FAREWELL TO BERLIN.
"What is the matter, my dear Wolf?" cried the duke, as Goethe returned from his visits. "What mean those shadows upon your brow?
Have the cursed beaux-esprits in Berlin annoyed and tortured you?""No, duke, I--" and suddenly stopping, he burst into a loud ringing laugh, and sprang about the room, bounding up and down, shouting, "Hurrah! hurrah! Long live the philosophers, vivat the philosophers!""They shall live--live--live,'' shouted the duke!
"Vivat the philosophers! hurrah! To the May-sports upon the Blockberg they ride upon a little ass with golden horns--with Pharisaical mien, praying with their eyes, 'I thank Thee, O Lord, that I am a philosopher, that I am not as the world's children, vain, proud, and arrogant.' Hey, good Carl Augustus, today a great revelation has been made known to me by a philosopher. Wisdom flowed from his mouth. All the spiders in their gray, self-woven nets, whispered and sang in his corridor, 'We weave at the fountain of life, we spin the web of time.' The little mice crept out from the corners, whispering, Hallelujah! Here lives the great philosopher Moses, who has devoured wisdom, and is unknowing of earthly vanities. Oh! the mice and the spiders waltz together upon the threshold of the great philosopher. Hey, ha! a waltz we will dance!"Goethe caught the duke with both arms around the waist, and tore around in a giddy whirl, both laughing, both shrieking. Wolfshund, the duke's dog, asleep in the corner, sprang up howling and barking at their wild bounds and goat-like springs, and joined the dancers.
As Goethe felt the ribbon which confined his cue give way, he shook wildly his curly, powdered hair and it fell in mad confusion. Both he and the duke now sank exhausted to the floor, panting and laughing.
"Heaven be praised, Wolf," said the duke, "the must has once more fermented, and sprung a few of the hoops of dignity?""Yes," answered Goethe, who suddenly assumed a grave, serious mien, "the must has fermented, and I trust a fine wine will clear itself from it.""Can you not set off, Wolf?" asked the duke, springing up. "Have you had sufficient of the Berliners?""I have done with them," replied Goethe, "not only with the Berliners, but it may be with all the rest of humanity. I feel, my duke, that the bloom of confidence, candor, and self-sacrificing love fades daily; only for you, and the friend whom I love, is there still attraction and flagrancy. Oh! you dear ones, be charitable, and do not consent that they fade for you. Let the goodness which Iread in your eyes, my dear Carl, and the sunny rays of friendship strengthen the poor little blossom, that it does not entirely fade and wither away!" With passionate earnestness he threw his arms around the duke, pressing him to his bosom.
"Oh! Wolf, my dear Wolf, you have a child's heart and a poet's soul.
Are you faint-hearted and dispirited? Do you not know that you are the sun which brings forth the flowers for us, and shines for us all? Let no clouds overshadow you, Wolf! Let your fresh, youthful vigor, and divine brilliancy, penetrate them. In the thick, sandy atmosphere of Berlin I confess the sun itself loses its force and brightness! Come! let us be off. Our steeds stamp with impatience."The duke drew his friend from the room and joyfully they sprang down the stairs to the carriage, the great dog following, howling and barking after them. "Forward, then, forward! Blow, postilion, blow!
A gay little air! Let it peal through the streets, a farewell song!