Chapter 7

Klingsohr stood by his bed and wished him a kindly good morning.

It would be a pleasure if you would come and breakfast with me outside on a hill overlooking the city' he said. This beautiful morning will refresh you. Dress quickly, Matilda is waiting for us.'

Heinrich thanked him enthusiastically for his welcome invitation, and dressed quickly. He kissed Klingsohr's hand in his joy.

They went out to Matilda who looked wonderful in her simple morning dress, and she greeted him kindly. She had already packed breakfast in a basket which hung over one arm, and she extended the other to Heinrich. Klingsohr followed them, and they walked through the city that was already full of activity, and made their way to a small hill, by the river, and a full panorama opened to them. They sat down beneath some tall trees.

I have always loved the outdoors' said Heinrich ' the colours of nature, and the peaceful surroundings, but I have never experienced such joy as I am feeling today. The distances seem so close, and the rich landscape is like a world of imagination. How changeable nature is, despite the apparent sameness of her surface appearance. How different it is to be accompanied by an angel and a robust spirit, than the murmurs and complaints of a needy person, a farmers complaints about the weather, and the lack of rain for his crops. Most dear Master I owe this pleasure to you, yes there is no better word than pleasure to express the joy of my heart. Delight, pleasure and rapture are only the limbs of the pleasure which ties them to a higher life.

He pressed Matilda's hand to his heart and sank with a burning gaze into her mild embracing eyes.

Nature', said Klingsohr 'is to our imagination what a solid body is to light'. It holds back or opens it into its particular colours, it ignites on its surface or within a light which if it meets darkness, makes it clear and lucid. If it prevails, it then goes out to enlighten other bodies. Even the darkest body can be brought through water, fire and air to the place where it becomes a gleaming light. '

'I understand you dear Master. People are crystals or prisms for our imagination. They are transparent nature. Dear Matilda, I compare you to a delightful sapphire, clear and transparent as the heavens, you illuminate with the softest light. Tell me dear Master whether I am right in thinking that the more one loves nature, the less one can talk about it.'

'That depends,' answered Klingsohr, 'whether you seek nature for enjoyment and the imagination, or are seeking ways to understand and develop her gifts. One must guard oneself well to ensure that you do not put one ahead of the other. There are many who know only one side of the page, and give scant attention to the other side. But both can unite a person, and a person will be the better for it. It is sad that so few contemplate nature, both with their inward imagination, and in their outward skills, and so come to a harmonious natural working of all their powers. One often prevents the other, and the result is a gradual emergent unhelpful inertia. And if a person wants to go on in their entire powers, a powerful confusion and quarrel begins within them and they stumble awkwardly from one thing to another.

I cannot sufficiently admire the powers of reason, to know your natural drive, and how everything proceeds and harmonises with the laws of consequence with perseverance and diligence. Nothing is more necessary for the poet than to have insight into the nature of every craft, knowledge of the ways to achieve a purpose, and a spirit able to discern the best choices for each time and circumstance. Enthusiasm without imagination is useless and dangerous, and the poet who is astonished by the miraculous will be able to perform few miracles.'

'Surely the poet needs a heartfelt faith in humanity's power to overcome fate?

'That truly is indispensable, and that cheerful faith is far removed from the anxious uncertainty and blind fear of superstition. And so to is the cool, invigorating warmth of a poetic imagination far removed from the wild heat of an unhealthy passion. The latter is poor, drugged, and transient, the former promotes clarity, the cultivation of the most diverse relationships, and is eternal. The young poet can never be too cool and sensible. True eloquence belongs to the quiet and attentive. It becomes a mere babble if a rapid current rages within, and all attention is dissolved in confusion. I say it again, the true imagination is like the light, quiet and sensitive, penetrating everywhere, as strong and as imperceptibly effective as this delightful element, which sheds itself on all objects it touches a fine influence, and exposes them in all their charming variety. The poet is like pure steel, both sensitive as a fragile glass thread, and likewise as hard as flint.

