CHAPTER XXVI. CONTINUANCE OF CONVALESCENCE AND THE FIRST NOVEL.
The remainder of the summer I spent half with my mother, half with my aunt, and pursued the same course during the subsequent years, until from 1862 I remained longer in Berlin, engaged in study, and began my scientific journeys.
There were few important events either in the family circle or in politics, except the accession to the throne of King William of Prussia and the Franco-Austrian war of 1859. In Berlin the “new era” awakened many fair and justifiable hopes; a fresher current stirred the dull, placid waters of political life.
The battles of Magenta and Solferino (June 4 and 24, 1859) had caused great excitement in the household of my aunt, who loved me as if I were her own son, and whose husband was also warmly attached to me. They felt the utmost displeasure in regard to the course of Prussia, and it was hard for me to approve of it, since Austria seemed a part of Germany, and I was very fond of my uncle’s three nearest relatives, who were all in the Austrian service.
The future was to show the disadvantage of listening to the voice of the heart in political affairs. Should we have a German empire, and would there be a united Italy, if Austria in alliance with Prussia had fought in 1859 at Solferino and Magenta and conquered the French?
At Hosterwitz I became more intimately acquainted with the lyric poet, Julius Hammer. The Kammergerichtrath-Gottheiner, a highly educated man, lived there with his daughter Marie, whose exquisite singing at the villa of her hospitable sister-in-law so charmed my heart. Through them I met many distinguished men-President von Kirchmann, the architect Nikolai, the author of Psyche, Privy Councillor Carus, the writer Charles Duboc (Waldmuller) with his beautiful gifted wife, and many others.
Many a Berlin acquaintance, too, I met again at Hosterwitz, among them the preacher Sydow and Lothar Bucher.
To the friendship of this remarkable man, whom I knew just at the time he was associated with Bismarck, I owe many hours of enjoyment. Many will find it hardly compatible with the reserved, quiet manner of the astute, cool politician, that during a slight illness of my mother he read Fritz Reuter’s novels aloud to her—he spoke Plattdeutsch admirably—as dutifully as a son.
So there was no lack of entertainment during leisure hours, but the lion’s share of my time was devoted to work.
The same state of affairs existed during my stay with my aunt, who occupied a summer residence on the estate of Privy-Councillor von Adelsson, which was divided into building lots long ago, but at that time was the scene of the gayest social life in both residences.
The owner and his wife were on the most intimate terms with my relatives, and their daughter Lina seemed to me the fairest of all the flowers in the Adelsson garden. If ever a girl could be compared to a violet it was she. I knew her from childhood to maidenhood, and rejoiced when I saw her wed in young Count Uexkyll-Guldenbrand a life companion worthy of her.
There were many other charming girls, too, and my aunt, besides old friends, entertained the leaders of literary life in Dresden.
Gutzkow surpassed them all in acuteness and subtlety of intellect, but the bluntness of his manner repelled me.
On the other hand, I sincerely enjoyed the thoughtful eloquence of Berthold Auerbach, who understood how to invest with poetic charm not only great and noble subjects, but trivial ones gathered from the dust. If I am permitted to record the memories of my later life, I shall have more to say of him. It was he who induced me to give to my first romance, which I had intended to call Nitetis, the title An Egyptian Princess.
The stars of the admirable Dresden stage also found their way to my aunt’s.
One day I was permitted to listen to the singing of Emmy La Gruas, and the next to the peerless Schroder-Devrient. Every conversation with the cultured physician Geheimerath von Ammon was instructive and fascinating; while Rudolf von Reibisch, the most intimate friend of the family, whose great talents would have rendered him capable of really grand achievements in various departments of art, examined our skulls as a phrenologist or read aloud his last drama. Here, too, I met Major Serre, the bold projector of the great lottery whose brilliant success called into being and insured the prosperity of the Schiller Institute, the source of so much good.
This simple-hearted yet energetic man taught me how genuine enthusiasm and the devotion of a whole personality to a cause can win victory under the most difficult circumstances. True, his clever wife shared her husband’s enthusiasm, and both understood how to attract the right advisers. I afterwards met at their beautiful estate, Maxen, among many distinguished people, the Danish author Andersen, a man of insignificant personal appearance, but one who, if he considered it worth while and was interested in the subject, could carry his listeners resistlessly with him. Then his talk sparkled with clever, vivid, striking, peculiar metaphors, and when one brilliant description of remarkable experiences and scenes followed another he swiftly won the hearts of the women who had overlooked him, and it seemed to the men as if some fiend were aiding him.
During the first years of my convalescence I could enjoy nothing save what came or was brought to me. But the cheerful patience with which I appeared to bear my sufferings, perhaps also the gratitude and eagerness with which I received everything, attracted most of the men and women for whom I really cared.
If there was an entertaining conversation, arrangements were always made that I should enjoy it, at least as a listener. The affection of these kind people never wearied in lightening the burden which had been laid upon me. So, during this whole sad period I was rarely utterly wretched, often joyous and happy, though sometimes the victim to the keenest spiritual anguish.
