May 26
You know of old my way of settling down somewhere, of selecting a little place of my own in some pleasant spot, and of putting up in it. Here, too, I have discovered such a comfortable spot which delights me.
About an hour from the town is a place called Wahlheim. It is interestingly situated on a hill; and by following one of the footpaths out of the village, you can have a view of the whole valley below you. A kindly woman keeps a small inn there, selling wine, beer, and coffee; and she is extremely cheerful and pleasant in spite of her age. The chief charm of this spot consists in two linden trees, spreading their enormous branches over the little green before the church, which is entirely surrounded by peasants’ cottages, barns, and homesteads. I have seldom seen a place so intimate and comfortable; and often have my small table and chair brought out from the inn, and drink my coffee there, and read my Homer. Chance brought me to the spot one fine afternoon, and I found it perfectly deserted. Everybody was in the fields except a little boy about four years of age, who was sitting on the ground, and held between his feet a child about six months old; he pressed it to his breast with both arms, so that he formed a sort of armchair for him; and notwithstanding the liveliness which sparkled in his black eyes, he remained perfectly still. The sight charmed me. I sat down upon a plow opposite them, and sketched with great delight this little picture of brotherly tenderness. I added the neighboring hedge, the barn door, and some broken cart wheels, just as they happened to stand; and after an hour I found that I had made a well-arranged and interesting drawing, without adding the slightest thing of my own. This confirmed me in my resolution of adhering in the future entirely to Nature. Nature alone is inexhaustible, and capable of forming the great master. Much may be alleged in favor of rules; about as much as may be said in favor of middleclass society: an artist modeled after them will never produce anything absolutely bad or in poor taste; just as a man who observes the laws of society and obeys decorum can never be a wholly unwelcome neighbor or a real villain: yet, say what you will of rules, they destroy the genuine feeling of Nature and its true expression. Do not tell me that I am “too severe, that rules only restrain and prune superfluous branches, etc.” My good friend, I shall give you an analogy. It is like love. A warmhearted youth becomes strongly attached to a girl: he spends every hour of the day in her company, wears out his health, and lavishes his fortune to prove that he is wholly devoted to her. Along comes some Philistine, a man of position and respectability, and says to him: “My good young friend, to love is human; but you must love within human bounds. Divide your time: devote a portion to business, and give the hours of recreation to your sweetheart. Calculate your fortune; and of what you have left over, you may make her a present, only not too often—on her birthday, and such occasions, etc. etc.” If he were to follow this advice, he might become a useful member of society, and I should advise every prince to give him a post; but it is all up with his love, and, if he be an artist, with his genius. O my friend! why is it that the torrent of genius so seldom bursts forth, so seldom rolls in full-flowing stream, overwhelming your astounded soul? Because, on either side of this stream sedate and respectable fellows have settled down; their arbors and tulip beds and cabbage fields would be destroyed; therefore in good time they have the sense to dig trenches and raise embankments in order to avert the impending danger.
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