Henry of Ofterdingen: A Romance.

by Novalis

"I do not know whence it comes," said Henry; "I have heard poets spoken of before now; but have never yet seen one. I cannot even form an idea of their curious art; but yet have a great desire to hear about it. I feel that I wish to know many things, of which dark hints only are in my mind. I have often heard people speak of poems, but I have never yet seen one, and my teacher never had occasion to learn the art. Nor have I been able to comprehend everything that he has told me concerning it. Yet he always considered it a noble art, to which I would devote myself entirely, if I should become acquainted with it. In old times it was much more common than now, and every one had some knowledge of it, though in different degrees; moreover it was the sister of other arts now lost. He thought that divine favor had highly honored the minstrels, so that inspired by spiritual intercourse, they had been able to proclaim heavenly wisdom upon earth in entrancing tones."

The merchants then said; "We have in truth not troubled ourselves much with the secrets of the poets, though we have often listened with pleasure to their songs. Perhaps it is true that no man is a poet, unless he is born under a particular star, for there is something curious in this respect about this art. The other arts are very different from it, and much easier to comprehend. The secrets of painters and musicians can much more easily be imagined; and both can be learned with industry and patience. The sound lies already in the strings, and ability is all that is wanting, in order to move them, and stir up each into a delightful harmony. In painting, nature is the best instructress. She brings forth numberless beautiful and wonderful forms, gives to them color, light, and shade; and a practised hand, an exact eye, and a knowledge of the preparation and mixing of colors can imitate nature to the life. How natural for us then to comprehend the effect of these arts, and the pleasure derived from their productions. The song of the nightingale, the whistling of the wind, and the splendors of light, color, and form please us, because they strike our senses agreeably; and as our senses are fitted for this by nature, which also has the same effect, so must the artful imitation of nature please us also. Nature herself will also draw enjoyment from the power of art, and thence has she changed into man, and thus she now rejoices herself over her noble splendors, separates what is agreeable and lovely, and brings it forth by itself in such a way, that she can possess and enjoy it in all ways and at all times and places. In the art of poetry, on the contrary, there is nothing tangible to be met with. It creates nothing with tools and hands. The eye and the ear perceive it not; for the mere hearing of the words has no real influence in this secret art. It is all internal; and as other artists fill the external senses with agreeable emotions, so in like manner the poet fills the internal sanctuary of the mind with new, wonderful, and pleasing thoughts. He knows how to awaken at pleasure the secret powers within us, and by words gives us force to see into an unknown and glorious world. Ancient and future times, innumerable men, strange countries, and the most singular events rise up within us, as from deep hiding places, and tear us away from the known present. We hear strange words and know not their import. The language of the poet stirs, up a magic power; even ordinary words flow forth in charming melody, and intoxicate the fast-bound listener."

"You change every curiosity into ardent impatience," said Henry. "I cannot hear enough of these strange men. It seems to me all at once, as if I had heard them spoken of somewhere in my earliest youth; but I can remember nothing more about it. But what you have said to me is very clear and easy to comprehend, and you give me great pleasure by your beautiful descriptions."

"It is with pleasure," continued the merchants, "that we have looked back upon the many pleasant hours we have spent in Italy, France, and Swabia in the society of minstrels, and we are glad that you take so lively an interest in our discourse about them. In travelling through so many mountains, there is a double delight in conversation, and the time passes pleasantly away. Perhaps you would be pleased to hear some of the pretty tales concerning poets, that we have learned in our travels. Of the poems themselves, which we have heard, we can say but little, both because the pleasure and charm of the moment prevent the memory from retaining much; and because our constant occupations in business destroy many such recollections.