During the hours of rest which must follow labour, and when tortured at night by the various painful feelings and conditions connected even with convalescence from disease, my restrictions rose before me as a specially heavy misfortune. My whole being rebelled against my sufferings, and—why should I conceal it?—burning tears drenched my pillows after many a happy day. At the time I was obliged to part from Nenny this often happened. Goethe’s “He who never mournful nights” I learned to understand in the years when the beaker of life foams most impetuously for others. But I had learned from my mother to bear my sorest griefs alone, and my natural cheerfulness aided me to win the victory in the strife against the powers of melancholy. I found it most easy to master every painful emotion by recalling the many things for which I had cause to be grateful, and sometimes an hour of the fiercest struggle and deepest grief closed with the conviction that I was more blessed than many thousands of my fellow-mortals, and still a “favourite of Fortune.” The same feeling steeled my patience and helped to keep hope green and sustain my pleasure in existence when, long after, a return of the same disease, accompanied with severe suffering, which I had been spared in youth, snatched me from earnest, beloved, and, I may assume, successful labour.
The younger generation may be told once more how effective a consolation man possesses—no matter what troubles may oppress him—in gratitude. The search for everything which might be worthy of thankfulness undoubtedly leads to that connection with God which is religion.
When I went to Berlin in winter, harder work, many friends, and especially my Polish fellow-student, Mieczyslaw helped me bear my burden patiently.
He was well, free, highly gifted, keenly interested in science, and made rapid progress. Though secure from all external cares, a worm was gnawing at his heart which gave him no rest night or day—the misery of his native land and his family, and the passionate longing to avenge it on the oppressor of the nation. His father had sacrificed the larger portion of his great fortune to the cause of Poland, and, succumbing to the most cruel persecutions, urged his sons, in their turn, to sacrifice everything for their native land. They were ready except one brother, who wielded his sword in the service of the oppressor, and thus became to the others a dreaded and despised enemy.
Mieczyslaw remained in Berlin raging against himself because, an intellectual epicurean, he was enjoying Oriental studies instead of following in the footsteps of his father, his brothers, and most of his relatives at home.
My ideas of the heroes of Polish liberty had been formed from Heinrich Heine’s Noble Pole, and I met my companion with a certain feeling of distrust. Far from pressing upon me the thoughts which moved him so deeply, it was long ere he permitted the first glimpse into his soul. But when the ice was once broken, the flood of emotion poured forth with elementary power, and his sincerity was sealed by his blood. He fell armed on the soil of his home at the time when I was most gratefully rejoicing in the signs of returning health—the year 1863. I was his only friend in Berlin, but I was warmly attached to him, and shall remember him to my life’s end.
The last winter of imprisonment also saw me industriously at work. I had already, with Mieczyslaw, devoted myself eagerly to the history of the ancient East, and Lepsius especially approved these studies. The list of the kings which I compiled at that time, from the most remote sources to the Sassanida, won the commendation of A. von Gutschmid, the most able investigator in this department. These researches led me also to Persia and the other Asiatic countries. Egypt, of course, remained the principal province of my work. The study of the kings from the twenty-sixth dynasty—that is, the one with which the independence of the Pharaohs ended and the rule of the Persians under Cambyses began in the valley of the Nile—occupied me a long time. I used the material thus acquired afterward for my habilitation essay, but the impulse natural to me of imparting my intellectual gains to others had induced me to utilize it in a special way. The material I had collected appeared in my judgment exactly suited for a history of the time that Egypt fell into the power of Persia. Jacob Burckhardt’s Constantine the Great was to serve for my model. I intended to lay most stress upon the state of civilization, the intellectual and religious life, art, and science in Egypt, Greece, Persia, Phoenicia, etc., and after most carefully planning the arrangement I began to write with the utmost zeal.
the stronger became the conviction, now refuted by Eduard Meyer,
that it would not yet be possible to write a final history of that
period which would stand the test of criticism.]
While thus engaged, the land of the Pharaohs, the Persian court, Greece in the time of the Pisistratidae and Polycrates grew more and more distinct before my mental vision. Herodotus’s narrative of the false princess sent by Pharaoh Amasis to Cambyses as a wife, and who became the innocent cause of the war through which the kingdom of the Pharaohs lost its independence, would not bear criticism, but it was certainly usable material for a dramatic or epic poem. And this material gave me no peace.
Yes, something might certainly be done with it. I soon mastered it completely, but gradually the relation changed and it mastered me, gave me no rest, and forced me to try upon it the poetic power so long condemned to rest.
When I set to work I was not permitted to leave the house in the evening. Was it disloyal to science if I dedicated to poesy the hours which others called leisure time? The question was put to the inner judge in such a way that he could not fail to say “No.” I also tried successfully to convince myself that I merely essayed to write this tale to make the material I had gathered “live,” and bring the persons and conditions of the period whose history I wished to write as near to me as if I were conversing with them and dwelling in their midst. How often I repeated to myself this well-founded apology, but in truth every instinct of my nature impelled me to write, and at this very time Moritz Hartmann was also urging me in his letters, while Mieczyslaw and others, even my mother, encouraged me.
