plays into your
head."
"O do not blame the poor puppets; do not repent of
your love and motherly care! It was the only happy hour
I had enjoyed in the new empty house. I never can for-
get 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 occu-
pied by an unexpected show. Within it rose a porch,
concealed by a mysterious curtain. All of us were stand-
ing at a distance; our eagerness to see what glittering or
jingling article lay hid behind the half-transparent veil
was mounting higher and higher, when you bade us each
sit down upon his stool and wait with patience.
"At length all of us were seated and silent: a whistle
gave the signal; the curtain rolled aloft, and shewed us
the interior of the Temple, painted in deep red colours.
The high-priest Samuel appeared with Jonathan, and their
strange alternating voices seemed to me the most striking
thing on earth. Shortly after entered Saul, overwhelmed.
6
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
with confusion at the impertinence of that heavy-limbed
warrior, who had defied him and all his people. But how
glad was I when the little dapper son of Jesse, with his
crook, and shepherd's pouch, and sling, came hopping forth
and said: 'Dread king and sovereign lord! let no one's
heart sink down because of this; if your Majesty will
grant me leave, I will go out to battle with this blustering
giant.' Here ended the first act; leaving the spectators
more curious than ever to see what further would happen,
each praying that the music might soon be done. At last
the curtain rose again. David devoted the flesh of the
monster to the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field;
the Philistine scorned and bullied him, stamped mightily
with both his feet, and at length fell like a mass of clay,
affording a splendid termination to the piece. And then
the virgins sang: 'Saul hath slain his thousands, but David
his ten thousands !' The giant's head was borne before
his little victor, who received the King's beautiful daughter
to wife. Yet withal, I remember, I was vexed at the
dwarfish stature of this lucky prince; for the great Goliath
and the small David had both been formed, according 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 shew 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 re-
member 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 handle, in little David's
BOOK I. CHAP. III.
له
hand. I then felt such a motherly contentment 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
hands. He took them to his room, and locked them up
with care.
CHAPTER III.
If the first love is indeed, as I hear it every where main-
tained to be, the most delicious feeling which the heart of
man, before it or after, can experience,—then our hero must
be reckoned doubly happy, as permitted to enjoy the plea-
sure of this chosen period in all its fulness. Few men are
so peculiarly favoured; by far the greater part are led by
the feelings of their youth into nothing but a school of
hardship, where, after a stinted and checkered season of
enjoyment, they are at length constrained to renounce their
dearest wishes, and to learn for ever to dispense with
what once hovered before them as the highest happiness of
existence.
Wilhelm's passion for that charming girl now soared
aloft on the wings of imagination: after a short ac-
quaintance, he had gained her affections; he found him-
self in possession of a being whom with all his heart he
i
8
MEISTER'S APPRENTICEship.
not only loved, but honoured: for she had first appeared
before him in the flattering light of theatric pomp, and
his passion for the stage combined 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 mistress, too, gave a
turn to her conduct, which greatly enlivened 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 bashfulness; her attach-
ment to the youth was deep; her inquietude itself 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
inclinations keener, his knowledge clearer, his talents
stronger, his purposes more decided. Accordingly, he soon
fell upon a plan to avoid the reproaches of his father, to
still the cares of his mother, and at the same time to enjoy
Mariana's love without disturbance. Through the day he
punctually transacted his business, commonly forbore at-
tending 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, wrapt up in his mantle,
with all the feelings of Leander in his bosom, to meet his
mistress without delay.
"What is this you bring?" inquired Mariana, as he
entered one evening, with a bundle, which Barbara, in
hopes it might turn out to be some valuable present, fixed
her eyes upon with great attention.
"You will never
guess," said Wilhelm.
Great was the surprise of Mariana, great the scorn
of Barbara, when the napkin being loosened gave to view
a perplexed multitude of span-long puppets. Mariana
BOOK I. CHAP. III.
9
laughed aloud, as Wilhelm set himself to disentangle the
confusion of the wires, and shew her each figure by itself.
Barbara glided sulkily out of the room.
A very little thing will entertain two lovers; and
accordingly our friends, this evening, were as happy as
they wished to be. The little troop was mustered; each
figure was minutely 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 ponti-
fical 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 large; she
held by Jonathan. She grew to manage him so featly, and
at last to extend her caresses from the puppet to its owner,
that, on this occasion, as on others, a silly sport became
the introduction to happy hours.
Their soft, sweet dreams were broken in upon by a
noise which arose on the street. Mariana called for the
old dame, who, as usual, was occupied in furbishing the
changeful materials of the playhouse-wardrobe for the ser-
vice of the piece 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
champaign.
(6
Pity," Mariana said, "that we did not think of it in
time; we might have had some entertainment to our-
selves."
B 2
10
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
"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; ere long a trimly-
covered 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 favourite
topic. "You were once telling us," she said, "about the
first exhibition of a puppet-show on Christmas-eve: I
remember you were interrupted, just as the ballet was
going to begin. We have now the pleasure of a personal
acquaintance with the honourable 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.”
66
I assure you," said Wilhelm, " it went off quite well.
And certainly the strange caperings of these Moors and
BOOK I. CHAP. IV.
il
Mooresses, these shepherds and shepherdesses, these dwarfs
and dwarfesses, will never altogether leave my recollection,
while I live. When the curtain dropped, and the door
closed, our little party skipped away, frolicking as if they
had been tipsy, to their beds; for myself, however, I
remember that I could not go to sleep: still wanting to
have something told me on the subject, I continued putting
questions to every one, and would hardly let the maid
away who had brought me up to bed.
"Next morning, alas! the magic apparatus had
altogether vanished; the mysterious veil was carried off,
the door permitted us again to go and come through it
without obstruction; the manifold adventures of the
evening had passed away, and left no trace behind. My
brothers and sisters were running up and down with their
playthings; I alone kept gliding to and fro; it seemed to
me impossible that two bare door-posts could be all that
now remained, where the night before so much enchant-
ment had displayed itself. Alas! the man that seeks a
lost love can hardly be unhappier than I then thought
myself."
A rapturous look, which he cast on Mariana, convinced
her that he was not much afraid of ever having a misfor-
tune such as this to strive with.

CHAPTER IV.
"My sole wish now," continued Wilhelm, "was to
witness a second exhibition of the piece. For this pur-
pose I had recourse, by constant entreaties, to my mother;
and she attempted in a favourable hour to persuade my
12
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
father. Her labour, however, was in vain. My father's
principle was, that none but enjoyments of rare occur-
rence were adequately prized; that neither young nor
old could set a proper value on pleasures which they
tasted every day.
"We might have waited long, perhaps till Christmas
returned, had not the contriver and secret director of the
spectacle himself felt a pleasure in repeating the display
of it; partly incited, I suppose, by the wish to pro-
duce a brand-new Harlequin expressly prepared for the
after-piece.
"A young officer of the artillery, a person of great
gifts in all sorts of mechanical contrivance, had served
my
father in many essential particulars during the build-
ing 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 theatre, which, in hours of
leisure, he had already carved and painted and strung
together. It was this young man, who, with the help
of a servant, had himself managed the puppets, disguising
his voice to pronounce their various speeches. He had
no great difficulty in persuading my father, who granted,
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 neighbourhood
were invited, and the piece 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 scrutinising. 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


BOOK I. CHAP. IV.
13
were the lights, and the people that managed the decep-
tion? These enigmas perplexed me the more, as I
wished at once to be among the enchanters and the
enchanted, at once to have a secret hand in the play, and
to enjoy, as a looker-on, the pleasure of illusion.
"The piece being finished, preparations were making
for the farce; the spectators had risen, and were all
busy talking 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 excitement.
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 at once made
me more satisfied, and less so than before. After a
little, it first struck me that I yet comprehended nothing;
and here I was right; for the connexion of the parts with
each other was entirely unknown to me, and every thing
depends on that.

14
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
1
CHAPTER V.
"IN well adjusted and regulated houses," continued
Wilhelm, "children have a feeling not unlike what I
conceive rats and mice to have; they keep a sharp eye
on all crevices and holes, where they may come at any
forbidden dainty; they enjoy it also with a fearful,
stolen satisfaction, which forms no small part of the
happiness of childhood.
"More than any other of the young ones, I was
in the habit of looking out attentively to see if I could
notice any cupboard left open, or key standing in its
lock. The more reverence I bore in my heart for those
closed doors, on the outside of which I had to pass by
for weeks and months, catching only a furtive glance
when our mother now and then opened the consecrated
place to take something from it, the quicker was I to
make use of any opportunities which the forgetfulness of
our housekeepers at times afforded me.
"Among all the doors, that of the store-room 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 any thing, after which
I might pick up a few dried plums, either with her kind
✔ permission, or by help of my own dexterity. The accu-
mulated treasures of this chamber took hold of my
imagination by their magnitude; the very fragrance ex-
haled 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,

BOOK I. CHAP. V.
15
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 immediate 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 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 began making some
stir in the kitchen, which lay 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

16
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
3
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 circumstances, I laboured 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, frequently observing some such detached excla-
mation, would in secret praise the excellent memory of
his boy, that had retained so much from only two reci-
tations.
"By this means, growing always 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.
66
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 contrived to make my parents offer him a
couple of chambers in the top story, which commonly
stood empty, that he might accommodate the spectators
in the one, while the other held his actors, the pro-
scenium 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

BOOK I. CHAP. VI.
17
too far. He was of opinion, that, in the enjoyments
of the young, one should assume a serious air; often
interrupting the course of their festivities, to prevent
their satisfaction from degenerating into excess and pre-
sumption.
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 frame-work,
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 between 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
performed 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 again; 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
18
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
up the contentment he felt at the expertness of his little
boy, after the piece was finished, he dwelt on the mis-
takes we had 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 per-
suasion that, but for this one fault, I had played delight-
fully. The spectators also flattered me with their unani-
mous 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 exquisite grace. My mother in
particular commended the gallant tone in which I had
challenged Goliath, and acted the modest victor before
the king.
"From this time, to my extreme delight, the theatre
continued open; and as the spring advanced, so that fires
could be dispensed with, I passed all my hours of recrea-
tion lying in the garret, and making the puppets caper
and play together. Often I invited up my comrades, or
my brothers and sisters; but when they would not come,
I stayed by myself not the less. My imagination brooded
over that tiny world, which soon afterwards acquired
another form.
66
Scarcely had I once or twice exhibited the first piece,
for which my scenery and actors had been formed and
decorated, till it ceased to give me any pleasure. On
the other hand, among some books of my grandfather's, 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 reckon-
ing up the characters, and then, without farther ceremony,
proceeding to exhibit the piece. King Saul, with his
BOOK I. CHAP. VI.
19
black velvet cloak, was therefore now obliged to per-
sonate 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 stabbing lay.
"It was natural that the operas, with their manifold
adventures and vicissitudes, should attract me more than
any thing beside. In these compositions I found stormy
seas, gods descending in chariots of cloud, and, what
most of all delighted me, abundance of thunder and
lightning. I did my best with pasteboard, paint, and
paper: I could make night very prettily; my lightning
was fearful to behold; only my thunder did not always
prosper, which, however, was of less importance. In
operas, moreover, I found frequent opportunities of in-
troducing 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 store-room added not
a little to my satisfaction.
"The decorations of my theatre were now in a toler-
able state of completeness. I had always had the knack
of drawing with compasses, and clipping pasteboard, and
colouring figures; and here it served me in good stead.
But the more sorry was I, on the other hand, when, as
frequently happened, my stock of actors would not suffice
for representing great affairs.
(C
My sisters dressing and undressing their dolls, awoke
in me the project of furnishing my heroes by and by with
garments, which might also be put off and on. Accord-
ingly, 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 ribands and lace; begged
many a rag of taffeta; and so formed, by degrees, a full
20
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
theatrical wardrobe, in which hoop-petticoats for the
ladies were especially remembered.
66
My troop was now fairly provided with dresses
for the most important piece, and you might have ex-
pected 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 preparations, then a few trials, and the
whole undertaking is abandoned. I was guilty of this
fault. My greatest pleasure 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 operations, 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 piece could no longer be exhibited. I sur-
rendered myself to my imagination; I rehearsed and
prepared for ever; built a thousand castles in the air,
and saw not that I was at the same time undermining the
foundations of these little edifices."
During this recital, Mariana had called up and put
in action all her courtesy for Wilhelm, that she might
conceal her sleepiness. Diverting as the matter seemed
on one side, it was too simple for her taste, and her
lover's view of it too serious. She softly pressed her foot
on his, however, and gave him all visible signs of atten-
tion 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
BOOK I. CHAP. VI.
21
what circumstances you were reared; what are the first
lively impressions which you still remember?"
These questions would have very much embarrassed
Mariana, had not Barbara made haste to help her.
"Think you," said the cunning old woman,
(C we have
been so mindful of what happened to us long ago, that
we have merry things like these to talk about; and
though we had, that we could give them such an air in
talking of them?"
"As if they needed it!" cried Wilhelm. "I love this
soft, good, amiable creature so much, that I regret every
instant of my life which has not been spent beside her.
Allow me, at least in fancy, to have a share in thy by-
gone life: tell me every thing; I will tell every thing to
thee! If possible, we will deceive ourselves, and win
back those days that have been lost to love."
،،
"If you require it so eagerly," replied the old dame,
we can easily content you. Only, in the first place, let
us hear how your taste for the theatre gradually reached
a head; how you practised, how you improved so happily,
that now you can pass for a superior actor.
No doubt,
you must have met with droll adventures in your pro-
gress. 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 a mournful look upon her, which Wilhelm
not observing, proceeded with his narrative.
22
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER VII.
"THE recreations of youth, as my companions began
to increase in number, interfered with this solitary, still
enjoyment. I was by turns a hunter, a soldier, a knight,
as our games required me; 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 example, were generally of my manu-
facture; I gilded and decorated 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
sempstresses of the house, broke many a needle.
"A part of my comrades I had now got well equipped;
by degrees, the rest were likewise furbished up, though
on a thriftier plan; and so a very seemly corps at length
was mustered. We marched about the court-yards and
gardens; smote fearfully upon each other's shields and
heads: many flaws of discord rose among us, but none
that lasted.
"This diversion greatly entertained my fellows; but
scarcely had it been twice or thrice repeated, till 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.
(C
Koppen's translation of Jerusalem Delivered at
length fell into my hands, and gave these wandering
thoughts a settled direction. The whole poem, it is true,
BOOK I. CHAP. VII.
23
I could not read; but there were pieces of it which I
learned by heart, and the images expressed in these
hovered round me. Particularly was I captivated with
Clorinda, and all her deeds and bearing. The masculine
womanhood, the peaceful completeness of her being, had
a greater influence upon my mind, just beginning to
unfold itself, than the factitious charms of Armida, though
the garden of that enchantress was by no means an object
of my contempt.
"But a hundred and a hundred times, while walking
in the evenings on the balcony which stretches along the
front of the house, and looking over the neighbourhood,
as the quivering splendour streamed up at the horizon
from the 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 Pay-
nim 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 plenti-
fully, when the hapless lover, plunging his sword into her
breast, opened the departing warrior's helmet, recognised
the lady of his heart, and, shuddering, brought water to
baptise her.
"How did my heart run over, when Tancred struck
24
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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
the passages I had read of the poem began dimly, in my
mind, to conglomerate 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 manufactured, seemed expressly suitable.
The one, formed of dark-grey 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 com-
rades, who felt quite charmed with it, only could not well
comprehend how so glorious 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 neighbouring play-mate; not calculating
that his venerable aunt would never give them up, or
considering 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 materials 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 first
and birches; which actually arrived more speedily than
we had reason to expect. But, in the next place, great
BOOK I. CHAP. VII.
25
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
curtains; the folding screens were all we had.
"In this forlorn condition we again applied to the
lieutenant, 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 neighbourhood, 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 discovered that he knew not what he was to
say. In the heat of invention, being quite immersed in
present difficulties, I had forgotten the necessity of each
understanding what and where he was to speak; nor, in
the midst of our bustling preparations, had it once oc-
curred to the rest; each believing 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 wonderstruck, 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 trans-
formed 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 undertaking proved abortive; but the company
still kept their places, still wishing to see something. All
VOL. I.
с
26
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
•...
of us were dressed; I screwed my courage up, and deter-
mined, foul or fair, to give them David and Goliath.
Some of my companions had before this helped me to
exhibit the puppet-play; all of them had often seen it:
we shared the characters among us; each promised to do
his best; and one small grinning urchin painted a black
beard upon his chin, and undertook, if any lacuna
should occur, to fill it up with drollery as Harlequin; an
arrangement to which, as contradicting the solemnity of
the piece, I did not consent without extreme reluctance;
and I vowed within myself, that, if once delivered out of
this perplexity, I would think long and well before risking
the exhibition of another piece."
CHAPTER VIII.
MARIANA, overpowered with sleep, leaned upon her
lover, who clasped her close to him, and proceeded in
his narrative, while the old damsel prudently sipped up
the remainder of the wine.
"The embarrassment," he said, "into which, along
with my companions, I had fallen, by attempting to act a
play that did not any where exist, was soon forgotten. My
passion for representing each romance I read, each story
that was told me, would not yield before the most un-
manageable materials. I felt convinced that whatever
gave delight in narrative must produce a far deeper
impression when exhibited: 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 carefully marked the passages where any
BOOK I. CHAP. VIII.
27
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 pieces from the end back-
wards; without, however, in any of them reaching the
beginning.
"At the same time, partly by inclination, partly by
the counsel of my good friends, who had caught the
fancy of acting plays, I read a whole wilderness of the-
atrical productions, as chance put them into my hands.
I was still in those happy years when all things please us,
when number 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 agreeable delusion; and my
lively conceptive power enabling me to transfer myself
into all the characters, seduced me to believe that I might
likewise represent them all. Hence, in the distribution
of the parts, I commonly selected such as did not fit me;
and always more than one part, if I could by any means
accomplish more.
"In their games, children can make all things out of
any: a staff becomes a musket, a splinter of wood a
sword, any bunch of cloth a puppet, any crevice a
chamber. Upon this principle was our private theatre
got up. Totally unacquainted with the measure of our
strength, we undertook all; we stuck at no qui 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 played all the
few pieces in which only males are requisite; next we
travestied some of ourselves; and at last took our sisters
into the concern along with us. In one or two houses,
28
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
our amusement was looked upon as profitable, and com-
pany invited to see it. Nor did our lieutenant of artillery
now turn his back upon us. He shewed 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
conceived 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 imagined that we succeeded rarely:
but our happiness was not complete, except we might
rave outright, might stamp with our feet, and cast our-
selves upon the ground, full of fury and despair.
66
Boys and girls had not long carried on these amuse-
ments 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 hands in the most tender style; they floated
in blessedness, appearing to one another quite ideal per-
sons, when so transformed 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 judg-
ment, and carried on without instruction, were not with-
out their use to us. We trained our memories and
persons; we acquired 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
BOOK I. CHAP. VIII.
29
mind turned all its faculties exclusively to the theatre,
and my highest happiness was in reading, in writing, or
in acting plays.
"Meanwhile the labours of my regular teachers con-
tinued; I had been set apart for the mercantile life, and
placed under the guidance of our neighbour in the count-
ing-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 conse-
crating 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,
and I recollect not that the verses were of any worth ;
but you shall see it, for the sake of the fear, the abhor-
rence, the love, and passion, which reign 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 diù 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
apparition for the overclouded mind! Formed as a
queen, in her thoughts and looks she announced herself
the child of freedom. The feeling of her own worth
gave her dignity without 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 forgotten the more peculiar
characteristics of my muse. Crowns and daggers, chains
30
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
and masks, as my predecessors had delivered them, were
here produced once more. The contention was keen;
the speeches of both were palpably enough contrasted,
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 pro-
mised 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,
pressing Mariana close to him, "that another and a more
lovely goddess would come to encourage me in my pur-
pose, 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 happiness, and consciously enjoy it."
The pressure of his arms, the emotion of his elevated
voice, awoke Mariana, who hastened by caresses to con-
ceal 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 favourite histories,
may find more attentive hearers.
BOOK I. CHAP. IX.
31
CHAPTER IX.
THUS Wilhelm passed his nights in the enjoyment of
confiding 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 indispensable, 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. Alas! if the cold hand of self-reproach had
not often come across her heart! She was not secure
from it even in Wilhelm's bosom, even under the wings
of his love. And when she was again left alone, again
left to sink from the clouds, to which passion had exalted
her, into the consciousness of her real condition, then she
was indeed to be pitied. So long as she had lived among
degrading perplexities, disguising from herself her real
situation, or rather never thinking of it, frivolity had
helped her through; the incidents she was exposed to
had come upon her each by itself; satisfaction and vexa-
tion 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
32
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 reverence 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. Looking into
herself and searching, 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 whom 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 dis-
closed, 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 distinctness before it. She is thine! She
has given herself away to thee! She, the loved, the
wished-for, the adored, has given herself away to thee in
trust and faith; she shall not find thee 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
stagnant, weary, drudging life out of which he had so
often wished for deliverance. To leave his father's house
and people now appeared a light matter.
He was young,
and had not tried the world; his eagerness to range over
its expanses, seeking fortune and contentment, was stimu-

BOOK I. CHAP. X.
33
lated by his love. His vocation to 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 most secret corners of
his soul, at length awoke. He painted for himself a
picture of his manifold ideas, in the colours of love, upon
a canvass of cloud: the figures of it, indeed, ran sadly
into one another; yet the whole had an air but the more
brilliant on that account.
CHAPTER X.
He was now in his chamber at home, ransacking his
papers, making ready for departure. Whatever savoured
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 theo-
retical part of them lying generally still uncut. In the
full persuasion that such works were absolutely neces-
sary, he had bought a number of them; but, with the
best disposition in the world, he had not reached midway
in any.
The more stedfastly, on the other hand, he had dwelt
C 2

34
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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."
“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 unsuit-
able affair, soon discovers its unsuitableness, and discon-
tinues his exertions, not choosing to spend toil and time
on what never can be of any value?"
"I know well enough it was never your concern to
bring aught to a conclusion; you have always sickened
on it before it came half way. When you were the director
of our puppet-show, for instance, how many times were
fresh clothes got ready for the dwarfish troop, fresh deco-
rations furbished up? Now this tragedy was to be played,
now that; and at the very best you gave us some fifth act,
where all was going topsy-turvy, and people cutting one.
another's throats."
"If you talk of those times, whose blame really was it
that we ripped off from our puppets the clothes that fitted
them, and were fast stitched to their bodies, and laid out
money for a large and useless wardrobe? Was it not
yours, my good friend, who had always some fragment
of riband to traffic with; and skill, at the same time, to
stimulate my taste, and turn it to your profit?”
Werner laughed, and continued: "I still recollect,
with pleasure, how I used to extract gain from your
theatrical campaigns, as army-contractors do from war.
BOOK I. CHAP. X.
35
When you mustered for the Deliverance of Jerusalem,'
I, for my part, made a pretty thing of profit, like the
Venetians in the corresponding case. I know of nothing
in the world more rational than to turn the folly of others
to our own advantage.”
((
Perhaps it were a nobler satisfaction to cure men of
their follies."
!
"From the little I know of men, this might seem a
vain endeavour. 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."
(C
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 your father's wrath. The verses may be alto-
gether beautiful; but the meaning of them is funda-
mentally false. I still recollect your Commerce perso-
nified; a shrivelled, wretched-looking sibyl she was. I
suppose you picked up the image of her from some miser-
able 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
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, with-
out needing to perplex himself in the details. What ad-
vantages 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 in-
troduce it into his economy."
"Pardon me," said Wilhelm, smiling; "you begin by

