GOETHE'S CORRESPONDENCE A CHILD. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: LONGMAN. ORMK. lUlOWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS. 1839. Wilson & Son, Printers, 57, Skinner Street, London. Ik K. The original of this work was ]Hiblished in Gennan, in aid of Funds for the erection of a Monument to the memory of Goethe, and many thousand copies were sold. The present translation has been printed at Berlin, and sent to England to promote the same object. Paternoster Row, January 1830. TO THE PRINCE PUCKLER. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2011 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/goethescorrespon01arni Ilail tlioy ol tliy many errors Always much to say, Had indeed to forge their sayinj^ Trouble in ev'ry way; Would they have the. good ol Ihiue Gently lik'd to say, With a conscious faithful Hint As't were belter nay — Then trust me. should be the best No concealed ray, Which indeed not many a guest (jJ rants a cheering day. — (Westeastern divan. Book of coifleni{datioii.) It is no gift of chance or of whim, that is brought here lo you. By well lellected reasons and with joyful heart, 1 hid you to the best, I am able to ofl'er as a token of my thanks for the con- fidence you trust me with. All are not tit to sound tinith, but only its appearance; to trace the secret ways of a profound nature, to solve the problems in it — is denied to them; they only may utter their delusions, K3 which produce stubborn prejudices against better conviction, and robs the mind of its authority to acknowledge what is deviating from the common; it was in such confusions that my views of you were also entangled, while moved by your own feelings, you declined every derogating judgement of me, kindly trusting, you would enrich heart and mind by me ; how made this blush me. — The simpleness of your views, of your self-cojiteinplatiiiij,, selF- foriniiig nature, your subtle perception of other's disposition of mind, your prompt organ of speech, in a me- lodious style symbolically displaying in various way's inward contemplation and exterior objects, this natural art of your muid ! — all this has cleared my ideas of you, and made me acquainted with tiiat higher spirit in you which idealy parodies so many of your utterances. You once wrote me: ''He ml to sees my park, sees into my heart'.' — It was last year in the midst of Sep- tember, that I entered your park, early in the morning; the sun was spreading his beams, it was a great silence in all nature, clear paths led me between fresh green plots, on which the flower bushes seemed still asleep; busy hands soon came cherish them, the leaves shaken down by the morning breez^e were galtered and the confused brandies unwreathed; I went fiuiher on different days, at different hours; in every di- rection, as far as I came I found the same carefidness and peaceful grace, which was spread all around. Thus does the loving develope and cherish sense and beauty of the beloved, as you here cherish an inheritance of na- ture you were trusted with. Ill fain believe this to be the mirror of your most profound heart, as it implies so many a beauty, Til fain believe that ihe simple trust in you will be no less cherished and protected, than each single plant of your park. — There I have read to you from the diary and my letters to Goethe, and you liked to listen; now I give them up to you, protect these pages like your plants, and so again leave unminded the prejudice of those, who before they are accj[uainted with the hook, condemn it as not fi;emune, and thus deceive themselves of truth. Let us remain well minded to one another, what faults and errors may be imputetl to us by others who don't see us in the same light, we will not give up a confidence in a higher idealism which so far over -reaches all accidental of- fences and misunderstandings and all assumed and customary virtue. A^e will not disown the manifold noble causes. intimations and interests of being under- stood and beloved; if others do not comprehend it, let it remain a problem to them. August 1834. Bettina Arnim. l» H E F A C E. This Book is for the Good ami not for the Bad. Whilst 1 was piepariiig these papers for the press, I was in dilTerent ways ad- vised to omit mucli or at least give ruy ex- pressions another turn ; to remove all pos- sible chance of their being misunderstood. But I soon perceived, that we follow good counsel only then, when it is not contrary to the tendency of our own incHnations. Among many advisers (here was but one whose counsel satisfied me 5 he said: ''This book is for the Good and not for the Bad, who alone can misinterprete it; let every thing ihoir llie construction; niucli is underlined with red ink, niucli ^vith pencil, here paren- lliesis, there erasures. — As I once saw liim afler a Ion'E. March 14th 1807, I have had my pen new pointed, and have fdled my dried-up inkstand to the very top, and since to-day is such horrible weather that one would not turn a dog out of doors, thou shall immediately receive an answer. Dear Bctline! I miss thee much in the sad time of winter; how joyfully thou camest springing to me last year! when it snowed in every direction, tlien I knew it was just