Heinrich of Ofterdingen

Chapter 6

People of Action can never begin too soon to see and act for themselves. They require to pass through many varied circumstances and difficulties to acquire firmness, so that in the greatest pressure of life they may yet hold to their own purpose, and carry it to completion. They cannot yield to calm meditation, their spirit must continually be directed outwards and be a busy and diligent servant of the mind. They are heroes, and around them crowd events to be conducted, and resolved. Possibilities become histories through their influence, and their life is a continuous chain of ever more remarkable, gleaming, entangled and strange occurrences.

It is different with the quiet unknown people, whose world is mind, their activity meditation, and whose lives are a gentle reflection of their inner world. No restlessness drives them after the outward, silent possession satisfies them. The ever-changing scenes around do not attract them, other than as the subject of thought in their leisure. They take the mysterious role of the mind of the world, while those of action are its senses, limbs and outgoing powers.

Great and varied experiences would only disturb them. A simple life is their blessing, and they only know the countless phenomena of the world through others accounts and writings. Occasionally events do drive them into the whirl of existence, as if to give them a more accurate insight into the character of people of action. On the other hand, their sensitive natures make fresh and surprising discoveries in the most simple and insignificant phenomena, as well as in themselves.

These are the poets, these rare and inspiring people who wander amongst us, recalling humanity to their old adorations of the stars, spring, love, blessing, fertility, health, and renew them in joy. They seem to have already possessed heavenly calm, and are not disturbed by earthy lusts, they only inhale the perfume of earthly fruit, without devouring it. They are welcome guests whose soft golden footsteps, call out the angels present among us.

Like a good king, a poet leaves in his wake clear and glad countenances, and alone has the right to the name of wise. His songs arouse heroic courage in youthful hearts, but heroic exploits do not call out the spirit of poetry.

Heinrich was by nature, born a poet. Diverse events united to educate him, but nothing had as yet stirred the depths of his being. Everything he saw and heard seemed to be like bolts opening doors and windows within him. He saw the world stretched out before him in all its broadness and interrelatedness. As yet it its conversation had not awakened his soul. But a poet was near, and a lovely girl was at hand, to open his now dumb lips through the lute of native language, and through the touch of a sweet and tender mouth and to unfold the simple accord in endless melodies.

The journey was now over. It was evening when our travellers arrived safely with joy in the world renowned city of Augsburg, and with a full expectation drove through its old streets to old Schwaning's house.

Heinrich was delighted with everything. The lively bustle of the city, and the large stone houses, and he looked forward to his stay. His mother was happy at the prospect of resting after her fatiguing journey, and meeting her father and many old friends again, and presenting Heinrich to them, and living for a time with the intimate memories of her youth, free of domestic cares. The merchants looked forward to festivities and the prospect of profitable business.

Old Schwaning's house was well lit, and the sound of merry music met them as they arrived. 'Your grandfather is having a feast,' said the merchants, 'we are in luck' 'How surprised he will be with his unexpected guests. Now the real festivities will begin'

Heinrich felt shy, and his mother was anxious about her state of dress. They got out and entered the stately mansion, leaving the merchants with the horses. There was no one on the lower floor. They ascended the broad spiral staircase. Some servants ran over to them, and made some difficulties as they did not look like expected guests, but they nevertheless called to the lord of the house. Old Schwaning came over and at first did not recognise them, and asked them their names and their business. Heinrich's mother wept and fell on his neck 'do you no longer recognise your own daughter? She said with tears, 'I have brought you my son' The old man was deeply stirred, he pressed her to his chest for a long time. Heinrich knelt down on one knee, and kissed his hand tenderly. The old man lifted Heinrich to himself, and embraced the mother and son.

'Come in' said Schwaning, I have old friends and acquaintances with me, they will all welcome you heartily. Heinrich's mother had some doubts, but she had no time to consider. Her father led them both into the high illuminated hall.

Hear are my daughter and grandson from Eisenach' old Schwaning called out to the merry groups of richly clad guests. All eyes turned to the door, the music stopped and everyone ran up to them. Both travellers found themselves confused and dazzled, surrounded in their dusty clothes by a colourful band.

A thousand joyful proclamations went from mouth to mouth, and old acquaintances crowded around the mother. There were innumerable questions, and everyone wanted to be recognised and greeted.

While the elders were absorbed ion the mother, the younger people present looked to the foreign youth whose eyes were cast down, as if unwilling to meet the gaze of so many strangers. Schwaning introduced them to him and asked about his father and the incidents of the journey.