36
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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."
(6
My good friend, you do not see how form and matter
are in this case one; how neither can exist without the
other. Order and arrangement increase the desire to save
and get. A man embarrassed in his circumstances, and
conducting them imprudently, likes best to continue in
the dark; he will not gladly reckon up the debtor entries
he is charged with. But on the other hand, there is no-
thing to a prudent manager more pleasant than daily to
set before himself the sums of his growing fortune. Even
a mischance, if it surprise 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 faculties 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."
"O, certainly. Believe me, you want but to look upon
some great scene of activity to make you ours for ever;
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 enjoy-
ment, which circulate in their appointed courses through
the world. Cast a look on the natural and artificial pro-
ductions of all the regions of the earth; consider how
they have become, one here, another there, articles of
necessity for men. How pleasant and how intellectual
a task is it to calculate, at any moment, what is most
required, and yet is wanting, or hard to find; to pro-
cure for each easily and soon what he demands; to lay
in your stock prudently beforehand, and then to enjoy
the profit of every pulse in that mighty circulation.
BOOK I. CHAP. X.
37
This, it appears to me, is what no man that has a head
can attend to without pleasure."
Wilhelm seemed to acquiesce, and Werner continued.
"Do but visit one or two great trading-towns, one or
two seaports, and see if you can withstand the impression.
When you observe how many men are busied, whence so
many things have come, and whither they are going, you
will feel as if you too could gladly mingle in the business.
You will then see the smallest piece of ware in its con-
nexion with the whole mercantile concern; and for that
very reason you will reckon nothing paltry, because every
thing augments the circulation by which you yourself are
supported."
Werner had formed his solid understanding in con-
stant intercourse with Wilhelm; he was thus accustomed
to think also of his profession, of his employments, with ele-
vation 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 this false enthusiasm would infallibly be got the
better of, and so excellent a soul be brought back to the
right path. So, hoping in the present instance, he con-
tinued: "The great ones of the world have taken this
earth of ours to themselves; they live in the midst of
splendour and superfluity. The smallest nook of the land
is already a possession, none may touch it or meddle
with it; offices and civic callings bring in little profit;
where, then, will you find more honest acquisitions, juster
conquests, than those of trade? If the princes of this
world hold the rivers, the highways, the havens in their
power, and take a heavy tribute from every thing that
passes through them, may not we embrace with joy the
opportunity of levying tax and toll, by our activity, on those
38
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
1
commodities which the real or imaginary wants of men
have rendered indispensable? I can promise you, if you
would rightly apply your poetic view, my goddess might
be represented as an invincible, victorious queen, and
boldly opposed to yours. It is true, she bears the olive
rather than the sword; dagger or chain she knows not;
but she, too, gives crowns to her favourites; which, with-
out 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 con-
cealed his sentiments, remembering that Werner used to
listen with composure to his apostrophes. Besides, he
had fairness enough to be pleased at seeing each man
think the best of his own peculiar craft; provided only
his, of which he was so passionately fond, were likewise
left in peace.
"And for you," exclaimed Werner, "who take so
warm an interest in human concerns, what a sight will it
be to behold the fortune which accompanies bold under-
takings 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 cap-
ture? Not alone the relatives, the acquaintances, and
those that share with the adventurers, but every uncon-
cerned spectator also is excited, when he sees the joy with
which the long-imprisoned shipman springs on land be-
fore 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 favours truly, we must live and be men who toil with
their living minds and bodies, and enjoy with them also."
BOOK I. CHAP. XI.
39
CHAPTER XI.
Ir is now time that we should know something more of
Wilhelm's father and of Werner's; two men of very dif-
ferent modes of thinking, but whose opinions so far coin-
cided, that both regarded commerce as the noblest calling,
and both were peculiarly attentive to every advantage
which any kind of speculation might produce to them.
Old Meister, when his father died, had turned into money
a valuable collection of pictures, drawings, copperplates,
and antiquities: 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 commonly favoured by fortune. But
nothing was so much desired by Meister as to confer upon
his son those qualities of which himself was destitute, and
to leave his children advantages which he reckoned it of the
highest importance to possess. Withal, he felt a peculiar
inclination for magnificence; for whatever catches the eye,
and possesses at the same time real worth and durability.
In his house, he would have all things solid and massive;
his stores must be copious and rich; all his plate must be
heavy; the furniture of his table must be costly. On the
other hand, his guests were seldom invited; for every
dinner was a festival, which, both for its expense and for
its inconvenience, could not often be repeated. The eco-
nomy of his house went on at a settled, uniform rate; and
every thing that moved or had place in it was just what
yielded no one any real enjoyment.
The elder Werner, in his dark and hampered house,
40
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
led quite another sort of life. The business of the day, in
his narrow counting-house, at his ancient desk, once done,
Werner liked to eat well, and, if possible, to drink 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 connexion 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 attention of his guests, and none remarked
that the, 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 superior 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 commercial 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 returned so happily from his first
expedition, and transacted his affairs so cleverly, that I am
very curious to see how mine will do: his experience, I
fear, will cost him dearer."
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 admirable
gifts of the youth. Here, however, he deceived himself:
old Werner, 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 connexions
are to be renewed, new ones to be made. He may like-
wise help the speculation I was lately talking of; for with-
-
BOOK I. CHAP. XI.
41
out 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 dili-
gence: the day after to-morrow he is back again betimes;
we have his saddle-bags and letters made ready in the
meantime; he can set out on Monday morning."
Wilhelm was sent for, and informed of their determi-
nation. Who so glad as he, now seeing the means of
executing 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 per-
fect rectitude 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 decep-
tion he was meditating 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 signal 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
conjuror, or a cunning thief in durance often draws out
his feet from the fast-locked irons, to cherish in himself
the conviction that his deliverance is possible, nay, nearer
than short-sighted turnkeys believe.
At last the appointed hour struck; he went out, shook
off all anxiety, and hastened through the silent streets.
42
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
In the middle of the great square, he raised his hands to
the sky, feeling as if all was behind him and below him;
he had freed himself from all. One moment he figured
himself as in the arms of his beloved, the next as glancing
with her in the splendours of the stage; he soared aloft
in a world of hopes, only now and then the call of some
watchman brought to his recollection that he was still
wandering on the vulgar earth.
Mariana came to the stairs to meet him; and how
beautiful, how lovely! She received him in the new
white negligée; 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 shewed her,
in general terms, his plan and his wishes. He would try,
he said, to find a residence, then come back for her; he
hoped she would not refuse him her hand. The poor
girl was silent; she concealed her tears, and pressed her
friend against her bosom. Wilhelm, though interpreting
her silence in the most favourable 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 himself a father. But to
this she answered only with a sigh, with a kiss.
BOOK I. CHAP. XII.
43
CHAPTER XII.
NEXT morning, Mariana awoke only to new despondency;
she felt herself very solitary, she wished not to see the
light of day, but stayed in bed, and wept. Old Barbara
sat down by her, and tried to persuade and console her;
but it was not in her power so soon to heal the wounded
heart. The moment was now at hand, to which the poor
girl had been looking forward as to the last of her life.
Who could be placed in a more painful situation! The
man she loved was departing; a disagreeable lover was
threatening to come; and the most fearful mischiefs were
to be anticipated, if the two, as might easily happen,
should meet together.
"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."
(C
My poor Wilhelm," said the other, all in tears, "had
warning that a separation was at hand. A dream dis-
covered to him what we strove so much to hide. He
was sleeping calmly at my side; on a sudden I heard him
muttering 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 tha k
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 did you
look! But it had not lasted long, till I observed your
44
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 extended 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 dissipate a
frightful dream 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;
employing, 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 which 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 intention?
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 comes, to whom we owe our whole
BOOK I. CHAP. XII.
45
Wilhelm is
subsistence, whom we cannot live without.
straitened in his fortune, he can do nothing for me."
"Yes, unfortunately, he is of those lovers who bring
nothing but their hearts; and these people too have the
highest pretensions of any."
"No jesting! The unhappy youth thinks of leaving
his home, of going upon the stage, of offering me his
hand."
“Of empty hands we have already four."
"I have no choice," continued Mariana; "do you
decide for me! Cast me away to this side or to that; mark
only one thing: I think I carry in my bosom a pledge
that ought to unite me with him still more closely.
Consider and determine: 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 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
follow."
"We have this advantage, we can humour the Ma-
nager's caprice, and pride about the morals of his troop.
Both lovers are accustomed already to go secretly and
cunningly to work. For hours and opportunity I will
take thought; only henceforth you must play the part
that I prescribe to you. Who knows what circumstances
may arise to help us? If Norberg 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
46
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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.
CHAPTER XIII.
In the mean time, Wilhelm had completed the small
preliminary journey. His merchant being from home, he
delivered the letter of introduction to the mistress of the
house. But neither did this lady give him much further-
ance in his purposes; she was in a violent passion, and
her whole economy was in confusion.
He had not waited long till she disclosed to him,
what in truth could not be kept a secret, that her step-
daughter had run off with a player; a person who had
parted lately from a small strolling company, and had
stayed in the place, and commenced teaching French.
The father, distracted with grief and vexation, had run
to the Amt to have the fugitives pursued. She blamed
her daughter bitterly, and vilified the lover, till she left
no tolerable quality with either: she deplored at great
length the shame thus brought upon the family; embar-
rassing 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 an account of the
errand to his wife; and strove to hide the embarrassment
BOOK I. CHAP. XIII.
47
and distraction of his mind, while, after looking at the
letter, he directed that the horse it spoke of should be
given to Wilhelm.
Our friend thought it best to mount his steed imme-
diately, and quit a house, where in its present state he
could not possibly be comfortable; but the honest man
would not allow the son of one to whom he had so many
obligations to depart without tasting of his hospitality,
without remaining at least a night beneath his roof.
Wilhelm assisted at a melancholy supper; wore out a
restless night; and hastened to get rid of these people,
who, without knowing it, had, by their narratives and
condolences, 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 unpretending gait and contented bearing of the
body, he recognised 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 horseback. The history of
the two runaways, which he already knew too well, was
again detailed to him; and that with comments, not par-
ticularly flattering either to the young pair themselves or
to the parents. He learned also that the military were
come hither to take the loving couple into custody, who
had already been seized and detained in a neighbouring
village. After some time, accordingly, a cart was seen
advancing to the place, encircled with a city-guard more
ludicrous than appalling. An amorphous Town-clerk rode
forth, and made his compliments to the Actuarius (for
such was the young man whom Wilhelm had been speak-
48
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
ing to), on the border of their several districts, with great
conscientiousness and wonderful grimaces; as perhaps
the ghost and the conjuror 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 bystanders. Accident
had forced their conductors to bring them from the last
village in that unseemly style; the old chaise, which had
previously transported the lady, having there broken
down. On that occurrence she had begged for per-
mission to sit beside her friend; whom, in the conviction
that his crime was of a capital sort, the rustic bailiffs had
brought along so far in irons. These irons certainly con-
tributed to give the tender group a more interesting
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 bystanders;
"but not so guilty as we seem.
It is thus that savage
men reward true love; and parents, who entirely neglect
the happiness of their children, tear them with fury from
the arms of joy, when it has found them after many
weary days."
The spectators were expressing their sympathy in
various ways, when the officers of law having finished
their ceremonial, the cart went on, and Wilhelm, who
took a deep interest in the fate of the lovers, hastened
forward by a footpath 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
BOOK I. CHAP. XIII.
49
friend, the Actuarius, laid hold of him; and, giving him a
circumstantial detail of the whole proceedings, and then
launching out into a comprehensive eulogy of his own
horse, which he had got last night by barter, put a stop
to every other sort of conversation.
The luckless pair, in the meantime, had been set down
behind at the garden, which communicated by a little door
with the Amthaus, and thus brought in unobserved. The
Actuarius, for this mild and handsome treatment, accepted
of a just encomium from Wilhelm; though in truth his
sole object had been to mortify the crowd collected in
front of the Amthaus, by denying them the satisfaction of
looking at a neighbour in disgrace.
The Amtmann, who had no particular taste for such
extraordinary occurrences, being wont on these occasions.
to commit frequent errors, and with the best intentions to
be often paid with sour admonitions from the higher
powers, went with heavy steps into his office-room, the
Actuarius with Wilhelm and a few respectable citizens
following him.
The lady was first produced; she advanced without
pertness, calm and self-possessed. The manner of her
dress, the way in which she bore herself, shewed that she
was a person not without value in her own eyes. She
accordingly began, without any questions being put, to
speak not unskilfully about her situation.
The Actuarius bade her be silent, and held his pen
over the folded sheet. The Amtmann gathered up his
resolution, looked at his assistant, cleared his throat by
two or three hems, and asked the poor girl what was her
name, and how old she was.
I beg your pardon, sir," said she, “but it seems very
strange to me that you ask my name and age; seeing you
know very well what my name is, and that I am just of
the age of your oldest son. What you do want to know
VOL. I.
D
50
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
of me, and need to know, I will tell freely without cir-
cumlocution.
"Since my father's second marriage, my situation in
his house has not been of the most enviable sort. Oftener
than once I have had it in my power to make a suitable
marriage, had not my stepmother, dreading the expense
of my portion, taken care to thwart all such proposals.
At length I grew acquainted with the young Melina; I
felt constrained to love him; and as both of us 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 which was denied us at home. I took
nothing with me that was not my own; we did not run
away like thieves and robbers, and my lover does not
merit to be hauled about in this way with chains and
handcuffs. The Prince is just, and will not sanction such
severity. If we are liable to punishment, it is not punish-
ment of this kind."
The old Amtmann hereupon fell into double and
treble confusion. 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 mischief increased, when to repeated offi-
cial questions she refused giving any answer, but con-
stantly 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 honour."
The Actuarius, in the meantime, 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
BOOK I. CHAP. XIII.
51
the pretty criminal likewise glowed with the charr g
tinge of modesty. She was silent, she stammered, til 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 my-
self: and shall I now hesitate and stammer, when it does
me honour? 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 con-
fess, it was owing to fear alone 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 scan-
dal had occurred, or at least been brought to light.
Wilhelm transported his Mariana into this conjunc-
ture, 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 con-
ceal 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 farther investi-
gation.
-
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 con-
cerned about his fate. His answers were more careful;
and if he shewed less heroic generosity, he recommended
himself by the precision and distinctness of his expres-
sions.
52
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 be-
tween 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 contest of reciprocal magnanimity, the strength of
love in misfortune.
"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
solitude and deep secrecy, yet, if torn rudely by some
cruel chance into light, will shew itself more courageous,
strong, and resolute, than any of our loud and ostenta-
tious passions?"
To his comfort, the business now soon came to a
conclusion. The lovers were detained in tolerable quar-
ters 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.

BOOK I. CHAP. XIV.
55
CHAPTER XIV.
THE Conversation of these new acquaintances very soon
grew confidential and lively. When Wilhelm told the
downcast youth of his connexion with the lady's parents,
and offered to mediate in the affair, shewing at the same
time the strongest expectation of success, a light was shed
across the dreary and anxious mind of the prisoner; he
felt himself already free, already reconciled with the pa-
rents of his bride; and now began to speak about his
future occupation and support.
"On this point," said our friend, "you cannot long
be in difficulty; for you seem to me directed, not more by
your circumstances than by nature, to make your fortune
in the noble profession you have chosen. A pleasing
figure, a sonorous voice, a feeling heart! Could an actor
be better furnished? If I can serve you with a few in-
troductions, it will give me the greatest pleasure."
"I thank you with all my heart," replied the other;
"but I shall hardly be able to make use of them; for it
is my purpose, 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-
appear upon the stage; but rather to take up some civil
calling, be it what it will, so that I can but obtain one."
This is a strange resolution, which I cannot give my
approbation to. Without especial reasons, it can never


54
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
be advisable to change the mode of life we have begun
with; and, besides, I know of no condition that presents
so much allurement, 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 Wilhelm, "how seldom is any
man contented with the station where he happens to be
placed! He is ever coveting that of his neighbour, from
which the neighbour in his turn is longing to be free."
"Yet still there is a difference," said Melina, "be-
tween bad and worse. Experience, not impatience, makes
me determine as you see. Is there in the world any crea-
ture whose morsel of bread is attended with such vexation,
uncertainty, 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, there-
fore, led the conversation round them at a distance. His
friend explained himself the more candidly and circum-
stantially 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 dis-
contentment. 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 im-
·


BOOK I. CHAP. XIV.
55
mediately 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 undertake to help me, have the kind-
ness, 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 exclamations: " Unhappy Melina! not in thy con-
dition, but in thyself lies the mean impediment over which
thou canst not gain the mastery. What mortal in the world,
if without inward calling he take up a trade, an art, or any
But
mode of life, will not feel his situation miserable?
he who is born with capacities for any undertaking, finds
in executing this the fairest portion of his being. Nothing
upon earth without its difficulties! It is the secret impulse
within; it is the love and the delight we feel, that help us
to conquer obstacles, to clear out new paths, and to over-
leap the bounds of that narrow circle in which others
poorly toil. For thee the stage is but a few boards; the
parts assigned thee are but what a task is to a school-boy.
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, com-
prehend, 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

56
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
feed it when aroused. Hunger drives thee on, inconve-
niences withstand thee; and it is hidden from thee, that,
in every human condition, foes lie in wait for us, invin-
cible except by cheerfulness and equanimity. Thou dost
well to wish thyself within the limits of a common station;
for what station that required soul and resolution couldst
thou rightly fill! Give a soldier, a statesman, a divine thy
sentiments, and as justly will he fret himself about the
miseries of his condition. Nay, have there not been men
so totally forsaken by all feeling of existence, that they
have held the life and nature of mortals as a nothing, a
painful, short, and tarnished gleam of being? Did the
forms of active men rise up living in thy soul; were thy
breast warmed by a sympathetic fire; did the vocation
which proceeds from within diffuse itself over all thy
frame; were the tones of thy voice, the words of thy
mouth, delightful to hear; didst thou feel thy own being
sufficient for thyself, then wouldst thou doubtless seek
place and opportunity likewise to feel it in others."
Amid such words and thoughts, our friend undressed
himself, and went to bed, with feelings of the deepest sa-
tisfaction. 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 think-
ing of the business that lay before him. He revisited the
house of the forsaken family, where his presence caused
no small surprise. He introduced his proposal in the
most prudent manner, and soon found both more and
fewer difficulties than he had anticipated.
For one
thing, the evil was already done; and though people of
BOOK I. CHAP. XIV.
57
a singularly strict and harsh temper are wont to set them-
selves forcibly against the past, and thus to increase the
evil that cannot now be remedied; yet, on the other
hand, what is actually done exerts a resistless effect upon
most minds; an event which lately appeared 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 re-
turn, 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, touching a civil
provision for Melina, was attended with greater difficulties.
They liked not to have the luckless pair continually living
in their sight; they would not have a present object ever
calling to their minds the connexion 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 impres-
sion. Had he known the secret springs of the business,
he would have spared himself the labour 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 stepdaughter, a happy rival con-
stantly 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.
D 2
58
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER XV.
HAPPY season of youth! Happy times of the first wish
of love! A man is then like a child that can for hours
delight itself with an echo, can support alone the charges
of conversation, and be well contented with its entertain-
ment, if the unseen interlocutor will but repeat the con-
cluding 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 trans-
ferred the whole wealth of his own emotions to her, and
looked upon himself as a beggar that lived upon her alms;
and as a landscape 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
manager. 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 vapour of tallow lamps, looking out at
his mistress; 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-
ported into paradise. The stuffed bunches of wool de-
nominated lambs, the waterfalls of tin, the paper roses,
and the one-sided huts of straw, awoke in him fair poetic
visions of an old pastoral world. Nay, the very dancing
girls, ugly as they were when seen at hand, did not always
inspire him with disgust: they trod the same floor with
Mariana. So true is it, that love, which alone can give
their full charm to rose-bowers, myrtle-groves, and moon-
shine, can also communicate, even to shavings of wood
BOOK I. CHAP. XV.
59
and paper-clippings, the aspect of animated nature. It is
so strong a spice, that tasteless, or even nauseous soups
are by it rendered palatable.
So potent a spice was certainly required to render
tolerable, nay at last agreeable, the state in which he
usually found her chamber, not to say herself.
Brought up in a substantial burgher's house, cleanli-
ness and order were the element in which he breathed;
and inheriting as he did a portion of his father's taste for
finery, it had always been his care, in boyhood, to furbish
up his chamber, which he regarded as his little kingdom,
in the stateliest fashion. His bed-curtains were drawn to-
gether 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 instinc-
tively, 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 en-
cumbered 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 demeanour, the spirit of which seemed to hold up a
mirror of whatever, in the opinions, relations, and passions
of men, was stateliest and most magnificent. Of a piece
60
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
with this, thought Wilhelm, is also the player's domestic
life; a series of dignified transactions and employments,
whereof their appearance 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 shews 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 disorder. 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, pincushions,
hair-skewers, rouge-pots and ribands, books and straw-
hats; no article despised the neighbourhood of another;
all were united by a common element, powder and dust.
Yet as Wilhelm scarcely noticed in her presence aught
except herself; nay, as all that had belonged to her, that
she had touched, was dear to him, he came at last to feel,
in this chaotic housekeeping, a charm which the proud
pomp of his own habitation never had communicated.
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 careless
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 com-
munion betwixt them was fastening by invisible ties.
It was not so easy to reconcile with his previous ideas
the behaviour of the other players, whom, on his first

BOOK I. CHAP. XV.
61
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 honoured, and never could be honoured enough.
Then they would descant largely about wine-gardens and
coffee-houses; how much debt one of their comrades 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
improvement 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 highway and in the
Amthaus, the views entertained by Melina, and whatever
else he had witnessed, again arose before him, and brought
his keen forecasting mind into a sort of anxious dis-
quietude; which no longer to endure, he struck the
spurs into his horse, and hastened towards home.

62
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
By this expedient, however, he but ran to meet new
vexations. Werner, his friend and future brother-in-law,
was waiting for him, to begin a serious, important, unex-
pected conversation.
Werner was one of those tried sedate persons, with
fixed principles and habits, whom we usually denominate
cold characters, because on emergencies they do not
burst forth quickly or very visibly. Accordingly, his
intercourse with Wilhelm was a perpetual contest; which,
however, only served to knit their mutual affection the
more firmly; for, notwithstanding their very opposite
modes of thinking, each found his account in communi-
cating with the other. Werner was very well contented
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 understand the other. At bottom, however,
being both good-hearted men, they were both travelling
together towards one goal; and they could never under-
stand 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 favourite 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 con-
tentment in the presence of a friend, is most clearly indi-
cated. The considerate and punctual Werner first sought
for the root of the evil in his own conduct; till some
rumours of the neighbourhood set him on the proper
1

BOOK I. CHAP. XV.
63
trace, and some unguarded proceedings on the part of
Wilhelm brought him nearer to the certainty. He began
his investigation; and ere long 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,
Werner's anxiety increased to a painful extent; for he
heard that Mariana was a most seductive girl, who pro-
bably was draining the youth of his money, while, at the
same time, she herself was supported by another and a
very worthless lover.
Having pushed his suspicions as near certainty as
possible, he had resolved to make a sharp attack on
Wilhelm he was now in full readiness with all his pre-
parations, 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 friendship. He left no
point of the subject 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. Wilhelm 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 faithfulness 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 humour 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

64
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
of Mariana overclouded and almost deformed in his soul,
first by the capricious fancies of his journey, and then by
the unfriendliness of Werner. He adopted the surest
means of restoring it to complete brilliancy and beauty,
by setting out at night, and hastening to his wonted
destination. She received him with extreme joy: on
entering the town, he had ridden past her window; she
had been expecting his company; and it is easy to con-
ceive 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 pre-
ference above the other; each has loved sooner, more
devotedly; and each, in this contest, would rather be
conquered than conquer.
Wilhelm repeated to his mistress, what he had so often
told her before, how she soon abstracted his attention
from the play, and fixed it on herself; how her form, her
acting, her voice inspired him; how at last he went only
on the nights when she was to appear; how, in fine,
having ventured behind the scenes, he had often stood by
her unheeded: and he spoke with rapture of the happy
evening when he found an opportunity to do her some
civility, and lead her into conversation.
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;
BOOK I. CHAP. XVI.
65
she affirmed that even then he pleased her before all
others, and made her long for his acquaintance.
How gladly did Wilhelm credit all this! How
gladly did he catch at the persuasion, that when he used
to approach her, she had felt herself drawn towards him
by some resistless influence; that she had gone with him
between the side-scenes, on purpose to see him more
closely, and get acquainted with him; and that, in fine,
when his backwardness and modesty were not to be
conquered, she had herself afforded him an opportunity,
and as it were compelled him to hand her a glass of
lemonade!
In this affectionate contest, which they pursued through
all the little circumstances of their brief romance, the
hours passed rapidly away; and Wilhelm left his mistress,
with his heart at peace, and firmly determined on pro-
ceeding forthwith 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 Mariana, meaning thus to bring to a decision
the proposal, about which she had hitherto avoided speak-
ing with him. The letter was as follows:
"Under the kind veil of night, which has often over-
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
66
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
means of him, and, while the holy ceremonies are pro-
ceeding, transports himself in longing thought before the
mysterious 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 remain-
ing ever thine! Need I repeat what I desire? I must;
for it seems as if yet thou hadst never understood me.
"How often, in the low tones of true love, which,
though wishing to gain all, dares speak but little, have I
sought in thy heart for the desire of a perpetual union.
Thou hast understood me, doubtless; for in thy own heart
the same wish must have arisen; thou didst comprehend
me, in that kiss, in the intoxicating peace of that happy
evening. Thy silence testified to me thy modest honour;
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. Ma-
riana, 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 recognise the pure and
generous love that cares not for itself, but for its object!
Confide in me, and fear nothing. We belong to one an-
other; and neither of us leaves aught or forsakes aught, if
we live for one another.
"Take it, then, this hand! Solemnly I offer this un-
necessary pledge! All the joys of love we have already
felt; but there is a new blessedness in the firm thought of
duration. Ask not how; care not. Fate takes care of love,
and the more certainly as love is easy to provide for.
My heart has long ago forsaken my paternal home;
BOOK I. CHAP. XVI.
67
it is with thee, as my spirit hovers on the stage. O my
darling! 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
happiness still glow around me.
"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 no-
thing rashly; my plan is laid, and I will execute it calmly.
"I am acquainted with the Manager Serlo; my jour-
ney 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 company 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 acquainted 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 between 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
68
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
share it between us; it will suffice for both; and before
that is finished, Heaven will send us more.
66
No, my darling, I am not downcast about the issue.
What is begun with so much cheerfulness must reach a
happy end. I have never doubted that a man may force
his way through the world, if he really is in earnest about
it; and I feel strength enough within me to provide a
liberal support for two, and many more. The world, we
are often told, is unthankful; I have never yet discovered
that it was unthankful, if one knew how, in the proper
way, to do it service.
My whole soul burns at the idea,
that I shall at length step forth and speak to the hearts
of men something they have, long been yearning to hear.
How many thousand times has a feeling of disgust passed
through me, alive as I am to the nobleness of the stage,
when I have seen the poorest creatures fancying they
could speak a word of power to the hearts of the people.
The tone of a man's voice singing treble sounds far plea-
santer and purer to my ear: it is incredible how these
blockheads, in their coarse ineptitude, deform things
beautiful and venerable.
"The theatre has often been at variance with the pul-
pit; they ought not, I think, to quarrel. How much is it
to be wished, that in both the celebration of nature and
of God were entrusted to none but men of noble minds!
These are no dreams, my darling! As I have felt in thy
heart that thou couldst love, I seize the dazzling thought,
and say—no, I will not say, but I will hope and trust-
that we two shall yet appear to men as a pair of chosen
spirits, to unlock their hearts, to touch the recesses of
their nature, and prepare for them celestial joys, as surely
as the joys I have tasted with thee deserved to be named
celestial, since they drew us from ourselves, and exalted
us above ourselves.
"I cannot end. I have already said too much; and
Sp

BOOK I. CHAP. XVII.
69
know not whether I have yet said all, all that concerns thy
interests; for to express the agitations of the vortex that
whirls round within myself is beyond the power of words.
"Yet take this sheet, my love! I have again read it
over; I observe it ought to have begun more cautiously;
but it contains in it all that thou hast need to know;
enough to prepare thee for the hour when I shall return
with the lightness of love to thy bosom. I seem to myself
like a prisoner that is secretly filing his irons asunder. I
bid good night to my soundly sleeping parents. Farewell,
my beloved, farewell! For this time I conclude; my eyelids
have more than once dropped together; it is now deep in
the night."
CHAPTER XVII.
It seemed as if the day would never end, while Wilhelm,
with the letter beautifully folded in his pocket, longed to
meet with Mariana. The darkness had scarcely come on,
when, contrary to custom, he glided forth to her house.
His plan was to announce himself for the night; then to
quit his mistress for a short time, leaving the letter with
her ere he went away; and, returning at a late hour, to
obtain her reply, her consent, or to force it from her by
the power of his caresses. He flew into her arms, and
pressed her in rapture to his bosom. The vehemence of
his emotions prevented him at first from noticing that, on
this occasion, she did not receive him with her wonted
heartiness; yet she could not long conceal her painful
situation, but imputed it to slight indisposition. She
complained of a headache, and would not by any
means consent to his proposal of coming back that
night. Suspecting nothing wrong, he ceased to urge

70
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
•
her; but felt that this was not the moment for de-
livering his letter. He retained it, therefore; and as
several of her movements and observations courteously
compelled him to take his leave, in the tumult of unsa-
tiable love he snatched up one of her neckerchiefs,
squeezed it into his pocket, and forced himself away from
her lips and her door. He returned home, but could not
rest there; he again dressed himself, and went out into
the open air.
After walking up and down several streets, he was
accosted by a stranger inquiring for a certain inn. Wil-
In the way,
helm offered to conduct him to the house.
his new acquaintance asked about the names of the
streets, the owners of various extensive edifices, then
about some police-regulations of the town; so that by the
time they reached the door of the inn, they had fallen
The stranger
into quite an interesting conversation.
compelled his guide to enter, and drink a glass of punch
with him. Ere long he had told his name and place of
abode, as well as the business that had brought him
hither; and he seemed to expect a like confidence from
Wilhelm. Our friend, without any hesitation, mentioned
his name and the place where he lived.
"Are you not a grandson of the old Meister, who
possessed that beautiful collection of pictures and sta-
tues?" inquired the stranger.
"Yes, I am so. I was ten years old when my grand-
father died; and it grieved me very much to see these
fine things sold.”
"Your father got a fine sum of money for them."
"You know of it, then?"
“O yes; I saw that treasure ere it left your house.
Your grandfather was not merely a collector, he had a
thorough knowledge of art. In his younger happy years
he had been in Italy; and had brought back with him

BOOK I. CHAP. XVII.
71
such treasures as could not now be got for any price.
He possessed some exquisite pictures by the best mas-
ters. When you looked through his drawings, you would
scarcely have believed your eyes. Among his marbles
were some invaluable fragments; his series of bronzes
was instructive and well chosen; he had also collected
medals, in considerable quantity, relating to history and
art; his few gems deserved the greatest praise. In ad-
dition 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
cannot tell you how empty the chambers looked, as we saw
those objects vanishing one by one, which had amused
us from our earliest years, and which we considered
equally unalterable with the house or the town itself."
"If I mistake not, your father put the capital pro-
duced by the sale into some neighbour's stock, with whom
he commenced a sort of partnership in trade."
"Quite right; and their joint speculations have pro-
spered in their hands. Within the last twelve years, they
have greatly increased their fortunes, and are now the more
vehemently 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 to it as your grandfather's cabinet was.
I saw
it but a short time prior to the sale; and I may say, I
was myself the cause of its being then disposed of. A
rich nobleman, a great amateur, but one who, in such
important transactions, does not trust to his own solitary
judgment, had sent me hither, and requested my advice.
For six days I examined the collection; on the seventh, I
advised my friend to pay down the required sum without

72
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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
recognised him in you."
"It is a good while ago, and we all change more or
less. You had, if I mistake not, a favourite piece among
them, to which you were ever calling my attention."
"O 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, of no superiority in colouring, and executed.
altogether with great mannerism."
"This I did not understand, and do not yet; it is the
subject that charms me in a picture, not the art."
"Your grandfather seemed to have thought otherwise.
The greater part of his collection consisted of excellent
pieces; in which, represent what they might, one con-
stantly 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 impression; which not even your criticism, greatly
as I honour 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 inheritance which nature has given us, and
conceal in his own bosom the fire which should warm and
animate himself and others, so that his vitals are wasted
away by unutterable pains! I feel a pity for the ill-
fated man that would consecrate himself to another,
when the heart of that other has already found a worthy
object of true and pure affection.”
BOOK I. CHAP. XVII.
73
"Such feelings are, however, very foreign to the
principles by which a lover of art examines the works
of great painters; and most probably you too, had the
cabinet continued 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 awakening a taste in me, of developing a talent,
which will operate far more powerfully on my history
than ever those lifeless pictures could have done, I easily
content myself, and honour 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 incli-
nations to the will of higher natures.”
"Do you then believe in no destiny? No power
that rules over us, and directs all for our ultimate advan-
tage ?"
"The question is not now of my belief; nor is this
the place to explain how I may have attempted to form
for myself 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 ground-work of its being; the accidental it can direct,
and guide, and employ for its own purposes; and only
while this principle of reason stands firm and inex-
VOL. I.
E
74
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
pugnable, 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 circum-
stance induced you to strike into a certain path, where
some accidental occurrence ere long met you, and a series
of unexpected incidents at length brought you to some
point which you yourself had scarcely once contemplated?
Should not lessons 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 could keep the money in his purse;
for occasions enough are occurring to get rid of both.
He alone is worthy of respect, who knows what is of use
to himself and others, and who labours 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 incessant 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;
BOOK I. CHAP. XVII.
75
:
گیا ۔ .
he heard a sound of clarionets, hunting-horns, and
bassoons; it swelled his bosom with delightful feelings.
It was some travelling showmen that produced this plea-
sant 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 surrendered 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 spectator; which to enjoy, the gods might deter-
mine to forsake the painless condition of their pure bles-
sedness! To recollect 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

76
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
himself in thoughts of her; his rest passed away into long-
ing; 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 restlessness increased, as his feelings were no longer
nourished and assuaged by the melody. He sat down
upon her threshold, and felt more peace. He kissed the
brass knocker of her door; he kissed the threshold over
which her feet went out and in, and warmed it by the fire
of his breast. He again sat still for a moment, and
figured her behind her curtains in the white night-gown,
with the red riband round her head, in sweet repose; he
almost fancied that he was himself 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-dream-
ing in beneath the trees, set himself for home, and con-
stantly 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

BOOK I. CHAP. XVII.
77
could exert himself and look sharply, the appearance was
already lost in the night; yet afar off he thought he saw
it again gliding past a white house. He stood and
strained his eyes; but, ere he could arouse himself and
follow the phantom, it had vanished. Whither should he
pursue it?
What street had the man taken, if it were a
man?
A nightly traveller, when at some turn of his path he
has seen the country for an instant illuminated by a flash
of lightning, will, with dazzled eyes, next moment, seek
in vain for the preceding forms and the connexion 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 succeeding moments of composure,
regarded as a child of imagination, 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 grey 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 harmonious 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 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,

78
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
5
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 nightgown 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."

WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
BOOK II.
1
WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
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; whatever once lies finished and done, can no longer
at all fix our attention, especially if we at first prophesied
an evil issue to the undertaking.
Therefore we shall not try to entertain our readers
with any circumstantial account of the grief and despera-
tion into which the ill-fated Wilhelm 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 main-
taining the connexion 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 vigour; and in like manner,
when a luckless, unlooked-for fate overtook the wretched
Wilhelm, his whole being in a moment was laid waste.
As when by chance, in the preparation of some artificial
firework, any part of the composition kindles before its
E 2
82
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 together with destructive tumult, all at
once in his bosom. In such desolate moments, the friend
that has hastened to deliverance stands fixed in astonish-
ment; and for him who suffers, it is a benefit that sense
forsakes him.
M
Days of pain, unmixed, ever-returning, and purposely
renewed, succeeded next; still even these are to be re-
garded as a grace from nature. In such hours Wilhelm
had not yet quite lost his mistress; his pains were inde-
fatigable struggles, 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 for ever. 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 labour in dissevering the particles of
that frame which they once animated; 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 re-
called save by the breath of Him that lives for ever.
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, resolutely zealous to search into the monster's in-
most life. The opportunity was lucky, the evidence at
BOOK 11. CHAP. I.
83
hand, and many were the histories and narratives with
which he backed it out. With such unrelenting vehe-
mence did he make his advances, leaving his friend not
even the respite of the smallest momentary self-deception,
but treading down every lurking-place, in which he might
have saved himself from desperation, that nature, not in-
clined 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, medi-
cines, overstraining and exhaustion, besides the unwearied
attentions 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
moment. 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 bygone happiness. He would
paint them to his fancy in the liveliest colours, transport
himself 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 dismember-
ing depth, then plunge down into its horrors, and thus
force from nature the bitterest 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
84
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
many sorrows of its own production, as if it meant then
first to give the right value to what is gone for ever. He
likewise felt so convinced that his present loss was the
sole, the first, the last which he ever could experience in
life, that he turned away from every consolation which
aimed at shewing that his sorrows might be less than
endless.
CHAPTER II.
ACCUSTOMED in this way to torment himself, he now also
attacked what still remained to him, what next to love,
and along with it, had given him the highest joys and
hopes, his talent as a poet and actor, with spiteful criti-
cisms on every side. In his labours he could see nothing
but a shallow imitation of prescribed forms, without in-
trinsic worth; he looked on them as stiff school-exercises,
destitute of any spark of nature, truth, or inspiration. His
poems now appeared nothing more than a monotonous
arrangement of syllables, 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
gait, his movements, his mode of declamation, were seve-
rally taxed; he decisively renounced every species of ad-
vantage 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


BOOK II. CHAP. II.
85
the fellowship of the muses, to declare ourselves for ever
undeserving to be of their community; and to forego the
fairest and most immediate kind of approbation, what is
openly bestowed on our person, our voice, and our de-
meanour.
Thus then our friend had long ago entirely resigned
himself, 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; cor-
respondence and calculations, all that was intrusted to his
charge, he attended to and managed with the greatest dili-
gence and zeal. Not in truth with that warm diligence
which to the busy man is its own regard, 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 testimony of our minds is crowning
it with approbation, can scarcely repress a struggling sigh.
In this manner he had 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 him-
self 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-
!


86
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
ceeded by irrefragable reasons in annihilating every hope
of love, of 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
this purpose he had lit a fire in his chamber one cool
evening, and brought out a little chest of reliques, among
which were multitudes of small articles, that, in memor-
able moments, he had begged or stolen from Mariana.
Each withered 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 riband-
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 separated from his mistress,
he had gained the victory, should, in the presence of these
memorials, again gather strength? We first observe how
dreary and disagreeable an overclouded day is, when a
single sunbeam pierces through, and offers to us the ex-
hilarating splendour of a serene hour.
Accordingly, it was not without disturbance that he
saw these reliques, long preserved as sacred, fade away
from before him in smoke and flame. Sometimes he
shuddered and hesitated 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 pro-
ceeded 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, pur-
posing 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!
BOOK II. CHAP. II.
87
If we happen, under certain circumstances, to have
written and sealed and despatched a letter to a friend,
which, however, does not find him, but is brought back
to us, and we open it at the distance of some considerable
time, a singular emotion is produced in us, on breaking
up our own seal, and conversing with our altered self as
with a third person. A similar and deep feeling seized
our friend, as he now opened this packet, and threw the
scattered leaves into the fire; which was flaming fiercely
with its offerings, when Werner entered, expressed hist
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.
66
"I cannot see how thou shouldst bring thyself to
such extremities," said Werner. Why must these la-
bours, because they are not excellent, be annihilated ?”
"Because either a poem is excellent, or it should not
be allowed to exist. Because each man, who has no gift
for producing first-rate works, should entirely abstain
from the pursuit of art, and seriously guard himself
against every deception on that subject. 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 the force within us.
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
88
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
them set themselves to learn playing on his instrument.
How many wander back and forward on this bootless
way! Happy they, who soon detect the chasm that lies
between their wishes and their powers!"
Werner contradicted this opinion; their discussion
became lively, and Wilhelm could not without emotion
employ against his friend the arguments with which he
had already so frequently tormented himself. Werner
maintained that it was not reasonable wholly to relinquish
a pursuit for which a man had some propensity and talent,
merely because he never could succeed in it to full perfec-
tion. There were many vacant hours, he said, which
might be filled up by it; and then by and by some result
might be produced, which would yield a certain satisfac-
tion to himself and others.
Wilhelm, who in this matter was of quite a different
opinion, here interrupted him, and said with great vivacity:
"How immensely, dear friend, do you err in be-
lieving that a work, the first presentation of which is to
fill the whole soul, can be produced in broken hours
scraped together from other extraneous employment. No,
the poet must live wholly for himself, wholly in the
objects that delight him. Heaven has furnished him
internally with precious gifts; he carries in his bosom a
treasure that is ever of itself increasing; he must also live
with this treasure, undisturbed from without, in that still
blessedness which the rich seek in vain to purchase with´
their accumulated stores. Look at men, how they struggle
after happiness 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 enjoyment of the world; the feeling of himself in
others; the harmonious conjunction of many things that
will seldom exist together.
"What is it that keeps men in continual discontent

BOOK II. CHAP. II.
89
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 con-
flicting tumult of the passions; sees families and king-
doms raging in aimless commotion; sees those inexplicable
enigmas of misunderstanding, which frequently a single
monosyllable would suffice to explain, occasioning convul-
sions 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 devoting his days to
wasting melancholy, for some deep disappointment; or, in
the ebullience of joy, is going out to meet his happy
destiny, the lightly-moved and all-conceiving spirit of the
poet steps forth, like the sun from night to day, and with
soft transitions tunes his harp to joy or woe. From his
heart, its native soil, springs up the lovely flower of
wisdom; and if others, while waking, dream, and are
pained with fantastic delusions from their every sense, he
passes the dream of life like one awake, and the strangest
of incidents is to him a part both of the past and of the
future. And thus the poet is at once a teacher, a pro-
phet, a friend of gods and men. How! thou wouldst
have him descend from his height to some paltry occu-
pation? 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 gaily 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 farm-yard by his barking!"
Werner, it may well be supposed, had listened with
the greatest surprise. "All true," he rejoined, "if men

90
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
were but made like birds, and though they neither spun
nor weaved, could yet spend peaceful days in perpetual
enjoyment; if, at the approach of winter, they could as
easily betake themselves to distant regions, could retire
before scarcity, and fortify themselves against frost."
"Poets have lived so,” exclaimed Wilhelm, “in times
when true nobleness was better reverenced; and so should
they ever live. Sufficiently provided for within, they
had need of little from without; the gift of communicating
lofty emotions and glorious images to men, in melodies
and words that charmed the ear, and fixed themselves
inseparably on whatever objects they referred to, of old
enraptured the world, and served the gifted as a rich
inheritance. At the courts of kings, at the tables of the
great, beneath the windows 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 forgotten for
The lover wished that he could feel his longings
and his joys so variedly and so harmoniously as the poet's
inspired lips had skill to shew 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 splendour of the poet's spirit, sensible to all
worth, and exalting 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?”
ever.
66
'My friend," said Werner, after some reflection, "it
BOOK II. CHAP. II.
91
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 contradictions of so hard a piece of self-
denial, and with the enjoyment of this one guiltless plea-
sure to renounce the enjoyment of all others."
"Shall I confess it," said the other, " and wilt thou
not laugh at me if I acknowledge, that these ideas pursue
me constantly; that let me fly them as I will, when I
explore my heart, I find all my early wishes yet rooted
there, firmly, nay more firmly than ever? Yet what now
remains for me, wretched that I am? Ah! whoever
should have told me that the arms of my spirit, with
which I was grasping at infinity, and hoping with cer-
tainty 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 for ever, 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 mounting adventurer hovers in
the air; the iron breaks, and he lies broken and dismem-
bered 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
endeavoured to restrain him, but in vain.
“Let me
alone!" cried Wilhelm; "what should these miserable
leaves do here? To me they give neither pleasant recol-
lections, nor pleasant hopes. Shall they remain behind
92
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
to vex me to the end of my life? Shall they perhaps one
day serve the world for a jest, instead of awakening
sympathy and horror? Woe to me! 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 invin-
cible; 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
perhaps not altogether worthless! Her situation, the
crookedness of her destiny, have a thousand times excused
her in my mind. I have been too cruel; you steeled me
in your own cold unrelenting harshness; you held my
wavering senses captive, and hindered me from doing for
myself and her what I owed to both. Who knows to
what a state I may have brought her; my conscience by
degrees presents to me, in all its heaviness, in what help-
lessness, in what despair I may have left her. Was it not
possible that she might clear herself? Was it not pos-
sible? How many misconceptions throw the world into
perplexity; how many circumstances may extort forgive-
ness for the greatest fault? Often do I figure her as
sitting by herself in silence, leaning on her elbows.
This,' she says, is the faith, the love he swore to me!
With this hard stroke to end the delicious life which made
us one!"" He broke out into a stream of tears, while he
threw himself down with his face upon the table, and
wetted the remaining papers with his weeping.
Werner stood beside him in the deepest perplexity.
He had not anticipated this fierce ebullition of feeling.
More than once he had tried to interrupt his friend, more
(
BOOK II. CHAP. III.
93
than once to lead the conversation elsewhere, but in vain;
the current was too strong for him. It remained that
long-suffering friendship should again take up her office.
Werner allowed the first shock of sorrow to pass over,
while by his silent presence he testified a pure and honest
sympathy. And thus they both remained that evening:
Wilhelm sunk in the dull feeling of old sorrows; and the
other terrified at this new outbreaking of a passion, which
he thought his prudent counsels and keen persuasion had
long since mastered and destroyed.
CHAPTER III.
AFTER such relapses, Wilhelm usually applied himself to
business and activity with augmented ardour; and he
found it the best means to escape the labyrinth into which
he had again been tempted to enter. His attractive way
of treating strangers, the ease with which he carried on a
correspondence in any living language, more and more
increased the hopes of his father and his trading friends;
and comforted them in their sorrow for his sickness, the
origin of which had not been known, and for the pause
which had thus interrupted their plan. They determined
a second time on Wilhelm's setting out to travel; and we
now find him on horseback, with his saddle-bags behind
him, exhilarated by the motion and the free air, approach-
ing 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. Over-
hanging cliffs, roaring brooks, moss-grown rocky walls,
deep precipices, he here saw for the first time; yet his
94
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
earliest dreams of youth had wandered among such regions.
In these scenes, he felt his age renewed; all the sorrows
he had undergone were obliterated from his soul; with
unbroken cheerfulness he repeated to himself passages of
various poems, particularly of the Pastor Fido, which, in
these solitary places, flocked in crowds into his mind. He
also recollected many pieces of his own songs, and recited
them with a peculiar contentment. He peopled the world
which lay before him with all the forms of the past; and
each step into the future was to him full of augury of im-
portant operations 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 inter-
rupted 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 neighbourhood is gathering to
see it."
"How!" 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 you
learn by whom the piece is to be played. 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 honour of him."
BOOK II. CHAP. III.
95
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
surprise: “Ay, 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."
He then called out his wife, who seemed no less de-
lighted than himself to see the youth: she declared that
he was very like his father; and lamented that, having
such a multitude of guests already in the house, she could
not lodge him for the night.
The account was clear, and quickly settled; Wilhelm
put the roll of gold into his pocket, and wished that all
his other business might go on so smoothly. At last the
play-hour came: they now waited nothing but the com-
ing 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 employed in the manufactory had formerly worked
as an understrapper at the Prince's theatre; he had now
represented woods, and streets, and chambers, somewhat
rudely it is true, yet so as to be recognised for such.
The piece itself they had borrowed from a strolling com-
pany, 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
96
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
great variety of interesting situations. Being the first
play our friend had witnessed for so long a time, it sug-
gested several reflections to him. It was full of action, but
without any true delineation of character. It pleased
and delighted. Such are always the beginnings of the
scenic art. The rude man is contented if he see but
something going on, the man of more refinement must
be made to feel, the man entirely refined desires to
reflect.
The players he would willingly have helped here and
there; for a very little would have made them greatly
better.
His silent meditations were somewhat broken in upon
by the tobacco-smoke, which now began to rise in great
and greater copiousness. Soon after the commencement
of the piece, 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.
For afterpiece an opera was given. A portrait, repre-
senting the old gentleman in his bridegroom dress, stood
upon an altar, hung with garlands. All the players paid
their reverence 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. So ended
the piece; 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.

BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
97
The remaining business, which our friend in the fol-
lowing days had to transact in various quarters of the
hill-country, was not all so pleasant, or so easy to con-
clude with satisfaction. Many of his creditors entreated
for delay, many were uncourteous, many lied. In con-
formity with his instructions, he had some of them to sue
at law; he was thus obliged to seek out advocates, and
give instructions to them, to appear before judges, and to
go through many other sorry duties of the same sort.
His case was hardly bettered, when people chanced to
incline shewing some attentions to him. He found very
few that could any way instruct him; few with whom he
could hope to establish a useful commercial correspond-
ence. Unhappily, moreover, the weather now grew rainy,
and travelling on horseback in this district came to be
attended with insufferable difficulties. He therefore
thanked his stars on again getting near the level coun-
try; 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 great company of rope-dancers, leapers, and jugglers,
having a Strong Man along with them, had just arrived
VOL. I.
F
98
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
..
ņ
with their wives and children; and while preparing for a
grand exhibition, they kept up a perpetual racket. They
first quarrelled with the landlord; then with one another;
and if their contention was intolerable, the expressions of
their satisfaction were infinitely more so. Undetermined
whether he should go or stay, he was standing in the
door, looking at some workmen who had just begun to
erect a stage in the middle of the square.
A girl, with roses and other flowers for sale, coming
by, held out her basket to him, and he purchased a beau-
tiful 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 opposite side of the square flew up, and a hand-
some young lady looked out from it. Notwithstanding
the distance, he observed that her face was animated by
a pleasant cheerfulness: her fair hair fell carelessly stream-
ing about her neck; she seemed to be looking at the
stranger. In a short time afterwards, 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
favour 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, which she returned with a friendly courtesy,
and then withdrew from the window.
66
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 trowsers with
puffs, looked very pretty on the child. Its long black hair
was curled, and wound in locks and plaits about the head.
He looked at the figure with astonishment, and could not
determine whether to take it for a boy or a girl. How-
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
99
ever, he decided for the latter; and as the child ran by,
he took her up in his arms, bade her good-day, and
asked her to whom she belonged, though he easily per-
ceived 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 parlour
two men practising the small sword, or seeming rather to
make trial 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 reason 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 inspec-
tion," said our friend, "I am well content to risk a few
passes with you."
Accordingly they fought together; and although the
stranger greatly over-matched his new competitor, he
politely kept declaring that it all depended upon prac-
tice; 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-coloured 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 holding a child before her, all bedizened with
ribands and spangles. Next came the remainder of the
troop on foot; some of them carrying children on their
Har M
100
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
shoulders in dangerous postures, yet smoothly and lightly;
among these the young, dark, black-haired figure again
attracted Wilhelm's notice.
Pickleherring ran gaily up and down the crowding
multitude, distributing his hand-bills with much practical
fun; here smacking the lips of a girl, there breeching a
boy, and awakening generally among the people an in-
vincible desire to know more of him.
On the painted flags, the manifold science of the com-
pany was visibly delineated; particularly of a 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 consider-
ation, and excite a greater curiosity.
During the procession, Wilhelm's fair neighbour had
again appeared at the window; and he did not fail to
inquire about her of his new companion. This person,
whom, for the present, we shall call Laertes, offered to
take Wilhelm over and introduce him. "I and the lady,"
said he, laughing, are two fragments of an acting com-
pany that made shipwreck here a short while ago. The
pleasantness of the place has induced us to stay in it, and
consume our little stock of cash in peace, while one of
our friends is out seeking some situation for himself
and us."
❝ I am
Laertes immediately accompanied his new acquaint-
ance to Philina's door; where he left him for a moment,
and ran to a shop hard by for a few sweetmeats.
sure you will thank me," said he on returning,
" for pro-
curing 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 negli-
gée, not indeed superstitiously clean, but which, for that
very reason, gave her a more frank and domestic air. Her
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
66
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
101
short dress did not hide a pair of the prettiest feet and
ancles in the world.
thank you for your charming flowers."
"You are welcome," she cried to Wilhelm," and I
She led him into
her chamber 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 con-
fectionary; and it is himself that cannot live without lick-
ing 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 din-
ner at the Mill ?"
"With all my heart," said Philina;
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
manner 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 hair with his implements, and seemed as if he
would not soon be done. Philina more than once re-
proved him for his blunders, and at last sharply packed
(6
we must give
102
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 permission 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 excur-
sion. 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 accompanying 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. Observ-
ing this attention, they expanded their circle, and seemed
making preparation for their grandest 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
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
103
at this; they did not discover that the peasant was a
miner in disguise; 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 mineralogy. The peasant not being master
of his foreign terminology, asked all manner of silly ques-
tions; whereat the spectators, as themselves more know-
ing, set up many a hearty laugh. The miner endeavoured
to instruct him; and shewed 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 honour.
66
“In this little dialogue," said Wilhelm, when seated at
table, we have a lively proof how useful the theatre
might be to all ranks; what advantage even the State
might procure from it, if the occupations, trades, and
undertakings of men were brought upon the stage; and
presented on their praiseworthy side, in that point of
view in which the State itself should honour 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 natural and
reciprocal influence of all classes on each other, and to
guide some poet, gifted with sufficient humour, in such
labours as these? In this way, I am persuaded, many
very entertaining, both agreeable and useful pieces, might
be executed."
104
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
"So far," said Laertes, "as I, in wandering about the
world, have been able to observe, statesmen are accus-
tomed 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
spasmodic motion; I could like to pluck it off the vene-
rable 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 con-
tinued her lavish generosity, in a style of gaiety reach-
ing to extravagance; for, at last, every coin belonging to
herself or her companions being 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
apartments; 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
background 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
lookers-on are generally kind enough to laugh, first pre-
pared the meeting to attention and good humour. Some
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
105
children, whose bodies were made to exhibit the strangest
contortions, awakened astonishment or horror; and Wil-
helm could not, without the deepest sympathy, see the
child he had at the first glance felt an interest in, go
through her fantastic positions 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
different object. The children in succession had to mount
the rope; the learners first, that by practising they might
prolong the spectacle, and shew 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
agreeable 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 themselves 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 uni-
versal satisfaction higher at every step and spring. The
stateliness with which they bore themselves, the seeming
attentions of the rest to them, gave them the appearance
of king and queen of the whole troop, and all held them
worthy of the rank.
The animation of the people extended itself to the
spectators at the windows; the ladies looked incessantly
F 2
106
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
at Narciss, the gentlemen at Landrinette. The populace
hurraed, the more cultivated public could not keep from
clapping of the hands; Pickleherring now could scarcely
raise a laugh. A few, however, 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 entertainment."
The people by degrees dispersed, and the square was
again become empty, while Philina and Laertes were
disputing about the forms and the skill of Narciss and
Landrinette, and rallying each other on the subject at
great length. Wilhelm noticed the wonderful child stand-
ing on the street near some other children at play; he
shewed her to Philina, who, in her lively way, immedi-
ately 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
Mignon." "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
66
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
107
asked her a few more questions; she gave her answers in
a kind of broken German, and with a strangely solemn
manner, 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
mysterious condition of this being. He reckoned her
about twelve or thirteen years of age; her body was well
formed, only her limbs gave promise of a stronger growth,
or else announced a stunted one. Her countenance was
not regular, but striking; her brow full of mystery; her
nose extremely beautiful; her mouth, although it seemed
too closely shut for one of her age, and though she often
threw it to a side, had yet an air of frankness, and was
very lovely. Her brownish complexion could scarcely be
discerned through the paint. This form stamped itself
deeply in Wilhelm's soul; he kept looking at her ear-
nestly, and forgot the present 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 neighbouring Jägerhaus. 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 lodg-
ing, 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!
108
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
She had placed herself in the carriage, they were told, with
a couple of strangers who had come that morning, and was
gone with them. Wilhelm had been promising himself
some pleasant entertainment from her company, and could
not hide his irritation. Laertes, on the other hand, but
laughed at it, and cried: "I love her for this: it looks so
like herself! Let us, however, go directly to the Jäger-
haus; 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 can-
not 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 condi-
tion that it shall be quite convenient for her to fulfil her
plan, to keep her promise. She gives willingly; but you
must ever hold yourself in readiness to return her gifts."
“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."
Cl
With abundance of such talk, in which Laertes very
vehemently exhibited his spleen against the fair sex, with-
out, 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 herself 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
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
109
them a-travelling as they deserved. By the way hither I
had put to proof their liberality; 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 neighbourhood.
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 for ever 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
dexterous 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. He directed their attention to the murmuring
of the brook, to the waving of the boughs, to the check-
ered lights and shadows, and the music of the birds.
Philina commenced a little song of the cuckoo, which did
not seem at all to exhilarate the man of taste: he very
soon made his compliments and went on.
"O that I might never hear more of nature, and
scenes of nature !" cried Philina so soon as he was gone:
110
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
"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 lin-
dens ?" She was sitting opposite to Wilhelm; and while
speaking so, she looked into his eyes with a glance which
he could not hinder from piercing at least to the very door
of his heart.
-
"You are right,” replied he, not without embarrass-
ment; 66
man is ever the most interesting object to man,
and perhaps should be the only one that interests. What-
ever else surrounds us is but the element in which we live,
or else the instrument which we employ. The more we
devote ourselves to such things, the more we attend to and
feel concern in them, the weaker will our sense of our own
dignity become, the weaker our feelings for society. Men
who put a great value on gardens, buildings, clothes, orna-
ments, or any other sort of property, grow less social and
pleasant; they lose sight of their brethren, whom very few
can succeed in collecting about them and entertaining.
Have you not observed 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 over-
shaded 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 ex-
tremely charming. The flowers were still sufficient for
another; this too she plaited, while both the young men
-
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
111
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 to her properly adjusted.
“And I, it appears, must go empty," said Laertes.
"Not by any means; you shall not have reason to
complain," replied Philina, taking off the garland from
her own head, and putting it on his.
66
"If we were rivals," said Laertes, we might now
dispute very warmly which of us stood higher in thy
favour."!
"And the more fools you," said she, while she bent
herself towards him, and offered him her lips to kiss; and
then immediately turned round, threw her arm about Wil-
helm, and bestowed a kind salute on him also. "Which
of them tastes best?" said she archly.
(6
<<
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 with-
out 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
T
112
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
pressing through the people, he was struck with horror
to observe the master of the rope-dancing company drag-
ging poor Mignon by the hair out of the house, and un-
mercifully 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, 66
or one of us shall never leave this spot;
and so speaking, he grasped the fellow by the throat with
a force which only rage could have lent him. The show-
man, on the point of choking, let go the child, and endea-
voured to defend himself against his new assailant. But
some people, who had felt compassion for Mignon, yet
had not dared to begin a quarrel for her, now laid hold of
the rope-dancer, wrenched his whip away, and threatened
him with great fierceness and abuse. Being now reduced
to the weapons of his mouth, he began bullying and curs-
ing horribly: the lazy, worthless urchin, he said, would
not do her duty; refused to perform 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. Wil-
helm held him back, and said sternly: "You shall neither
see nor touch her, till you have explained before a magis-
trate where you stole her. I will pursue you to every ex-
tremity; 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 operations, and to calm the
irritation of the public by some striking displays of his
craft.
66
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
113
So 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
unsuccessfully 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 birth-place
and history of the child. Monsieur Narciss knew nothing
about these things; for he had not long been in the com-
pany but in return he recited, with much volubility and
levity, various particulars of his own fortune. Upon Wil-
helm's wishing him joy of the great approbation he had
gained, Narciss expressed himself as if exceedingly indif-
ferent 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 favour than the
huzzaing 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 be-
fore he could get all his visits over. He proceeded with
the greatest candour to detail his adventures; he would
have given the names of his patronesses, their streets and
houses, had not Wilhelm 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
114
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
showman for Mignon. Thirty crowns was the price set
upon her; and for this sum the black-bearded hot Italian
entirely surrendered 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 admirable 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 neighbourhood: the child had
vanished, and Wilhelm was afraid she might have leapt
into some pool of water, or destroyed herself in some other
way.
Philina's charms could not dissipate 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 occa-
sion; the general approbation was like a snowball rolling
itself into a monstrous size. The feat of leaping over
swords, and through the cask with paper ends, made a
great sensation. The Strong Man, too, produced a uni-
versal feeling of mingled 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 horse-
shoe 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 an-
other 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 orna-
mented by a child, placed on its head, and dressed out in
BOOK II. CHAP. IV.
115
the shape of a ball and weather-vane. Such a sight,
never witnessed in those parts before, gave a worthy ter-
mination to the whole performance. Narciss and Land-
rinette were then borne in litters, on the shoulders of the
rest, along the chief streets of the town, amid the triumph-
ant shouts of the people. Ribands, 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 honoured 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 com-
municate to thronging 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 movement, free, vehement, and pure!”
So said our friend; and as neither Laertes nor Philina
shewed any disposition to take part in such a strain, he
entertained himself with these darling speculations, walk-
ing 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 shewn forth by the theatric
art.
·
116
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER V.
NEXT morning, the rope-dancers, not without much pa-
rade and bustle, having gone away, Mignon immediately
appeared, and came into the parlour 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; 66
pay them again, and thou art free.”
"Is that very much?" she asked. "O yes! thou must
now be a good child.” "I will try," she said.
66
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
persisted in doing every thing herself; and accordingly
went through her duties, slowly indeed, and sometimes
awkwardly, 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 endeavours 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 exhibited a
fine brown complexion, beautiful, though sparingly inter-
mingled with red.
The siren charms of Philina, the mysterious presence
of the child, produced more impression on our friend
r
BOOK II. CHAP. V.
117
than he liked to confess; he passed several days in that
strange society, endeavouring to elude self-reproaches by
a diligent practice of fencing and dancing, accomplish-
ments which he believed might not again be put within
his reach so conveniently.
It was with great surprise, and not without a certain
satisfaction, that he one day observed Herr Melina and
his wife alight at the inn. After the first glad salutation,
they inquired about "the lady-manager and the other ac-
tors;" 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 engage-
ment, 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
introduced 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 favourable 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 adven-
turers 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 stayed, and he very
soon began a system of cheapening and higgling. He
would have better lodging, more sumptuous diet, and
readier attendance, for a smaller charge. In a short while,
the landlord and waiter shewed 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
C
118
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
insisted on regulating every meal, and investigating its
contents before-hand; a species of service for which Phi-
lina 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 laboured 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 commonly ascribed to her a fine under-
standing; for she was what might be called a kind of spi-
ritual chameleon, or taker-on.* Any friend whose favour
she had need of she could flatter with peculiar adroitness;
could give in to his ideas so long as she could understand
them; and, when they went beyond her own horizon, could
hail with ecstacy such new and brilliant visions. She under-
stood 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
* Anempfinderin (feeler-by, feeler-according-to) is the new un-
translateable word poorly paraphrased so. A new German word, first
used here; the like of which might be useful in all languages, for it
designates a class of persons extant in all countries.-ED.