the right weather for thee; I had not to wait long, before ihou camest. Even now, from old habit I always peep at the corner of the Catharine- gate, but thou comest not;- and the very certainty of it grieves mc. I have visiters enougb, but they arc only such M.silliiii people wilii whom I can chat about notJilng. I also Kkc tlic French: its always quite another sort t)l life, A\hwi the I'^ench quarteree got n(»lhing by it. and have slept like clotls as they have hilherto done. Amuse thyself and be merry, foi' he who laughs can conmiit no deadly sin. Thy fnenJ Elizauetii GoE'raE, miou makest n<» inquiries after A\ (dt;nng — I always said lo lhIantilla? No! — A pair of poches? No! — A hoop -petticoat? No! — A training- gown? No! ^ A pair of trousers? Yes! — Hurrah! (Other times are now coming) — and a waistcoat and coat too. To morrow everything Mill be tried on; it nmst set well, for I have ordered all to be made full and eas\ ; and then I throw myself into a chaise, and courier- like travel day and nii>ht throu£;li the entire armies, between friend and foe; all the fort- resses unbar at my approach, and thus on to Ber- lin, where certain business will be transacted, in which I have no concern. But then back again in all haste, and no halt till Weimar. O! Frau Rath, how then will all there look? — my heart beats violently , although 1 nuist travel till the end of April before I can come there. Will my heart have courage enough to resign itself to him? I ted as il he slood just bcturo llio «Umu! nil llic veins in my he.ul heal; all! il I were (Uily \villi von! llial altuie eoiild cjuiel inc. \o see Y'Mi also lieside youisell \villi joy; or it one \vonlvill like lo hear. Allien! larewtll and \vish me in yonr heart a hapjiy jonrnev. I am (piite i;idd\ . liKniNi;. lint I nnist tell yon how all Ihis has come ahonl. y\\ hrolher-in-la\v came to nu' and saiil ir I coidd persuade his wile to make a loni; jonr- nev of hnsiness wilh hini in male coslnmc, he >\onld lake me wilh him. and on his rclnrii. to ohlij;c me, wonld pass lhronj;li ^^ eimar. Only Ihink! ^^ eimar alwavs appeared lo me as far away as if it were in anolher (piarler ta5o. GOETHE'S MOTHER TO BETTI.NE. M.iy mil 1S07, \N hy do'st thou droop thy wings? After so dclighllul a journey, to Mrile so short a letter and tell me nothing of my son hut that thou hast seen him! and that I know already, for he wrote lo me vesterdav. AVhat iiave I lo do wilh thy .'inchorcd l);irk? It tells iiic exactly nollilnp, — write ut" somelljiiic; ^vlliell hos happened. Consider I have not scon liiin I'or ei!;hl vears and niav never see him ai;ain: if Ihoii \vi!t relalc nolhinc; of liiiii to nie. \vlu) sliall? ha^en t I heard lliv sillv slo- ries a lnni(h-cd limes which indeed I know hy heart? and now when thou hast really seen and heard somethini; new, somelhini:; more than com- mon — when thou know est thou eouldst jzivc me the greatest pleasure, — thou tellst me — nothing! Is anything the mailer with ihcc then? there is no Ocean hetwixl thcc and ANcimar; thou now knowest well, one can be there ere the Sun has twice risen. Art thou sorrowful? Dear dear child! my sou shall he ihy friend — Ihy hrolher, who surely loves thee; and for the future thou shall call me mollier all llie remaining clays my (dd age grauls me — it is the only name which can give nie joy. Thy true friend Eliz.^betii Golthe. Thanks for I he cup. A3 10 TO GOETHE S 3[()TIIEU. 3Iay 16th 1807. Yesterday I wrole lo your son; tlo you .'uiswer for it to him. 1 Mould willingly loo write you every lliing, l)at 1 liavc now so much lo think upon, it is ahnost impossil)lc lo tear myscll away. I am ever with Jihn in mind, liow sliail 1 llicn rchite what has been. Ihivc indulgence and pa- tience: I will come next week to Frankfort and then you can ask me every thing. \our child Bi;rri>E. I lay Home lime in hed and now I gel up to write to you all about our journey. 1 told you already that m e passed through the armies in male dresses. Just before the gale, my brolhcr-in-law made us gel out; — he wauled lo see how our clothes set. Liiibi looked very well, for she is splendidly formed and the clothes were admirably made: as for mc, all was loo loose and too long, as if I had Ixuigiil llicm at Kag-Fair. IMy brother- in-law laughed at me and said I looked like a Sa- voyard. The postillion had driven us oil ihe road 11 through a wood, and coming lo a cross-way, was quite at a loss: altliough only the commencement of our four-weeks journey, I was anxious lest we should miss our way and thus come too late to Weimar. I clambered up the highest fir and soon saw where the mainroad lay. — I made the whole journey upon the box : I had a fox-skin cap, the brush hanging down behind. AVlien we arrived at a stage, I unharnessed the horses and helped to put the fresh ones to. I spoke broken German with the postillions as if I had been a French- man. — At first it was beautiful weatlier, as if spring were commencing, but soon became complete win- ter. We passed through a wood of gigantic pines and firs, all was hoary, spotless — not a soul had been before us — it was perfectly white. Be- sides, the moon shone on this desolate paradise of silver — a deathlike stillness! only the wheels