The mother then remembered the merchants, who had remained below with the horses. A message was sent at once, inviting them to enter. Their horses were taken to the stables, and the merchants appeared.

Schwaning thanked them heartily for their friendly escort of his daughter. They knew many of the guests, who greeted them. The mother wished to change and tidy up, so Schwaning to her and Heinrich to their rooms.

Heinrich's young eyes had perceived among the guests a man whose face he had seen in the hermits book, always near his own picture.

His noble bearing distinguished him amongst them all. His face was grave yet cheerful, beneath his broad forehead he had large black penetrating firm eyes, and a certain humorous smile around his mouth made him very attractive. He was tall and well built, every motion calm and expressive, and where he stood he appeared like an eternal statue. Heinrich asked his grandfather about him.

'I am glad you noticed him, he is my dearest friend, Klingsohr, the poet. You may be prouder of his friendship, than the Emperors. But beware of your heart, he has a lovely daughter, who may well eclipse your vision of her father. It will astonish me if you had not already seen her. Heinrich blushed, "There were so many present grandfather, and I only noticed your friend. 'Its noticeable that you come from the North said old Schwaning we will want to thaw you here, you will learn to admire lovely eyes.'

When they returned to the hall, supper was being served. Schwaning led Heinrich up to poet, and told him that Heinrich had noticed him immediately and wished to know him.

Heinrich felt timid at first, but Klingsohr was friendly to him and talked about his country and his journey. He soon felt quite at ease, and began to talk candidly to him. In a short time Schwaning returned with the beautiful Matilda.

'Be kind to my grandson, and forgive him for noticing your father first. Your brilliant eyes will awaken him, spring comes late in the North.

"Heinrich and Matilda both turned red, and looked at each other with surprise. She asked him with soft hardly audible words whether he would like to dance, and just as He said yes, the musicians began some cheerful dance music. He silently offered her his hand, she gave him hers, and they mixed with the other pairs of happy dancers. Schwaning and Klingsohr watched. The merchants admired Heinrich's ability and his lovely partner. Numerous old friends surrounded his mother and congratulated her on her handsome son.

Klingsohr said to Schwaning, 'your grandson has an attractive face. It shows a clear and investigating mind, and he speaks deeply from the heart. "I hope' replied Schwaning 'that he will be your pupil, I think he is a born poet, and he has something of your spirit. He is less passionate and determined than his father, who was full of promise in his youth, and ought to have been more than a diligent and clever artist.

Heinrich wished the dance would never end. With heartfelt comfort his eye rested o the cheeks of his partner. Her innocent eye did not avoid him. She appeared to be the spirit of her father in the loveliest disguise. From her large quiet eyes, eternal youth spoke. Her nose and brow were daintily fashioned, her face was like a Lilly rising to greet the dawn. The blue veins of her delicate white neck made fascinating curves on her tender cheeks. Her voice was like a distant echo, and her soft curly brown hair waved around her slight form. The dance ended, and the elders seated themselves on one table, and the younger on the other.

Heinrich sat by Matilda, a young relation to his left, and Klingsohr opposite. Veronica was as talkative as Matilda was silent. She immediately caught him in conversation, and introduced him to everyone present, and Heinrich spoke with some of them. He was still enamoured of his partner and would gladly have turned to the right. Klingsohr mad an end of their chatting. He asked Heinrich about the ribbon with the strange figures that Heinrich had fastened to his coat. With much emotion Heinrich told the sad story of the daughter of the East.. Matilda wept, and Heinrich could scarcely hide his tears.

The conversation became more general. Matilda told him of Hungary, which her father visited often, and told him about life in Augsburg. Every one was merry, and the music added to the mood. Baskets of lovely flowers adorned the tables with their lovely perfume, and wine circulated freely, closing out the world like a fairy web. Heinrich only now knew what a feast could be. A thousand glad spirits seemed to hover around the table, entering into the joys of the people present whose fancies and delights they enlivened. The enjoyment of life stood like a golden tree laden with dazzling fruit. Evil was nowhere to be seen, and it seemed impossible to think humans should want to turn from this tree to the tree of knowledge, which led to war and strife. He felt the effect of the rich wine and the food. They tasted exceedingly delightful. A heavenly oil seasoned them, and from the goblet glittered the glory of the earthly life. Some girls brought Schwaning a fresh garland of flowers, who kissed them, put it on asked them to fetch Klingsohr the poet a garland. 'We want to teach you a couple of new songs.