"In olden times, all nature must have been more animate and spiritual than now. Operations, which now animals scarcely seem to notice, and which men alone in reality feel and enjoy, then put animate bodies into motion; and it was thus possible for men of art to perform wonders and produce appearances, which now seem wholly incredible and fabulous. Thus it is said that there were poets in very ancient times, in the regions of the present Greek empire, (as travellers, who have discovered these things by traditions among the common people there, have informed us,) who by the wonderful music of their instruments stirred up a secret life in the woods, those spirits hidden in their trunks; who gave life to the dead seeds of plants in waste and desert regions, and called blooming gardens into existence; who tamed savage beasts, and accustomed wild men to order and civilization; who brought forth the tender affections, and the arts of peace, changed raging floods into mild waters, and even tore away the rocks in dancing movements. They are said to have been at the same time soothsayers and priests, legislators and physicians, whilst even the spirits above were drawn down by their bewitching song, and revealed to them the mysteries of futurity, the balance and natural arrangement of all things, the inner virtues and healing powers of numbers, of plants, and of all creatures. Then first appeared the varied melody, the peculiar harmony and order, which breathe through all nature; while before all was in confusion, wild and hostile. And here one thing is to be noticed; that although these beautiful traces for the recollection of these men remain, yet has their art, or their delicate sensibility to the beauties of nature been lost. Among other occurrences, it once happened that one of this peculiar class of poets or musicians,--although music and poetry may be considered as pretty much the same thing, like mouth and ear, of which the first is only a movable and answering ear,--that once this poet wished to cross the sea to a foreign land. He had with him many jewels and costly articles, which he had received as tributes of gratitude. He found a ship ready to sail, and easily agreed upon a price for his passage. But the splendor and beauty of his treasures so excited the avarice of the sailors, that they resolved among themselves to take him, throw him overboard, and afterwards to divide his goods with each other. Accordingly, when they were far from land, they fell upon him, and told him that he must die, because they had resolved to cast him into the sea. He begged them to spare his life in the most touching terms, offered them his treasures as a ransom, and prophesied that great misfortunes would overtake them, should they take his life. But they were not to be moved, being fearful lest he should sometime reveal their wickedness. When he saw at last that their resolution was taken, he prayed them that at least they would suffer him to play his swan song, after which he would willingly plunge into the sea, with his poor, wooden instrument, before their eyes. They knew very well that, should they once hear his magic song, their hearts would be softened and overwhelmed with repentance; therefore they granted his last request indeed, but stopped their ears, that not hearing his song, they might abide by their resolution. Thus it happened. The minstrel began a beautiful song, pathetic beyond conception. The whole ship accorded, the waters resounded, the sun and the stars appeared at once in the sky, and the inhabitants of the deep issued from the green flood about them, in dancing hosts. The people of the ship stood alone by themselves, with hostile intent waiting impatiently for the end of his song. It was soon finished. Then the minstrel plunged with serene brow down the dark abyss, carrying with him his wonder-working instrument. Scarcely had he touched the glittering wave, when a monster of the deep rose up beneath him, and quickly bore the astonished minstrel away. It swam directly to the shore whither he had been journeying, and landed him gently among the rushes. The poet sang a song of gratitude to his saviour, and joyfully went his way. Sometime after the occurrence of these events, he again visited the seashore, and lamented in sweetest tones his lost treasures, which had been dear to him as remembrances of happier hours, and as tokens of love and gratitude. While he was thus singing, his old friend came swimming joyfully through the waves, and rolled from his back upon the sand the long-lost treasures. The boatmen, after the minstrel had leaped into the sea, began immediately to divide the spoil. During the division a murderous quarrel arose between them, which cost many of them their lives. The few that remained were not able to navigate the vessel; it struck the shore and foundered. They with difficulty saved their lives, and reached the beach with torn garments and empty hands. Thus by the aid of the grateful sea-monster, who had gathered them up from the bottom of the sea, the treasures came into the hands of their original possessor." [See [Note I]. at the end.]

CHAPTER III.