BOOK II. CHAP. VI.
119
:
some traders; and a notary had been empowered, under
certain conditions, to dispose of them by sale, should
purchasers 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 deco-
rations; 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 beautiful whole.
"What a happy man could I be," cried Melina, “had I
but two hundred crowns, to get into my hands, for a
beginning, these fundamental necessaries of a theatre!
How soon should I get up a little playhouse, that would
draw contributions from the town and neighbourhood,
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 br 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 ex-
istence was growing more attractive to him every day.
In her whole system of proceedings there was something
1
120
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 whe-
ther it was caused by shrewd sense, or ignorance of the
language; for she spoke in broken German, interlaced
with French and Italian. In Wilhelm's service she was
indefatigable, and up before the sun. On the other 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 rosary in a corner of the church, and pray-
ing 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
Wilhelm 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


BOOK II. CHAP. VII.
121
the back of his sheet, some verses which he had been
copying from his album for Madam Melina. Out of
humour 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 look-out 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 woeful-looking genius, whom, by his shabby coat
of grayish 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 to-
wards him.

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
old friend, no attention was bestowed upon the rest
followed him. Yet among the party were an oldi
and two young girls, whom Wilhelm thought

VOL.
G

122
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 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 countrymen to do good, and cause it,
without pomp or circumstance, 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 de-
forming their dearest virtue by a surly mode of putting it
in practice.

Such parts our actor could play very well; and he
played them so often and exclusively, that he had himself
taken up the same turn of proceeding in his ordinary life.
On recognising him, Wilhelm was seized with a strong
commotion: 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 answered, alas, with No; and to complete the infor-
mation, it was farther added, that all the companies they
had fallen in with were not only supplied with actors,
but many of them were afraid lest, on account of the
approaching war, they should be forced to separate. Old
Boisterous, with his daughters, moved by spleen and love.
change, had given up an advantageous engagement;
meeting with the Pedant by the way, they had hired
age to come hither; where, as they found, good
vas still dear, needful to have, and difficult to get.

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BOOK II. CHAP. VIII.
125
her off. In fact, in a short while he did make the dis-
covery; 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 comfort-
able living for themselves, and to give an honest fellow
many heavy hours."

CHAPTER VIII.
WILHELM's feelings, on returning home after this con-
versation, 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 which the old man had
shewn 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
126
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 blameable;
it rather inspired him with mournful thoughts. He saw
her, as a frail, ill-succoured mother, wandering 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 that 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 a
little carpet below her arm, 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. Carefully
measuring her steps, she then walked to and fro on the
carpet, spreading out the eggs in certain figures and
positions: 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 hairsbreadth accu-
racy, 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

··

BOOK II. CHAP. VIII.
127
touched no one of them, 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, re-commencing
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 shewed her. At this moment, he experienced
at once all the emotions 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 vehe-
mently replied: "Thy colour!" 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 farther, and skipped out of
the door.
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,
ta
128
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
and training him till he could play it accurately. For his
labour she had likewise offered him some money, which
however he would not accept.
CHAPTER IX.
AFTER a restless night, which our friend spent sometimes
waking, sometimes oppressed with unpleasant dreams, see-
ing Mariana now in all her beauty, now in woful case, at
one 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 taf-
feta, signifying in her own way that she wished to have a
new jacket and sailor's trowsers, such as she had seen the
boys of the town wearing, with blue cuffs and tyers.
Since the loss of Mariana, Wilhelm had laid aside all
gay colours. 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. Mignon, eager to wear his colours, hurried
on the tailor, who engaged 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.
Indeed, it was soon interrupted by Melina, who came to
shew them circumstantially how a little company was now
of itself collected, sufficient to exhibit plays in abundance.
He renewed 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, racketting and
laughing as usual. They had now devised a fresh excur-
•

BOOK II. CHAP. IX.
129
i
sion; 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 plea-
sant windings of the river, had already been engaged by
the Pedant. 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 extemporise 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 humour, elegance and satis-
faction 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 shew them-
selves in their natural form."

"That is to say," replied Madam Melina, " they are
not so vain as men, who conceive themselves to be always
amiable enough, just as nature has produced them."
In the meantime 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 zeal-
ously urged on their project of an extempore play. Old
G 2
130
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
1
Boisterous was to be a half-pay officer; Laertes a fencing-
master taking his vacation; the Pedant a Jew; she her-
self 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.
' a
"That is just what we needed," cried Philina ;
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 clergy-
man. 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 play
the part of a country parson; which, in fact, he accom-
plished in the adroitest manner, to the admiration of all;
now admonishing, now telling stories, shewing some weak
points, yet never losing their respect.
In the meantime, 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 greatest care; and especially threatened the
reverend gentleman with many kisses, though he him-
self had never been at fault. Melina, on the other hand,
was completely fleeced; shirt-buttons, buckles, every
moveable about his person was in Philina's hands. He
was trying to enact an English traveller, and could not
by any means get into the spirit of his part.
1


BOOK II. CHAP. IX.
131
!
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 enter-
taining jests. Thus comfortably occupied, they reached
the place where they meant to pass the day; and Wilhelm
going out to walk with the clergyman, as both from his
appearance and late character he persisted in naming him,
soon fell into an interesting conversation.
"I think this practice," said the stranger, "very useful
among actors, and even in the company of friends and
acquaintances. It is the best mode of drawing men out
of themselves, and leading them, by a circuitous path,
back into themselves again. It should be a custom with
every troop of players to practise 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 players had prepared themselves by several
rehearsals."
"One should not then," replied our friend, "consider
an extempore piece as, strictly speaking, composed on the
spur of the moment; but as a piece, of which the plan,
action, and division of the scenes were given, the filling
up of all this being left to the player."
"Quite right,” said the stranger; “ and, in regard to
this very filling up, such a piece, were the players once
trained to these performances, would profit greatly. Not
in regard to the mere words, it is true; for by a careful
selection of these, the studious writer may certainly adorn
his work; but in regard to the gestures, looks, exclama-
tions, and every thing of that nature; in short, to the
mute and half-mute play of the dialogue, which seems by
degrees fading away among us altogether. There are in-
deed 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
132
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
the audience for a speech, and by a pleasant sort of pan-
tomime, 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 com-
fort of play-going people, were to be desired."
66
"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 ?"
"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."
66
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 diffi-
culty," 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, sur-
rounded with beautiful 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 altering 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
66
BOOK II. CHAP. IX.
133
is said and written about education; yet I meet with very
few who can comprehend, and transfer to practice, this
simple yet vast idea, which includes within itself all others
connected with the subject.”
"That may well be true," said Wilhelm, for the
generality of men are limited enough in their conceptions.
to suppose, that every other should be fashioned by edu-
cation 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
wisdom I entertain all imaginable reverence, often finds
in Chance, by which it works, an instrument not over
manageable. At least the latter very seldom seems to
execute precisely and accurately what the for er had
determined."
“You seem to express a very singular opinion," said
Wilhelm.
"Not at all!" replied the other. "Most of what
happens in the world confirms my opinion. Do not
many incidents at their commencement shew some mighty
purport, and generally terminate in something paltry?"
“You mean to jest."
"And as to what concerns the individual man," pur-
sued 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 pleas-
ing, and thus corrupting and misdirecting his primary im-
pressions; impressions which can never be effaced, and

134
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 free-
dom 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 powerfully in the remainder of his
life will it be revenged on him; because while he was
endeavouring 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 pleasures."
From conversation of this sort, it is easy to imagine,
the rest of the com, any had gradually withdrawn. Phi-
lina, in particular, had stept 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 rail-
leries of all sorts, the hours passed away in the most
pleasant manner.


BOOK II. CHAP. X.
135
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 dis-
played 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
certainly I should not have let him go, till he had told us
something more about his circumstances. I am much
mistaken if I have not ere now spoken with him some-
where."
“And you may in truth," said Philina, "be mistaken
there. This person seems to have the air of an acquaint-
ance, because 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;
you cannot understand me, never mind.
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 be-
stowed themselves 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
"and if
In the end my

136
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
began to sing some pretty songs, and gradually led the
conversation to some stories, which she said might be suc-
cessfully treated in the form of dramas. By this cunning
turn, she very soon put her young friend into his finest
humour: 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 divert-
ing wiles; he felt in spirits such as he had not for many
a month enjoyed.
Since that shocking discovery had torn him from the
side of Mariana, he had continued true to his vow to be
on his guard against the encircling arms of woman, to
avoid the faithless sex, to lock up his inclinations, his
sweet wishes in his own bosom. The conscientiousness,
with which he had observed this vow, gave his whole na-
ture a secret nourishment; 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 favourable.
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
BOOK II. CHAP. X.
137
the public. 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-
heartedness, honesty, and downrightness, but especially
the independence of the acting characters, were received
with the greatest approbation. The reader did his ut-
most; and the audience gradually mounted into rapture.
Between the third and fourth act, the punch arrived in
an ample bowl; and there being much fighting and drink-
ing 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
favourites among the dramatis personæ.
Each individual of the party was inflamed with the
noblest fire of national spirit. How it gratified this Ger-
man company 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 hollow trees, but above all the nocturnal
gipsy-scenes, and the Secret Tribunal, produced a quite
incredible effect. Every actor now figured to himself
how, ere long, in helm and harness; every actress how,
with a monstrous spreading ruff, she would present her
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 expecting, should
not be christened otherwise than by the name of Adelbert
or of Mathilde.

Towards the fifth act the approbation became more
impetuous and louder; and at last, when the hero actually
trampled down his oppressor, and the tyrant met his doom,
138
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
the ecstacy 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 empty, 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 notwithstanding the protestations of the
landlord, who came running in at the noise, the punch-
bowl itself, never after this festivity to be polluted by
unholy drink, was dashed into a thousand sherds. Phi-
lina, whose exhilaration was the least noticed, the other
two girls by that time having laid themselves upon the
sofa in no very elegant positions, maliciously 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
reparation of the punch, declaring that he could arrange
n entertainment altogether in a different style; and at
ast becoming sulkier and louder as Laertes commanded
silence, till the latter, without much consideration, threw
the fragments of the punch-bowl about his head, and
thereby not a little deepened the confusion.
Meanwhile the town-guard had arrived, and were de-
manding 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 undress-
ing; and nothing could exceed his disgust, when, opening
his eyes next morning, he looked out with dull sight upon
the devastations of the bygone day, and saw the unclean-

BOOK II. CHAP. XI.
139
r
ness, and the many bad effects, of which that ingenious,
lively, and well-intentioned poetical performance had been
the cause.
}
CHAPTER XI.
AFTER a short consideration he called the landlord, and
bade him mark to his account both the damage and the
regular charge. At the same time he learned, not with-
out vexation, that his horse had been so hard ridden by
Laertes last night, that, in all probability, it was foun-
dered, as they term it, the farrier having little hope of its
recovering.
A salute from Philina, which she threw him from her
window, restored him in some degree to a more cheerful
humour; 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 pro-
portional 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 ac-
quaintance.

Madam Melina, happening to observe him as he was
delivering his presents, took an opportunity before break-
fast 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 entertained the slightest notion of attaching
himself to such a person, whose whole manner of proceed-
ing was well known to him: he excused himself as well


140
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
as possible for his friendly and polite conduct towards
her; yet did not by any means content Madam Melina,
whose spite grew ever more determined, as she could not
but observe that the flatteries by which she had acquired
for herself a sort of partial regard from our friend, were
not sufficient to defend this conquest from the attacks of
a lively, younger, and more gifted rival.
As they sat down to table, her husband joined them,
likewise in a very fretful humour; which he was begin-
ning to display on many little things, when the landlord
entered to announce a player on the harp. "You will
certainly," he said, "find pleasure in the music and the
songs of this man: no one who hears him can forbear to
admire him and bestow something on him.'
"Let him go about his business," said Melina; “I am
any thing but in a trim for hearing fiddlers, and we have
singers constantly among ourselves disposed to gain a
little by their talent." He accompanied these words with
sarcastic side-look at Philina: she understood his mean-
ng; and immediately prepared to punish him, by taking
p the cause of the Harper. Turning towards Wilhelm:
Shall we not hear the man ?" said she; "shall we do
nothing to save ourselves from this miserable ennui ?”
Melina was going to reply, and the strife would have
grown keener, had not the person it related to at that
moment entered. Wilhelm saluted him, and beckoned
him to come near.
""
The figure of this singular guest set the whole party
in astonishment; he had found a chair before any one took
heart to ask him a question, or make any observation. His
bald crown was encircled by a few gray hairs; and a pair
of large blue eyes looked out softly from beneath his long
white eyebrows. To a nose of beautiful proportions, was
subjoined a flowing hoary beard, which did not hide the
fine shape and position of his lips; and a long dark-brown


BOOK II. CHAP. XI.
141
!
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 minstrels, and reminded men to honour them. He
produced his song with so much life and truth, that it
seemed as if he had composed it at the moment, for this
special occasion. Wilhelm could scarcely refrain from
clasping him in his arms; but the fear of awakening a
peal of laughter detained him in his chair; for the rest
were already in half-whispers making sundry very shallow
observations, and debating if the Harper was a Papist or
a Jew.
On asking about the author of the song, the man gave
no distinct reply; declaring only that he was rich in songs,
and anxious that they should please. Most of the party
were now merry and joyful; even Melina was grown frank
in his 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.

142
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 peace-makers, and sang
the happiness of souls that, having parted, meet again in
love.
Scarcely had he ended, when Wilhelm cried to him:
"Whoever thou art, that as a helping spirit comest to us,
with a voice which blesses and revives, accept my rever-
ence 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:
Y
"What notes are those without the wall,
Across the portal sounding?
Let's have the music in our hall,
Back from its roof rebounding."
So spoke the king, the henchman flies;
His answer heard, the monarch cries :
"Bring in that ancient minstrel."
"Hail, gracious king, each noble knight!
Each lovely dame, I greet you!
What glittering stars salute my sight!
What heart unmov'd may meet you!
Such lordly pomp is not for me,
Far other scenes my eyes must see :
Yet deign to list my harping."
The singer turns him to his art,
A thrilling strain he raises;
Each warrior hears with glowing heart,
And on his lov'd one gazes.
The king, who liked his playing well,
Commands, for such a kindly spell,
A golden chain be given him.

BOOK II. CHAP. XI.
143
"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.
"I sing but as the linnet sings,
That on the green bough dwelleth ;
A rich reward his music brings,
As from his throat it swelleth :
Yet might I ask, I'd ask of thine
One sparkling draught of purest wine,
To drink it here before you."
He view'd the wine, he quaff'd it up :
"O draught of sweetest savour!
O! happy house, where such a cup
Is thought a little favour!
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 joyful 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 deck'd 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,
* Der Schafer putzte sich zum Tanz; a song of Goethe's.-ED.
}

144
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
which we cannot impart to our readers, lest they migh
think it insipid, 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 conse-
quences 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 like-
wise; they gave him leave to go and take repose, pro-
mising themselves another entertainment from his skill in
the evening.
When he had retired, our friend said to Philina: "In
this favourite song of yours I certainly find no merit,
either moral or poetical; yet, if you were to bring før-
ward 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."
"Yes," said Philina, "it would be a charming thing
indeed to warm one's self at ice."
"After all," said Wilhelm, "this old man might put
many a player to the blush. Did you notice how correctly
the dramatic part of his ballads was expressed? I maintain,
there was more living true representation in his singing,
than in many of our starched characters upon the stage.
You would take the acting of many plays for a narrative,
and you might ascribe to these musical narratives a sen-
sible presence."
"You are hardly just!" replied Laertes. "I pretend
to no great skill either as a player or 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 fur-
nished me by the composer, I feel quite a different man

BOOK II. CHAP. XI.
145
from what I do when, in prose-dramas, I have all this to
create for myself; have both gesture and declamation to
invent, and am perhaps disturbed in it too by the awk-
wardness of some partner in the dialogue."
"Thus much I know," said Melina, "the man cer-
tainly may put us to the blush in one point, and that a
main one.
The strength of his talent is shewn by the
profit he derives from it. Even us, who perhaps ere long
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 employ-
So pleasant an affair is it to squander the means
which might procure subsistence to oneself and others."
ment.
This remark gave the conversation not the most de-
lightful turn. Wilhelm, for whom the reproach was
peculiarly intended, replied with some heat; and Melina,
at no time over studious of delicacy and politeness, ex-
plained his grievances at last in words more plain than
courteous. It is now a fortnight," said he, “since we
looked at the theatrical machinery 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
meantime been spared: at least there are people who have
always skill to create opportunities for scattering it faster
and faster away."
Such upbraidings, not altogether undeserved, touched
Wilhelm to the quick. He replied with keenness, nay
with anger; and, as the company arose to part, he took
hold of the door, and gave them not obscurely to under-
VOL. I.
H
146
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
stand that he would no longer continue with such un-
friendly and ungrateful people. He hastened down, in no
kindly humour, 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
singing and skipping along through the front door. She
sat down by him, nay, we might almost say, on him, so
close did she press herself towards him; she leant 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 very 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,
suddenly she threw her arm round his neck, and kissed
him with the liveliest expression of fondness.
"Are you mad, Philina?" cried Wilhelm, endea-
vouring to disengage himself; "to make the open street
the scene of such caresses, which I nowise merit! Let
me go; I cannot 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
BOOK II. CHAP. XII.
147
for thy wife of four weeks' standing; and husbands, who
witness this touching scene, will commend me to their
wives as a pattern of child-like simple tenderness."
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 humour, 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.
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."
I
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 discussion. "You will not take it ill of me,"
continued he, "if I appear perhaps too fretful in my pre-
sent 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. Consider, I pray you;
and, if possible, do put me in possession of that stage
148
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
machinery that is lying here. I shall not be your debtor
long, and I shall be obliged to you while I live."
Our friend, unwilling to be kept upon the threshold,
over which an irresistible impulse was drawing him at that
moment to Philina, answered, with an absent mind, eager
to be gone, and surprised into a transient feeling of good-
will: "If I can make you happy and contented by doing
this, I will hesitate no longer. Go you and put every
thing to rights. I shall be prepared this evening, or to-
morrow morning, to pay the money." He then gave his
hand to Melina in confirmation 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 walk-
ing fast along the street, and advanced to Wilhelm, who
at once recognised 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 stupefaction, 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 labouring
with great diligence in writing every thing she knew by

BOOK II. CHAP. XII.
149
heart, giving always to her master and friend the papers
to correct. She was indefatigable, and of good compre-
hension; 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 plea-
sure in the child's attention; but, at the present moment,
he regarded little what she shewed him,—a piece of ne-
glect 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 ac-
quaintance. "Ay, Herr Stallmeister," cried he, "have
we the pleasure to see you again ?"
"I am 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 head-quarters in this neighbourhood for
some time."
"It is pity," said the landlord, "that you cannot stop
with us:
we have good company in the house." The
ostler came running out, and took the horse from the
Stallmeister, who continued talking in the door with the
landlord, and now and then giving a look at Wilhelm.
Our friend, observing that he formed the topic of their
conversation, went away, and walked up and down the
streets.


150
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
7.
CHAPTER XIII.
In the restless vexation of his present humour, it came
into his head to go and see the old Harper, hoping by his
music to scare away the evil spirits that tormented him.
On asking for the man, he was directed to a mean public-
house in a remote corner of the little town; and, having
mounted up stairs there to the very garret, his ear caught
the fine twanging of the harp coming from a little room
before him. They were heart-moving, mournful tones,
accompanied by a sad and dreary singing. Wilhelm
glided to the door; and, as the good old man was per-
forming a sort of voluntary, the few stanzas of which,
sometimes chanted, sometimes in recitative, were repeated
more than once, our friend succeeded, after listening for
a while, in gathering nearly this:
Who never ate his bread in sorrow,
Who never spent the darksome hours
Weeping and watching for the morrow,
He knows ye not, ye gloomy Powers.
To earth, this weary earth, ye bring us,
To guilt ye let us heedless go,
Then leave repentance fierce to wring us:
A moment's guilt, an age of woe!
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
+

BOOK II. CHAP. XIII.
15
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 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 hast thou not awakened in me, good
old man!" exclaimed he. "All that was lying frozen at
my heart thou hast melted, and put in motion. Let me
not disturb thee; but continue, in solacing thy own sor-
rows, to confer happiness upon a friend." The Harper
was about to rise, and say something; but Wilhelm hin-
dered 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
I think
me, that to-day thou canst not fail to suit me.
thee very happy that, in solitude, thou canst employ and
entertain thyself so pleasantly; that, being every where a
stranger, thou findest in thy own heart the most agreeable
society."
The old man looked upon his strings, and, after
touching them softly by way of prelude, he commenced
and sang:
Who longs in solitude to live,
Ah! soon his wish will gain;
Men hope and love, men get and give,
And leave him to his pain.
CC

52
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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
express the charms of the singular conversation, which
Wilhelm carried on with this wayfaring stranger. To
every observation which our friend addressed to him,
the old man, with the nicest accordance, answered in
some melody, which awakened all the cognate emotions,
and opened a wide field to the imagination.
Whoever has happened to assist at a meeting of cer-
tain 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 himself 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 ere long subjoin, 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 in-
deed suggested, yet each passage by its new combination
became new and individualised, as if it had been first com-

BOOK II. CHAP. XIV.
153
posed 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 particular time,
an original whole, by means of which their minds were
animated, strengthened, and refreshed. So likewise did
the old man edify his guest: by known and unknown
songs and passages, he brought feelings near and distant,
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 Mademoiselle Philina had made a conquest of the
Count's Stallmeister; who, after executing his commis-
sion at his master's Estate, had returned in the greatest
haste, and was even now partaking of a good supper with
her up in her chamber.
At this very moment Melina came in with a notary:
they went into Wilhelm's chamber together, where the
latter, though with some hesitation, made his promise
good; gave a draught of three hundred crowns to Me-
lina, who, handing it to the lawyer, received in return a
note acknowledging the sale of the whole theatrical appa-
ratus, 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
II 2
154
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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
Friedrich in a species of delirium. The boy was weep-
ing, grinding his teeth, stamping with his feet, threatening
with clenched fists; he appeared beside himself from fury
and vexation. Mignon was standing opposite him, look-
ing 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 shew his indigna-
tion, 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 Mademoiselle and her guest,
who were sitting moderately close together 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 certainly 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 spec-

BOOK II. CHAP. XIV.
155
tacle. 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 humour; with malicious
spleen, would have abused the object of his passion, and
called out his rival: he could have crushed in pieces all
the people round him; they seemed as if standing there
but to vex him.
Laertes also had come in, and heard the story; he
roguishly spurred on the irritated boy, who was now
asserting with oaths that he would make the Stallmeister
give him satisfaction; that he had never yet let any in-
jury abide with him; that should the man refuse, there
were other ways of taking vengeance.
This was the very business for Laertes. He went up
stairs, with a solemn countenance, to call out the Stall-
meister in the boy's name.
"This is a pleasant thing," said the Stallmeister :
“such a joke as this I had scarcely promised myself to-
night." They went down, and Philina followed them.
"My son," said the Stallmeister to Friedrich, "thou art
a brave lad, and I do not hesitate to fight thee. Only as
our years and strength are unequal, and the attempt a
little dangerous on that account, I propose a pair of foils
in preference to other weapons. We can rub the buttons
of them with a piece of chalk; and whoever marks upon
the other's coat the first or the most thrusts, shall be held
the victor, and be treated by the other with the best wine
that can be had in town.”
Laertes decided that the proposition might be listened
to: Friedrich obeyed him as his tutor. The foils were
produced; Philina took a seat, went on with her knitting,
and looked at the contending parties with the greatest
peace of mind.
The Stallmeister, who could fence very prettily, was


156
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
}
complaisant 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 Stall-
meister took the liberty of asking Friedrich's parentage
and history; and Friedrich told him a long story, which
had often been repeated already, and which, at some
other opportunity, we purpose communicating to our
readers.
To Wilhelm, in the meantime, 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 evidently much his inferior in the science of de-
fence. 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 health of the duellists, he
hastened to his own room, where a thousand painful
thoughts came pressing round him.
He called to memory the time when his spirit, rich in
hope, and full of boundless aims, was raised aloft, and en-
circled with the liveliest enjoyments of every kind as with
its proper element. He now clearly saw, that of late he
had fallen into a broken wandering path, where, if he
tasted, it was but in drops what he once quaffed in unre-
stricted measure. But he could not clearly see what in-
satiable want it was that nature had made the law of his
being; and how this want had been only set on edge,
half satisfied, and misdirected by the circumstances of his
life.
<
It will not surprise us, therefore, that, in considering
his situation, and labouring to extricate himself, he fell
into the greatest perplexity. It was not enough, that, by
his friendship for Laertes, his attachment to Philina, his
concern for Mignon, he had been detained longer than
BOOK II. CHAP. XIV.
157
was proper in a place and a society where he could che-
rish his darling inclination, content his wishes as it were
by stealth, and without proposing any object, again pur-
sue his early dreams. These ties he believed himself pos-
sessed of force enough to break asunder: had there been
nothing more to hold him, he could have gone at once.
But, only a few moments ago, he had entered into money-
transactions with Melina; he had seen that mysterious old
man, the enigma of whose history he longed with unspeak-
able desire to clear. Yet of this too, after much balancing
of reasons, he at length determined, or thought he had de-
termined, that it should not keep him back. "I must go,"
he exclaimed; "I will go." He threw himself into a
chair, he felt greatly moved. Mignon came in, and
asked, Whether she might help to undress him? Her
manner was still and shy; it had grieved her to the quick
to be so abruptly dismissed by him before.
Nothing is more touching than the first disclosure of
a love which has been nursed in silence, of a faith grown
strong in secret, and which at last comes forth in the
hour of need, and reveals itself to him who formerly has
reckoned it of small account. The bud, which had been
closed so long and firmly, was now ripe to burst its swath-
ings, and Wilhelm's heart could never have been readier
to welcome the impressions of affection.
She stood before him, and noticed his disquietude.
"Master!" she cried, "if thou art unhappy, what will
become of Mignon?" "Dear little creature," said he,
taking her 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
She continued mo-
tionless for a considerable time.
her.
At last he felt a sort of
158
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
palpitating movement in her, which began very softly, and
then by degrees with increasing violence diffused itself.
over all her frame. "What ails thee, Mignon ?" cried
he; "what ails thee?" She raised her little head, looked
at him, and all at once laid her hand upon her heart, with
the countenance of one repressing the utterance of pain.
He raised her up, and she fell upon his breast; he pressed
her towards him, and kissed her. She replied not by any
pressure of the hand, by any motion whatever. 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 clasping her
fast; 66
my child, what ails thee?" The palpitations
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 vehemence 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!"
"
66
BOOK II. CHAP. XIV.
159
Her tears continued flowing. At last she raised herself;
My father!"
Wilt be my
a faint gladness shone upon her face.
cried she, "Thou wilt not forsake me?
father? I am thy child!"
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.
<<


WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
BOOK III.


WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER I.
Know'st thou the land where citron-apples bloom,
And oranges like gold in leafy gloom,
A gentle wind from deep blue heaven blows,
The myrtle thick, and high the laurel grows
Know'st thou it then?
?
'Tis there! 'Tis there,
O my true lov'd one, thou with me must go!
Know'st thou the house, its porch with pillars tall?
The rooms do glitter, glitters bright the hall,
And marble statues stand, and look each one :
What's this, poor child, to thee they've done?
Know'st thou it then?
'Tis there! 'Tis there,
O my protector, thou with me must go!
Know'st thou the hill, the bridge that hangs on cloud?
The mules in mist grope o'er the torrent loud,
In caves lie coil'd the dragon's ancient brood,
The crag leaps down and over it the flood:
Know'st thou it then?
'Tis there! 'Tis there,
Our way runs; O my father, wilt thou go?
NEXT morning, on looking for Mignon about the house,
Wilhelm did not find her; but was informed that she had

འ
164
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
I
gone out early with Melina, who had risen betimes to re-
ceive 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 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 phraseology 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 won-
derful, as if she had something weighty to communicate.
In the third line, her tones became deeper and gloomier;
the Know'st thou it then? was uttered with a shew of mys-
tery and eager circumspectness; in the 'Tis there! 'Tis
there! lay a boundless longing; and her With me must
go! she modified at each repetition, so that now it ap-
peared to entreat and implore, now to impel and persuade.
On finishing her song for the second time, she stood
silent for a moment, looked keenly at Wilhelm, and asked
him, Know'st thou the land?" "It must mean Italy,"
said Wilhelm: "where didst thou get the little song?'
Italy!" said Mignon with an earnest air: "If thou
go to Italy, take me along with thee; for I am too cold
here." "Hast thou been there already, little dear?"
66

BOOK III. CHAP. I.
165
But the child was silent, and nothing
said Wilhelm.
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 in-
strument 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 shewn 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
magistracy had promised him permission to act, for a
time, in the place. He was now returning with a merry
heart and a cheerful look. His nature seemed altogether
changed; he was soft, courteous to every one, nay fond
of obliging, and almost attractive. He was happy, he
said, at now being able to afford employment to his
friends, who had hitherto lain idle and embarrassed 4;
corry, 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 corresponding to their talents
and capacities; being under the necessity, 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 friend-
liness which you have shewn, in helping me forward to
the management of a theatre. When I found you here,
I was in a very curious predicament. You recollect how
strongly I displayed to you, on our first acquaintance, my
aversion to the stage; and yet on being married, I was
forced to look about for a place in some theatre, out of
love to my wife, who promised to herself much joy and
great applause, if so engaged. I could find none, at least
no constant one, but in return I luckily fell in with some
commercial mer, who, in extraordinary cases, were enabled
to employ a person that could handle his pen, that under-

166
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
stood French, and was not without a little skill in cipher-
ing. 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 establishment: 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 favourablest for exhibiting herself,
with honour, in the eyes of the public. But now, I hope,
the establishment, which by your kind help I have the
means of setting up, will prove a good beginning for me
and mine; you I shall thank for all my future happiness,
let matters turn out as they will."
Wilhelm listened to him with contentment: the whole
fraternity of players were likewise moderately satisfied
with the declarations of the new manager; they secretly
rejoiced that an offer of employment had occurred so
soon; and were disposed to put up, at first, with a smaller
salary; the rather, that most of them regarded the pre-
sent 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 favour-
able temper; he endeavoured in a sly way to get a little
talk with each in private; and ere long 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 reckoning 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 entice the public, when a courier riding up informed
the Stallmeister, that his lord and lady were at hand; on
which the latter ordered out his horses.

BOOK III. CHAP. I.
167
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
answer; while the cheat with a most innocent air, and
looks of great humility, courtesied, and kissed the lady's
gown.
The Count, on seeing some other persons standing
round, who also signified that they were players, inquired
about the strength of their company, their last place of
residence, their manager. "Had they but been French-
men," said he to his lady, we might have treated the
Prince with an unexpected enjoyment, and entertained
him with his favourite pastime at our house."
CC
"And could we not," said the Countess, "get these
people, though unluckily they are but Germans, to exhibit
with us at the Castle, while the Prince stays there? With-
out 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 pre-
sented himself above, as manager. "Call your folk to-
gether," 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. Phi-
lina shewed the deepest reverence to the Countess, who
behaved with extreme graciousness and condescension;


163
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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; shewed them luminously
in what points the Germans always fail; and displayed
such extraordinary knowledge, that all stood in the deepest
humility, scarcely daring to draw their breath, before so
enlightened a critic and so right honourable 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 wont to enact
pedants, tutors, and poets; generally undertaking parts
in which any cudgelling or ducking was to be endured.
He had trained himself to certain crouching, ludicrous,
timid bows; and his faltering, stammering speech befitted
the characters he played, and created laughter in the
audience; so that he was always looked on as a useful
member of the company, being moreover very serviceable
and obliging. He approached the Count in his own
peculiar way; bent himself before him, and answered
every question with the grimaces and gestures he was
used to on the stage. The Count looked at him, for
some time, with an air of attentive satisfaction, and stu-
dious 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


BOOK III. CHAP. I.
169
Count burst into laughing, and exclaimed: "He does it
excellently well! I bet this fellow can act any thing he
likes; it is pity that he has not been already used to
something better.”
So singular a prepossession was extremely galling to
the rest; Melina alone felt no vexation, but completely
coincided with the Count, and answered with a prostrate
look: "Alas! it is too true; both he and others of us
have long stood in need of such encouragement, and such
a judge, as we now find in your Excellency."
"Is this the whole company?" inquired the Count.
"Some of them are absent," said the crafty Melina;
“and at any rate, if we should meet with support, we
could soon collect abundant numbers from the neigh-
bourhood."
Philina in the meanwhile was saying to the Countess:
"There is a very pretty young man above, who without
doubt would shortly become a first-rate amateur."
CC
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
persuaded him to come down. He followed her with
some reluctance; 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. Wilhelm made his bow; and replied to
several questions from the fair dame, not without con-
fusion 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 bashfulness, one
might almost say, embarrassment. He was likewise in-
VOL. I.
I
170
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
troduced to the Count, who however took no special
notice of him; but went to the window with his lady, and
seemed to ask her about something. It was easy to
observe 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 vi-
vacity.
"Look you, little thing," said the lady, patting the
cheeks of the light-minded girl, "look you, child, you
shall come to me again; I will keep my promise; only
you must dress better." Philina stated in excuse that she
had little to lay out upon her wardrobe; and the Countess
immediately ordered 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
favourite. The Countess herself then decked Philina,
who continued very neatly to support, by her looks and
conduct, that saintlike, guiltless character she had as-
sumed 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 Wil-
helm, 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 applause he would acquire. Melina was



BOOK III. CHAP. II.
considering how he might still, by a few speedy exhi-
bitions, gain a little money from the people of the town,
before he left it; while others went into the kitchen, to
order a better dinner than of late they had been used to.
CHAPTER II.
AFTER a few days, the Baron came; and it was not
without fear that Melina received him. The Count had
spoken of him as a critic; and it might be dreaded, he
would speedily 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 de-
livered 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 rela-
tive. 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 something very
different. It was a drama, which the Baron himself had
composed, and wished to have played by them: he re-
quested their attention while he read it. Willingly they
formed a circle round him ; charmed at being able with so
little trouble to secure the favour 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
|


MEISTER´S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 exer-
cised, had he not pardoned them on the spot.
While this piece was rehearsing, each of the auditors
had 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 procure 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 com-
pleted. Melina made an advantageous bargain with the
Baron, and contrived to keep it secret from the rest.
Of our friend, Melina took occasion to declare in
passing, that he seemed to be successfully qualifying
himself for becoming a dramatic poet, and even to have
The Baron intro-
some capacities for being an actor.
duced himself to Wilhelm as a colleague; and the latter
by and by produced some little pieces, which, with a few
other relics, had escaped by chance, on the day when he
threw the greater part of his works into the flames. The
Baron lauded both his pieces and delivery; he spoke of it as
a settled thing, that Wilhelm should come over to the Cas-
tle with the rest. For all, at his departure, he engaged to
..
•


BOOK III. CHAP. II.
173
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 honours 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 examining 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 be near the beautiful
Countess. He rather sought to persuade himself in
general of the mighty advantages, which a more intimate
acquaintance with the world of rank and wealth would
procure for him. He pursued his reflections on the
Count, the Countess, the Baron; on the security, the
grace and propriety of their demeanour; 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,

174
1
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
which, in this voyage we have all to make, enables them
to profit by the favourable winds, and to ride out the
cross ones; while others, bare of help, must wear their
strength away in swimming, can derive little profit from
the favourable breeze, and in the storm must soon become
exhausted and sink to the bottom. What convenience,
what ease of movement does a fortune we are born to,
confer upon us! How securely does a traffic flourish,
which is founded on a solid capital, where the failure of
one or of many enterprises does not of necessity reduce
us to inaction! Who can better know the worth and
worthlessness of earthly things, than he that has had
within his choice the enjoyment of them from youth
upwards; and who can earlier guide his mind to the
useful, the necessary, the true, than he that may convince
himself of so many errors in an age when his strength is
yet fresh to begin a new career !"
Thus did our friend cry joy to all inhabitants of
the upper regions; and not to them only, but to all that
were permitted to approach their circle, and draw water
from their wells. So he thanked his own happy stars,
that seemed preparing to grant this mighty blessing to
himself.
Melina, in the meantime, was torturing his brains to
get the company arranged according to their several pro-
vinces, and each of them appointed to produce his own.
peculiar effect. In compliance with the Count's injunc-
tions, 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 the lady's maid; the
two young girls took up between them the characters of
the artless and tender loved-ones; the boisterous old gen-
BOOK III. CHAP. II.
175
tleman of the piece was sure to be the best acted. Melina
himself thought he might come forth as chevalier; Madam
Melina, to her no small sorrow, was obliged to satisfy her-
self with personating young wives, or even affectionate
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 favourite of the Count
was now usually transformed into president or minister;
these being commonly set forth as knaves, and severely
handled in the fifth act. Melina too, in the part of cham-
berlain 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 oppor-
tunity 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 bur-
densome conditions.
Wilhelm had been more than once assailed with per-
suasions 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 labours 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 neces-
sary 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, without the slightest respect
to proprieties or proportions, or any thing whatever, but
his watch. He met with great encouragement; the public
176
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
was very much delighted; the most knowing inhabitants
of the burgh maintained, that the Prince's theatre itself
was not so well conducted as theirs.
CHAPTER III.
Ar last the time arrived when the company had to pre-
pare themselves for travelling, and to expect the coaches
and other vehicles that were to carry them to the Count's
mansion. Much altercation now took place about the
mode of travelling, and who should sit with whom. The
ordering and distribution of the whole was at length set-
tled and concluded, with great labour, 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 land-
BOOK III. CHAP. III.
177
lord's bill was to be paid. The Count's mansion rose like
a palace of the fairies on their souls; they were the hap-
piest and merriest mortals in the world. Each through-
out the journey, in his own peculiar mode, kept fastening
a continued chain of fortune, honour, 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 shew 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 prudently determined to be satisfied with a room in
the attic story, or some of the side buildings.
They were now proceeding through the village, past
the inn. Wilhelm stopped the coach, in the mind to alight
there; but the landlord protested that it was not in his
power to afford the least accommodation: his lordship the
Count, he said, being visited by some unexpected guests,
had immediately engaged the whole inn; every chamber
in the house had been marked with chalk last night, spe-
cifying who was to lodge there. Our friend was accord-
ingly 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 honours. But how great was their surprise, when
I 2
178
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
this cordial reception changed into a storm of curses. The
servants scouted the coachmen for driving in hither; they
must wheel out again, it was bawled, and take their load-
ing 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 distinguished in the gloom. The people were all shud-
dering and freezing; the women were becoming frightened;
the children began to cry; the general impatience was in-
creasing every minute; so quick a revolution of fortune,*
for which no one of them had been at all prepared, en-
tirely destroyed their equanimity.
Expecting every minute that some person would ap-
pear and unbolt the doors; mistaking at one time the
pattering of rain, at another the rocking of the wind, for
the much-desired footstep of the Castle Bailiff, they con-
tinued downcast 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.
BOOK III. CHAP. III.
179
At last some people actually arrived: by their voices,
they were recognised 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 directed 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 stept forth
from the crowd, than he very pressingly offered to con-
duct 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 proposal; 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, con-
juring 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 glimmer of his lantern vanish; they long looked
in vain for another gleam of light. At last, after much
watching, scolding, 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 be-
side him. Most of this luggage, like the persons of its
180
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 foot-
man, with much ado, consented to put down his own lan-
tern; 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 hang-
ings, 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, stript of every ornament and every ne-
cessary. 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; the rest of the party had consumed
their whole provision; so he was obliged to leave the little
traveller without refreshment. Through the whole adven-
ture he had been inactive, silently immersed in thought.
He was very sullen, and full of indignant regret that he
had not kept by his first determination, and remained at
the inn, though he should have slept in the garret.
The rest demeaned themselves in various ways. Some
of them had got a heap of old wood collected within a
vast gaping chimney in the hall; they set fire to the pile
with great huzzaing. Unhappily, however, their hopes
of warming and drying themselves by means of it, were
mocked in the most frightful manner. The chimney, it
appeared, was there for ornament alone, and was walled-
up above; so the smoke rushed quickly back, and at once
filled the whole chamber. The dry wood rose crackling
BOOK III. CHAP. III.
181
into flames; the flame was also driven back; the draught
sweeping through the broken windows 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 intolerable than
before; they were driven to the brink of desperation.
Wilhelm had retreated from the smoke into a distant
chamber; to which Mignon soon followed him, leading
in a well-dressed servant, with a high clear double-lighted
lantern in his hand. He turned to Wilhelm, and holding
out to him some fruits and confectionery on a beautiful
porcelain 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 lacquey, with
a sort of grin, "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 supplicating look of Mignon's induced him to accept
them. He returned his thanks in the name of the child.
The invitation he entirely rejected. He desired the ser-
vant 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 lacquey under-
stood, 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, con-
trived to fix upon the window casement; and now at
least, in his meditations he could see the four walls of
his chamber. Nor was it long till preparations were

182
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 pil-
lows, 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 re-
mains, and offered no very singular proof of the esteem
in which our guests were held.
CHAPTER IV.
THE disorders and mischievous tricks of some frolicksome
companions still farther augmented the disquietudes and
distresses of the night; these gay people woke each other,
each played a thousand giddy pranks to plague his fellow.
The next morning dawned amid loud complaints against
their friend the Baron, for having so deceived them, for
having given so very false a notion of the order and com-
fort that awaited their arrival. However, to their great
surprise and consolation, at an early hour, the Count him-
self, 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; shewing great anxiety to
have that person punished for his disobedience.
:
The Count gave immediate orders that every thing
/


BOOK III. CHAP. IV.
183
should be arranged, in his presence, to the utmost possible
convenience of the guests. While this was going on,
some officers arrived, who forthwith scraped acquaintance
with the actresses. The Count assembled all the com-
pany 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 him-
self, 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,
although he wore no uniform, appeared to be an officer,
conversed with Wilhelm; he was evidently not a common
man. His large keen blue eyes, looking out from beneath
a high brow; his light-coloured hair, thrown carelessly
back; his middle stature; every thing about him shewed
an active, firm, and decisive mode of being. His ques-
tions 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 favourite of the
Prince, managed his most secret affairs, was, in short,
regarded as his right arm. Nay, there was reason to
believe him the Prince's natural son. He had been on
embassies in France, England, Italy; in all those places
he had greatly distinguished himself; by which means het
was grown conceited, imagining, 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 inter-
course with him; and Wilhelm would do well to imitate
that conduct, for it somehow happened that no one could
184
▼
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
..
be near him without being punished for it. He was
called Jarno; though nobody knew rightly what to make
of such a name."
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 through-
out the Castle, Melina issued the strictest orders, that
they should behave themselves with decency; the women
live in a separate quarter; and each direct his whole
attention to the study of dramatic art, and of the charac-
ters he had to play. He posted up written ordinances,
consisting of many articles, upon all the doors. He
settled the amount of fine, which should be levied upon
each transgressor, and put into a common box.
This edict was but little heeded. Young officers
went out and in; they jested not in the most modest
fashion with the actresses; made game of the actors;
and annihilated the whole system of police, before it had
the smallest time to take root in the community. The
people ran chasing one another through the rooms, they
changed clothes, they disguised themselves. Melina,
attempting to be rigorous with a few at first, was exas-
perated 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, matters grew worse and
worse. The young gentry devised a thousand broad
jokes; by the help of some actors, they became yet
coarser; it seemed as if the old Castle had been alto-
gether 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, com-
municated by a gallery with the new one: it seemed very
well adapted for being changed into a little theatre.


BOOK III. CHAP. V.
185
Here the sagacious lord of the mansion pointed out in
person how he wanted every thing to be.
The labour 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. Wil-
helm likewise put his hand to the business; he assisted in
settling the perspective, 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 shewed
particularly how they should proceed in every case, dis-
playing an uncommon knowledge of all the arts they were
concerned with.
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
interrupted by the presence of visiters. 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 Wil-
helm with the hope of being formally presented to the
Countess. "I have told this excellent lady," said he,
66
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
186
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
/


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 occasion; adding, that
doubtless it would recommend him to no usual degree of
favour. The lady, he declared, was extremely 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. "Hither-
to," said he, "thou hast laboured in silence for thyself;
applauded only by a small circle of friends. Thou hast
for a time despaired of thy abilities, and art 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 inclination 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 willingly recoil from the
experiment; I could wish to add this pleasure to my
former enjoyments, and if it might be, to give extension
and stability to my hopes from the future.”
He accordingly went through some pieces; read them
with the keenest critical eye; made corrections here and
there; 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
honour 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 acquaint-


BOOK III. CHAP. V.
187
ance; 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
longing too eagerly to lay before the lovely Countess
some performance that might interest and gratify her.
Philina too stood somewhat in his way; on former occa-
sions, while listening to him, she had more than once
been troublesome. He looked at the friseur with a pain-
ful feeling, hoping every moment that the tower of curls
would be complete.
Meanwhile the Count came in, and began to talk of
the fresh visiters he was expecting, of the day's occupa-
tions or amusements, and of various domestic matters
that were started. On his retiring, some officers sent to
ask permission 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 per-
mitted him to usher in the gentlemen.
The Baroness amid these interruptions gave herself
some pains to entertain our friend, and shewed him much
consideration; all which he accepted with becoming rever-
ence, 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 im-
mediately began without mercy to open his papers, bags,

188
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
and band-boxes; pressing 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 painful and fruitless endurance, he went away.
He then found a beautiful pocket-book, of English manu-
facture, in his pocket. The Baroness had dexterously
put it there without his notice; and soon afterwards the
Countess' 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 honour of the Prince, on the
day of his Highness' arrival. He meant to have the
great qualities of this noble hero and philanthropist per-
sonified 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,
BOOK III. CHAP. VI.
189
to whom it must be an easy matter, would stand by him
on this occasion.
"How!" exclaimed our friend in a splenetic tone,
"have we nothing but portraits, illuminated names, and
allegorical figures, to shew in honour of a Prince, who, in
my opinion, merits quite a different eulogy? How can
it flatter any reasonable man to see himself set up in
effigy, and his name glimmering on oiled paper! I am
very much afraid that your Allegories, particularly in the
present state of the wardrobe, will furnish occasion for
many ambiguities and jestings. If you mean, however, to
compose the piece, or make it be composed, I can have
nothing to object against it; only I desire to have no
part or lot in the matter."
Melina excused himself; alleging this to be only a
casual hint of his Lordship the Count, who for the rest
had left the arrangement of the piece entirely in their
own hands.
"With all my heart," replied our friend,
“will I contribute something to the pleasure of this noble
family; my Muse has never had so pleasant an employ-
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
reduced 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

190
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
.
considerable surprise. For, on the previous evening, he
had heard his Lordship talk of having ordered some quite
different 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 shews the artist what is wanted: and then leaves to
him the care of producing it by his own means."
"Not at all," replied the Baron: "his Lordship
understands that the piece shall be composed according
to that and no other plan, which he has himself prescribed.
Yours has indeed a remote similarity with his idea; but,
if we mean to accomplish our purpose, and get the Count
diverted from his first thought, we shall need to employ
the ladies in the matter. The Baroness especially con-
trives 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 succeed.”
"We need the assistance of the ladies," said our
friend," at any rate; for neither our company nor our
wardrobe would suffice without them. I have counted
on some pretty children, that are running up and down
the house, and belong to certain of the servants."
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 evening, when the gentlemen sat down to play,
which, owing to the arrival of a certain General, was
expected to be deeper and keener than usual, the Countess
and her friend, under pretext of some indisposition, would
retire to their chamber; where Wilhelm, being introduced
by a secret staircase, might submit his project without
BOOK III. CHAP. VI.
191
interruption. This sort of mystery, 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, because it was to be
accomplished secretly and against the inclination of the
Count.
Towards evening, at the appointed time, Wilhelm was
sent for, and led in with caution. As the Baroness ad-
vanced to meet him in a small cabinet, the manner of
their interview brought former happy scenes, for a mo-
ment, to his mind. She conducted him along to the
Countess' chamber; and they now proceeded earnestly
to question and investigate. He exhibited his plan with
the utmost warmth and vivacity; so that his fair audience
were quite decided in its favour. Our readers also will
permit us to present a brief sketch of it here.
The piece 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 varia-
tions 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 should 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
overcome; the girls fly, and are taken. 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
composure. Whereupon the Hero's character is painted
192
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
in the finest colours; security is promised in the midst of
arms; violence and lawless disorder are now to be re-
strained. A universal festival is held in honour of the
noble-minded Captain.
The Countess and her friend expressed great satisfac-
tion 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 tha
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 his plan
was the one proposed by himself with a few alterations;
at the same time expressly 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 deli-
cately and how nobly he would have the praises of hist
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 demeanour,
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 undergo, when the
ladies, in distributing the characters, pointedly insisted
that he must undertake one himself.
C
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.
--

BOOK III. CHAP. VII.
193
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 incom-
parable man; she accompanied him to the little stairs,
and wished him good night with a squeeze of the hand.

CHAPTER VII.
THE interest in his undertakings, which the Countess and
her friend expressed and felt so warmly, quickened Wil-
helm's faculties and zeal: the plan of his piece, which the
process of describing it had rendered more distinct, was
now present in the most brilliant vividness before his
mind. He spent the greater part of that night, and the
whole of next morning, in the sedulous versification of the
dialogue and songs.
He had proceeded a considerable way, when a mes-
se came requiring his attendance in the Castle; the
noble company, who were then at breakfast, wished to
speak with him. As he entered the parlour, 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
honour of the Prince. I consent that you introduce a
Minerva into it; and we are just thinking beforehand
how the goddess shall be dressed, that we may not blunder
VOL. I.
K

194
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
in costume. 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
parlour, 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 even this was not
enough. The Count's faithful memory recalled to him all
the Minervas to be found in frontispieces, vignettes, or
anywhere else; and book after book was, in consequence,
carried from the library, till finally the Count was sitting
in a chaos of volumes. Unable at last to recollect any
other figure of Minerva, he observed 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 collec-
tion of books has been so totally deprived of the presence
of its patron goddess."

The whole company were merry at this thought;
Jarno particularly, who had all along been spurring on
the Count to call for more and more books, laughed quite
immoderately.
"Now," said the Count, turning to Wilhelm, “one
chief 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 Wil-
helm, " if we were not clearly to express ourselves on this
head; if, since the goddess plays a double part in the
ancient mythology, 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 him-
""
BOOK III. CHAP. VII.
195
self, hastily pushed forward the Countess' tailor, to give
his opinion how such an antique robe could best be got
ready. This man, being frequently employed in making
masquerade dresses, very easily contrived the business;
and as Madam Melina, notwithstanding her advanced
state of pregnancy, had undertaken to enact the celestial
virgin, the tailor was directed to take her measure: and
the Countess, though with some reluctance, selected from
the wardrobe the clothes he was to cut up for that
purpose.
The Baroness, in her dexterous way, again contrived
to lead Wilhelm aside, and let him know that she had
been providing all the other necessaries. Shortly after-
wards, she sent him the musician, who had charge of the
Count's private band; and this professor set about com-
posing 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 transparent decoration, des-
tined to surprise the spectators at the conclusion of the
play. His inventive genius, aided by the skill of his
confectioner, produced in fact a very pretty article. In
the course of his travels, the Count had witnessed the
most splendid exhibitions of this sort; he had also brought
home with him a number of copperplates and drawings,
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 threat-
ened to occasion an unpleasant gap in the performance.
He had promised to himself a striking effect from Mig-
non's egg-dance; and was much surprised when the child,

196
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
with her customary dryness of manner, refused to dance,
saying she was now his, and would no more go upon the
stage. He sought to move her by every sort of persua-
sion, 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 delighted 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, entertaining her with fooleries, and
daily receiving some present for her pains. Among other
things, a dress had been expressly made for her wearing
in this prelude. And being of a light imitative nature,
she quickly marked in the procedure of the ladies what-
ever would befit herself: she had of late grown all polite-
ness 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
herself 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
But on this occasion, as
easily have made her fortune.
on all others, she employed her advantages merely to
divert herself, to procure a bright to-day, and be imper-
tinent, wherever she observed that impertinence was not
attended with danger.


BOOK III. CHAP. VII.
197
The parts were now committed to memory; a re-
hearsal of the piece was ordered; the Count purposed
to be present at it; and his lady began to feel anxious
how he might receive it. The Baroness called Wilhelm
to her privately: the nearer the hour approached, they
all displayed the more perplexity; for the truth was, that
of the Count's original idea nothing whatever had been
introduced. Jarno, who joined them while consulting
together, was admitted to the secret. He felt amused at
the contrivance, and was heartily disposed to offer the
ladies his good services in carrying it through.
"It will
go hard," said he, "if you cannot extricate yourselves.
without help from this affair; but, at all events, I will
wait as a 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.
66 I
will sit by him," said she, "to-night at the rehearsal, and
study to divert his attention. The confectioner I have
engaged already to make the decoration as beautiful as
possible, but as yet he has not quite completed it."
"I know of a Court," said Jarno, "where I wish we
had a few such active and prudent friends as you. If
your skill to-night will not suffice, give me a signal; I
will take out the Count, and not let him in again till
Minerva enter, and you have speedy aid to expect from
the illumination. For a day or two, I have had some-
thing 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


198
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
Count had abundance of employment in pointing out
improvements, rectifying and arranging the detatched
parts, he entirely forgot the purport of the whole; and as
at last Madam Melina advanced and spoke according to
his heart, and the transparency did well, he seemed com-
pletely satisfied. It was not till the whole was finished,
and his guests were sitting down to cards, that the differ-
ence appeared to strike him, and he began to think
whether after all this piece was actually of his invention.
At a signal from the Baroness, Jarno then came forward
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
neighbourhood; the house was full of noise and tumult;
and our actors, not always served in the handsomest
manner by unwilling 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.
CHAPTER VIII.
AT length the Prince arrived, with all his generals, staff-
officers, and suite accompanying him. These, and the
multitude of people coming to visit or do business with
him, made the Castle like a bee-hive 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.
1
BOOK III. CHAP. VIII.
199
By the Count's orders, the inmates of the Castle were
required to be all at their posts when the Prince arrived;
not a player was allowed to shew himself, that his High-
ness 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
honour of himself. Every thing went off as it should
have done: at the conclusion of the show, the whole
troop were called and presented individually 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
Wilhelm, judiciously 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 ap-
plauses 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.
was true. For although the Prince had

200
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
waited out the first exhibitions, sitting on his chair, with
the greatest conscientiousness, yet by degrees he grew
remiss in his attendance, and seized every plausible occa-
sion of withdrawing. And those very people whom Wil-
helm, 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 moments in the hall of the
theatre; sitting for the rest of their time in the ante-
chamber, gaming, or seeming to employ themselves in
business.
K
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 nu-
merous rehearsals, and whatever farther could be done, he
zealously co-operated with Melina, who, being in secret
conscious of his own insufficiency, at length acknow-
ledged and pursued these counsels. His own parts Wil-
helm diligently studied; and executed with vivacity and
feeling, and with all the propriety which the little training
he had yet received would allow.
At the same time, the unwearied interest which 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
shewed an exclusive inclination for the French theatre;
while a part of his people, among whom Jarno was espe-
cially distinguished, gave a passionate preference to the
monstrous productions of the English stage.
If in this way the art of our players was not ade-
quately 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

BOOK III. CHAP. VIII.
201
them the attention of the young officers; in the sequel
they were luckier, and made more important conquests.
But omitting these, we shall merely observe, that Wil-
helm every day appeared more interesting to the Countess,
while in him too a silent inclination towards her was be-
ginning to take root. Whenever he was on the stage,
she could not turn her eyes from him; and ere long, he
seemed to play and to recite with his face towards her
alone. To look upon each other was to them the sweetest
satisfaction; to which their harmless souls yielded without
reserve, without cherishing a bolder wish, or thinking
about any consequence.
As two hostile outposts will sometimes peacefully and
pleasantly converse together, across the river which di-
vides 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 un-
willing to refuse a passing adventure. He would actually
on this occasion 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 comparison, which pointed too clearly to
the dangerous caresses of a Circe, grieved poor Laertes
K 2

202
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 de-
lightful 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 favour."
To the happy man, just entering the garden of an
enchantress, 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 pre-
decessor 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 Stall-
meister, with whom he diligently fenced and hunted;
conducting himself at rehearsals and representations as if
these were but secondary matters.
66
The Count and his lady would often in the mornings
send for some of the company to attend them; and all had
continual cause to envy the undeserved good fortune of
Philina. The Count kept his favourite, the Pedant, fre-
quently for hours together, at his toilette.
This genius
had been dressed out by degrees; he was now equipt and
furnished even to watch and snuff-box.
Many times, too, particularly after dinner, the whole
company were called out before the noble guests; an
honour which the artists regarded as the most flattering
in the world; not observing, that on these very occasions
the servants and huntsmen were ordered to bring in a

BOOK III. CHAP. VIIJ.
203
multitude of hounds, and to lead strings of horses about
the court of the Castle.
Wilhelm had been counselled to praise Racine, the
Prince's favourite, and thereby to attract some portion of
his Highness' favour to himself. On one of these after-
noons, being summoned with the rest, he found an oppor-
tunity to introduce this topic. The Prince asked him if
he diligently read the great French dramatic writers; to
which Wilhelm answered 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 proceeded to declare, that he
valued the French theatre very highly, and read the
works of their great masters with delight; 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
constant intercourse with the most distinguished persons,
and penetrating into the secrets of human nature, as it
works concealed behind the gorgeous tapestry of palaces.
When I study his Britannicus, his Berenice, it seems as if
I were transported in person to the court, were initiated
into the great and the little, in the habitations of these
earthly gods; through the fine and delicate organs of
my author, I see kings whom a nation adores, courtiers
whom thousands envy, in their natural forms, with their
failings and their pains. The anecdote of Racine's dying
of a broken heart, because Louis Fourteenth would no

204
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
longer attend to him, and had shewn him his dissatis-
faction, is to me the key to all his works. It was impos-
sible 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 stept near, and was listening with astonish-
ment. The Prince, who had made no answer, and had
only shewn his approbation by an assenting look, now
turned aside; though Wilhelm, who did not know that it
was contrary to etiquette to continue a discussion under
such circumstances and exhaust a subject, would gladly
have spoken more, and convinced the Prince that he had
not read his favourite 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
became more known in Germany, I have myself grown
unacquainted 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 that I have heard of these plays has excited
little 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."