creaking from the frost. I sat on the box, but was not at all cold: winter's frost strikes sparks out of me ! — As midnight approached we heard a whistling in the wood ; my brother-in-law reached me a pistol out of the carriage and asked whether 12 I had courage to fire If robbers came? I said ''\es" "Only" said he, don't, fire too soon." Lullu was in great trouble, inside the carriage, but I in the open air with "pistol cocked and sabre girt," num- berless sparkling stars above, and glittering trees around, which threw tlieir giant shadows across the moonlit way — all this made me bold on my exalted seat. Then I thought on him — whether, if he had met me thus in his young days, it would not have made a poetical impression upon him, so that he would have written sonnets upon me and never have forgotten me? He may now tliink otherwise — he will be elevated above a magical impression: higher qualities — how shall I attain them — will maintain a right over him — if con- stancy — eternal, fixed on his threshold, do not at last make him mine! Thus was I disposed in tliat clear, cold winternight, during which I found no opportunity of firing off my piece — when the day broke I first received permission. The car- riage stopped — I ran into the wood, and enthu- siastically fired into the dense wiUlcrness in ho- nour of your son. hi the mean time the axle- 13 Ircc wfis broken. Wc felled a tree mIiH the hat- chet which Nve had witli lis and hound it fost willi ropes: my hroUicr then found, that I Mas very handv, and praicd me. Thus we proceeded to ]Ma«:;dehiir£;. At 7 o' clock precisely, the fort- ress is shut — wc cnmc a minute or two later and were oblip;ed to wait till 7 the next mornins;! It was not very cold and the two in the carriage foil asleep. In the night it hegan to snow. I threw mv clokc over my head and remained quietly silling on my exposed seat. In the morning they peeped out of the chaise and there I was changed into a snow -hermit! but before they had lime to be thoroughly frightened, I threw off my cloke under cover of which I had sat quilc warm, — In Rerlin I was as one blind among many men; I was also absent in mind; I could take part in nothing: I longed always for darkness, that un- disturbed I might think on the future which now approached so near. Ah! how often did the ala- rum beat! — Suddenly! unawares! in the midst of tranquil stilness — how I know not — a sweet terror seized me. Oh IMother! 3Iother! think on u your son! If yon knew. I hat in a short time von slionld behold him — you wonkl be as a Condnc- lor, in Mlilch every ihundcr-cloud strikes. — As we came \vithin a few miles of Weimar, my bro- iher remarked, he did not wish to go so far ont of the way as through Weimar, and would fake another road. I Avas silent, but LuUu woiddn't hear of it. slie said: "it had been once promised me and lie must keep his word." Ah ^lolher! the sword hung over my head, suspended by a single liair, but fortune favoured me. We arrived in Weimar at 12 o' clock and sale down to dinner, but I could not eat. The two laid themselves on tlie sofa and slept; we had been up three nights. "I advise you" said my brother, "to take some rest also. Goethe won't much care whether you come or not, and besides there is nothing so extraordinary to see in him." Can you believe this robbed me of all courage? Alas! I didn't know what to do: I was quite alone in a strange town. I had changed my dress and stood at the window looking at tlie tower-clock! just til en it struck half post two. I felt as if Goethe 15 would not indeed care to see me — I remembered that people called him proud. I pressed my heart hard to prevent its longings: — all at once it struck lliree and it was exactly .is if he had called me. I ran down stairs to the servants, there was no carriage to be had; would I take a sedan-chair? "INo," said I, "it is an equipage for a Lazarhouse." I went on foot. The streets were a perfect cho- colate-pool, I was obliged to be carried over the deepest morasses and in tbis manner I came to — ^^ ieland's, not to your son's. I had never seen Mieland, but 1 pretended to be an old acquain- tance, lie tried every way to recal me to his mind and then said: "Yes, you are certainly a dear and well-known angel, but I cannot remem- ber when and where I have seen you." I laughed at him and said: "Now I know that you dream about me, for elsewhere you cannot possibly have seen me. ' He gave me a note to your son — I look It afterwards wiUi me, and have preserved it as a memorial. I send yon a copy: "Beltinc Brentano. Sophia's sister, IMaximilian's daughter, Sophia la Roche's grand-daughter, wishes dear Ui biolhcr, to sec yon, s;iys slic fears you, and lli;i| lliis llllle note ^viIl be a lallsman of courajie lo her. Allhough I am lolerably certain, she makes game of mc, yet I must do what she asks and .sliall ^\onde^ much, if you are not compelled to do the same. April 23ra 1807. w. AN ilh this billet I went forth. The house lies opposite the fountain: how deafening did the wa- ter sound to me! I ascended the simple stair- case: in the wall stand statues which command silence: at least I could not be loud in this sacred hall. All is friendly but solemn. In the rooms