There is another story, continued the merchants after a pause, certainly less wonderful and taken from later times, which yet may please you and give you a clearer insight into the operations of that wonderful art. There was once an old king, whose court was the most splendid of his age. People streamed thither from far and near, in order to share in the splendor of his mode of life. There was not wanting the greatest abundance of costly delicacies at his daily entertainments. There was music, splendid decorations, a thousand different dramatic representations, with other amusements to pass away the time. Nor did intellect fail to be represented there in the persons of sage, pleasant, and learned men, who added to the entertainment and inspiration of the conversation. Finally, there were added many chaste and beautiful youth of both sexes, who constituted the real soul of the charming festivals. The old king, otherwise a strict and stern man, entertained two inclinations, which were the true causes of the splendor of his court, and to which it owed its thanks for its beautiful arrangement. The first of these inclinations was his love for his daughter, who was infinitely dear to him, as a pledge of the love of his wife, who had died in her youth, and to whom, for her marvellous loveliness, he would have sacrificed all the treasures of nature, and all the powers of human minds, in order to create for her a heaven upon earth. The other was a real passion for poesy and her masters. He had from his youth read the works of the poets with heart-felt delight, and had spent much labor and great sums of money in the collection of the poetical works of every tongue, and the society of minstrels was especially dear to him. He invited them from all quarters to his court, and loaded them with honors. He never grew wearied with their songs, and for the sake of some new and splendid production often forgot the most important business affairs, and even the necessaries of life. Amidst such strains had his daughter grown up, and her soul became, as it were, a tender song, the artless expression of longing and of sadness. The beneficent influence, which the protected and honored poets exerted, showed itself through the whole land, but particularly at the court. Life, like some precious potion, was enjoyed in lingering and gentle draughts, and in its purer pleasures; because all low and hateful passions were shunned, as jarring discords to the harmony which ruled all minds. Peace of soul, and beautiful contemplations of a self-created happy world, had become the possession of this wonderful time, and dissension appeared only in the old legends of the poets, as a former enemy of man. It seemed as if the spirits of song could have given no lovelier token of their gratitude to their protector, than his daughter, who possessed all that the sweetest imagination could unite in the tender form of a fair maiden. When you beheld her at the beautiful festivals, amid a band of charming companions in glittering white dress, intensely listening to the rival songs of the inspired minstrels, and with blushes placing the fragrant garland around the locks of the happy one, who had won the prize, you would have taken her for the beautiful and embodied spirit of this art, conspiring with its magic language; and you would cease to wonder at the ecstasies and melodies of the poets.

