"He died a year since," replied Moritz, softened. "God summoned him to judgment. When the physician announced to him that the cancer was incurable, when he felt death approaching, he sent for me, and begged my forgiveness, with tears and deep contrition. I forgave him, so let me cease to recall the life I passed with him. By the sweat of my brow I was compelled to serve him; for seven long years I was his slave. I sold myself for the sake of knowledge, I was consoled by progress. I was the servant, companion, jester, and slave of my tyrant, but I was also the disciple, the priest of learning. In my own room my chains fell off. In the lonely night-watches I communed with the great, the immortal spirits of Horace, Virgil, and even the proud Ceasar, and the divine Homer. Those solitary but happy hours of the night are never to be forgotten, never to be portrayed; they refreshed me for the trials of the day, and enabled me to endure them! At the close of seven years I was prepared to enter the university, and the bargain between my master and myself was also at an end. Freed from my tyrant, I bent my steps toward Frankfort University, to feel my liberty enchained anew. For seven years I had been the slave of the director; now I became the slave of poverty, forced to labor to live! Oh, I cannot recall those scenes! Suffice it to say, that during one year I had no fixed abode, never tasted warm food. But it is passed--I have conquered!
After years of struggle, of exertion, of silent misery, only relieved by my stolen hours of blissful study, I gained my reward. Iwas free! My examination passed, I was honored with the degrees of Doctor of Philosophy and Master of Arts. After many intervening events, I was appointed conrector of the college attached to the Gray Monastery, which position now supports me.""God be praised, I breathe freely!" answered Goethe, with one of those sunny smiles which, in a moment of joyful excitement, lighted up his face. "I feel like one shipwrecked, who has, at last, reached a safe harbor. I rejoice in your rescue as if it were my own. Now you are safe. You have reached the port, and in the quiet happiness of your own library you will win new laurels. Why, then, still dispirited and unhappy? The past, with its sorrows and humiliations, is forgotten, the present is satisfactory, and the future is full of hope for you.""Full of misery is the present," cried Philip, angrily, "and filled with despair I glance at the future. You do not see it with your divine eyes, you do not perceive it, poet with the sympathetic soul.
You, too, thought that Philip Moritz had only a head for the sciences, and forgot that he had a heart to love. I tell you that he has a warm, affectionate heart, torn with grief and all the tortures of jealousy; that disappointed happiness maddens him. I was not created to be happy, and my whole being longs for happiness. Oh! Iwould willingly give my life for one day by the side of the one Ilove."
"Do not trifle," said Goethe, angrily. "He who has striven and struggled as you have, dare not offer, for any woman, however beautiful and seductive, to yield his life, which has been destined to a higher aim than mere success in love. Perhaps you think that God has infused a ray of His intelligence into the mind of man, created him immortal, and breathed upon him with His world-creating breath only, to make him happy, and find that happiness in love! No!
my friend, God has given to man like faculties with Himself, and inspired him, that he might be a worthy representative of Him upon the earth ; that he should prove, in his life, that he is not only the blossom, but the fruit also, of God's creation. Love is to man the perfume of his existence. She may intoxicate him for a while, may inspire him to poetical effusions, to great deeds, even; but he should hesitate to let her become his mistress, to let her be the tyrant of his existence. If she would enchain him, he must tear himself away, even if he tear out his own heart. Man possesses that which is more ennobling than mere feeling; he has intellect--soul.""Ah!" cried Moritz, "it is easy to see that you have never loved madly, despairingly. You have never seen the woman whom you adore, and who perhaps reciprocates your passion, forced to marry another."A shadow flitted over Goethe's brow, and the flashing brilliancy of his eyes was changed to gloomy sadness. Gently, but quickly, he laid his hand upon Moritz's shoulder, saying: "In this hour, when two souls are revealed to each other, will I acknowledge to you that which I have never spoken of. I, too, love a woman, who loves me, and yet can never be mine, for she is married to another. I love this sweet woman as I have never loved a mortal being. For years my existence has belonged to her, she has been the centre of all my thoughts. It would seem to me as if the earth were without a sun, heaven without a God, if she should vanish from life. I even bless the torture which her prudery, her alternate coldness and friendliness cause me, as it comes from her, from the highest bliss of feeling. This passion has swept through my soul, as if uniting in itself all my youthful loves, till, like a torrent, ever renewing itself, ever moving onward, it has become the highway of my future.
Upon this stream floats the bark laden with all my happiness, fame, and poetry. The palaces which my fancy creates rise upon its shore.