BOOK III. CHAP. VIII.
The horses were standing at the door; and
mounted with some other cavaliers, to go and h
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 that he had
need of.
Oftentimes a man when approaching some develop-
ment of his powers, capacities, and conceptions, gets into
a perplexity, from which a prudent friend might easily
deliver him. He resembles a traveller, who, at but a
short distance from the inn he is to rest at, falls into the
water; were any one to catch him then, and pull him to
the bank, with one good wetting it were over; whereas
though he struggles out himself, it is often at the side
where he tumbled in, and he has to make a wide and
weary circuit before reaching his appointed object.
Wilhelm now began to have an inkling that things
went forward in the world differently from what he had
supposed. He now viewed close at hand the solemn and
imposing life of the great and distinguished; and wondered
at the easy dignity which they contrived to give it. An
army on its march, a princely hero at the head of it, such
a multitude of co-operating warriors, such a multitude of
crowding worshippers, exalted his imagination. In this
mood, he received the promised books; and ere long, as
may be easily supposed, the stream of that mighty genius
laid hold of him, and led him down to a shoreless ocean,
where he soon completely forgot and lost himself.

MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER IX.
THE Connexion between the Baron and the actors had
suffered 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 pieces, 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 shewed the benignest humour 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 champaign to the actors.
In return for all this, our company 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 observable; this of necessity chagrined the rest.
He exalted his favourites quite exclusively; and thus, of
course, he introduced disunion and jealousy among the
company. Melina, without skill to help himself in dubi-
ous junctures, felt his situation very vexing. The persons
eulogised accepted of their praise, without being singu-
larly thankful for it; while the neglected gentlemen
shewed traces of their spleen by a thousand methods;
and constantly found means to make it very disagreeable
for their once much-honoured patron to appear among
them. Their spite received no little nourishment from a
certain poem, by an unknown author, which made a great

BOOK III. CHAP. IX.
207
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 additions, 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:
I poor devil, Lord Baron,
Must envy you your crest of arms,
The coach you ride in, coat you've on,
Your copses, ponds, and rack-rent farms,
Your father's polish'd ashlar house,
And all his hounds and hares and grouse.
Me poor devil, Lord Baron,
You envy my small shred of wit;
Because it seems, as things have gone,
Old Nature had a hand in it;
She made me light of heart and gay,
With long-necked purse, not brain of clay.
Look you now, dear Lord Baron,
What if we both should cease to fret,
You being his Lordship's eldest son,
And I being mother Nature's brat?
We live in peace, all envy chase,
And heed not which o' th' two surpasses;
I in the Herald's Books no place,
You having none about Parnassus.
Upon this poem, which various persons were pos-
sessed of, in copies scarcely legible, opinions were ex-
ceedingly 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.
"We Germans," he exclaimed, " deserve to have our

208
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 nowise 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 become more famous
by their love of art and learning; while many, on the
other hand, have mounted out of darkness to distinction,
and risen like unknown stars on the horizon. Yet such
will not always be the case; and I greatly err, if the first
classes of the nation are not even now in the way of also
employing their advantages to earn the fairest laurels of
the Muses, at no distant date. Nothing, therefore, grieves
me more than to see the burgher jeering at the noble who
can value literature; nay, even men of rank themselves,
with inconsiderate caprice, maliciously scaring off their
equal from a path where honour 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 hypothesis; and the Count, never
willing that another should surpass 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
/


BOOK III. CHAP. IX.
209
1
sent for, and made him read the poem, in his own manner,
in presence of the Countess, the Baroness, and Jarno; a
service he was paid for by applauses, praises, and a pre-
sent and on the Count's inquiring if he had not still
some other poems of an earlier time, he cunningly con-
trived to evade the question. Thus did the Pedant get
invested with the reputation of a poet and a wit; and in
the eyes of the Baron's friends, of a pasquinader and a
bad-hearted man. From that period, play as he might,
the Count applauded him with greater zeal than ever; so
that the poor wight grew at last inflated till he nearly lost
his senses, and began to meditate having a chamber in the
Castle like Philina.
Had this project been fulfilled at once, a great mishap
might have been spared him. As he was returning late
one evening from the Castle, groping about in the dark
narrow way, he was suddenly laid hold of, and kept on
the spot by some persons, while some others rained a
shower of blows upon him, and battered him so stoutly,
that in a few seconds he was lying almost dead upon the
place, and could not without difficulty crawl in to his
companions. These, indignant as they seemed to be at
such an outrage, felt their secret joy in the adventure;
they could hardly keep from laughing, at seeing him so
thoroughly curried, and his new brown coat bedusted
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


210
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
powder in the Castle, was submitted to investigation; but
in vain.
The Baron solemnly protested on his honour, that
although this sort of jesting had considerably displeased
him, and the conduct of his Lordship the Count had not
been the friendliest, 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 com-
motion of the house, soon effaced all recollection of the
matter; and so, without redress, the unlucky favourite
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. Ere
long their victuals, drink, attendance, lodging, grew inade-
quate; 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 act-
ing, Wilhelm scarcely ever came abroad. Shut up in
one of the remotest chambers, to which Mignon and the
Harper alone had free access, he lived and moved in the
Shakspearean 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


BOOK III. CHAP. IX.
211
?
space of the apartment is quickly full; and the spirits
crowding on to the verge of the little circle which they
must not pass, around this, and above the master's head,
keep increasing in number, and ever whirling in perpetual
transformation. Every corner is crammed, every crevice
is possessed. Embryos expand themselves, and giant
forms contract into the size of nuts. Unhappily the
Black-artist has forgot the counter-word, with which he
might command this flood of sprites again to ebb.
So sat Wilhelm in his privacy; with unknown move-
ments, 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, de-
nied most obstinately; so that they could not inflict a
formal punishment, but meant to give him a slight me-
morial as a vagabond, and send him about his business;
he having prowled about the neighbourhood 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 transac-
tion, and was dismissing it altogether, when Mignon came
running in, and assured him that the criminal was Fried-
rich, who, since the rencounter with the Stallmeister, had
vanished from the company, and not again been heard of.
Feeling an interest in the boy, Wilhelm hastily arose;
he found, in the court-yard of the Castle, the preparations
almost finished. The Count loved solemnity on these
+


212
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
occasions. The boy being now led out, our friend stept
forward, and entreated for delay, as he knew the boy, and
had various things to say which might perhaps throw light
on the affair. He had difficulty in succeeding, notwith-
standing all his statements; at length, however, he did get
permission to speak with the culprit in private. Friedrich.
averred, that concerning 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 shew
favour, 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 behaviour 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
family, 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.

BOOK III. CHAP. IX.
213
CHAPTER X.
PHILINA now succeeded in insinuating farther every day
into the favour of the ladies. Whenever they were by
themselves, 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; eulogising, on the contrary, his
nobleness of mind, his generosity, and more than all, his
modest and respectful conduct to the fair sex. To all
inquiries made about him she replied with equal prudence;
and the Baroness, when she observed the growing inclina-
tion of her amiable friend, was likewise very glad at the
discovery. Her own intrigues with several men, especially
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
censures.
In this way, both Philina and the Baroness were person-
ally 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 labour for herself, and, if possible, get back the
favour of the young man she had lost.
One day his Lordship with his guests had ridden out
to hunt, and their return was not expected till the morrow.
On this, the Baroness devised a frolic, which was alto-
gether in her way: for she loved disguises; and in order
to surprise her friends, would suddenly appear among them
?
214
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
as a peasant girl at one time, at another as a page, at
another as a hunter's boy. By which means she almost
gave herself the air of a little fairy, that is present every-
where, and exactly in the place where it is least expected.
Nothing could exceed this lady's joy, if, without being
recognised, she could contrive to wait upon the company
for some time as a servant, or mix among them anyhow,
and then at last in some sportful way disclose herself.
Towards night, she sent for Wilhelm to her chamber;
and, happening to have something else to do just then, she
left Philina to receive him and prepare him.
He arrived, and found to his surprise, not the honour-
able lady, but the giddy actress 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 her-
self; confessed that she had but too well deserved such
punishment; described with the greatest candour what
she called her former situation; adding, that she would
despise herself, if she were not capable of altering, and
making herself worthy of his friendship.
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 dragging them forward. Accordingly, he
could not find in his heart to behave inexorably to the
{
1
1
BOOK III. CHAP. X.
215
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 Lord-
ship's silk night-gown; and put the cap with red trim-
mings 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's lamp, which stood
before him, and shewed him what he was to do, and what
kind of part he had to play.
They would inform the Countess, she said, of her hus-
band's unexpected arrival, and that he was in very bad
humour. 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 dis-
close 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 delibe-
ration. The Baroness had vanished from the room, be-
fore he saw how dangerous the post was which he had
engaged to fill. He could not deny that the beauty, the
youth, the gracefulness of the Countess had made some
impression on him; but his nature was entirely averse to
all empty gallantry, and his principles forbade any thought
of more serious enterprises; so that his perplexity at this

216
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
moment was in truth extreme. The fear 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
shewed itself again to his imagination. Mariana rose be-
fore him in her white morning-gown, and entreated his
remembrance. Philina's loveliness, her beautiful hair,
her insinuating blandishments, had again become attrac-
tive by her late presence. Yet all this retired as if be-
hind the veil of distance, when he figured to himself the
noble blooming Countess, whose arm in a few minutes he
would feel upon his neck, 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 mirror, he quite clearly discerned the Count coming
in with a light in his hand. His doubt what he should
do, whether he should sit still or rise, should fly, confess,
The
deny, or beg forgiveness, lasted but a few instants.
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 de-
livering 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
On which the Baroness, in an ex-
postern, even now."


BOOK III. CHAP. X.
217
cessive panic, had run to the Count's chamber to give
warning.
66
Unhappily you came too late!" said Wilhelm. "The
Count was in the room before you, and saw me sitting."
"And recognised you?"
"That I know not. He was looking at me in the
glass, as I at him; and before I could well determine
whether it was he or a spirit, he drew back, and closed
the door behind him."

The anxiety of the Baroness increased, when a servant
came to call her, signifying that the Count was with his
lady. She went with no light heart; and found the Count
silent and thoughtful, indeed, but milder and kinder in his
words than usual. She knew not what to think of it.
They spoke about the incidents of the chase, and the
causes of his quick return. The conversation soon ran
out. The Count became taciturn; and it struck the
Baroness particularly, when he asked for Wilhelm, and
expressed a wish that he were sent for, to come and read
something.
Wilhelm, who had now dressed himself in the Baroness's
chamber, and in some degree recovered his composure,
obeyed the order, not without anxiety. The Count gave
him a book; out of which he read an adventurous tale,
very little at his ease. His voice had a certain incon-
stancy and quivering 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.
VOL. I.
L


218
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
メ
​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 pro-
duced such important effects on me, as the precious
works, to which by your kindness I have been directed.
They seem as if they were performances of some celestial
genius, descending among men, to make them, by the
mildest instructions, acquainted with themselves. They
are no fictions! You would think, while reading them,
you stood before the unclosed 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."
"Bravo!" said Jarno, holding out his hand, and
squeezing our friend's: "This is as it should be! And
the consequences, which I hope for, will likewise surely
follow."
"I wish," said Wilhelm, “I could but disclose to you
all that is going on within me even now. All the an-
ticipations I have ever had regarding man and his des

BOOK III. CHAP. XI.
219
tiny, which have accompanied me from youth upwards,
often unobserved by myself, I find developed and fulfilled
in Shakspeare's writings. It seems as if he cleared up
every one of our enigmas to us, though we cannot say:
Here or there is the word of solution. His men appear
like natural men, and yet they are not. These, the most
mysterious, and complex productions 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; con-
sider 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 devoting your strength
and talents to our service, not fearing labour, and if need
were, danger, I might even now have an opportunity to
put you in a situation, which you would not afterwards
720

220
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 into the park, and at last come upon the highway that
crossed it. Jarno stood silent for a moment, and then
said: “Deliberate on my proposal, determine, give me
your answer 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 vexation and spleen,
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 horse-
back came hastily along; a groom following him with a
led horse. Jarno shouted a
Jarno shouted a warm salutation to him.
The officer sprang from his horse; Jarno and he embraced
and talked together; while Wilhelm, confounded at the
last expressions of his warlike friend, stood thoughtfully
at a side. Jarno turned over some papers which the
stranger had delivered to him; while the latter came to
Wilhelm; held out his hand, and said with emphasis:
"I find you in worthy company; follow the counsel 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 neces-
sary 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'
BOOK III. CHAP. XI.
221
galled him to see the two human beings, that had most
innocently won his affections, so grievously disparaged
by a man whom he honoured 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 reproaches against
himself, that he should for a single instant have mistaken
or forgotten the unfeeling coldness of Jarno, which looked
out from his very eyes, and spoke in all his gestures.
"No!" exclaimed he, "thou conceivest, dead-hearted
worldling, that thou canst be a friend? All that thou
hast power to offer me is not worth the sentiment which
binds me to these forlorn beings. How fortunate, that
I have discovered in time what I had to expect from
thee!"
Mignon came to meet him as he entered; he clasped
her in his arms, exclaiming: "Nothing, nothing shall
part us, thou good little creature !
The seeming pru-
dence of the world shall never cause me to forsake thee,
or forget what I owe thee."
The child, whose warm caresses he had been accus-
tomed to avoid, rejoiced with all her heart at this un-
looked-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
conduct; many parts of it he did not think quite praise-
worthy; nay several things came out, which totally dis-
pleased 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 ad-
venture, our friend thought here was certainly a symptom
of a most corrupted heart; for what could be more de-
222
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
praved than to treat a guiltless person, whose griefs
oneself had occasioned, with jeering and mockery, instead
of trying to satisfy or to indemnify him? In this matter,
Wilhelm would himself willingly have brought about re-
paration; and ere long 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 unac-
quainted 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
according to his custom, he happened to visit this cham-
ber, 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 plas-
tering this gruel with a brush upon their waistcoats and
pantaloons, without stripping; thus very expeditiously
restoring the spotlessness of their apparel. On witness-
ing this piece of ingenuity, our friend was at once struck
with the recollection of the poor Pedant's whited and
bedusted coat: his suspicions gathered strength, when he
learned that some relations of the Baron's 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 ser-
vice, was loud in praising the craft and activity of his
captain; who, it appeared, 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 honour and preferment; and he
?
}
BOOK III. CHAP. XII.
223
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
approached so near. Jarno he now looked upon as no-
thing 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 welcome to him, if he had
not feared that immediately on its departure, he himself
must be banished from the neighbourhood of his lovely
friend, perhaps for ever.
CHAPTER XII.
MEANWHILE the Baroness had spent several days dis-
quieted by anxious fears and unsatisfied curiosity. Since
the late adventure, the Count's demeanour had been alto-
gether an enigma to her. His manner was changed;
none of his customary jokes were to be heard. His de-
mands on the company 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,
?

224
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
often a religious cast were pitched upon; and the Baroness
lived in perpetual fright lest, beneath this apparent se-
renity, a secret rancour might be lurking; a silent pur-
pose to revenge the offence he had so accidentally dis-
covered. She determined, therefore, to make Jarno her
confidant; and this the more freely, as that gentleman.
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 engage-
ment, 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 oc-
curred, 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 freethinking, and produced his own expe-
rience to prove the possibility, nay actual occurrence, of
such preternatural events. Jarno affected to be struck;
to be in doubt; and finally to be convinced: but in pri-

BOOK III. CHAP. XII.
225
vate with his friend, he made himself 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!" ex-
claimed the Baroness, with her wonted vivacity; to which,
when anxiety was taken from her heart, she had instantly
returned. Jarno was richly rewarded; and the two con-
trived fresh projects for frightening the Count still far-
ther; and still farther exciting and confirming the affec-
tion of the Countess for Wilhelm.
With this intention, the whole story was related to the
Countess. She, indeed, expressed her displeasure at such
conduct; but from that time she became more thoughtful,
and in peaceful moments seemed to be considering, pur-
suing, and painting out that scene which had been pre-
pared for her.
The preparations, now going forward on every side,
left no room for doubt that the armies were soon to move
in advance, 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 meantime, was engaged with a pe-
culiar task. The Countess had required from him a copy
of his writings; and he looked on this request as the
noblest recompense for his labours.
A young author, who has not yet seen himself in
print, will, in such a case, apply no ordinary care to pro-
L 2
226
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
vide 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 performances 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 performance, worthy to be kept and
valued by some future critic.
The Prince being shortly to depart, a great entertain-
ment had been appointed in honour of him. Many ladies
of the neighbourhood were invited; and the Countess had
dressed herself betimes. On this occasion, she had taken
a costlier suit than usual. Her head-dress, and the de-
corations 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 splen-
dour.
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 ladies, 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 dis-
missed him.
Every time he looked at the Countess, it seemed to
him as if a spark of electric fire were glancing before his
eyes.
In the end, he knew not where to find the breath
he wanted for his reading. The Countess had always
pleased him; but now it appeared as if he never had
beheld a being so perfect and so lovely. A thousand
S
BOOK III. CHAP. XII.
227
3
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
sentiment as they are called, to make war on pomp and
decoration; requiring that women of all ranks should
wear no dress but what is simple and conformable to
nature! They rail at decoration, without once consider-
ing, that when we see a plain or positive ugly person
clothed in a costly and gorgeous fashion, it is not the
poor decoration that displeases 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 ribands and laces, these
braids, ringlets, and glancing 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
ármour from the head of Jove, so does this goddess seem
to have stept forth with a light foot, in all her orna-
ments, 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 for ever;
he more than once read wrong, yet without falling into
confusion of mind; though, at other times, he used to
feel the mistaking 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 plate of woven hair
beautifully set with diamonds. She held it out to Wil-
228
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
helm, 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' right hand. "Do but look at the man;
he carries such a store of words in his mouth, when no
one wants to hear them; and now he cannot stammer out
the poorest syllable of thanks. Quick, sir! Express your
services 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 embarrassed, yet without displeasure.
I
"Ah!” cried Philina, "so much splendour of attire
may have seen before; but never one so fit to wear it.
What bracelets, but also what a hand! What a neck-
dress, 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,"
replied the lady.
"But
"He is a handsome man," observed Philina.
was there never," she continued, placing her hand on the
Countess' 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."
BOOK III. CHAP. XII.
229
"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 extreme surprise, that his initials were traced on it,
in lines of brilliants.
66
"Have I then,” he modestly inquired, "your own
hair in this precious ring?"
"Yes," replied she in a faint voice; then suddenly
collecting 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.
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 some-
thing stranger, and the succeeding wonder takes us by
surprise; so, without knowing how it happened, he found
the Countess in his arms; her lips were resting upon his,
and their warm mutual kisses were yielding them that
blessedness, which mortals sip from the topmost sparkling
foam on the freshly poured cup of love.
Her head lay on his shoulder; the disordered ringlets
and ruffles were forgotten. She had thrown her arm
round him; he clasped her with vivacity; and pressed
her again and again to his breast. O that such a
moment could but last for ever! And wo to envious
Fate that shortened even this brief moment to our
friends!
How terrified was Wilhelm, how astounded did he
start from his happy dream, when the Countess, with a
230
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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, ex-
claimed: "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: "Fly, 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?
1

WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
BOOK IV.

"
WILHELM MEISTER'S
APPRENTICESHIP.
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 leant 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 shew a
trace of what was here; and soon the whole will be
ploughed and reaped as formerly, and the presence 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 honour him with mirth and cheerfulness of heart while
he is passing."

234
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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."
"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 Countess, 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 ex-
tremely affectionate and taking; had asked minutely
about Wilhelm's parents, brothers, sisters, and relations;
and so brought to his mind the duty which he owed his
people, to send them some tidings of himself.
With the farewell compliments of the family, the
Baron delivered him an assurance from the Count, that
his Lordship had been exceedingly obliged by his acting,
his poetical labours, and his theatrical exertions. For
proof of this statement, 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.
BOOK IV. CHAP. I.
235
"Look upon this gift," said the Baron, "as a com-
pensation 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; pro-
cure a trinket with it, such as may please you best and
be of greatest use, and keep it for our sakes. At the
same time, you must not forget to hold the purse in
honour. It was knit by the fingers of our ladies: they
meant that the cover should give to its contents the most
pleasing form."
66
Forgive my embarrassment," said Wilhelm, " and
my doubts about accepting this present. It as it were
annihilates 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 recol-
lection 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 ambition has always consisted in being punctual
and just. He is not uninformed of the labour 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 acknowledg-
ment has given you satisfaction?"
236
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
"If I thought only of myself," said Wilhelm; "if I
might follow merely the dictates of my own feelings, I
should certainly, in spite of all these reasons, steadfastly
refuse this gift, generous and honourable as it is: but I
will not deny, that at the very moment when it brings me
into one perplexity, 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 manage-
ment, 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 bypath 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 honour?" 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 su-
perior to such objections, when the case requires it; and
I think with pleasure on the story of that ingenious poet,
which I dare say you have heard of. He had written
several plays for the court-theatre, which were honoured
by the warmest approbation of the monarch. • I must
BOOK IV. CHAP. I.
237
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 humorous way, the poet answered the
inquiring courtier: 'I am 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 im-
mediately 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 him and
attended him. He now seized the pen, with an assured
mind, to write a letter, which might free his family from
their anxieties, and set his late proceedings in the most
favourable light. He abstained from any special narra-
tive; 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 talents, the favour of the great and of the
fair, acquaintance with a wider circle, the improvement
of his bodily and mental gifts, his hopes from the future,
altogether formed such a fair cloud-picture, that Fata
Morgagna itself could scarcely have thrown together a
stranger or a better.
In this happy exaltation, the letter being folded up,
238
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
he went on to maintain a conversation with himself,
recapitulating what he had been writing, and pointing
out for himself an active and glorious future. The ex-
ample of so many gallant warriors had fired him; the
poetry of Shakspeare had opened a new world to him;
from the lips of the beautiful 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 excep-
tion of Melina, 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 money; Herr Melina had stowed
it all far down at the bottom 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,
Melina said: "I am sorry we should travel like mounte-
banks 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 vivacity: "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 care-
fully upon a riband, 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 favour of his Lordship."
BOOK IV. CHAP. I.
239
....
On being pressed to give an explanation of this sin-
gular speech, Philina said to them: "The Count thinks
it contributes 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 shewed such favour to the Pedant;
and he judged it, in like manner, very fitting that the
Harper not only wore his false beard at nights on the
stage, but also constantly by day; and he used to be
delighted at the natural appearance of the mask."
While the rest were laughing at this error, and the
other strange opinions of the Count, the Harper led our
friend aside, took leave of him, and begged with tears
that he would even now let him go. Wilhelm spoke to
him, declaring 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 connected with me. Dread every thing,
unless you dismiss me: but ask me no questions; I belong
not to myself; I cannot stay."
"To whom dost thou belong? Who can exert such a
power on thee ?"
"Leave me my horrid secret, and let me go! The
vengeance which pursues me is not of the earthly judge.
I belong to an inexorable Destiny; I cannot stay, and I
dare not."
"In the situation thou art now in, I certainly will 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
240
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
peril. You know not whom you keep beside you. I am
guilty, but more wretched than guilty. 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 shew myself, than by
forsaking you."
66
Strange man! Thou canst neither take away the
confidence I place in thee, nor the hope I feel to see thee
happy. I wish not to penetrate the secrets of thy super-
stition; but if thou livest in belief of wonderful fore-
bodings and entanglements of Fate, then, to cheer and
hearten thee, I say, unite thyself to my good fortune, and
let us see which genius 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 observed attentively the
following lines:
For him the light of ruddy morn
But paints the horizon red with flame;
And voices, from the depths of nature borne,
Woe! woe! upon his guilty head proclaim.
But, let the old man urge what arguments he pleased,
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 to gather spirits, and to throw aside his
whims.

