The Autobiography of Goethe Truth and Poetry · Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
TWENTIETH BOOK.
I was well received, and introduced into many families; among others, the family of the high warden of the forests, Von W------, particularly pleased me. The parents were dignified and easy in their manners, and one of the daughters resembled Frederica. It was just the time of vintage, the weather beautiful, and all my Alsacian feelings revived in the beautiful valley of the Rhine. At this time, however, my experience, both of myself and others seemed very strange; it was as yet quite vague and undigested in my mind, no deliberate judgment upon life had shaped itself before me, and whatever sense of the infinite had been awakened within me served only to confuse and perplex me the more. In society, nevertheless, I was as agreeable and entertaining as ever, and possibly even still more so. Here, under this free air of heaven, among joyous men, I sought again the old sports which never lose their novelty and charm for youth. With an earlier and not yet extinguished love in my heart, I excited sympathy without seeking it, even though it sought no utterance of itself, and thus I soon became at home in this circle, and indeed necessary to it, and I forgot that I had resolved, after talking away a couple of evenings, to continue my journey.
Mademoiselle Delf was one of those persons who, without exactly intriguing, always like to have some business in hand, and to keep others employed, and to carry through some object or other. She had conceived a sincere friendship for me; and prevailed the more easily on me to prolong my visit as I lived in her house, where she suggested all manner of inducements for my stay, and raised all manner of obstacles to my journey. When, however, I wanted to turn the conversation to Lili, she was not so well pleased or so sympathizing as I had hoped. On the contrary, she said that, under the circumstances, nothing could be wiser than our resolution to part, and maintained that one must submit to what is unavoidable, banish the impossible from the mind, and look around for some new object of interest in life. Full of plans as she always was, she had not intended to leave this matter to accident, but had already formed a project for my future conduct, from which I clearly saw that her recent invitation to Heidelberg had not been so disinterested as it sounded. She reminded me that the Electoral Prince, Charles Theodore, who had done so much for the arts and sciences, resided still at Mannheim, and that as the court was Roman Catholic while the country was Protestant the latter party was extremely anxious to strengthen itself by enlisting the services of able and hopeful men. I must now go, in God's name, to Italy, and there mature my views of Art; meanwhile they would work for me. It would, on my return, soon be seen whether the budding affection of Fraülein von W------ had expanded or had been nipped, and whether it would be politic, through an alliance with a respectable family, to establish myself and my fortunes in a new home.
All these suggestions I did not, to be sure, reject; but my planless nature could not wholly harmonize with the scheming spirit of my friend; I was gratified, however, with the kind intentions of the moment, while Lili's image floated before me, waking and dreaming, and mingled with everything else which afforded me pleasure or distraction. But now I summoned before my soul the serious import of my great travelling plan, and I resolved to set myself free, gently and with propriety, and in a few days to make known to her my determination of taking leave of her, and to resume my route. One night Mademoiselle Delf had gone on until late unfolding to me her plans, and all that certain parties were disposed to do for me, and I could not but feel grateful for such sentiments, although the scheme of strengthening a certain circle, through me and my possible influence at court, was manifest enough. It was about one o'clock when we separated. I soon fell into a sound sleep, but before very long I was awakened by the horn of a postilion who was stopping and blowing it before the house. Very soon Mademoiselle Delf appeared with a light, and a letter in her hands, and coming up to my bed-side, she exclaimed, "Here's the letter; read and tell me what it says. Surely it comes from the Weimar people. If it is an invitation do not follow it, but call to mind our conversation." I asked her to give me a light and leave me for a quarter of an hour to myself. She went away very reluctantly. I remained thinking for some time without opening the letter. The express then has come from Frankfort, I know both the seal and hand; the friend then has arrived there; he is still true to his invitation, and our own want of faith and incredulity had made us act prematurely.
Why could one not wait, in a quiet civilized place, for a man who had been announced distinctly, but whose arrival might be delayed by so many accidents? The scales fell from my eyes. All the kindness, the graciousness, the confidence of the past came up livingly before me, and I was almost ashamed of the strange wilful step I had taken. I opened the letter, and found all that had happened explained naturally enough. My missing guide had waited for the new landau which was to come from Strasburg, day after day, hour after hour, as we had waited for him; then for the sake of some business he had gone round by way of Mannheim to Frankfort, and to his dismay had not found me there. He sent the hasty letter by express, proposing that now the mistake was explained I should instantly return, and save him the shame of going to Weimar without me. [Side-note: Departure for Weimar.] Much as my understanding and my feeling inclined me to this side, there was still no lack of weighty arguments in favour of my new route. My father had laid out for me a fine plan of travel, and had given me a little library, which might prepare me for the scenes I was to visit, and also guide me on the spot. In my leisure hours I had had no other entertainment than to reflect on it, and, indeed, during my last short journey I had thought of nothing else in the coach. Those glorious objects which, from my youth up, I had become acquainted with, histories and all sorts of tales, gathered before my soul, and nothing seemed to me so desirable as to visit them, while I was parting from Lili for ever.
"Child! child! no more! The coursers of time, lashed, as it were, by invisible spirits, hurry on the light car of our destiny, and all that we can do is in cool self-possession to hold the reins with a firm hand, and to guide the wheels, now to the left, now to the right, avoiding a stone here, or a precipice there. Whither it is hurrying who can tell? and who, indeed, can remember the point from which it started?"
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.