Delphi Collected Works of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe \(Illustrated\) pdfdrive com

CHAPTER III.

WILHELM TO NATALIA.

“I have just ended a pleasant half wondrous story, which I have written down

for thee from the lips of an excellent man. If it is not entirely in his own words

— if here and there I have expressed my own feelings in the place of his, this is

quite  natural,  in  view  of  the  relationship  I  have  here  felt  with  him.  Is  not  that

veneration  for  his  wife  like  that  which  I  feel  for  you?  And  has  not  even  the

meeting  of  these  two  lovers  some  likeness  to  our  own?  But,  that  he  is  happy

enough in walking along by the side of the beast that carries its double burden of

beauty; that in the evening he can, with his family following, enter through the

old  convent  gates,  and  that  he  is  inseparable  from  his  beloved  and  from  his

children; — all this I may be allowed to envy him in secret. On the other hand, I

must not complain of my own fate, since I have promised you to be silent and to

suffer, as you also have undertaken to do.

“I  have  to  pass  over  many  beautiful  features  of  the  common  life  of  these

virtuous and happy people; for how could everything be written? A few days I

have  spent  pleasantly,  but  the  third  already  warns  me  to  bethink  me  of  my

further travels.

“To-day I had a little dispute with Felix, for he wanted almost to compel me to

transgress one of the good intentions which I have promised you to keep. Now it

is just a defect, a misfortune, a fatality with me, that, before I am aware of it, the

company  increases  around  me,  and  I  charge  myself  with  a  fresh  burden,  under

which  I  afterwards  have  to  toil  and  to  drag  myself  along.  Now,  during  my

travels,  we  must  have  no  third  person  as  a  constant  companion.  We  wish  and

intend to be and to remain two only, and it has but just now seemed as if a new,

and not exactly pleasing connection was likely to be formed.

“A  poor,  merry  little  youngster  had  joined  the  children  of  the  house,  with

whom  Felix  had  been  enjoying  these  days  in  play,  who  allowed  himself  to  be

used or abused just as the game required, and who very soon won the favor of

Felix.  From  various  expressions  I  noticed  already  that  the  latter  had  chosen  a

playmate for the next journey. The boy is known here in the neighborhood; he is

tolerated  everywhere  on  account  of  his  merriness,  and  occasionally  receives

gratuities. But he did not please me, and I begged the master of the house to send

him  away.  This  was  accordingly  done,  but  Felix  was  vexed  about  it,  and  there

was a little scene.

“On  this  occasion  I  made  a  discovery  which  pleased  me.  In  a  corner  of  the

---

chapel,  or  ball,  there  stood  a  box  of  stones,  which  Felix  —  who  since  our

wandering  through  the  mountain  had  become  exceedingly  fond  of  stones  —

eagerly  pulled  out  and  examined.  Among  them  were  some  fine,  striking

specimens. Our host said that the child might pick out for himself any he liked:

that these stones were what remained over from a large quantity which a stranger

had  sent  from  here  a  short  time  before.  He  called  him  Montan,  and  you  can

fancy how glad I was to hear this name, under which one of our best friends, to

whom we owe so much, is travelling. As I inquired as to time and circumstances,

I may hope soon to meet with him in my travels.”

The  news  that  Montan  was  in  the  neighborhood  had  made  Wilhelm

thoughtful. He considered that it ought not to be left merely to chance whether

he should see such a worthy friend again, and therefore he inquired of his host

whether it was not known in what direction this traveller had bent his way. No

one had any more exact knowledge of this, and Wilhelm had already determined

to pursue his route according to the first plan, when Felix exclaimed, “If father

were not so obstinate, we should soon find Montan.”

“In what manner?” asked Wilhelm.

Felix answered: “Little Fitz said yesterday that he would most likely follow up

the  gentleman  who  had  the  pretty  stones  with  him,  and  knew  so  much  about

them too.”

After some discussion Wilhelm at last resolved to make the attempt, and in so

doing  to  give  all  the  more  attention  to  the  suspicious  boy.  He  was  soon  found,

and when he understood what was intended, he brought a mallet and iron, and a

very  powerful  hammer,  together  with  a  bag,  and,  in  this  miner-like  equipment,

ran merrily in front.