BOOK IV. CHAP. II.
241
CHAPTER II.
MELINA was in hopes to get established with his company,
in a small but thriving town at some distance. They had
already reached the place where the Count's horses were
to turn; and now they looked about for other carriages
and cattle to transport them onward. Melina had engaged
to provide them a conveyance: he shewed himself but
niggardly, according to his custom. Wilhelm, on the
contrary, had the shining ducats of the Countess in his
pocket, and thought he had the fullest right to spend
them merrily; forgetting very soon how ostentatiously he
had produced them in the stately balance transmitted to
his father.
His friend Shakspeare, whom with the greatest joy he
acknowledged as his godfather, and rejoiced the more
that his name was Wilhelm, had introduced him to a
prince, who frolicked for a time among mean, nay vicious
companions, and who, notwithstanding his nobleness of
nature, found pleasure in the rudeness, indecency, and
coarse intemperance of these altogether sensual knaves.
This ideal likeness, which he figured as the type and the
excuse of his own actual condition, was most welcome to
our friend; and the process of self-deception, to which
already he displayed an almost invincible tendency, was
thereby very much facilitated.
He now began to think about his dress. It struck
him that a waistcoat, over which, in case of need, one
could throw a little short mantle, was a very fit thing for
a traveller. Long knit pantaloons, and a pair of lacing-
boots, seemed the true garb of a pedestrian. He next
procured a fine silk sash, which he tied about him, under
the pretence at first of securing warmth for his person.
VOL. I.
M
:


242
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
On the other hand, he freed his neck from the tyranny of
stocks; and got a few stripes of muslin sewed upon his
shirt; making the pieces of considerable breadth, so that
they presented the complete appearance of an ancient
ruff. The beautiful silk neckerchief, the memorial of
Mariana, which had once been saved from burning, now
lay slackly tied beneath this muslin collar. A round hat,
with a parti-coloured band, and a large feather, perfected
the mask.
The women all asserted that this garb became him
very well.
Philina in particular appeared enchanted
with it. She solicited his hair for herself; beautiful locks,
which, the closer to approach the natural ideal, he had
unmercifully clipped. By so doing, she recommended
herself not amiss to his favour; and our friend, who, by
his openhandedness, had acquired the right of treating his
companions somewhat in Prince Harry's manner, ere long
fell into the humour of himself contriving a few wild
tricks, and presiding in the execution of them. The
people fenced, they danced, they devised all kinds of
sports; and in their gaiety of heart partook of what
tolerable wine they could fall in with, in copious propor-
tions; 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 bene-
factors 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 establishment; 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
BOOK IV. CHAP. II.
243
declarations of love that had been made to her, the audi-
ence 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 towards such deserving
people, as our friends believed themselves, not having been
by any means the best imaginable. The little consider-
ation, the neglect they had experienced, were now de-
scribed with many aggravations. The jesting, bantering,
and mimicry proceeded as before; our party were grow-
ing bitterer and more unjust every minute.
3
"I wish," observed Wilhelm, "there were no envy
or selfishness lurking under what you say, but that you
would regard those persons and their station in the proper
point of view. It is a peculiar thing to be placed, by
one's very birth, in an elevated situation in society. The
man for whom inherited wealth has secured a perfect
freedom of existence; who finds himself from his youth
upwards abundantly encompassed 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 faintly. The be-
haviour 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 honoured with the company's un-
bounded applause. They declared it to be shameful, that
men of merit should constantly be pushed into the back-
ground; and that in the great world, there should not be
a trace of natural and hearty intercourse. On this latter
point particularly they overshot all bounds.
"Blame them not for it," said Wilhelm, "rather pity
M
$
ĥ

24.4
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
them! They have seldom an exalted feeling of that
happiness, 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
favour, 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 enjoyment, 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 itself do wonders: and how many means does he
possess of holding fast the affections he has once con-
quered! 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 themselves up to danger and
death for their masters! How finely has Shakspeare
painted out such things to us! Fidelity, in this case, is
the effort of a noble soul struggling to become equal with
one exalted above it. By steadfast attachment and love,
the servant is made equal to his lord, who but for this is
justified in looking on him as a hired slave. Yes, these
virtues belong to the lower class of men alone; that class
cannot do without them, and with them it has a beauty of
BOOK IV. CHAP. II.
245
its own.
Whoever is enabled to requite all favours easily,
will likewise easily be tempted to raise himself above the
habit of acknowledgment. Nay, in this sense, I am of
opinion, it might almost be maintained that a great man
may possess friends, but cannot be one."
Mignon pressed still closer towards him.
we do
"It may be so," replied one of the party:
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 patronise. When we played in the best
style, there was none to mind us: it was all sheer par-
tiality. Any one they choose to favour pleased; and they
did not choose to favour those that merited to please. It
was intolerable to observe how often silliness and mere
stupidity attracted notice and applause."
"When I abate from this," said Wilhelm, "what
seemed to spring from irony and malice, I think we may
nearly say, that one fares in art as he does in love. And
after all, how shall a fashionable man of the world, with
his dissipated habits, attain that intimate presence with a
special object, which an artist must long continue in, if
he would produce any thing approaching to perfection;
a state of feeling without which it is impossible for any
one to take such an interest, as the artist hopes and
wishes, in his work.
CC
"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 they be not of the richest
246
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
sort. And why should we repine? Were we not, alto-
gether unexpectedly, 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
choose a play; we will go through it on the spot.
Each
of us must do his best, as if he stood before the largest
audience."
They did not long deliberate; a play was fixed on.
It was one of those which at that time were meeting
great applause in Germany, and have now passed away.
Some of the party whistled a symphony; each speedily
bethought him of his part; they commenced; and played
all the piece with the greatest attention, and really well
beyond expectation. Mutual 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 satis-
faction with his own performance. Wilhelm expressed
himself copiously in their praise; the conversation grew
cheerful and merry.
"You would see," cried our friend, "what advances
we should make, if we continued this sort of training,
and ceased to confine our attention to mere learning
by heart, rehearsing, 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 undertake in common!
BOOK IV. CHAP. II.
247
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 mutually 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 disposed 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 fellow 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
#
248
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
they remained together, they would regularly proceed
with their training in the manner just adopted. Only it
was thought, that as this was a thing of good humour
and free will, no formal manager must be allowed to have
a hand in it. Taking it for an established 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 universal
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
making such an experiment while we are travelling; I
shall willingly suspend my own directorship until we
reach some settled place." He was in hopes of saving
cash by this arrangement, and of casting many small
expenses on the shoulders of the little senate or of the
interim manager. This fixed, they went very earnestly
to counsel, how the form of the new commonwealth
might best be adjusted.
CC
"'Tis an itinerating kingdom," said Laertes; we
shall at least have no quarrels about frontiers."
They directly proceeded to the business, and elected
Wilhelm 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 pleasantly, they also conceived that
they had really been effecting something useful; and by
their new constitution had been opening a new prospect
for the stage of their native country.
故
​BOOK IV. CHAP. III.
249
CHAPTER III.
SEEING the company so favourably disposed, Wilhelm
now hoped he might farther have it in his power to con-
verse with them on the poetic merit of the pieces 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 impression, and thus, without investigation,
to declare his satisfaction 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 connexion 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.
1
"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 piece; and I, not knowing what I
undertook, engaged to play the Prince's part. This I
conceived that I was studying, while I began to get by
heart the strongest passages, the soliloquies, and those
scenes in which force of soul, vehemence and elevation of
feeling have the freest scope; where the agitated heart is
allowed to display itself with touching expressiveness.
I farther conceived that I was penetrating quite
M 2
250
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
into the spirit of the character, while I endeavoured as it
were to take upon myself the load of deep melancholy
under which my prototype was labouring, and in this
humour to pursue him through the strange labyrinths of
his caprices and his singularities. 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
become 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 interrup-
tion; but here too I found much that I could not away
with. At one time the characters, at another time the
manner of displaying them, seemed inconsistent; and I
almost despaired of finding 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
character, as it had shewn itself before his father's death:
I endeavoured to distinguish what in it was independent
of this mournful event; independent of the terrible events
that followed; and what most probably the young man
would have been, had no such thing occurred.
"Soft, and from a noble stem, this royal flower had
sprung up under the immediate influences of majesty:
the idea of moral rectitude with that of princely eleva-
tion, 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.
BOOK IV. CHAP. III.
251
"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 honourable-minded, and could prize the rest
which an upright spirit tastes on the bosom of a friend.
To a certain degree, he had learned to discern and value
the good and the beautiful in arts and sciences; the
mean, the vulgar was offensive to him; and if hatred
could take root in his tender soul, it was only so far as to
make him properly despise the false and changeful insects
of a court, and play with them in easy scorn.
He was
calm in his temper, artless in his conduct, neither pleased
with idleness, nor too violently eager for employment.
The routine of a university he seemed to continue when
at court. . He possessed more mirth of humour than of
heart; he was a good companion, pliant, courteous, dis-
creet, and able to forget and forgive an injury; yet never
able to unite himself with those who overstept the limits
of the right, the good, and the becoming.
"When we read the piece again, you shall judge
whether I am yet on the proper track. I hope at least to
bring forward 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 man-
ner of proceeding might now be very satisfactorily ex-
plained; they applauded this method of penetrating into
the spirit of a writer. Each of them proposed to himself
to take up some piece, and study it on these principles,
and so unfold the author's meaning.
S
252
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER IV.
OUR friends had to continue in the place for a day or
two; and it was not long till sundry of them got engaged
in adventures of a rather pleasant kind. Laertes in
particular was challenged by a lady of the neighbour-
hood, a person of some property; but he received her
blandishments with extreme, 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 manager. How, on the instant,
he had fallen mortally in love; had conjured the father
by all possible considerations to remain, promising at
length to marry the young woman. How, after a few
pleasing hours of groomship, he had accordingly been
wedded, and been happy as he ought; whereupon, next
day, while he was occupied at the rehearsal, his wife,
according to professional rule, had honoured him with a
pair of horns; and how as he, out of excessive tenderness,
hastening home far too soon, had, alas, found a former
""
BOOK IV. CHAP. IV.
253
lover in his place, he had struck into the affair with
thoughtless 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 behind to labour 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?"
66
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
entered.
"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 distribution then took place; and our
friends were rejoicing in the thought that they should now
travel pleasantly, when intelligence 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
attention, though they were but variable and ambiguous.
As the contending armies were at that time placed, it
seemed impossible that any hostile corps could have
advanced, or any friendly one hung arear, so far. Yet
every man was eager to exhibit to our travellers the
254
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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
republican constitution, the whole members of the state
had been called together to take counsel on this extra-
ordinary case, they were almost unanimously of opinion
that it would be 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, re-
garded it as mean to abandon, for the sake of mere
rumours, a plan which they had not entered on without
much thought. He endeavoured to put heart into them;
his reasons were manly and convincing.
“It is but a rumour," he observed; “and how many
such arise in time of war! Well-informed people say
that the occurrence is exceedingly improbable, nay al-
most impossible. 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 con-
dition. It leads us to the town, where you see acquaint-
ances, 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
He added many
shall we squander in the meanwhile!"
more considerations, presenting the matter on so many
advantageous sides, that their fear began to dissipate, and
He talked to them so much
their courage to increase.
about the discipline of regular troops, he painted the
marauders and wandering rabble so contemptuously, and
BOOK IV. CHAP. IV.
255
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, notwithstanding her advanced state of preg-
nancy, had lost nothing of her natural stout-heartedness,
regarded the proposal as heroic. Herr Melina, moved by
this harmonious feeling, hoping also to save somewhat by
travelling the short road which had been first contem-
plated, did not withstand the general consent; and the
project was agreed to with universal alacrity.
They next began to make some preparations for de-
fence at all hazards. They bought large hangers, and
slung them in well-quilted straps over their shoulders.
Wilhelm, farther, 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.
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 pro-
posal. 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 con-
tinued 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 reliques, which Wilhelm still possessed. Fried-
256
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
rich, the fair-haired boy, carried Laertes' 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 recognised 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-bor-
dered 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, sing-
ing as they worked, the remainder of the party; who by
degrees arrived, and with one accord saluted the place,
the lovely weather, and the still lovelier scene.
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 feel-
ings of every one. All felt nearer to each other; all
BOOK IV. CHAP. V.
257
wished that they might pass their whole lives in so plea-
sant an abode. They envied hunters, charcoal-men, and
wood-cutters; people whom their calling constantly re-
tains in such happy places: but, above all, they prized
the delicious economy of a band of gipsies. They envied
these wonderful companions, entitled to enjoy in blissful
idleness all the adventurous charms of nature; they re-
joiced 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 wea-
pons, gave them a foreign aspect. The horses were
eating their provender at a side. Could one have con-
cealed 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 wan-
dering colony, and himself the leader of it. In this cha-
racter 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 per-
suaded that, in this powerful 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 shew, by example, how, in presenting it, a worthy
258
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 ardour. The interest of the spec-
tators rose higher every pass.
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 press-
ing 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 females: 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; Laertes also had not
missed. Both of them, 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 impetuosity with
glittering sabres. Our young heroes made a bold resist-
ance. They called upon their other comrades, and endea-
voured to excite them to a general resistance.
But ere
long, Wilhelm lost the sight of day, and the consciousness
of what was passing. Stupified 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 eyes, he found himself in the
strangest posture. The first thing that pierced the dim-
BOOK IV. CHAP. V.
259
ness, which yet swam before his vision, was Philina's face
bent down over his. He felt himself weak; and making
a movement to rise, he discovered that he was in Phi-
lina'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 kneel-
ing 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
himself and the rest. Philina begged him to be quiet:
the others, she said, were all in safety, and none but he
and Laertes wounded. Farther, she would tell him no-
thing; but earnestly entreated him to keep still, as his
wounds had been but slightly and hastily bound. He
stretched out his hand to Mignon, and inquired about
the bloody locks of the child, who he supposed was also
wounded.
For the sake of quietness, Philina let him know that
this true-hearted creature, seeing her friend wounded, and
in the hurry of the instant being able to think of nothing
which would stanch the blood, had taken her own hair
that was flowing round her head, and tried to stop the
wounds with it; but had soon been obliged to give up
the vain attempt: that afterwards they had bound him
with moss and dry mushrooms, Philina herself 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
260
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
scattered all round. No person now was to be seen upon
the place this strange group formed the only living object.
in the solitude.
:
Inquiring farther, our friend learned more and more
particulars. 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 horror at the accident. The drivers, for the sake of
their cattle, 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 neighbouring vil-
lage, taking with them Laertes, whose wounds were slight,
and carrying off but a very few fragments of their pro-
perty. The Harper having placed his damaged instru-
ment 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 appa-
rently 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. Philina's indifference was changing to anxiety; Mig-
non ran to and fro, her impatience increasing every mo-
ment; and at last, when their prayer was granted, and
human creatures did approach, a new alarm fell upon
BOOK IV. CHAP. VI.
261
them. They distinctly heard a troop of horses coming
up the road, which 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 young lady issued from the thickets, riding
on a gray courser, and accompanied by an elderly gentle-
man and some cavaliers. Grooms, servants, and a troop
of hussars, closed up the rear.
Philina stared at this phenomenon, and was about to
call, and entreat the fair Amazon for help; when the
latter, turning her astonished eyes on the group, instantly
checked her horse, rode up to them, and halted. She in-
quired eagerly about the wounded man, whose posture in
the lap of this light-minded Samaritan seemed to strike
her as peculiarly strange.
"Is it your husband?" she inquired of Philina.
Only a good friend,” replied the other, with a tone that
Wilhelm liked extremely ill. He had fixed his eyes upon
the soft, elevated, calm, sympathising 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 bor-
rowed 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 espe-
cially concerning 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 coming up the hill, and which at length
stopped upon the scene of action.
66
262
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 stept 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 instruments in it, you soon recognised him
for a surgeon. His manners were rude rather than attrac-
tive; but his hand was light, and his help was welcome.
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 anxious attentions of the young lady 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 presence 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 apparel. The sur-
geon 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 up to kiss the
hand of this kind young lady. While they stood beside
each other, Wilhelm thought he had never seen such a
contrast. Philina had never till now appeared in so unfa-
vourable a light. She had no right, as it seemed to him,
to come near that noble creature, still less to touch her.
BOOK IV. CHAP. VII.
263
The lady asked Philina various things, but in an
under tone. At length she turned to the old gentle-
man, and said, "Dear uncle, may I be generous at your
expense?" She took off the greatcoat, with the visible
intention to give it to the stript 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 impression of her presence worked
so strongly on his senses, already 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 de-
grees 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 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
264
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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, hem,
and looked up with longing eyes at her hurt protector.
He, meanwhile, wrapt in his warm surtout, was lying
peacefully upon the litter. An electric warmth seemed
to flow from the fine wool into his body: in short, he felt
himself 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 irreparable 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 behind the stove. Frau Melina,
in a neighbouring room, was painfully expecting her de-
livery. Fright had accelerated this event. With the sole
assistance of the landlady, a young inexperienced woman,
nothing good could be expected.
As the party just arrived required admission, there
arose a universal murmur. All now maintained, that by
Wilhelm's advice alone, and under his especial guidance,
they had entered 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 indignation: nor did Mignon and the Harper
escape their share.
BOOK IV. CHAP. VII.
265
The huntsman, to whom the care of the forsaken
party had been earnestly and strictly recommended by his
beautiful mistress, soon grew tired of this discussion: he
r-d upon the company with oaths and menaces; com-
manding them to fall to the right and left, and make way
for this new arrival. They now began to pacify them-
selves. He made a place for Wilhelm on a table, which
he shoved into a corner; Phi'ina 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 con-
venient lodging.
Scarcely was he gone, when spite again grew noisy,
and one reproach began to follow close upon another.
Each described and magnified his loss; censuring the
foolhardiness they had so keenly smarted for. They did
not even hide the malicious satisfaction they felt at Wil-
helm's wounds: they jeered Philina, and imputed to her
as a crime the means by which she had saved her trunk.
1 From a multitude of jibes and bitter innuendos you were
required to conclude, that during the plundering and dis-
comfiture, she had endeavoured to work herself into
favour with the captain of the band, and had persuaded
him, Heaven knew by what arts and complaisance, 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 pre-
sence, and by her own good fortune to augment their
desperation.
VOL. I.
N
266
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER VIII.
THOUGH Our friend was weak from loss of blood, and
though ever since the appearance of that helpful angel
his feelings had been soft and mild, yet at last he could
not help getting vexed at the harsh and unjust speeches
which, as he continued silent, the discontented company
went on uttering 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 propping himself with some diffi-
culty, and leaning against the wall, he began to speak as
follows:
66
Considering the pain which your losses occasion,
I forgive you for assailing me with injuries at a moment
when you should condole with me; for opposing me 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 shewed you, I regarded 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 calculation would be painful to
Chance brought me near you, circumstances and a
secret inclination kept me with you. I participated in
your labours 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 tried by all of you, and
sanctioned by every one as well as me.
me.
"Had our journey ended happily, each would have
taken credit to himself for the happy thought of suggest-
ing this plan and preferring it to others; each would
BOOK IV. CHAP. VIII.
267
joyfully have put us in mind of our deliberations and of
the vote he gave: but now you make me alone respon-
sible; 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 innocent, nay if I might not appeal
with safety even to yourselves. 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 torment me now, when I have such
pressing need of rest."
—
By way of answer, the girls once more began whim-
pering and whining, and describing their losses circum-
stantially. 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 accord-
ance with him all howled and shrieked and bellowed and
uproared with double vigour.
Wilhelm, touched to the heart at once with sympathy
in their sorrows, and with vexation at their mean way of
thinking, felt all the vigour of his soul awakened, not-
withstanding 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 innocent 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.”
268
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
"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 re-
called 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; all 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 per-
sons; who doubtless, on returning to their senses, will
repent their present conduct. Yes," continued he, " I
feel that you have need of help, and what is mine to do, I
will perform. Give me your confidence again; compose
yourselves for a moment, and accept of what I promise!
BOOK IV. CHAP. IX.
269
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 situa-
tion you are fallen into, by whose blame soever, shall be
totally forgotten 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 honour,
was assigned him. Here it was first discovered, that his
wound had opened and bled profusely. A new bandage
was required for it. He fell into a feverish state; Phi-
lina waited on him faithfully, and when fatigue over-
powered her, she was relieved by the Harper. Mignon,
with the firmest purpose to watch, had fallen asleep in
a corner.

270
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
Next morning, Wilhelm, who felt himself in some
degree refreshed, learned by inquiring of the huntsman,
that the honourable persons who last night assisted him
so nobly, had shortly before left their estates, in order
to avoid the movements of the contending armies, and
remain till the time of peace in some more quiet dis-
trict. He named the elderly nobleman as well as his
niece; mentioned the place they 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
expressions of gratitude, in which our friend was pouring
out his feelings. He made a circumstantial description
of the wounds; and certified that they would soon heal, if
the patient took care of them, and kept himself at peace.
When the huntsman was gone, Philina signified that
he had left with her a purse of twenty louis-d'or; that he
had given the parson a remuneration for their lodging,
and left with him money to defray the surgeon's bill when
the cure should be completed. She added, that she her-
self 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
overtaken us, I am already deeply in your debt for kind-
ness shewn me; and I should not wish to see my obliga-
tions increased. I am restless so long as you are near
me: for I know of nothing by which I can repay your
labour. Give me my things which you have saved in
your trunk; unite yourself to 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

BOOK IV. CHAP. IX.
271
I
art a fool," she said; "thou wilt not gather wisdom.
know better what is good for thee; I will stay, I will not
budge from the spot. I have never counted on the grati-
tude 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 stayed accordingly; and soon wormed herself into
favour with the parson and his household; being always
cheerful, 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. Wil-
helm's state was not uncomfortable: the surgeon, an
ignorant but no unskilful man, let nature play her part;
and the patient was not long till he felt himself recover-
ing. For such a consummation, being eager to pursue
his plans and wishes, he vehemently longed.
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 approached him, dismounted, went to and
fro, and strove to serve him. He saw the garment she
was wrapt in fall down from her shoulders; he saw her
All the
countenance, her figure vanish in their radiance.
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 be-
thought him of that royal youth, to whose sickbed the
lovely sympathising princess came in her modest meekness.
May it not be," said he often to himself in secret,
"that in youth as in sleep, the images of coming things
hover round us, and mysteriously become visible to our
unobstructed eyes? May not the seeds of what is to
betide us be already scattered by the hand of Fate; may
not a foretaste of the fruits we yet hope to gather possibly
be given us?"
(C
His sickbed gave him leisure to repeat those scenes in

272
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 convince him that the vision had a
real existence.
With the greatest care for this piece of apparel, he
combined the greatest 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 assisted in 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 still-born
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 possessed 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 Postwagen; and he meant
to require of Wilhelm an introductory letter to his friend,
the Manager Serlo, in whose company, the present under-
taking having gone to wreck, he now wished to establish
himself.

BOOK IV. CHAP. X.
273
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 free-
booters; 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 management and nursing of
our friend to Philina. That pleasing sinner but shewed
herself the more active and attentive on this account.
One morning, on awakening, Wilhelm found himself
in a strange neighbourhood with her. In the movements
of sleep, he had hitched himself quite to the back of his
spacious bed. Philina was lying across from the front
part of it; she seemed to have fallen asleep while sitting
on the bed and reading. A book had dropt 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 which 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 consult about breakfast.
All the actors had at length successively announced
themselves to Wilhelm; asking introductory letters, re-
N 2

274
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
quiring money for their journey with more or less impa-
tience 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 wit
these people, and that accordingly they did but cozen
him. To these remonstrances he gave no heed; on the
contrary, the two had a sharp quarrel on the subject;
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
recovering her composure, she cried: "If I had bu. 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 be-
longed to Wilhelm very neatly laid out in the next room.
He felt her absence; he had lost in her a faithful nurse, a
cheerful companion; 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.
BOOK IV. CHAP. XI.
275
CHAPTER XI.
WILHELM was rapidly approaching complete recovery:
he now hoped to be upon his journey in a few days. He
proposed 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 beneficent 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 luck-
less company; intending at the same time to visit the
commercial friends whom he had letters for, and to trans-
act the business which had been intrusted to him. He
was not without hope that fortune, as formerly, would
favour him; and give him opportunity, by some lucky
speculation, to repair his losses, and fill up the vacuity of
his coffer.
The desire of again beholding his beautiful deliverer
augmented every day. To settle his route, he took
counsel with the clergyman, a person well skilled in
statistics and geography, and possessing a fine collection
of charts and books on those subjects. They two searched
for the place which this noble family had chosen as their
residence while the war continued; 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 became restless; and having mentioned the
cause of his uneasiness, the Harper told him he had reason
to believe that the huntsman, for whatever reason, had
concealed the real designations.
Conceiving himself now to be in the immediate neigh-
bourhood of his lovely benefactress, Wilhelm hoped he
276
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
might obtain some tidings of her, if he sent out the Harper :
but in this too he was deceived. Diligently as the old
man kept inquiring, he could find no trace of her. Of
late days a number of quick movements and unforeseen
marches had taken place in that quarter; no one had
particularly noticed the travelling party; and the ancient
messenger, to avoid being taken for a Jewish spy, was
obliged to return, and appear without any olive-leaf
before his master and friend. He gave a strict account
of his conduct in this commission; striving to keep far
from him all suspicions of remissness. He endeavoured
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
valuables, and of whose movements they must have had
precise intelligence. Whether the attack should be im-
puted to some free-corps, to marauders, or to robbers, was
uncertain. It was clear, however, that by good fortune
for the high and rich company, the poor and low had
first arrived upon the place, and undergone the fate which
was provided for the others. It was to this that the lady's
words referred, which Wilhelm yet well recollected. If
he might now be happy and contented, that a prescient
Genius had selected him for the sacrifice, which saved a
perfect mortal; he was, on the other hand, nigh desperate,
when he thought that all hope of finding her and seeing
her again was, at least for the present, completely gone.
What increased this singular emotion still farther, was
the likeness which he thought he had observed between
BOOK IV. CHAP. XI.
277
They resem-
the Countess and the beautiful unknown.
bled 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 hand-
writings, naturally struck him with still greater wonder.
He had a charming song in the Countess' hand laid up in
his portfolio; 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 similar but freer lines of the stranger a flowing
harmony which could not be described. The note con-
tained 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 :
You never long'd and lov'd,
You know not grief like mine :
Alone and far remov'd
From joys or hopes, I pine:
278
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
A foreign sky above,
And a foreign earth below me,
To the south I look all day;
For the hearts that love and know me
Are far, are far away.
I burn, I faint, I languish,
My heart is waste, and sick, and sore;
Who has not long'd in baffled anguish,
Cannot know what I deplore.
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 which he had pre-
viously experienced. 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
entangled, he wished to see its curious knots unravelled or
cut in two. Often, when he heard the tramp of a horse,
or the rolling 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 certainty 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 whom he worshipped.
"
BOOK IV. CHAP. XII.
279
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
circumstance, which the more he viewed and weighed it,
grew the more offensive and intolerable to him. It was
his unprosperous 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 hypochondriac moments he took the blame of the whole
misfortune.
Self-love exaggerates our faults as well as our virtues.
Wilhelm thought he had awakened confidence in him,
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 not match. Loud as well as
silent reproaches had then assailed him: and if in their
sorrowful condition, he had promised to the company,
misguided by him, never to forsake them till their loss
had been repaid with 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 pres-
sure 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 which his heart had taken. He meditated means of
being kind and useful to them; he found every cause
conspire to quicken his visit to Serlo. Accordingly he
packed his things together; and without waiting his
complete recovery, without listening to the counsel of
the parson or the surgeon, he hastened, in the strange
society of Mignon and the Harper, to escape the inac-
280
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
tivity, in which his fate had once more too long detained
him.
CHAPTER XIII.
SERLO received him with open arms, crying as he met
him: "Is it you? Do I see you again? You have
scarcely changed at all. Is your love for that noblest
of arts still as lively and strong? I myself am so glad
at your arrival, I even feel no longer the mistrust which
your last letters had excited in me.”
Wilhelm asked with surprise for a clearer explanation.
"You have treated me," said Serlo, " not like an old
friend, but as if I were a great lord, to whom with a safe
conscience you might recommend useless people. Our
destiny 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 favour; 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 kindness; and her conversation was SO
pleasing, that he did not once 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
himself in his proper element once more. Of late in
talking, he had 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 under-
L


BOOK IV. CHAP. XIII.
281
stood him, but repaid his observations by others equally
instructive. With wonderful vivacity they travelled through
the latest pieces; with wonderful 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 dra-
matist. Expressing, as he entertained, the liveliest hopes
of the new epoch which these exquisite productions must
form in Germany, he ere long introduced his Hamlet,
who had busied him so much of late.
Serlo declared that he would long ago have played
the piece, had this 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; taking all the trouble possible to make his
notion of the matter acceptable, sceptical as Serlo shewed
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 contented; but now he is first constrained to
consider the difference which separates a sovereign from
a subject. The crown was not hereditary; yet a longer
possession of it by his father would have strengthened the

282
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
pretensions of an only son, and secured his hopes of the
succession. In place of this, he now beholds himself
excluded by his uncle, in spite of specious promises, most
probably forever. He is now poor in goods and favour,
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 courteous
and condescending, he is needy and degraded.
"His past condition he remembers as a vanished
dream. It is in vain that his uncle strives to cheer him,
to present his situation in another point of view. The
feeling of his nothingness will not leave him.
"The second stroke that came upon him wounded
deeper, bowed still more. It was the marriage of his
mother. The faithful tender son had yet a mother, when
his father passed away. He hoped, in the company of
his surviving noble-minded parent, to reverence the heroic
form of the departed; but his mother too he loses, and it
is something worse than death that robs him of her.
The trustful image, which a good child loves to form
of its parents, is gone. With the dead there is no help;
on the living no hold. She also is a woman, and her
name is Frailty, like that of all her sex.
"Now first does he feel himself completely bent and
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 piece,
or overcharged a single feature of it."
AA
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."