Yet a mysterious fate seemed to be at work in the midst of this earthly paradise; The sole concern of the people of that country was about the marriage of the blooming princess, upon which the continuation of their blissful times, and the fate of the whole land, depended. The king was growing old. This care lay heavy at his heart; and yet no opening for marriage showed itself, that was agreeable to the wishes of all. A holy reverence for the royal family forbade any subject to harbor the idea of proposing for the hand of the princess. She was hardly regarded as a creature of this earth, and all the princes, who had appeared at court with proposals, seemed so inferior to her, that no one thought that the princess or the king could fix their eye on any one of them. A sense of inferiority had by degrees deterred any suitors from visiting the court, and the wide-spread report of the excessive pride of the royal family seemed to take away from all others the desire to see themselves equally humbled. Nor was this report entirely without foundation. The king, with all his mildness of disposition, had almost unconsciously imbibed a feeling of lofty superiority, which rendered every thought of a connexion of his daughter with a man of lower rank and obscurer origin unendurable and impossible to be entertained. Her high and unparalleled worth had heightened this feeling within him. He was descended from a very old royal family of the East. His consort had been the last of the descendants of the renowned hero Rustan. His minstrels continually sang to him of his relationship to those superhuman beings, who formerly ruled the world. In the magic mirror of their art the difference between the origin of his family and that of other men, and the splendor of his descent, appeared yet clearer, so that it seemed to him that he was connected with the rest of the human family through the nobler class of the poets alone. He looked around in vain for a second Rustan, whilst he felt that the heart of his blooming daughter, the situation of his kingdom, and his increasing age rendered her marriage, in all points of view, most desirable. Not far from the capital, there lived, upon a retired country-seat, an old man, who occupied himself exclusively with the education of his only son, except that he occasionally assisted the country people by his advice in cases of dangerous sickness. The young man was of a serious disposition, and devoted himself exclusively to the study of nature, in which his father had instructed him from childhood. The old man many years before had arrived from a distance at this peaceful and blooming region, and was content while enjoying the beneficent peace, which the king had spread abroad through this retreat. He took advantage of this peace to search into the powers of nature, and impart the pleasing knowledge to his son, who gave evidence of much talent for the pursuit, and to whose penetrating mind nature willingly confided her secrets. Without a lofty power of understanding, the secret expression of his noble face, and the peculiar brilliancy of his eyes, you would have called the appearance of this youth ordinary and insignificant. But the longer you gazed upon him, the more attractive he became; and you could scarcely tear yourself from him, when you had once beard his soft impressive voice, and the utterances which his glorious talents prompted. One day, the princess, whose pleasure-garden adjoined the forest, which concealed the country house of the old man in a little valley, had betaken herself thither alone on horseback, that she might follow out her fancies undisturbed, and sing to herself her favorite songs. The fresh air of the lofty trees enticed her gradually deeper into their shade, until at last she came to the house where the old man lived with his son. Happening to feel thirsty, she alighted, fastened the horse to a tree, and stepped into the house, to ask for a glass of milk. The son was present, and was well nigh confounded by the enchanting appearance of a majestic female form, which seemed almost immortal, adorned as it was by all the charms of youth and beauty, and by that indescribable fascinating transparency, revealing the tender, innocent, and noble soul. While he hastened to gratify her desire, the old man addressed her with modest respect, and invited her to be seated at their simple hearth, which was placed in the middle of the house, and on which there glimmered noiselessly a light blue flame. Immediately on entering, the princess was struck with the varied ornaments of the room, the order and cleanliness of the whole, and the peculiar sanctity of the place; and her impression was heightened yet more by the venerable appearance of the old man, poorly clad as he was, and by the modest behavior of the son. The former recognised her immediately as a lady of the court, judging this from her costly dress and noble carriage. While the son was absent, the princess asked him about some curiosities which had caught her eye, and especially concerning some old and singular pictures, which stood at her side over the hearth, and which he kindly undertook to explain to her. The son soon returned with a pitcher of fresh milk, which he artlessly and respectfully handed her. After some interesting conversation with the hosts, she gracefully thanked them for their hospitality, and with blushes asked the old man's permission to visit his house again, that she might enjoy his instructive conversation concerning his wonderful curiosities. She then rode back without having divulged her rank, as she noticed that neither the father nor the son knew her. Although the capital was situated thus near, they were both so buried in their studies, that they strove to shun the busy world; and the young man had never been seized with the desire of being present at the festivities of the court. He had never been accustomed to leave his father alone for more than an hour at the utmost, while roaming through the woods searching for insects and plants, and sharing the inspiration of the mute spirit of nature through the influence of its various outward charms. The simple occurrences of this day were equally important to the old man, the princess, and the youth. The first easily perceived the novel and deep impression, which the unknown lady had made upon his son. He knew his character perfectly, and was fully aware that such a deep impression would last as long as his life. His youth, and the nature of his heart, would of necessity render the first feeling of this nature an unconquerable passion. The old man had for a long time looked forward to such an occurrence. The exceeding loveliness of the stranger excited an involuntary sympathy in the soul of his son, and his unsuspicious mind harbored no troublesome anxiety about the issue of this singular adventure. The princess had never been conscious of experiencing such emotions as arose in her mind, while riding slowly homeward. She could form no exact idea of the curiously mixed, wondrously stirring feelings of a new existence. A magical veil was spread in wide folds over her clear consciousness. It seemed to her that, when it should be withdrawn, she would find herself in a more spiritual world than this. The recollection of the art of poetry, which hitherto had occupied her whole soul, seemed now like a far distant song, connecting her peculiarly delightful dream with the past. When she reached the palace, she was almost frightened at its varied splendor, and yet more at the welcome of her father, for whom for the first time in her life she experienced a distant respect. She thought it impossible for her to mention her adventure to him. Her other companions were too much accustomed to her reveries, and her deep abstractions of thought and fancy, to notice anything extraordinary in her conduct. She seemed now to lose some of her affable sweetness of disposition. She felt as if she were among strangers, and a peculiar anxiety harassed her until evening, when the joyful song of some minstrel, who chanted the praises of hope, and sang with magic inspiration of the wonders which follow faith in the fulfilment of our wishes, filled her with consolation, and lulled her with the sweetest dreams.

As soon as the princess had taken leave, the youth plunged into the forest. He had followed her among the bushes as far as the garden gate, and then sought to return by the road. As he was walking along, he saw some bright object shining before his feet. He stooped and picked up a dark red stone, one side of which was wonderfully brilliant, and the other was graved with ciphers. He knew it to be a costly carbuncle, and thought that he had observed it in the middle of the necklace which the unknown lady wore. He hastened with winged footsteps home, as if she were yet there, and brought the stone to his father. They decided that the son should return next morning to the road, and see whether any one was sent to look for it; if not, they would keep it till they received a second visit from the lady, and then return it to her. The young man passed much of the night gazing at the carbuncle, and felt towards morning irresistibly inclined to write a few words upon the paper in which he wrapt it. He hardly knew himself the meaning of the words which he wrote:

A mystic token deeply graved is beaming