simplicity is at home, ah! how inviting! "Fear ijot," said the modest walls, '']ic will come and will be — and more he w ill not wish to be — as thou art, — and then the door opened and there he stood solemnly, grave and looked with fixed eyes upon me. I stretched my hands towards him — I believe. I soon lost all consciousness. — Goe- the caught me quickly to his heart. "Poor child have 1 frightened you?" These were the (Irst 17 words wilh Avliich liis voice pcnclralcil lo my hearl — lie led nic inio his room and placetl me on llie sofa opposllc lo him. There mc were holh mule; al last lie hroke the silence: '"You have doubtless read in Uie papers thai we suffered a few days ago a great loss by ihc deatli of llic Duchess Amalia?" "Ah!" said I, "I don't read the papers." — "Indeed? — I had believed that cvcrylhing which happens in A\ cimar would have interested you." "jNo! nothing interests me but you alone, and I am far loo impatient lo pore over news-papers. " — "You are a kind child." — A long pause — I, ilxed to that tiresome sofa in such anxiety. You know how impossible it is for me to sit slill in such a well bred manner. Ah! IVIotlier. is it possible so far lo forget one's self? 1 suddenly said: "I can't slay here upon the sofa" and sprang up. "Well," said he, "make yourself at home," then I flew to his neck — he drew me on his knee and locked me lo his heart. Slill! quite still it was! everything vanished. I had not slept for so long: years had passed in sighing after him, — I fell asleep on his breast 18 and when I awoke, I began a new life. IMore I shall not write to you this time. BETTI^E. September 1807. Frau Rath! as often as I meet with anything romical I think of you, and what fun and what tales tliere would have been if you yourself had seen or heard it. Here, in the vine-covered Mildeberg, I sit with my friend IMr. Schwab, who was formerly Secretary to my father and who has fed us chil- dren with his stories. He can tell a story at least as well as you, but he swaggers and makes use of Jews and Pagans, the discovered and undiscovered world in decorating of his adventures; you however stick to the truth, but with such joyful notes of exclaimation that one wonders what is coming. The squirrel which you gave me, I set free in the great oak-forest and it was high time. During its five miles ride in the carriage, it perpetrated considerable mischief, and at the inn during the night ale up the Burgomaster's slippers. I don't know how you managed, that it did not throw ilown .'ill your glasses, gnaw all your furniture and dirty all your caps and turbans. He bit me, but in remcnibrancc of the pround, handsome French- man, who brought him on his helmet all the way from South France to your house in Frankfort, I forgave him. I set him on the ground in tlie wood: as I went away, he sprung again upon my shoulder and would not take advantage of his li- berty and I would fain liavc taken him with me again, because he loved me belter then the beauti- ful green oaks. But as I got into the carriage, the others made such an oulery and so abused our dear parlour- companion, that I was obliged to carry liim back to the wood. I made them wail long enough for it: I sought out the finest oak in the whole wood and clambered tip. At the top I let him out of bis bag — he sprang gaily from branch to branch, then busied himself with the acorns, during which I descended. On arriving at the bottom, I iiad lost tlic direction of the carriage and although I heard myself called I could not in the least distinguish from whence the voices came. I stood still, till they drove up 20 to fetch mc. They both scolded me but I was silent, laid rayself at the bottom of the carriage on three bottles of Selterwasser and had a delicious sleep, till by moonliglit the carriage was over- turned, but so gently that no one was hurt. Away flew a nut-brown chamber maid from the box and In romantic disorder lay fainting on the flat bank of the Maine directly In face of the moon: two band- boxes with lace and ribbands flew some- what further, and swam cleverly enough down the river; I ran after them Into the water, which from the great heat was very shallow and all called after me was I mad? — I could not hear them, and I believe I and the boxes should have swoim back to Frankfort, If a boat which stood out Into the stream, liad not brought them to. I pached them under either arm, aud walked back again through the clear waves. "Thoughtless girl" said my brother Frank and with liis soft voice tried to scold : I put off my wet clothes was wrapt up in a soft cloke and packed into tlie closed carriage. In Aschaffenburg they put me forcibly into bed and made me some camomile tea. Not to 21 drink it, I pretended to be fast asleep. There upon my merits were discussed, how, I had too good a heart, was full of kindness and never thought of myself, how, I had swum after the band -boxes which, if I had not fished again to laud, it would have been impossible the next morning to have performed toilette, before dining with the royal Primate. Ah! they didn't know what I knew, — viz : Uiat in tliat wilderness of false locks, gilt combs and lace, was hidden a treasure in a red velvet bag, for whose sake I would have thrown both boxes into tlie water, with all which did, and did not belong to me, and that but for Uiis I should have rejoiced over the return -voyage of the band- boxes. In tliis bag lay concealed a bunch of vio- lets, whicli in a parly at \A ieland's in Weimar, your son secretly threw to nte as be went by. IMy lady mother! 