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St John's day was long past and gone when the mother agreed to go to her father in Augsburg, and show him his unknown but much-loved grandson.

Some merchants, friends of Osterdingen, were going there on business, and promised a safe convoy. The mother was the more pleased to go, because she had noticed for some time past her boy had been more quiet and reflective than usual. She thought he was melancholy or ill, and that a long journey, the sight of new countries, mixing with fresh acquaintances, and perhaps falling in love with one of her pretty country-women, would drive away his gloom, and make him as sympathetic and cheerful as before. The old man agreed to the plan, and Heinrich was overjoyed at the prospect of seeing a country, the theme of so many of his mother's stories, and which he had long dreamt of as an earthly paradise.

Heinrich had just turned twenty. As yet he had never left the neighbourhood of his father's town, and he only knew the world by hearsay. He had seen but few books. The household of a Graf was very simple and quiet, as in those times even a prince's establishment was far inferior in splendour and comfort to the home of a private gentleman today. For that reason the people prized all their possessions highly. The art and skill shown in their production, added to the interest inspired by their having been handed down generation after generation, made them almost sacred heirlooms. They were often looked on as pledges for the happiness and prosperity of a large family, whose fate was inextricably connected with them.

A picturesque poverty showed off to the more advantage the few carefully guarded treasures dimly seen in the dusky halls inhabited by our ancestors. If it is true that a careful distribution of light, colour and shade is needful to bring out the hidden beauties of the visible world, so in those days the same thrifty distribution was apparent in the household, far different from the luxury and super-abundance of ornament in our modern dwellings, which produce no effect, but commonplace monotony.

Between the times of rough barbarism and the present age of knowledge and art, a transition period existed, an age of thought and romance. Who does not love to wander in the twilight, when night gives way to dawn, and the light breaks down the shadows of the night with a glow of gorgeous colour? In the same way we love to retrace the age in which Heinrich lived, when all was fresh and new to the heart and intellect.

He took leave of his comrades and his teacher, the wise old court chaplain, who dismissed his gifted pupil with a blessing. The Landgravin was his godmother, he had often been to see her at the Wartburg, he went to bid her farewell,. And received much good advice and a golden chain.

Heinrich was sad as he left home, for the first time he realised what separation meant. He had not felt it when preparing to go, it was only at the moment of parting that his former life seemed torn away from him, and he seemed entering on a new phase of life. The first parting is like the first death: a bitter experience of changing life; though in time, when earthly joys fade, we deem both reminders of another world, where all is certain and enduring. His mother's presence comforted the youth; the old state of things had not completely deserted him.

It was early dawn when the travellers passed through the gates of Eisenach. As it grew brighter and clearer, Heinrich observed the new, unknown region through which they travelled. At last they reached a rising ground, which offered them a farewell glance of home. The sun shone brightly on the forsaken valley, and old thoughts and memories crowded on Heinrich's recollection.

He was now on the summit of a range he had so often longed to reach, and of which fancy had drawn such marvellous pictures. The wonder-blossom was beckoning him on and on, and as he cast a lingering glance on fair Thuringia, he wondered when and how he should return to her. The party, until then lost in their own thoughts, now woke up, and made the time pass happily with talk and stories.

Heinrich's mother described the merry life in Swabia in her fathers house; the merchants joined in, praising old Schwanning's hospitality, and speaking warmly of the beauty of the Swabian maidens. "You do well" they said to Heinrich's mother "to take your son there, the manners are gentler in Swabia than elsewhere. They do not neglect what is useful, but they love what is ornamental. They carry out their work with a daintiness and care unknown elsewhere. There the merchant is honoured and grows wealthy. Arts and handicrafts increase, and are more considered, the work seems lighter to the artisan, because it ensures him manifold comforts, as good work commands good pay. Trade increases, the country advances in prosperity, and new towns spring into existence. The more the daytime is devoted to business, the more enjoyable become evenings consecrated to the amusement and the arts. The mind longs for rest and variety. In no other country are there more charming singers, graceful dancers, and glorious artists. The neighbourhood of Italy softens the manners and enlarges the scope of conversation. The ladies adorn all social gatherings, nor do they need to fear remark, if they prove their talent by emulating the mental activity of the men. The solemn gravity or wild frolics of the men are exchanged for cheerful animation and gentle gaiety: friendship and love are the guiding spirits of these pleasant meetings. Nowhere are more blameless maidens and truer wives than in Swabia.

"Yes young friend, you will lose your timidity in the bright, warm air of Southern Germany, the pretty girls will loosen your tongue. The fact of your being a stranger and a grandson of old Schwanning, who is the mainspring of society, will attract all eyes to you. I have no doubt you will bring home a Swabian bride as your father did."

Heinrich's mother, with a happy blush, thanked the merchants for speaking so well of her fatherland.

"Even if you do not devote yourself to art like your father," continued one of the merchants, "and prefer a learned profession, you need not become a priest and renounce all the deepest joys in life. It is wrong that science should be exclusively in the hands of men who are debarred from practical life, and that princes seek as their prime advisors such unsociable and inexperienced persons. In Swabia you will find clever and experienced laymen; choose whichever branch of learning you like, and you will find plenty of teachers."

Heinrich, who had been thinking of his friend the Court Chaplain, here interrupted the speaker: "My ignorance of the world does not allow me to contradict you, but I must remind you of our good friend, the Chaplain, who is the model of a wise man, and to whose advice and teaching I owe much."

"We honour this excellent man with all our hearts," replied the merchant, "and give him all praise for his conduct, which is in all respects, pleasing to God, but allow us to differ from you as regards general knowledge, for he is so absorbed in spiritual lore that he has no insight or penetration in worldly matters."

