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

SEPTEMBER 15.

It makes me wretched, Wilhelm, to think that there should be men incapable

of appreciating the few things which possess a real value in life. You remember

the walnut trees at S — , under which I used to sit with Charlotte, during my

visits to the worthy old vicar. Those glorious trees, the very sight of which has

so often filled my heart with joy, how they adorned and refreshed the parsonage

yard,  with  their  wide-extended  branches!  and  how  pleasing  was  our

remembrance of the good old pastor, by whose hands they were planted so many

years ago: The schoolmaster has frequently mentioned his name. He had it from

his grandfather. He must have been a most excellent man; and, under the shade

of  those  old  trees,  his  memory  was  ever  venerated  by  me.  The  schoolmaster

informed  us  yesterday,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  those  trees  had  been  felled.

Yes, cut to the ground! I could, in my wrath, have slain the monster who struck

the first stroke. And I must endure this! — I, who, if I had had two such trees in

my  own  court,  and  one  had  died  from  old  age,  should  have  wept  with  real

affliction.  But  there  is  some  comfort  left,  such  a  thing  is  sentiment,  the  whole

village murmurs at the misfortune; and I hope the vicar’s wife will soon find, by

the cessation of the villagers’ presents, how much she has wounded the feelings

of the neighborhhood. It was she who did it, the wife of the present incumbent

(our good old man is dead), a tall, sickly creature who is so far right to disregard

the  world,  as  the  world  totally  disregards  her.  The  silly  being  affects  to  be

learned, pretends to examine the canonical books, lends her aid toward the new-

fashioned  reformation  of  Christendom,  moral  and  critical,  and  shrugs  up  her

shoulders  at  the  mention  of  Lavater’s  enthusiasm.  Her  health  is  destroyed,  on

account of which she is prevented from having any enjoyment here below. Only

such a creature could have cut down my walnut trees! I can never pardon it. Hear

her  reasons.  The  falling  leaves  made  the  court  wet  and  dirty;  the  branches

obstructed the light; boys threw stones at the nuts when they were ripe, and the

noise affected her nerves; and disturbed her profound meditations, when she was

weighing the difficulties of Kennicot, Semler, and Michaelis. Finding that all the

parish,  particularly  the  old  people,  were  displeased,  I  asked  “why  they  allowed

it?”  “Ah,  sir!”  they  replied,  “when  the  steward  orders,  what  can  we  poor

peasants do?” But one thing has happened well. The steward and the vicar (who,

for once, thought to reap some advantage from the caprices of his wife) intended

to  divide  the  trees  between  them.  The  revenue-office,  being  informed  of  it,

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revived an old claim to the ground where the trees had stood, and sold them to

the  best  bidder.  There  they  still  lie  on  the  ground.  If  I  were  the  sovereign,  I

should  know  how  to  deal  with  them  all,  vicar,  steward,  and  revenue-office.

Sovereign, did I say? I should, in that case, care little about the trees that grew in

the country.