Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance.

by Novalis

Henry was just twenty years old. He had never passed the environs of his native city; the world was known to him only by report; only a few books had come within his reach. The course of life at the Landgrave was simple and quiet, according to the customs of the times; and the splendor and comfort of princely life, in those days, could but poorly compare with the conveniences, which, in our times, a private man can obtain for himself and family, without extravagance. Yet by reason of their very scarcity, a regard, almost approaching tenderness, was felt, in those times, for household furniture, and the conveniences of life. They were considered more valuable and curious. The secrets of nature, and the origin of its bodies, hardly attracted the notice of thinking minds, more than these scarce specimens of art and workmanship. This regard, too, for these silent companions of life was much heightened, by the distance from which they were brought, and by that charm of antiquity which gathered around furniture, often the property of successive generations; an heir-loom from father to son. They were often raised to the rank of pledges of a peculiar blessing and destiny; and the weal of whole kingdoms and far-scattered families depended upon their preservation. A poverty, fair in its features, adorned that age with a simplicity, full of significance and innocence. The treasures, so sparingly scattered in that dawn, shone the more brightly, and gave rise to many significant ideas in the thoughtful mind. If it is true that a proper division of light, color, and shade reveals the hidden splendor of the visible world, and opens for itself a new eye of a higher character; such a division and splendor were to be seen then; while these newer and more prosperous times represent the monotonous and insignificant picture of a common day. In all transitions, as in an interregnum, it appears as if a higher spiritual power were revealing itself; and as, upon the surface of our earth, the countries, richest both in subterraneous and super-terraneous treasures, lie between wild, inhospitable, hoary rocks, and immense plains; so also a deep-reflecting, romantic period made its appearance between the rough ages of barbarism, and the cultivated, enlightened, and wealthy age, which under a coarse garb conceals a still more beautiful form. Who does not love to wander at twilight, when the light of day and the deep shades of night mingle together in deep coloring? On this principle, we are glad to carry ourselves, in imagination, back to the years when Henry lived, who now went to meet the new circumstances, which might encompass him, with a swelling heart. He took leave of his companions and his instructer, the old and wise preacher, who knew the fertility of Henry's genius, and who bade him farewell, with a feeling heart and a silent prayer. The countess was his grandmother. He had often visited her at Wartburg. He now separated from his protectress, who gave him good counsel, and a golden chain, and who took leave of him with expressions of friendship. It was with a sad heart that Henry left his father and his birthplace. He now experienced for the first time what separation was. His imaginings as to the journey had not been accompanied with that peculiar feeling, which now filled his breast, when, for the first time, the scenes of his youth were snatched from his view, and he was cast, as it were, upon a foreign shore. Great indeed is our youthful sorrow at this first experience of the instability of earthly things, an experience necessary and indispensable to the inexperienced mind, firmly connected with and certain as our own existence. Our first separation remains, like the first announcement of death, never to be forgotten, and becomes, after it has long terrified us like a nightly vision, when at last joy at the appearance of a new day decreases, and the longing after a fixed, safer world increases, a friendly guide and a consoling and familiar idea. It comforted the young man much, that his mother was with him. The world he was leaving did not yet appear entirely lost, and he embraced her with redoubled fondness. It was early in the day, when the travellers rode from the gates of Eisenach, and the fresh daybreak was favorable to Henry's excited mood. The clearer the day grew, the more remarkable seemed to him the new and unknown scenes which surrounded him; and when upon a hill, just as the landscape behind him was illuminated by the rays of the rising sun, there occurred to him in the gloomy change of his thoughts some of the old melodies he knew by heart. He found himself in the swell of the distance, towards which he had often gazed from the neighboring mountains, where he had often wished himself in vain, and which he had painted to himself with peculiar colors. He was on the point of dipping himself in its blue flood. The wonderful flower stood before him, and he looked towards Thuringia, which he now left behind him, with the strong idea, that he was returning to his fatherland, after long wanderings from the country, towards which they now were travelling, and as if in reality he was journeying homewards.

The company, which at first had been silent from similar causes, began by degrees to wake up, and to shorten the time by various conversation and stories. Henry's mother felt it her duty to rouse him from the dreamings, in which she saw him sunken; and began to tell him of her father's land, of her father's house, and of the pleasant life in Swabia. The merchants joined in, and confirmed what his mother said. They praised the hospitality of the old man Swaning, and could not sufficiently extol the beauteous fair ones of the country of their travelling companion.