"But" said Heinrich " should not this higher knowledge make a man more capable of managing earthly affairs? Is not childish simplicity a safer guide through the labyrinth of this world than selfish cleverness, which is led astray and dazzled by countless complications? I may be wrong, but it seems to me as if there were two paths by which one might attain knowledge of human life: one difficult and interminable, with countless turns and twists, the path of experience, the other, which reaches the goal in one bound, the way of inward reflection. Forgive me if I speak of childish fancies, only confidence in your kindness, and the thought of my old teacher who instructed me in the better way, has made me so bold."

"We must confess that we cannot follow your reasoning, but we honour you for your warm affection for your good master. You seem to have the mind of a poet, you speak so fluently, and your expressions and comparisons are so choice. Also you have a leaning to the marvellous, which is the province of a poet."

"I do not know " said Heinrich "I have often heard of poets and singers, but I have never met any. I cannot even form an idea of their strange art. I have a great longing to hear it, for I think I could better understand what is now a dark anticipation. I have often heard of poetry, but I have never seen any, and I could not understand what my teacher told me about it. He said it was a noble art, and one to which I would devote myself if I learned it. In olden days it was much more common than now, everyone knew something of it. It has been lost as well as many allied arts. The singers honoured God, they were inspired from on high, and taught heavenly wisdom in fascinating measures."

"We have never troubled ourselves about poetry" said the merchants "though we have often heard songs of pleasure. No doubt a poet is born under a particular star, it is a wonderful art, and quite different from all others. Music and painting can be acquired by diligence and patience. The harmony is in the strings, it only needs to be evoked. In painting, nature herself is the teacher. She produces innumerable, wonderful figures, gives light and shade, so that a skilful hand, a quick eye, and experience in mixing colours, render it possible to imitate her. "

"It is easy to understand how fascinating this art must be. The nightingale's song, the sighing of the wind, beautiful forms, lights, and colours please us because they occupy our sense in a pleasant manner. But poetry is quite apart from this. She has no tools, no handicraft, the eye and the ear give no help, for this noble art does not come by hearing, it is all inward. Just as artists are swayed by pleasant sensations, so the soul of the poet is permeated, consecrated by high and noble thoughts. He knows how to excite our noblest feelings, he transports us into a new and marvellous world. The past and the future are evoked, countless characters, magic landscapes, strange events are marshalled before us, and shut out the well known present. One hears strange words, and knows not what they mean. The poets lines fascinate, even common expressions have a borrowed charm which bewitch the hearer."

"You excite my curiosity still more, " said Heinrich. "Tell me I beg you, about the singers you have heard. I cannot hear enough of those strange beings: I feel as if I had heard them way back in my earliest youth, however I can recall absolutely nothing of it, but what you say is so clear and distinct that you've opened in me an usual pleasure with your beautiful descriptions. "

"We have passed many happy hours in Italy, France and Swabia in the company of singers, and rejoice that what we say has interested you. When one is travelling this among the mountains, pleasant conversation beguiles the weary way. Perhaps it might please you to hear some stories about poets we have heard in our journeys. Of songs themselves we can but tell you little. The joy and the excitement which they create prevent one remembering the mere words, and ceaseless business blunts the memory. " 

"In olden times, all nature was more animated than now. Wise men could then achieve things which now seem fabulous and impossible. We have heard that in past ages there were poets among the Greeks who could charm into life the spirits of the woods, call up blooming gardens in the desert, tame wild beasts, calm the wildest tribes, and accustom them to law and order and the enjoyment of the arts of peace, change roaring torrents into placid streams, and excite even the stones to the rhythmic measures of the dance. They were prophets and priests, law-givers and physicians, taught the deepest lore, and could discern the secrets of the future - the secret nature of all things, the virtues and the healing powers in numbers, herbs, and all creatures. They reduced nature to fixed laws. Strange it is that so noble an art should have so utterly vanished. It is said that one of these gifted men, a poet, wished to travel in distant lands. He was rich in jewels, and offerings of the grateful. Embarking on board a ship in the bay, he was at first treated by the sailors with all respect, until their covetousness being excited by his treasures, they plotted to throw him overboard and divide his possessions. "

"He offered all his treasures as a ransom, and foretold terrible misfortunes if they carried out their evil intentions, but in vain. When he saw that he could not move them, he begged them to allow him at least to play his swan song once before his death, and then he would willingly plunge into the ocean with his wooden flute. They knew well that if they granted this request, he would so move their hearts that they could not carry out their wicked plan, but they acceded and stopped their ears from hearing his melody. "

"The whole ship echoed his song, the waves chimed in. The sun and the stars appeared in the skies, and thousands of fishes leapt in the green waters around the vessel. The sailors stood apart with deaf ears, waiting impatiently for the ending of the song. It was soon over. Then the singer, with a cheerful countenance plunged into the waters, holding in his hand the wonder working flute. "

"Scarcely had he touched the sea, when the broad back of a grateful dolphin rose up under him, and bore the astonished poet safely away. "

"In a short time it reached the shore, and gently landed him on a sandy beach. The poet sang a happy song to his deliverer, and went his way. Some time after he was walking by the sea-side mourning his lost treasures, the remembrance of the happy hours, the tokens of love and friendship, when his old friend the dolphin reappeared, and cast on the shore the stolen jewels. After the poets disappearance, the sailors had quarrelled over the division of the booty, ending in so fierce a struggle that many were killed. The few who remained were unable to manage the ship, so it drifted on a rock and went to pieces. A few struggled to shore, with tattered clothes and empty hands, while the faithful dolphin restored the treasure to the rightful owner. "

  Heinrich chapter 3