1 was Uien jealous of Wolf- gang and believed the violets had been given him by a female hand, but he said ''Art thou not con- tent, that I give them thee? " — I took his hand in secret and drew it to my heart; he drank out of his glass and placed it before me that I also 22 might drink; I took It hi the left hand and drank; then laughed at hun, because I knew he had placed it there, that I might let go his hand. "It" said he "then hast such cunning, tliou wilt know well, how to chain me for life." I beg you not to be puffed up, because I have trusted you witli my inmost heart; — I must have someone to whom I can impart. They, who have handsome faces, wish to see them in the glass; you are the glass of my happiness, which now blooms in its great- est beauty, and must therefore often see itself reflected. Pray, chatter to your son in your next letter (which by the by you can write to mor- row, without first waiting an opportunity) how in tlie cold moonlight I swam after the bunch of violets in the band -box for a quarter of an hour, (so long it wasn't though) and that the waves bore me like a water-nymph along (waves tliere were none, only shallow water which scarcely bore up the hght boxes), and that my inflaled clotlies showed like a balloon. What are all the frocks of his youthful! loves in comparison with my floating garments. Do not say that your 23 son is too good for nic, when I rati myself iiilo such danger lor a violet ! I attach n\ysclf to the epoch of sensitive romance, and come luckily on Wcrther, where hy tlie hyc I feel much inchned to turn Charlolle out of doors. \our Son's taste in tliat '"while gown witii pink ribbands" is bad. I will never during my life wear a white gown, green — green — all my clotlies arc green! Apropos, take one peep behind your lire -screen, at the pretty painted side which you always turn to the wall for fear tlie sun should fade it; you will there discover that the squirrel has committed great ravages on the fire - goddess ; having white w ashed her whole face. I wouldn't say anything about it, because, against your orders I had fast- ened tlie squirrel on tlie screen and I feared you woidd be angry: therefore I tell it you by letter, that ill my absence you may expend your anger. To morrow we go to Ascliaflcnburg when I will write furllier. Let Eliza beat my foot-stool to keep out the mollis and let no one else sit upon il. Adieu Fiau Rath, I rcmahi your obedient handmaid. Bettike. TO FKAU RATH GOETHE. Fran Kath, you have a most villainous hand, a thorough cat's paw, I do not mean the hand, which in the Theatre applauds Werdi the Actor, when like a Miller's ass, he tramps ahout the stage and essays to play tragical Tragedy! but the written hand which is abominable and illegible. You can to be sure Mrite as unrcadably as you will, that I am a "silly thing", I can still read it, even in the first "s " — for what else can it mean? You have told me so, often enough: but when you write to your son about me, busy yourself a little I beg, to make yourself legible. 'J'hc "IMild- berger Grapes" I did at last decipher, though written in Chaldaic and Hebrew characters : I will send you a whole box full, which indeed I had doi>e, notwithstanding. Moreover Mr. Schlosser has written nothing particular in your letter. Again, I can't bear that you should spend your time with him and I not there; and I command you not to let him sit upon my ottoman, for he is one who "imagines he can play the lute" and believes he can assume my scat: and you too, d5 if you see hlin so often \\\U imagine he is better than I : you did believe so once, nay ! tliat he was a eoniplelc Apollo of beauty, till I opened your eyes: moreover Mrs. Schlosser said, that as a new born cliild, he was laid out on a green bil- liard-table and that he contrasted so well and looked like a bright Angel! Is contrast then so great a beauty? Adieu, I am sitting to write in a manger, out of M'hich the cow is eating her clover: but don t wr'iic this to your son, it might appear a little too crazy: for I myself, when I think of finding my lover sitting and inditing ten- der letters to me, in a cow -stall, hardly know how I should behave myself. But I am sitting here above, in pure despair, because I want to conceal myself, and be alone that I may tliink upon him. Adieu Frau Rath. We dined yesterday at the Primate's, it was a holiday; we had curious dishes representing meat but which after all were none. When we were introduced to him, he chucked me under tJie cliin and called me "htlle angel" and "lovely child". I asked him, how old he thought I might be — "AVell, twelve certainly", "ihirleeii' said I. "Indeed!" said he, "that is somewhat old, you must soon commence your reign. ' Bettine. (The answer is wanting.) Wiriike!. Dear Frau Rath ! All that I have written down I will read to you: you may convince yourseli, tliat I have added nothing