"You do well," said they, "in taking your son thither. The customs of your native country are of the most refined and pleasing character. They know how to attend to what is useful, without despising the agreeable. Every one endeavors to satisfy his wants in a social and charming way. The merchant is well treated and respected. The arts and mechanics are increased and ennobled; work appears easier to the industrious man, because it helps him to many pleasures, and because, as a reward for steady industry, he is sure to enjoy the manifold fruits of various and profitable employments. Money, industry, and goods reciprocally produce each other, and float along in busy circles. The country, as well as the cities, flourishes. The more industriously the day is employed, the more exclusively is the evening devoted to the charming pleasures drawn from the fine arts, and to social intercourse. The mind seeks recreation and change; and where could it find it more proper or more attractive, than in those unchecked diversions, and in those productions of its noblest power, the power of embodying its conceptions into realities. Nowhere can you have such sweet singers, or find such excellent painters, or see in the dancing halls more graceful movements or lovelier forms. The neighborhood of Switzerland is distinguished for the ease of its manners and conversation. Your race adorns society; and without fear of being talked about, can excite by their charming behavior a lively emulation to chain the attention. The stern fortitude and the wild jovialty of the men make room for a mild vivacity and a tender and modest joy, and love in a thousand forms becomes the leading spirit of their happy companies. Far is it from the truth, that dissoluteness or unseemly principles are by this course of conduct developed. It seems as if the evil spirit shunned the approach of innocent or graceful amusements, and certainly there are in no part of Germany more irreproachable maidens, or more faithful wives, than in Swabia.

"Yes, my young friend, in the clear, warm air of southern Germany you will soon lay aside your bashfulness; the youthful maidens will soon render you easy and talkative. Your name alone, as a stranger and as a relative of the old Swaning, who is the delight of every pleasant company, will attract the pleasant gaze of the maidens towards you; and if you follow the will of your grandfather, you will certainly bring to our native city, as did your father, an ornament in the form of a lovely woman."

Henry's mother thanked them with a modest blush, for their distinguished praise bestowed on her fatherland, and for their good opinion of her countrywomen. Henry, full of thought, could not help listening attentively and with heart-felt pleasure to the description of the land, which he saw before him.

"Although you do not take up your father's trade," continued the merchants, "but rather, as we have been told, spend your time in the pursuit of knowledge, yet you need not become one of the clergy, or renounce the pleasantest enjoyments of this life. It is bad enough that all learning is in the hands of an order, so separated from worldly life, and that the rulers are counselled by such unsociable and really inexperienced men. In solitude, where they have no share in worldly affairs, their thoughts must take a useless turn, and cannot be applied to everyday concerns. In Swabia you can find both wise and experienced men among the laity, and you need only choose what branch of human knowledge you prefer; for you cannot want there good teachers and advisers."

After a while Henry, whose thoughts had been led by this conversation to the old court-preacher, said; "Although ignorant as I am of the real condition of the world, I do not exactly rebel against your opinion, as to the ability of the clergy to guide and judge of worldly affairs; yet I hope I may be permitted to put you in mind of our excellent court-preacher, who certainly is a pattern of a wise man, and whose instructions and counsels I can never forget."

"We revere with our whole hearts," replied the merchants, "that excellent man; but we can agree with your opinion, only so far as you speak of that wisdom, which concerns a life well pleasing to God. If you consider him as wise in worldly affairs, as he is experienced and learned in spiritual concerns, permit us to disagree with you. Yet we do not believe that the holy man deserves any less praise, because by the depth of his knowledge of the spiritual world, he is unable to gain insight into and an understanding of earthly things."

"But," said Henry, "is it not possible that that higher knowledge would fit you to guide impartially the reins of human affairs? May it not be possible that childlike and natural simplicity more safely travels the road through the labyrinth of human affairs, than that wild, wandering, and partially restrained wisdom, which considers its own interest, and which is blinded by the unspeakable variety and perplexity of present occurrences? I do not know, but it seems to me, that there are two ways, by which to arrive at a knowledge of the history of man; the one laborious and boundless, the way of experience; the other apparently but one leap, the way of internal reflection. The wanderer of the first must find out one thing from another by wearisome reckoning; the wanderer of the second perceives the nature of everything and occurrence directly by their very essence, views all things in their continually varying connexions, and can easily compare one with another, like figures on a slate. You will pardon me, that I address you, as it were, from my childish dreams; nothing could have emboldened me to speak but my confidence in your kindness, and the remembrance of my teacher, who for a long time has pointed the second way out to me as his own."

"We willingly grant you," said the kind merchants, "that we are not able to follow your train of thought; yet it pleases us that you so warmly remember your excellent teacher, and treasure up so well his lessons. It seems to us that you have a talent for poetry, you speak your fancies out so fluently, and you are so full of choice expressions and apt comparisons. You are also inclined to the wonderful,--the poet's element."