He made a sign for the music, and began in a loud voice

Are not we tormented nature?

Is not our fate sad?

Only to pressure and need select

In pretence only exercised,

Are allowed to do not personally out complaining

From @@unserm breasts dare.

Everything which the parents speak,

Contradicts the full heart.

The @@verbotne fruit to break

Let us of the longing feel pain;

If them would like gladly sweeten boys

Firmly at @@unserm hearts have.

Would be this to think sin?

Duty-free are thinks however.

What does a poor child remain

Besides sweeten dreams still?

Wants to banish one them/it/her also gladly,

Never they pull from @@dannen.

If we pray also the evening,

Frightens us however the solitude,

And to @@our kisses step

Longing and favor.

If we could go against well

Everything, to give away everything?

@@Unsre charms to wrap,

Prescribes the severe mother .

Alas! what does the good will help,

Do they not well personally up?

At the longing @@innrem tremors

Must give the best band itself.

Each tendency to lock,

Hard and to be cold, like stone,

Beautiful eyes not to greet,

Industriously and to be alone,

No request to yield:

Does a @@Jugendleben be called that well?

Large are a girl nuisances,

Their chest is sick and sore,

And to the wages for still complaining

Kisses them/it/her still a faded mouth.

Will turn for never the leaf

And the empire of the old one end?

The old people and the boys laughed. The girls blushed and smiled downward. A second wreath was brought, and Klingsohr put on. They asked however for a more respectful song. "No", said Klingsohr, "I will guard myself well, and not betray your mysteries. Tell me what sort of a song you would like." - "Anything other than a love song", said the girls, "a drinking song if you like." Klingsohr began:

On green mountains is born,

The one who brings us the heaven.

The sun has elected him itself,

That she gets through with flames him.

He will receive in the @@Lenz with pleasure,

The delicate lap wells quietly up,

And if the fall show fruit,

Jumps also the @@goldne child out.

You/They put him in narrow weighing

In the underground floor.

He dreams from parties and from victories

And builds itself some luft'ge lock.

It closely none of his chamber,

If he crowds impatiently,

And each band and each bracket

With youthful powers sprinkles.

For invisible guards put,

So long he dreams, itself around him here;

And who enters the holy thresholds,

It meets their @@luftumwundner javelin.

So like the wings develop,

Leaves he the clear eyes @@sehn,

Leaves control quietly his priests

And comes out, if them/it/her him @@flehn.

From his cradle dark lap

Appears he in @@Kristallgewand;

@@Verschwiegner harmony full rose

Carries he considerably in the hand.

And everywhere around him gather

Itself his disciples @@hocherfreut,

And thousand glad tongues stammer

Him their Sweetly Lieb' and gratitude.

He splashes in innumerable radiation

His @@innres lives in the world,

The love sips from his shells

And remains him eternally @@zugesellt.

He took as spirit the @@goldnen times

From @@jeher itself of the poet at,

It always his lovelinesss

In the @@trunknen songs opened.

He gave him, to honour his Faithfully,

A right to each pretty mouth,

And that it may none him @@wehren,

Announces God through him it all.

'A beautiful prophet,' said the girls.

Schwaning laughed heartily. They still made some protests, but it availed nothing, they had to give him their lips to kiss. Heinrich was embarrassed before his serious neighbour, and could not laugh about the privilege of the poets. Veronica had been one of the garland bearers came back laughing and said to Heinrich "Isn't it a fine thing to be a poet?' Heinrich didn't trust himself to the question. The insolence of the delight and the gravity of first love fought in his mind. The charming Veronica joked with the others, and so he won time.

Matilda told him she played the guitar.

How glad I would be to learn from you. I have longed to know how.

'My Father taught me, he plays it exquisitely' she replied.

'I think' said Heinrich 'I would learn more quickly from you, I long to hear you sing'

You expect too much of me ' Matilda replied

Why should I not expect when your speech is song, and your form announces heavenly music.'

Matilda was silent. Her father began a conversation with him, in which Heinrich spoke with lively enthusiasm. His neighbours wondered at the boy's eloquence, and his graphic thoughts.

Matilda watched him attentively, and his face lit as he glanced over occasionally for her affirmation.

In the fire of the conversation he took her hand unnoticed, and she confirmed her approval by pressing softly.