and written only that ^vhich my eyes have drunk in from your lips, only I cannot conceive, how it sounds so well from your lips and flows again so stupidly from my pen. That I am not very wise, I give many proofs: wherefore I can very well allow you to say to the people, tliat you wish they were all as foolish as I : — but never say now that / am clever, or you compromise yourself, and the Land- lord at Cassel on the great Rhine bridge can af- ford a proof to the contrary. It was so wearisome, waiting till our entire luggage was examined, that I took the fly -flapper and pursued some guals, till they settled on the window-panes: 1 struck 27 at tliGiu — llic pane flew out, and with it the j^iiats to "golden liberty" into the broad, proud Rhine below; the landlord said, it was stupid and \ was much ashamed. Ah ! Frau IMother, what a curious sort of life is it here in Langcwinkel, Nature should here show lovely and it is so without doubt, only I have not tlie art to see it. Before my eyes can wander to the Johaiuiisberg, tliey are arrested by certain dirty alleys and a lojig field of eater- pillared plum and pear -trees. Out of every dor- mer-window hang pearl-strings of snips and slices: the tanner opposite pervades with his vapours every perfume of the air, and all the five senses are necessary, to perceive anything in its beauty; and indeed if the whole scene were ever so char- ming and the scent brought no proof M'ith it, the process would nevertheless be lost. The organ in the Church too, somids quite out of tune here — one must travel from Frank- fort to ^^ inckel. if one will hear such harsh dis- cords performed to the honour of God. Good bye BExrofE. B2 28 Our coachman will bring you a box of peaches, but don't spoil your stomach, for it is not of "nature godlike" and is easily seduced. We went last Thursday with the two Schlos- sers to Lorch. It was resolved to go by water. Christian Schlosser thought he could not bear the water and went on foot. I went with him to keep him company, but repented it. For the first time I spoke of Wolfgang with another be- sides you, and that was a sin. I can bear to hear every- thing of him, but no praise, no love. You love your son , for you bore him — that is no sin and I have nothing to object to it — but no more; only others shall make no further preten- sions to him. You ask me if I have engrossed him for myself? Yes! Frau Rath, to that I can answer! I believe, that there is a way and mauT ner of possessing another, which none can dis- pute, and this way I take with Wolfgang; none before me have understood it, that I know, spite of all his amours which you relate to me. Be- fore his face I am indeed very humble, but be- 89 hind his back I hold him fast and he must struggle hard to get loose. Frau Ratii! I know Princes and Princesses only in the magic world of fairy-tales, and by your descriptions, M'hich are much the same, only that in the former, tlie most beautiful Princesses are turned into cats and generally, set free and married, by some tailor. — Consider of this, when you next invent a tale and afford this circum- shiuce a moral explanation. Bettine. (The Answer is wanting.) It is true, I have received a letter from Wolf- gang here in Rheingau ; he \>Tites : ''Keep my mo- ther warm, and hold me dear." These sweet lines have sunk into me hke the first Spring -rain; I am very happy that he desires me to love him; I know well that he embraces the whole world; I know that all men wish to see and speak with him, that all Germany says "Our Goethe". But I can tell you, that up to tliis day the general inspiration of his greatness and his name has not 30 yet arisen within me. My love to him is confined to that little white -walled room, where I first saw him, where the vine, trained by his own hand creeps up the window, where he vsits on the straw -hassock and holds me in his arms — tliere he lets in no stranger, and knows of no- tliing, but me alone. Fran Rath! you are his mo- ther and to you 1 will tell it: when I saw him for the first time and returned home, I found that a hair from his head, had fallen upon my shoulder. I burnt it at the candle and my heart was so touched, that it also flamed, but merrily, and joyfully as flames in the blue sunlit air, of which one is scarcely aware and which consume their sacrifice without smoke. So will it be \vith me; I shall flutter joyfully my life long in the air and no one will know whence the joy comes; it is only, because I know, that when I come to him, he will be alone with me and forget hislanrels. Farewell and write to him of me. Bettine. 