BOOK IV. CHAP. XIII.
283
Wilhelm asseverated loudly, that he meant not to per-
suade, 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 the venerable ghost itself appears
before him. A horrid shudder passes over him; he
speaks to the mysterious form; he sees it beckon him;
he follows it, 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 :

The time is out of joint: O cursed spite,
That ever I was born to set it right!
"In these words, I imagine, will be found the key to
Hamlet's whole procedure. 'To me it is clear that Shak-
speare meant, in the present case, to represent the effects
of a great action laid upon a soul unfit for the perform-
ance of it. In this view the whole piece seems to me to
be composed. 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, with-
out the strength of nerve which forms a hero, sinks
beneath a burden which it cannot bear and must not
cast away.
All duties are holy for him; the present is

284
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
too hard. Impossibilities have been required of him;
not in themselves impossibilities, but such for him. He
winds, and turns, and torments himself; he advances and
recoils; is ever put in mind, ever puts himself in mind;
at last does all but lose his purpose from his thoughts;
yet still without recovering his peace of mind."
CHAPTER XIV.
SEVERAL people entering interrupted the discussion.
They were musical dilettanti, who commonly assembled
at Serlo's once a-week, and formed a little concert.
Serlo himself loved music much: he used to maintain,
that a player without taste for it never could attain a
distinct conception and feeling of the scenic art.
"As a
man performs," he would observe, "with far more ease
and dignity, when his gestures are accompanied 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 still much to tell us
about Hamlet; I will not hurry you; my brother must
hear it as well as I: but let me beg to know your thoughts
about Ophelia."
"Of her there cannot much be said,” he answered;
"for a few master-strokes complete her character. The



BOOK IV. CHAP. XIV.
285
whole being of Ophelia floats in sweet and ripe sensation.
Kindness for the Prince, to whose hand she may aspire,
flows so spontaneously, her tender heart obeys its impulses
so unresistingly, that both father and brother are afraid;
both give her warning harshly and directly. Decorum,
like the thin lawn upon her bosom, cannot hide the soft,
still movements of her heart; it on the contrary betrays
them. Her fancy is smit; her silent modesty breathes
amiable desire; and if the friendly goddess Opportunity
should shake the tree, its fruit would fall."
"And then," said Aurelia, "when she beholds herself
forsaken, cast away, despised; when all is inverted in the
soul of her crazed lover, and the highest changes to the
lowest, and instead of the sweet cup of love he offers her
the bitter cup of wo-"
"Her heart breaks," cried Wilhelm; "the whole
structure of her being is loosened from its joinings; her
father's death strikes fiercely against it; and the fair
edifice altogether crumbles into fragments."
Our friend had not observed with what expressiveness
Aurelia pronounced those words. Looking only at this
work of art, at its connexion 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 directed 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 sur-
prised 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 minutes since we saw each other
first, and already you are going to become my confidant."
286
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 most unexpectedly, Philina with her hand in his.
"Here is your friend," said he to her; "he will be glad
to make his compliments to you."
"How!" 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 improvement, had agreed to admit her into his accom-
plished 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 dropt down
upon the floor, like to die of giggling and laughing. She
then sprang up, patted and flattered our friend; rejoicing
above measure that she had been clever enough to go
before, and spy the land and get herself nestled in.
66
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 1 much mistake. There
is a boy running about the house, of three years old
or so; the papa must be a very pretty fellow. Com-
monly I cannot suffer children, but this brat quite delights

BOOK IV. CHAP. XV.
287
I have calculated Aurelia's business. The death of
mer husband, the new acquaintance, the child's age, all
things agree.
his ways; for a year
She is beside herself
The more fool she!
"But now her spark has gone
she has not seen a glimpse of him.
and inconsolable, on this account.
Her brother has a dancing girl in his troop, with whom
he stands on pretty terms; an actress to whom he is
betrothed; 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 that it was true, and a pro-
per joke. 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 in this four times complicated tale." She
begged of him not to spoil her trade, and to shew 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
Philina had invited them to breakfast. Out of curiosity,
he hastened thither; and found them all cleared up and
not a little comforted. The cunning creature had col-
lected them, was treating them with chocolate, and giving
them to understand that some prospects still remained for

288
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
them; that, by her influence, she hoped to convince
manager how advantageous it would be for him to intro
duce so many clever hands among his company. They
listened to her with attention; swallowed cup after cup of
her chocolate; thought the girl was not so bad after all;
and went away proposing to themselves to speak whatever
good of her they could.
“Do you think then," said our friend, who stayed be-
hind "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 pre-
vailed in this establishment: she spoke so flatteringly to
Wilhelm; with such admiration of his gifts, that his heart
and his imagination 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 trading correspondents, to receive the let-
ters which might there be lying for him. The anxieties
of his people during all this time he easily conceived; yet
he shrank from the precise account of them; particularly
at the present time, as he promised to himself a great and
pure enjoyment from the exhibition of a new piece that
evening.
Serlo had refused to let him witness the rehearsal.
"You must see us on the best side," he observed, "before
we can allow you to look into our cards."
The acting of the piece, however, where our friend
did not fail to be present, yielded him a high satisfaction.
290
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
ceased to hover in his thoughts; that he longed for her
confidence, and devoted himself to be her friend.
While he spoke, his eyes were attracted to the boy,
who sat before her on the floor, and was busy rattling a
multitude of playthings. This child, as Philina had
observed, might be about three years of age; and
Wilhelm now conceived how that giddy creature, sel-
dom 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,
shewed themselves upon a brow of dazzling whiteness;
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
myself 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, cer-
tainly as death, awaits a woman, when such is the fidelity
of men!' O my friend! if my fate were common, I would
gladly undergo a common evil; but it is so singular: why
cannot I present it to you in a mirror, why not command
some ne to tell it you? O, 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."


BOOK IV. CHAP. XV.
291
“With noble feelings, such as yours," said Wilhelm,
"you can never be entirely unhappy."
"And do you know to what I am indebted for my
elings?" asked Aurelia. "To the worst education that
er threatened to contaminate a girl; to the vilest ex-
amples for misleading the senses and the inclinations.
66
'My mother dying early, the fairest years of my youth
were spent with an aunt, whose principle it was to despise
the laws of decency. She resigned herself headlong to
every impulse; careless whether the object of it proved
her tyrant or her slave, so she might forget herself in
wild enjoyment.
"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, uzman-
nerly, was every one whom she allured! How sated,
empty, insolent, and tasteless, when he left her! I have
seen this woman live, for years, humbled under the con-
trol of the meanest creatures. What incidents she had
to undergo With what a front she contrived to accom-
modate herself to her destiny; nay, with how much skill,
to wear these shameful 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.
66
Unhappily, moreover, on such occasions, a multitude
of painful discoveries about my own sex were forced upon
e: 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 grow-
ng less so ?"
The boy began to make a noise; Aurelia became
mpatient, and rung. An old woman came to take him
292
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 hi
away.
Scarcely was he gone, when Aurelia began bitterly to
weep. "I am good for nothing," cried she, "but lament
ing and complaining; and I feel ashamed to lie before
you like a miserable worm. My recollection is already
fled;
I can relate no more." She faltered, and was silent.
Her friend, unwilling to reply with a common-place, and
unable to reply with any thing particularly applicable,
pressed her hand, and looked at her for some time with-
out speaking. Thus embarrassed, 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 canonical aspect of the piece as you
would have it viewed. The English themselves have ad-
mitted that its chief interest concludes with the third act;
the last two lagging sorrily on, and scarcely uniting with
the rest and certainly about the end it seems to stand
stock-still."
"It is very possible," said Wilhelm, "that some indi-
viduals of a nation, which has so many master-pieces 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 invented; nay it is not invented, it is real.”
"How do you demonstrate that?" inquired Serlo.

BOOK IV. CHAP. XV.
293
"I will not demonstrate any thing," said Wilhelm ;
"I will merely shew you what my own conceptions of
it are."
at.
Aurelia rose up from her cushion; leaned upon her
hand, and looked at Wilhelm; who, with the firmest
assurance 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; loving and hating as his heart directs him;
undertaking and completing; casting every obstacle aside;
and at length attaining some great object which he aimed
Poets and historians would willingly persuade us that
so proud a lot may fall to man.
fall to man. In Hamlet we are taught
another lesson: the hero is without a plan, but the piece
is full of plan. Here we have no villain punished on some
self-conceived and rigidly-accomplished scheme of venge-
ance: a horrid deed occurs; it rolls itself along with all its
consequences, dragging guiltless persons also in its course;
the perpetrator seems as if he would evade the abyss which
is 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 re-
warded at all. Here in this play of ours, how strange !
The Pit of darkness sends its spirit and demands revenge;
in vain! All circumstances tend one way, and hurry to
revenge; in vain!
Neither 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 Provi-
dence, in thus exalting Shakspeare; and besides, it ap-
"
294
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
pears to me, that for the honour of your poet, as others
for the honour of Providence, you ascribe to him an object
and a plan, which he himself had never thought of."
CHAPTER XVI.
"LET me also put a question," said Aurelia. "I have
looked at Ophelia's part again; I am contented with it,
and conceive 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 one select some fragments out of melancholy ballads
for this purpose? What have double meanings and las-
civious insipidities to do in the mouth of such a noble-
minded person?”
"Dear friend,” said Wilhelm, "even here I cannot
yield you one iota. In these singularities, in this appa-
rent impropriety, a deep sense is hid. Do we not under-
stand 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,
unmindful 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."
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVI.
295
He had not finished speaking, when all at once an
extraordinary 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 stept forward to Aurelia's dressing-table; caught hastily
at something 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 which he was
carrying off. They struggled and wrestled with great
obstinacy; twisted and threw each other sharply round:
he laughed; she exerted all her strength and as Wil-
helm 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 stayed with
him, angrily upon the floor. Wilhelm started back asto-
nished; and his dumb wonder seemed to ask the cause
why so violent a strife, about so strange an implement,
had taken place between them.
“You shall judge betwixt us," said the brother.
"What has she to do with sharp steel? Do but look
at it. That dagger is not fit for any actress point like
a needle's, edge like a razor's! What good is it? Pas-
sionate 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
polished 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.”
"Take it as
Serlo was like to grow seriously angry.
thou wilt, brother," she continued: "how knowest thou
296
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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,”
continued 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 suggested to me. I observe with admiration
the correct, keen, penetrating glance with which you
judge of poetry, especially dramatic poetry: the deepest
abysses of invention are not hidden from you, the finest
touches of representation cannot escape you. Without
ever having viewed the objects in nature, you recognise
the truth of their images: there seems, as it were, a pre-
sentiment of all the universe to lie in you, which by the
harmonious touch of poetry is awakened and unfolded.
For in truth," continued she, " from without, you receive
not much I have scarcely seen a person that so little
knew, so totally misknew the people he lived with, as you
do. Allow me to say it: in hearing you expound the
mysteries of Shakspeare, one would think you had just
descended from a synod of the gods, and had listened
there while they 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, stand-
ing agape, and gazing with strange wonderment and edi-
fying good-nature, at lions and apes and sheep and ele-
1
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVI.
297
phants, 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
Wilhelm, "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 out-
wards; and hence it is very natural that to a certain
extent I should be acquainted 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 shewing any irritated
feeling, partly to search his mind for the truth or error of
the charge.
"Let not this alarm you," said Aurelia: "the light
of the understanding it is always in our power to reach;
but this fulness of the heart no one can give us.
If you
are destined for an artist, you cannot long enough retain
the dim-sightedness and innocence of which I speak; it is
the beautiful hull upon the young bud; woe to us if we
are forced too soon to burst it! Surely it were well, if
we never knew what the people are, for whom we work
and study.
"Oh! I too was in that happy case, when I first
betrod the stage, with the loftiest opinion of myself and
of my nation.
What a people, in my fancy, were the
Germans; what a people might they yet become! I
o 2
298
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
addressed this people; raised above them by a little
joinery, separated from them by a row of lamps, whose
glancing and vapour 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 myself in these
ideas; I affected the multitude, and was again affected by
them. With my public I was on the fairest footing; I
imagined that I felt a perfect harmony betwixt us, and
that on each occasion I beheld before me the best and
noblest of the land.
(6
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 busi-
ness: 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 addresses; and it did seem hard
that I could not, like an honest young woman, shut my
door, and spare myself such a quantity of labour.
"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
peculiarities and insipidities amused me. As I was com-
pelled 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
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVI.
299
in his way endeavouring 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 solemn, 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-specu-
lating 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 sentiment of toleration: on the con-
trary, I felt it altogether irksome to collect, with tedium
and annoyance, the suffrages of fools; to pocket those
applauses in detail, which in their accumulated 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, they were sure to make one empty observation
on the back of another, and to name some tasteless piece
in which they wished to see me play. 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 themselves they
thought too clever to be entertained; and me they im-
agined they were well entertaining, if they romped and
made noise enough about me. I began very cordially to
despise 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 wretch-
300
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
edly instructed, so void of pleasing qualities, so tasteless;
I frequently 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 con-
duct 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, viva-
city, spirit, and impetuosity of mind; but who also in
return had all that my brother wanted, love of order,
diligence, and precious gifts in house-keeping and the
management of money.
"He became my husband, I know not how; we lived
together, I do not well know why. Enough, our affairs
went prosperously forward. We drew a large income;
We lived
of this my brother's activity was the cause.
with a moderate expenditure; and that was the merit of
my husband. 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 dislike to hear his own praises, and his outlay
is always great. 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 satisfaction, I was content. He
steered entirely by the caprices of the public. Money
flowed upon us; he could live according to his humour,
and so we had good times with him.
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVI.
301
"Thus had I fallen into a dull, handicraft routine.
I spun out my days without joy or sympathy. My mar-
riage was childless, and not of long continuance. My
husband grew sick; his strength was visibly decaying;
anxiety for him interrupted my general indifference. It
was at this time that I formed an acquaintance, which
opened a new life for me; a new and quicker one, for it
will soon be done."
She kept silence for a time, and then continued:
"All at once my prattling humour 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 Aurelia 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 shewed to be a small geographical atlas.
She had seen some maps, for the first time at the parson's
house, with great astonishment; 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; saying she had
pawned her large silver buckle with the printseller for
it, and wished to have back the pledge to-morrow morn-
ing, 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,
making many very strange inquiries. Here again one
might observe, that, with a mighty effort, she could com-
prehend but little and laboriously. So likewise was it
with her writing, at which she still kept busied. She
302
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
yet spoke very broken German: 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
mention the perplexity which Wilhelm had of late expe-
rienced from certain parts of her procedure. When she
came or went, wished him good morning or good night,
she clasped him so firmly in her arms, and kissed him
with such ardour, that often the violence of this expand-
ing nature gave him serious fears. The spasmodic viva-
city of her demeanour seemed daily to increase; her
whole being moved in a restless stillness. She would
never be without some piece of packthread to twist in
her hands; some napkin to tie in knots; some paper or
wood to chew. All her sports seemed but the channels.
which drained off some inward violent commotion. The
only thing that seemed to cause her any cheerfulness 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 impatient 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
remainder of my story. Were my tenderly-beloved and
unjust friend but a few miles distant, I would say to you:
Mount on horseback, seek by some means to get ac-
quainted with him; on returning you will certainly for-
give 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.
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVI.
303
¿
"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
colours of the United States.
"He addressed me with an easy dignity, a frank
kindliness; 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 per-
ceiving my existence reflected in the being of another.
His judgments were just, though not severe; penetrating,
yet not void of love. He shewed no harshness; his
pleasantry was courteous, with all his humour. 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
neighbourhood, and managing the business of his house.
On returning, he would frequently alight at my apart-
ments; 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 campaigns; he spoke of his
invincible attachment to military life, of his family rela-
tions, 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 at-
tracted by him, borne along by him, before I thought
about inquiring how it stood with me.
304
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
"Meanwhile I lost my husband, nearly just as I had
taken him. The burden of theatrical affairs now fell
entirely on me. My brother, not to be surpassed upon
the stage, was never good for any thing in economical
concerns: I took the charge of all; at the same time,
studying my parts with greater diligence than ever. I
again played as of old; nay with new life, with quite
another force. It was by reason of my friend, it was
on his account that I did so; yet my success was not
always best when I knew him to be present. Once or
twice he listened to me unobserved; and how pleasantly
his unexpected applauses surprised me you may conceive.
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 peaceful-
ness, with a contentment not to be described. Applause
once more delighted me; and when I charmed the people,
I longed to call down among them: This you owe to
him!'
(6
"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 favourable light; I felt astonished at
my former blindness.
"How foolish, said I often to myself, was it to revile
a nation; foolish, simply since it was a nation. Is it
necessary, is it possible, that individual men should gene-
rally 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 develope, which men of lofty minds
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVI.
305
:
may direct upon a common object. I now rejoiced in
discovering so little prominent originality among my coun-
trymen; I rejoiced that they disdained 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 pre-
sented the Germans to my mind on the side of valour; and
shewn 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 connexion
and correspondence with the most distinguished persons
of the age. Young as he was, his eye was open to the
budding youthhood of his native country; to the silent
labours of active and busy men in so many provinces of
art. He afforded me a glimpse of Germany; what it was
and what it might be; and I blushed at having formed my
judgment of a nation from the motley crowd, that press
themselves 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 in-
spired, every time I stepped upon the boards. Mediocre
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 want me; and I felt exceedingly unhappy
when he stayed away. He shewed me the letters he
received from his relations, from his amiable sister. He
took an interest in the smallest circumstances that con-
cerned 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.”
306
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
CHAPTER XVII.
WILHELM could put off no longer the visiting of his
commercial 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 contain: 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 acquaintances, 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
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVII.
307
journal of his travels, with all the required geographical,
statistical, and mercantile remarks. He had seen much on
his journey, he said; and hoped to make a tolerably large
manuscript out of these materials. He did not observe,
that he was almost in the same case as he had once
experienced before, when he assembled an audience and
lit his lamps to represent a play, which was not written,
still less got by heart. Accordingly, so soon as he com-
menced 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.
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, rhap-
sodical way of thinking about all things, or rather of
uttering the immediate impressions they produced on
him. He did not like to be alone; he strolled about all
the coffee-houses and tables-d'hôte; and when he did stay
at home, books of travels were his favourite, 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 ere long 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
308
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 meet-
ing; 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
almanacks 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 barmaid. I tell you it
shall be a composition, which will not only fill father and
mother with delight, but which booksellers themselves
shall gladly pay you current money for."
They went accordingly to work; and both of them
found pleasure in their labour. Wilhelm, in the mean
time, frequenting the play at night, and conversing with
Serlo and Aurelia by day, experienced the greatest satis- .
faction; and was daily more and more expanding his
ideas, which had been too long revolving in the same.
narrow circle.
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVIII.
309
·
CHAPTER XVIII.
Ir was not without deep interest that he became ac-
quainted with the history of Serlo's career. Piecemeal
he learned it; for it was not the fashion of that extra-
ordinary 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
favourite pieces, procured him approbation, before he
understood 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 sea-
sons. 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 landmark, people were accustomed
to bestow a hearty drubbing on the children who had
followed them; and these, it was supposed, would recollect
Serlo
the place exactly to the latest day of their lives.
waxed in stature; and shewed the finest capabilities of
spirit and of body; in particular an admirable pliancy at
once in his thoughts, looks, movements, and gestures.
310
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
His gift of imitation was beyond belief. When still a
boy, he could mimick 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 him-
self to his circumstances, and picking out his way in life.
Accordingly, so soon as he had grown in some degree
acquainted with his strength, he very naturally eloped
from his father; who, as the boy's understanding and
dexterity increased, still thought it needful to forward
their perfection by the harshest treatment.
Happy was the wild boy, now roaming free about the
world, where his feats of waggery never failed to secure
him a good reception. His lucky star first led him in the
Christmas season to a cloister, where the friar, whose busi-
ness it had been to arrange processions, and to entertain
the Christian community by spiritual masquerades, having
just died, Serlo was welcomed as a helping angel. On the
instant he took up the part of Gabriel in the Annuncia-
tion; and did not by any means displease the pretty girl,
who, acting the Virgin, very gracefully received his most
obliging kiss, with external humility and inward pride. In
their Mysteries, he continued to perform the most impor-
tant parts; and thought himself no slender personage,
when at last, in the character of Martyr, 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 hea-
then in the proper style, he took care at the Day of Judg-
ment to have them decked out in gaudy clothes as emperors
and kings; and at the moment when they, exceedingly con-
tented 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 edification of all the beggars and spectators,
BOOK IV. CHAP. XVIII.
313
seizing, at the same time, what little there was that moved
and pleased.
Not only single parts in the current piec, but the
pieces themselves remained easily and wholly in his me-
mory; and along with them, the special tone of any
player who had represented 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 making 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 enthu-
siasm, 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 tender-
ness. 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 won-
derful, 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 plea-
sure 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 fre-
quently repeating parts and pieces, he improved very fast.
Ere long 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 natu-
rally, though he did not cease to feign. He seemed trans-
ported, yet he lay in wait for the effect; and his greatest
pride was in moving, by successive touches, the passions
of men.
The mad trade he drove did itself soon force
VOL. I.
P
-
314
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
him to proceed with a certain moderation; and thu
partly by constraint, partly by instinct, he learned t
art of which so few players seem to have a notion, the a
of being frugal in the use of voice and gestures.
Thus did he contrive to tame, and to inspire with inte
est for him, even rude and unfriendly men. Being alwa
contented with food and shelter; thankfully accepting pr
sents of any kind as readily as money; which latter, wh
he reckoned that he had enough of it, he frequently c
clined, he became a general favourite; was sent abo
from one to another with recommendatory letters; a
thus he wandered many a day from castle to castle, exc
ing much festivity, enjoying much, and meeting in
travels with the most agreeable and curious adventures
With such inward coldness of temper, he could 1
properly be said to love any one; with such clearness
vision, he could respect no one. In fact, he never look
beyond the external peculiarities of men; and he mer
carried their characters in his mimical collection. Y
withal his selfishness was keenly wounded, if he did n
please every one, and call forth universal applause. H
this might be attained, he had studied in the course
time so accurately, and so sharpened his sense of t
matter, that not only on the stage, but also in comm
life, he no longer could do otherwise than flatter and d
ceive. And thus did his disposition, his talent, and h
way of life, work reciprocally on each other, till by thi
means he had imperceptibly been formed into a perfec
actor. Nay, by a mode of action and re-action, which
quite natural, though it seems paradoxical, his recitation
declamation, and gesture, improved, by critical discern
ment and practice, to a high degree of truth, ease, an
frankness; while, in his life and intercourse with men, h
seemed to grow continually more secret, artful, or ever
hypocritical and constrained.
"
BOOK IV. CHAP. XIX.
315
Of his fortunes and adventures we perhaps shall speak
in another place: it is enough to remark at present, that
later times, when he had become a man of circum-
ance, in possession of a distinct reputation, and of a
ery good though not entirely secure employment and
ink, he was wont, in conversation, partly in the way of
ony, partly of mockery, in a delicate style, to act the
>phist, and thus to destroy almost all serious discussion.
his kind of speech he seemed peculiarly fond of using
owards Wilhelm; particularly when the latter took a
incy, 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 think-
ng, the conversation could not fail to be lively. Wil-
elm always wished to deduce every thing from abstract
ideas which he had arrived at; he wanted to have art
viewed in all its connexions 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 audience while he
made them merry.
CHAPTER XIX.
WHILE our friend was in this way living very happily,
Melina and the rest were in quite a different case. Wil-
helm they haunted like evil spirits; and not only by their
presence, but frequently by rueful faces and bitter words,
316
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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 permanent 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 wit'
them. On such occasions, he took plays which were by
and by to be acted, which for a long time had remained
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 wonderful extent of
power. Nor was it an unimportant item in his scheme,
that he likewise had poems read before him in their
meetings; for by these he nourished in his people the
feeling of that charm, which a well-pronounced rhythm
is calculated 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
himself acquainted with the new-come players: he had
decided what they were, and what they might be; and
silently made up his mind to take advantage of their
talents, in a revolution which was now threatening his
own company. For a while he let the matter rest; de-
clined every one of Wilhelm's intercessions for his com-
rades, with a shrug of the shoulders; till at last he saw
his time, and altogether unexpectedly made the proposal
codi
317
BOOK IV. CHAP. XIX.
C
':;
4
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
described them," answered Wilhelm, "if they can now be
all received at once; and I suppose their talents would
temain the same without me as with me."
Under seal of secrecy, Serlo hereupon explained his
situation: 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 question was no longer in such favour 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
shewed Wilhelm what he hoped to gain in him, in Laertes,
Old Boisterous, and even Frau Melina. Nay, he pro-
mised to procure for the silly Pedant himself, in the
character of Jew, minister, but chiefly of villain, a de-
cided 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
reflection, 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 can judge, no stick, properly so
called, is to be met with in the company; and your stick
is the only person that can never be improved, never
bent or guided, whether it be self-conceit, stupidity, or
hypochondria, that renders him unpliant."
P 2
318
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
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.
was wont.
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 circum-
stances and the every-day life of the actual world, than it
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
diffusing activity and life into the deepest nooks of the
mountains and forests of Europe. The busy trading
town in which he was; the unrest of Laertes, who dragged
him about to examine every thing, afforded him the most
impressive image of a mighty centre, from which every
thing was flowing out, to which every thing was coming.
back; and it was the first time that his spirit, in contem-
plating this species of activity, had really felt delight.
At such a juncture 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 prepon-
derancy from without would fix thy choice: and yet, if
thou consider well, it is external circumstances only that
•

BOOK IV. CHAP. XIX.
319
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 farther 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 honour Fate, which without furtherance of mine
has led me hither to the goal of all my wishes? Has
not all that I in old times meditated and forecast, now
happened accidentally, and without my co-operation?
Singular enough! We seem to be so intimate with no-
thing as we are with our own wishes and hopes, which
have long been kept and cherished in our hearts; yet
when they meet us, when they as it were press forward
to us, then we know them not, then we recoil from them.
All that, since the hapless night which severed me from
Mariana, I have but allowed myself to dream, now stands
before me, entreating my acceptance. Hither I intended
to escape by flight; hither I am softly guided with
Serlo I meant to seek a place; he now seeks me, and
offers me conditions which, as a beginner, I could not
have looked for. Was it then mere love to Mariana that
bound me to the stage? Or love to art that bound me to
her? Was that prospect, that outlet, which the theatre
presented me, nothing but the project of a restless, dis-
orderly, 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 farther to be justified, now
that no side-purposes combine with it; now that in making
it thou mayest fulfil a solemn promise, and nobly free
thyself from a heavy debt?”
All that could affect his heart and his imagination
was now moving, and conflicting in the liveliest strife

320
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
I
within him. The thought that he might retain Mignon,
that he should not need to put away the Harper, was not
an inconsiderable item in the balance; which, however,
had not ceased to waver to the one and to the other side,
when he went, as he was wont, to see his friend Aurelia.
CHAPTER XX.
"Do you
SHE was lying on the sofa; she seemed quiet.
think you will be fit to act to-morrow?" he inquired.
"O yes!” cried she with vivacity, "you know there is
nothing to prevent me. If I but knew a way," continued
she, "to rid myself of those applauses! The people mean
it well, 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 prepared myself, it gave me joy to hear the
sound, 'It has succeeded!' pealing back to me from every
corner. But now I speak not what I like, nor as I like; I
am swept along, I get confused, I scarce know what I do;
and the impression I make is far deeper. The applause
grows louder, and I think: Did you but know what
charms you! These dark, vague, vehement tones of
passion move you, force you to admire; and you feel not
that they are the cries of agony, wrung from the miserable
being whom you praise.
F
"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
I

BOOK IV. CHAP. XX.
321
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 necessity: 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!" cried Wilhelm, "could you cease to
whet the dagger wherewith you are ever wounding me!
Does nothing then remain for you? Are your youth,
your form, your health, your talents nothing? Having
lost one blessing, 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!
O, have compassion on me: God knows I am poor and
wretched!"
She sank in thought; then, after a brief pause, she
exclaimed 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 blessedness, 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!
“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. O, how have I cast
away my whole existence wittingly and willingly! But
J

322
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
now will I despair, purposely despair. There is no drop
of blood within me but shall suffer, no fibre that I wil,
not punish. Smile, I pray you; laugh at this theatri
display of passion."
Wilhelm was far enough from any tendency to laug…
This horrible, half-natural, half-factitious condition of hi
friend afflicted him but too deeply. He sympathised in
the tortures of that racking misery: his thoughts were
wandering 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 whatever 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 practise them more diligently, more
minutely, I toil and toil at them-My friend, my con-
fidant, what a horrid task is it to tear away one's
thoughts from oneself! My reason suffers, 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. O, it seems hard," said he, "that not only
so much that is impossible should be denied us, but so
much also that is possible. It was not your lot to meet
with a faithful heart that would have formed your perfect
happiness. It was mine to fix the welfare of my life upon
a hapless creature, whom by the weight of my fidelity I
drew to the bottom like a reed, perhaps even broke in
pieces!"
BOOK IV. CHAP. XX.
323
F
He had told Aurelia of his intercourse with Mariana,
and could therefore now refer to it. She looked him
ntly in the face, and asked: "Can you say that you
? yet betrayed a woman, that you never tried with
ghtless gallantry, with false asseverations, with ca-
ling oaths, to wheedle favour from her?”
"I can," said Wilhelm, "and indeed without much
vanity; my life has been so simple and sequestered, I
have had but few enticements to attempt such things.
ind what a warning, my beautiful, my noble friend, is
his 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 earnest 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
holding 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 instantly 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
324
MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP.
have you take heed," cried she with a wild mirth, whic
soon passed into a quick assiduity. She took her han
kerchief, and bound his hand with it to stanch the fas
flowing blood. "Forgive a half-crazed being," cried sh
"and regret not these few drops of blood. I am appease
I am again myself. On my knees will I crave your pai
don: leave me the comfort of healing you."
She ran to her drawer; brought lint, with other app
ratus ;
stanched the blood, and viewed the wound atter
tively. It went across the palm, close under the thuml
dividing the life-lines, and running towards the litt
finger. She bound it up in silence, with a significan
reflective look. He asked once or twice: "Aurelia, ho
could you hurt your friend ?"
"Hush!" replied she, laying her finger on her mouth
"Hush !"
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