Finally everyone got up from supper, and the place began to swarm in confusion. Heinrich stayed at Matilda's side. He held her hand and kissed it tenderly. She looked at him with indescribable kindness. He could not contain himself and turned to her and kissed her lips. She was surprised and involuntarily answered him.

Good Matilda' Dear Heinrich' was all the two could say.

She pressed his hand and placed her other hand beneath. Heinrich was in heaven.

His mother came up to him and he spoke tenderly to her.

Aren't you glad we came to Augsburg, does it please you?

'Dear mother' Heinrich replied, 'I could not have imagined how wonderful it could be.'

The rest of the evening passed in endless joy. The older ones played cards, chatted and watched the younger ones dance.

The music weighed like an ocean of joy in the hall, and buoyed the intoxicated youth.

Heinrich felt the delightful prediction of first love and pleasure both at once. Matilda too was carried on the affirming waves, and hid her tender attraction and germinating love behind a gentle smile. Old Schwaning noticed the growing attraction and teased them both.

Klingsohr had taken a liking to Heinrich, and was happy with his devotion to his daughter. He other young people noticed to, and the girls were happy to think that they would need to worry about one less rival.

It was late into the night when the party separated. 'The first and only party of my life' said Heinrich quietly to himself. When his tired mother had left him to get some well deserved rest. 'Is not the yearning in me the same as in the dream, at the sight of the blue flower? What is the strange connection between Matilda and the flower? The face which I saw in the calyx was Matilda's, and I also remember seeing it in the hermit's book. But why did it not move my heart then. Oh she is the visible spirit of song, and a worthy daughter of her father. She will dissolve me in her music and become my innermost soul, and the keeper of my holy fire. I feel an eternal loyalty in me. I was born only to honour her, to serve her eternally, to think and to feel her. Doesn't an undivided existence belong with such a vision and adoration? And may I be blessed to be the one chosen to be her echo, and the mirror of her being. It was no chance there was a feast at the end of my journey, and the blessed feast surrounded the supreme moment of my life. It could not be different, her very presence makes everything festive.'

He stepped over to the window. The choir of the stars stood in the still dark heavens , but a white gleam of morning announced the coming day.

With full rapture Heinrich called out 'O eternal stars, you silent wanderers, I call you to witness my hallowed oath. I want to live for Matilda, and eternal faith should bind my heart to hers. This is the beginning of a new eternal day for me. The night is over. I ignite the ascending sun as a sacrificial fire.

It was very late and close to morning before Heinrich fell asleep. In wonderful dreams the thoughts of his soul flowed together. A deep blue river gleamed through a green plain. A boat floated on the calm waters. Matilda sat in it rowing, a garland of flowers on her head, she sang a simple song and looked at him with sweet melancholy. His heart was anxious and he did not know why. The heavens were cheerful and the waters quiet. Her heavenly face was reflected in the calm water.

All at once the boat began to swing round and round. He called out to her with anxiety. She smiled and drew in her oars. An indescribable terror seized him. He plunged into the water, but the current carried him away. She waved to him and appeared to want to say something. The boat was beginning to take in water, however she continued to smile with an unspeakable tenderness, and looked fearlessly at the whirling waters. All at once the boat was pulled under, and the river flowed on calmly as before.

Dreadful fear robed him of consciousness. His heart had ceased to beat.

He came to himself on dry ground. He must have swum far, the country around was foreign, and he did not know what had happened. His mind was blank, and he wandered thoughtlessly deeper into the country. He felt dreadfully dull.

A small stream flowed from a hill, sounding like the tinkling of fairy bells. He scooped some water to his dry lips. The dreadful event lay behind him like an awful dream. He pressed on further and further, and the flowers and trees spoke to him, and their voice became acquainted to his senses. Then he heard the simple song Matilda had been singing again. He followed the sound. He felt someone touch him from behind.

"Dear Heinrich' said a well known voice. He turned around and Matilda enclosed him in her arms.

'Why did you run from me dear heart? She said short of breath, 'I could scarcely overtake you.'

Heinrich wept, and pressed her to himself.

"where is the river"' he asked with tears

'Do you not see its blue waves over us?'

He looked up and saw the blue current flowing softly above their heads.

'Where are we dear Matilda?'

'With our parents'

'Will we remain together?'

'Eternally' she exclaimed and pressed her lips to his, and he enclosed her so that she could not leave him again, and she spoke a wonderful mystic word in his ear. His whole nature seemed to yearn for this word. He tried to repeat it as his grandfather called him and he awoke.

He would have given his life he could, to remember that word.

To Chapter 7