The  road  led  sideways  up  the  mountain  again.  The  children  ran  leaping

together from rock to rock, over stock and stone, and brook and stream, without

following  any  direct  path.  Fitz,  glancing  now  to  his  right  and  now  to  his  left,

pushed quickly upwards. As Wilhelm, and particularly the loaded carrier, could

not  follow  so  quickly,  the  boys  retraced  the  road  several  times  forwards  and

backwards, singing and whistling. The forms of certain strange trees aroused the

attention of Felix, who, moreover, now made for the first time the acquaintance

of the larches and stone-pines, and was attracted by the wonderful gentians. And

thus the difficult travelling from place to place did not lack entertainment.

Little  Fitz  suddenly  stood  still  and  listened.  He  beckoned  to  the  others  to

come.

“Do you hear the knocking?” said he. “It is the sound of a hammer striking the

rock.”

“We hear it,” said the others.

---

“It is Montan,” said he, “or someone who can give us news of him.”

As  they  followed  the  sound,  which  was  repeated  at  intervals,  they  struck  a

clearing  in  the  forest,  and  beheld  a  steep,  lofty,  naked  rock,  towering  above

everything, leaving even the tall forests under it. On the summit they descried a

person. He stood at too great a distance to be recognized. The children at once

commenced  to  clamber  up  the  rugged  paths.  Wilhelm  followed  with  some

difficulty,  nay,  danger:  for  in  ascending  a  rock,  the  first  one  goes  more  safely,

because  he  feels  his  way  for  himself;  the  one  that  follows  only  sees  where  the

former  has  got  to,  but  not  how.  The  boys  soon  reached  the  top,  and  Wilhelm

heard a loud shout of joy.

“It is Jarno!” Felix called out to his father, and Jarno at once stepped forward

to  a  steep  place,  reached  his  hand  to  his  friend,  and  pulled  him  up  to  the  top.

They embraced and welcomed each other with rapture under the open canopy of

heaven.

But  they  had  scarcely  let  each  other  go  when  Wilhelm  was  seized  with

giddiness,  not  so  much  on  his  own  behalf,  as  because  he  saw  the  children

hanging over the fearful precipice. Jarno noticed it, and told them all to sit down

at once.

“Nothing is more natural,” said he, “than to feel giddy before any great sight,

upon  which  we  come  unexpectedly,  and  so  feel  at  the  same  time  our  littleness

and  our  greatness.  But  then,  generally  speaking,  there  is  no  true  enjoyment

except where one must at first feel giddy.”

“Are  those  below  these  the  big  mountains  which  we  have  crossed?”  asked

Felix. “How little they look! And here,” he continued, loosening a little piece of

stone from the top, “here is the cats’-gold again; it seems to be everywhere!”

“It  is  found  far  and  wide,”  replied  Jarno;  “and  since  you  are  curious  about

such things, take notice that at present you are sitting upon the oldest mountain

range, on the earliest form of stone, in the world.”

“Was not the world made all at once, then?” asked Felix.

“Scarcely,” replied Montan; “good things require time.”

“Then down there there is another sort of stone,” said Felix, “and then again

another, and others again, forever,” pointing from the nearest mountains towards

the more distant ones, and so to the plains below.

It was a very fine day, and Jarno pointed out in detail the splendid view. Here

and  there  stood  several  other  summits  like  that  upon  which  they  were.  A

mountain  in  the  middle  distance  seemed  to  vie  with  it,  but  still  was  far  from

reaching  the  same  height.  Farther  off  it  was  less  and  less  mountainous;  yet

strangely prominent forms still showed themselves. Lastly, in the distance even

the  lakes  and  rivers  became  discernible,  and  a  fertile  region  seemed  to  spread

---

itself out like a sea. If the eye was brought back again it penetrated into fearful

depths,  traversed  by  roaring  cataracts,  depending  one  upon  the  other  in

labyrinthine confusion.

Felix  was  never  weary  of  asking  questions,  and  Jarno  was  accommodating

enough  in  answering  every  question  for  him:  in  which,  however,  Wilhelm

thought  that  he  noticed  that  the  teacher  was  not  altogether  truthful  and  sincere.

Therefore,  when  the  restless  boys  had  clambered  farther  away,  he  said  to  his

friend:

“You  have  not  spoken  to  the  child  about  these  things  as  you  speak  with

yourself about them.”

“That is rather a burdensome demand,” answered Jarno; “one does not always

speak even to one’s self as one thinks, and it is our duty to tell others only what

they  can  comprehend.  Man  understands  nothing  but  what  is  proportionate  to

him. The best thing one can do, is to keep children in the present — to give them

a name or a description. In any case they ask soon enough for the reasons.”