31 GOETHE'S MOTHER TO BETTINE. Frankfort, May 12lli ISOS. Dear Botlino. Thv letters give me joy, and Miss Betty "vvho rec<>p;iii/-es them on the address, says: "Fran l{atli, ilie postman brings yon a pleasure." Don't however be too mad about my son, evervlhlns; must be done in order. The brown room is new- papered with the pattern wlilih you chose; the colour blends peculiarly well with the morning- twihght which breaks over the Ca- tharine-tower and enters iiilo niv room. Yester- day our I own looked quite holiday- like, in the spotless light of the Alba. Except this, everything remains at it was. Be in no trouble about Ihv fool-slocd, for Betty sutlers no one to sit upon it. AA rile nuub, even if it were every day. Thy affectionate friend Elizabeth Gi»ethe, 32 FRAU rath: Schlangonbad. We rode yesterday upon millers' doiiklcs far into the country, away over Rauenlhal. The way leads through rocky paths covered with woods; to the left you look into the deep ravine, and to the right on the woody, rising wall of rock. '''I'lien and there" the strawberries so seduced me, that I almost came from my post; for my donkey was the leader. By continually halting to pluck the strawberries, the whole party pressed upon me from the rear and I was obliged to leave thou- sands of crimson berries unplucked upon the path. A week has now passed, but I still languish after them; those which are eaten are forgotten, the unplucked still burn in my recollection. Thus I should for ever burn, if I neglected that which I have a right to enjoy and herein you need nol fear that I should overturn "order". I do not hang upon my beloved like lead, 1 am like the moon which shines Into his parlour: when well- dressed people throng it, and many lamps arc lighted, it is little noticed; but when they are 33 £;ono nnd llir nol.^o is pnst. I lion, llie sonl has so niiicli llio sli(>iie;(M- desire lo (Irliik In lis Iii;ht. 'I Imis will lie also liirn lo me. ."iiul lliink of mo, Avlicn lie Is .ilone. — 1 t'col nnj;ry \\'\\]\ all avIio liavo lo (1<» willi liiiii. yot I fear none; bnt ^vilh lliis yon liave no concern. Shall I fear llio mo- llicr, if I love I ho son? Betttje. TO BETTLNE, Fr.iiikr..rt, May 25lli, Uc\\ child, ihon arl ho^vIlc■hc(l! ^^ hat fancied hnsi Ihon lakon into UiJ' hcavilh I lie auburn hair is our liouse-kecper and sees lo "Ihc baked- and the boiled." In the morning we come oul of our little rooms and meet all together in the saloon. It is a peculiar pleasure \o see one after the other making her appearaiu'e in Grecian drapery. The day passes in Inuuorous gossip, interspersed with song and guitar arpeggios. In the evening we saunter along the banks of the Rhine, and then encamp in the timbcryard. I read Homer aloud: the peasants draw around and Usten, the moon rises between the hills and gives light, instead of the sun. In the distance lies the dark ship, where a fire burns, and on whose deck the watch dog bays from time to lime. When we close tlie book, a regular political discussion takes place: the Gods themselves pass for neither more non less than other statesmen, and opinions are so hotly de- fended, that one might believe all had taken place yesterday, and that much might still be altered. I have one advantage, \\z: if I had not read Homer lo the peasants, I should not to this day have 36 known the conlcnis. llielr qncstions ond lomarks liave brongitt mc lo it. — "SMion wc rclmn homo, we go, (when liretl) one afler the other to bed. I tlien set myself to tlic Piano, and melodies come upon mc, to which 1 sing before Ifciven, the songs I love best. ''How good, how friendly Natmc Is." Li bed, I send my thonglils there, \\here I best \oye, and thns I fall asleep. ^TUl life contlnne always thus? sorely not? On Saturday my brothers were here and stayed till iMonday, during which time, we passed llie nishts on Ihe Rhine. George with his flule. to whlcli Me sung; thus we passed from village to village, till tlie breaking dav drove us home. — Lady IMother! to glide upon the splendid mirror of the Rhine by moonlight, and sing forth the boundlngs of the heart, to encounter In friendly company all sorls of merry adventures, to rise without care, and to lay down without harm, this Is a life in ihe midst of which I stand. ^N by do I sufler myself to be pleased with it? do 1 notknow^ betler? and is not Ihe World great? aud are there not various Ihlngs in it, — tarrying only 37 for ihe spirit of man to become alive in him? and shall all this leave me untouched? Oh God! the prosaic world is a hard nut, not easy to crack, and many a kernel dries up beneath the thick shell. Yes, man has fl conscience: It exhorts him to fear notliing, and neglect notliing which the heart asks of him. Passion is the only key to the world, by ^^hich the spirit learns to know aiKl feel every thing, or how else should it cuter into the world? and thus I feel, that only tlirough my love to him, I am born in tlie spirit, that through Jilm the world unlocks itself to me, where the sun shines to me and tlie day divides from night. \Vhat I do not learn through this love, I shall never understand. ^Vould that I sat a beggar-child before his door, and took a piece of bread from his hand, and that he knew by my glance, of tvliat spirit I am tlie child: then, would he draw me nigh to him and cover me witli his cloak, that I might be warm. I know he would never bid me go again; I should for ever wander In the house, and thus years would pass and no one should know who I was, and 38 no one should know whence I came: and thus years would pass, and life, and hi his features the wJiole world should be reflected to me, and I should not need to learn anything more. Why then do I not do so? It depends only upon whe- ther I can take heart, and so come into the haven of my happiness. Do you still remember how In winter-time I came springing through snow and rain and you asked, "how docst thou run over the street?" and I said, "If I should care more for the old town of Frankfort, than for a poultry-yard, I should not come far In the world," and you answered that you believed no water was too deep, and no mountain too steep for me; and even then I thought to myself: If JVcimar were the deepest water and the steepest mountain. I can now better tell you that my heart Is heavy and will remain so, as long as I am not with Jiim; and that you may fuid "In order" or not as you please. Adieu! I shall soon come to you, full tUt. Bettiwe. 