'Occasionally, I have felt' said Heinrich, 'That I was less animated in the moments of most intense feeling, than at other times, when I was free to follow my own concerns and occupations. It was as if I was seized by a sharp power that penetrated me, and I could sense with love and turn over each thought and consider it from all angles as if it were a real body. I have been happy sharing in my father's work, and it pleased me if I could skilfully help bring forth something into existence. Skill has a particularly strengthening charm, and it is true that it procures a more lasting and clear enjoyment, than the overflowing feeling of an incomprehensible, exuberant glory.

I do not believe that the latter is wrong,' said the poet 'but it must come of its own, and not be sought after. An occasional experience is beneficial, but too often, and it will tire and weaken. One cannot quickly tear oneself from the sweet stupor that it leaves in its wake, and easily return to the normal occupations of life. It is the same with beautiful morning dreams that one must rouse oneself from, or risk facing a weary and spiritless day.'

'Poetry wants to be pursued as a severe art' Klingsohr continued 'as a bare enjoyment. A poet must not run about all day in search of pictures and feelings. That is quite the wrong way. A pure and open mind, agility in meditation and consideration, the skill to blend all ones abilities in a mutually invigorating activity, and to receive in that state, these are the demands of our art. If you want me to guide you, you should not let one day pass, where your knowledge does not enrich you, and you have attained some useful perceptions. This city is rich in artists of all kinds. We have distinguished statesmen, cultivated merchants. Without difficulty one can pursue knowledge of all trades and classes, all relationships, and the demands of human society. It would delight me to instruct you on the practical basis of our art, and to share some of the most remarkable writings with you. You can share in Matilda's studies, and she will gladly teach you to play the guitar. Every occupation is helpful, and after a busily spent day, the delights of the social evening, and the sights of the beautiful landscape around, will surprise you again and again.'

'What a wonderful life you open for me, dear master, under your direction I will first see the noble goal before me, and then through your advice I will hope to attain it.'

Klingsohr embraced him tenderly. Matilda brought them the breakfast, and Heinrich asked her if she would accept him as a fellow student. 'I would willingly be your pupil' he whispered as Klingsohr turned and walked away from them. She inclined ever so slightly to him, and he embraced her and kissed the yielding lips of the blushing girl. Softly she released herself and with the most childlike grace, gave him the rose she had worn on her breast. She went on to arrange the food basket. Heinrich gazed at her with still rapture, kissed the rose and attached it to his lapel, and then went over and stood by Klingsohr's side as he looked down over the city.

'Which way did you come, Klingsohr asked

'Down over that hill.' Heinrich answered 'The road is lost in the distance.'

'You must have passed through some lovely scenery'

'Charming landscapes were almost constant'

'And is your home town pleasantly situated?'

'The area is quite varied, and still quite wild, but it lacks a lacks a good river. Streams are like the eyes of a landscape.'

'The account of your journey' said Klingsohr, 'interested me last night. I have observed that the spirit of poetry is a pleasant travelling companion for you. Your companions became poetry's emissaries. Near the poet, poetry breaks out everywhere. The land of poetry, the romantic East, greeted you with its sweet melancholy, the war addressed you in its wild glory, and nature and history met you under the guise of the miner and the hermit.'

'You do not mention the best of all dear master, the heavenly dream of love. It depends only on you as to whether this dream will become an eternal reality.

'What do you mean' asked Klingsohr, and turned to Matilda who had just joined them 'Is it you pleasure to hasten to be Heinrich's inseparable companion? 'where you remain I will remain also'?

Matilda started and flew into the arms of her father. Heinrich trembled in eternal delight.

'Will he want to accompany me forever dear father?'

'Ask him for yourself' said Klingsohr deeply moved.

She looked at Heinrich with the most heartfelt tenderness.

'My life is in your hands' said Heinrich, as tears flowed down his red cheeks.

They both embraced each other, and Klingsohr drew them into his arms

'Be faithful until death my dear children, Love and Faith will make your life eternal poetry.'

To Chapter 8