“They  are  not  to  be  blamed  for  that,”  answered  Wilhelm.  “The  complicated

nature of objects confuses everybody, and instead of dissecting them it is more

convenient to ask quickly, Whence? and whither?”

“And  yet,”  continued  Jarno,  “as  children  only  see  objects  superficially,  one

can only speak to them superficially about their origin and purpose.”

“Most  people,”  answered  Wilhelm,  “remain  for  their  whole  life  in  this

condition,  and  do  not  reach  that  glorious  epoch,  in  which  the  intelligible

becomes commonplace and foolish to us.”

“One  may  indeed  call  it  glorious,”  replied  Jarno;  “for  it  is  a  middle  state

between desperation and deification.”

“Let us keep to the boy, who is now my chief anxiety,” said Wilhelm. “Now

he  has  acquired  an  interest  in  minerals  since  we  have  been  travelling.  Can  you

not impart to me just enough to satisfy him at least for a time?”

“That will not do,” said Jarno; “in every new intellectual sphere one has first

to commence like a child again, throw a passionate interest into the matter, and

rejoice  first  in  the  outward  husk  before  one  has  the  happiness  of  reaching  the

kernel.”

“Then tell me,” answered Wilhelm, “how have you arrived at this knowledge

and insight? — for it is still not so long since we parted from one another!”

“My friend,” replied Jarno, “we had to resign ourselves, if not for always, at

least  for  a  long  time.  The  first  thing  that  under  such  circumstances  occurs  to  a

brave  man,  is  to  commence  a  new  life.  New  objects  are  not  enough  for  him;

these are only good as a distraction; he demands a new whole, and at once places

himself in the centre of it.”

---

“But why,” interrupted Wilheim, “just this passing strange, this most solitary

of all prepossessions?”

“Just  for  this  reason,”  exclaimed  Jarno:  “because  it  is  hermit-like!  I  would

avoid men. We cannot help them, and they hinder us from helping ourselves. If

they  are  happy  one  must  leave  them  alone  in  their  vanity;  if  they  are  unhappy

one must save them without injuring this vanity; and no one ever asks whether

you are happy or unhappy.”

“But things are not yet quite so bad with them,” replied Wilhelm, laughing.

“I  will  not  rob  you  of  your  happiness,”  said  Jarno.  “Only  journey  onward,

thou  second  Diogenes!  Let  not  your  little  lamp  be  extinguished  in  broad

daylight! Yonder, below, there lies a new world before you; but I will wager it

goes  on  just  like  the  old  one  behind  us.  If  you  cannot  mate  yourself  and  pay

debts, you are of no use among them.”

“However,”  replied  Wilhelm,  “they  seem  to  me  more  amusing  than  those

stubborn rocks of yours.”

“Not at all,” replied Jarno, “for the latter are at least incomprehensible.”

“You  are  trying  to  evade,”  said  Wilhelm,  “for  it  is  not  in  your  way  to  deal

with things which leave no hope of being comprehended. Be sincere, and tell me

what you have found in this cold, stern hobby of yours?”

“That is difficult to tell of any hobby, particularly of this one.”

Then he reflected for a moment, and said:

“Letters  may  be  fine  things,  and  yet  they  are  insufficient  to  express  sounds:

we cannot dispense with sounds, and yet they are a long way from sufficient to

enable mind, properly so called, to be expressed aloud. In the end, we cleave to

letters  and  to  sound,  and  are  no  better  off  than  if  we  had  renounced  them

altogether: what we communicate, and what is imparted to us, is always only of

the most commonplace, by no means worth the trouble.”

“You want to evade me,” said his friend; “for what has that to do with these

rocks and pinnacles?”

“But suppose,” replied the other, “that I treated these very rents and fissures as

if  they  were  letters:  sought  to  decipher  them,  fashion  them  into  words,  and

learned to read them off-hand: would you have anything against that?”

“No, but it seems to me an extensive alphabet.”

“More  limited  than  you  think:  one  has  only  to  learn  it  like  any  other  one.

Nature  possesses  only  one  writing,  and  I  have  no  need  to  drag  along  with  a

number  of  scrawls.  Here  I  have  no  occasion  to  fear  —  as  may  happen  after  I

have been long and lovingly poring over a parchment — that an acute critic will

come and assure me that everything is only interpolated.”

“And  yet  even  here,”  replied  his  friend,  laughing,  “your  methods  of  reading

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are contested.”

“Even for that very reason,” said the other, “I do not talk with anybody about

it; and with you too, just because I love you, I will no longer exchange and barter

the wretched trash of empty words.”

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