31) TO GOETHE'S MOTlIEli. Winckol, June l'2lh. A letlcr from yoii always makes a great bustle among the people here; they would faiu know what we have to sny to one another, because I seem to them such a silly girl. You may depend upon it I never shall be wise. How shall I attain to wisdom? my lonely life does not lead to it. AVliat have I seen and heard tliis year? In win- ter I was sick: then I made a magic- lanliMii of pasV^hoard, where the cat and the knight had the principal parts; 1 studied tlie part of tlie cat for nearly six weeks, but she was no philosopher, or I might have prollted something. In spring the orange -tree blossomed in my chamber: 1 had a table and a seat made around it, and there in ils sweet- scenled siiade, I wrote to my friend: that was a joy for which no wisdom could have re- compensed me. In the mirror opposite I saw the tree reflected and the sunbeams streaming througli its foliage; there I saw her, the presumptuous hru nette, sitting to write to the grealest Poet — to the exalted above all men. lii '\[>ril I went out early 40 ^ upon tlic ramparl pnd soviglil llie firsL vlolol aiul bolqiiizcd: in IMay I learned lo drive a pair of liorscs: in llic myould not have detracted from this u^ucYcalQd 41 hllss? ^^llal wortls of pjen'ms could Iiavo repaid llial (jiilot poacc ^vhicli bloomed wllliiii us? Oh! how «>floii liavo I lhoiii;hl on llial h>al". and how lie stroked niv forehead and faee. anil how he passed his fingers through my hair and said: •"/ (ini not 7ii\c\ I am easily deceived, and ihou ^vill gain no great honour, if lliou imposesl on mc \\\[h "Tliy love'. Then I fell upon his neck. — All this was not "(lenius' aiul yet 1 have lived it over a thousand limes in thought, and shall my life long drink from tJial fountain even as the eye drinks in, the light; — it was not "Genius " and yet to nic it outshone all Uie wisdom of Uic world. ^^hat could recompence me for his kind trilling with me? — what supply tJie fine penetrating ray of his glance, which streams into my eye? — I care nothing for wisdom: I have learned happi- ness under another form; that too which gives others pain, hurts not nie, and my pain no one can understand. Ho\\ bright is this night! The hills with their vines clothed in splendour lie there, and sleepily suck in tlic nourishing nioonlight. — AVritc soon: 4^2 1 lunc no ono in wlioni I .s<» willingly confide, because I know you arc nol united to, nor reserve yourself for. any one more Ihan me, and that you never talk about me to another. — If you only knew liow far in the night it is! The moon is setting: that gricACS me. Write to me very soon. Bettine. FKAU RATH. Wiin'kel, June '23tli. 1 went with Frank to an iron-foundry and must remahi two days in the narrow raNine, where it rained or rather wetted continually. '"To this" said the people, "we arc used, we live like ilsh, always wet; and if by chance we have a few dry days, our skins itch so, that we wish to be wet again". I must reflect, how I may describe this singular earth -hole, where, from t beucath dark and mighty oaks breaks forth a fiery glow, where, solitary huts hang from the faces of the hills, over which gleam the single lights at dusk, and where the long evening, by a distant pipe which always plays the same tunes, 43 proclaims, that here, Loneliness is at home, iinln- lerriipled by any society. AN liy should llic somid of a sohtary flute blowinc; away by itself, be so tediously melancholy, that tJie heart is ready to burst witli ve.xalion, so that one knows not which way to turn? Ah! how fain would one then strip off these earthly garments and fly aloft far into the air — yes! like a swallow in the sky, which cnts the aether with her wings as with a sharp bow, soaring above tlie slavish chains of thought, far into boundless space, which thought cannot readi. — We were put into monstrously large beds, I and brother Frank: I joked and chattered a good deal witli him, for he is my dearest brother. In tlie morning he saiil to me very mysteriously: '•Just look! tlie blaster of the mines has a gal- lows in his ear". I could not guess w hat he meani ; bnt as soon as I had an opportunity of looking into the ear, I saw the joke. A spider had spun its web there, a fly was made prisoner and half- eaten, while the remains hung in the still un- broken web. Herein IVank clearly recoirnlzed an enddem of Ihe petrified tedions life here; but 1 44 hail already recogni/od il In the ink.staiid. mIiIcIi Mas quile liirrcd and ronlaiiiini; but Utile lliild, I'lils however is only the half (d this hole of loneliness. One Mould not think it, htit by goins; slowly round, one (