“I thank you, ye eternal gods, for having accorded me this highest revelation of poetry here in Italy; I thank you for having enkindled in my heart the holy flames of love. I laughed at you, Venus Aphrodite, and you are punishing the sinner with your sweetest wrath; you are permitting him to feel that undying youth is still glowing in his bosom. For love is eternal youth, and I love! Yes, I love!”
It was late at night, and his friends had long since retired to rest, but Goethe was still walking to and fro in the gloomy avenues of the park—in the avenues in which the pious fathers of the order of the holy Ignatius had formerly wandered, forming plans to divert the power and glory of the whole world into their hands.
The palace that now belonged to the wealthy Mr. Jenkins had formerly been the summer residence of the general of this order. The monastery was situated at the other end of the park. Pope Urban had once walked arm in arm with his friend the Jesuit general in these avenues, and together they had considered how they were to subjugate princes and nations, and make themselves masters of the world.
Goethe thought of this as he stepped into the main avenue, and saw before him the grand old palace.
“Truly,” murmured he, “this is the work of the holy fathers. They have thrown a Jesuit’s cloak over the mischievous god. In this disguise, he has dogged my footsteps, and, while I fondly believed myself to be conversing with an honest priest on learned topics, this impudent knave has so bewitched me that I have abjured all wisdom, and am about to become a fool among fools.”
“But what is to come of this, you fool?” asked he of himself. “Where is your love for this beautiful child to lead you?”
He listened, as if expecting an answer from the night wind that rustled by. He looked up at the moon, to see if a solution of this mystery of the future could be found in its shining countenance. In his heart the mocking words of his own song were all the while ringing, singing, and laughing in low tones:
“Heirathen, Kind, ist wunderlich Wort,
Hör’ ich’s, möcht ich gleich wieder fort!” [39]