I began because I could not help it, and probably scarcely any work ever stood more clearly arranged, down to the smallest detail, in its creator’s imagination, than the Egyptian Princess in mine when I took up my pen. Only the first volume originally contained much more Egyptian material, and the third I lengthened beyond my primary intention. Many notes of that time I was unwilling to leave unused and, though the details are not uninteresting, their abundance certainly impairs the effect of the whole.
As for the characters, most of them were familiar.
How many of my mother’s traits the beautiful, dignified Rhodopis possessed! King Amasis was Frederick William IV, the Greek Phanes resembled President Seiffart. Nitetis, too, I knew. I had often jested with Atossa, and Sappho was a combination of my charming Frankfort cousin Betsy, with whom I spent such delightful days in Rippoldsau, and lovely Lina von Adelsson. Like the characters in the works of the greatest of writers—I mean Goethe—not one of mine was wholly invented, but neither was any an accurate portrait of the model.
I by no means concealed from myself the difficulties with which I had to contend or the doubts the critics would express, but this troubled me very little. I was writing the book only for myself and my mother, who liked to hear every chapter read as it was finished. I often thought that this novel might perhaps share the fate of my Poem of the World, and find its way into the fire.
No matter. The greatest success could afford me no higher pleasure than the creative labour. Those were happy evenings when, wholly lifted out of myself, I lived in a totally different world, and, like a god, directed the destinies of the persons who were my creatures. The love scenes between Bartja and Sappho I did not invent; they came to me. When, with brow damp with perspiration, I committed the first one to paper in a single evening, I found the next morning, to my surprise, that only a few touches were needed to convert it into a poem in iambics.
This was scarcely permissible in a novel. But the scene pleased my mother, and when I again brought the lovers together in the warm stillness of the Egyptian night, and perceived that the flood of iambics was once more sweeping me along, I gave free course to the creative spirit and the pen, and the next morning the result was the same.
I then took Julius Hammer into my confidence, and he thought that I had given expression to the overflowing emotion of two loving young hearts in a very felicitous and charming way.
While my friends were enjoying themselves in ball-rooms or exciting society, Fate still condemned me to careful seclusion in my mother’s house. But when I was devoting myself to the creation of my Nitetis, I envied no man, scarcely even a god.
So this novel approached completion. It had not deprived me of an hour of actual working time, yet the doubt whether I had done right to venture on this side flight into fairer and better lands during my journey through the department of serious study was rarely silent.
At the beginning of the third volume I ventured to move more freely.
Yet when I went to Lepsius, the most earnest of my teachers, to show him the finished manuscript, I felt very anxious. I had not said even a word in allusion to what I was doing in the evening hours, and the three volumes of my large manuscript were received by him in a way that warranted the worst fears. He even asked how I, whom he had believed to be a serious worker, had been tempted into such “side issues.”
This was easy to explain, and when he had heard me to the end he said: “I might have thought of that. You sometimes need a cup of Lethe water. But now let such things alone, and don’t compromise your reputation as a scientist by such extravagances.”
Yet he kept the manuscript and promised to look at the curiosity.
He did more. He read it through to the last letter, and when, a fortnight later; he asked me at his house to remain after the others had left, he looked pleased, and confessed that he had found something entirely different from what he expected. The book was a scholarly work, and also a fascinating romance.
Then he expressed some doubts concerning the space I had devoted to the Egyptians in my first arrangement. Their nature was too reserved and typical to hold the interest of the unscientific reader. According to his view, I should do well to limit to Egyptian soil what I had gained by investigation, and to make Grecian life, which was familiar to us moderns as the foundation of our aesthetic perceptions, more prominent. The advice was good, and, keeping it in view, I began to subject the whole romance to a thorough revision.
Before going to Wildbad in the summer of 1863 I had a serious conversation with my teacher and friend. Hitherto, he said, he had avoided any discussion of my future; but now that I was so decidedly convalescing, he must tell me that even the most industrious work as a “private scholar,” as people termed it, would not satisfy me. I was fitted for an academic career, and he advised me to keep it in view. As I had already thought of this myself, I eagerly assented, and my mother was delighted with my resolution.
How we met in Wildbad my never-to-be-forgotten friend the Stuttgart publisher, Eduard von Hallberger; how he laid hands upon my Egyptian Princess; and how the fate of this book and its author led through joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, I hope, ere my last hour strikes, to communicate to my family and the friends my life and writings have gained.
When I left Berlin, so far recovered that I could again move freely, I was a mature man. The period of development lay behind me. Though the education of an aspiring man ends only with his last breath, the commencement of my labours as a teacher outwardly closed mine, and an important goal in life lay before me. A cruel period of probation, rich in suffering and deprivations, had made the once careless youth familiar with the serious side of existence, and taught him to control himself.
After once recognizing that progress in the department of investigation in which I intended to guide others demanded the devotion of all my powers, I succeeded in silencing the ceaseless longing for fresh creations of romance. The completion of a second long novel would have imperilled the unity with myself which I was striving to attain, and which had been represented to me by the noblest of my instructors as my highest goal in life. So I remained steadfast, although the great success of my first work rendered it very difficult. Temptations of every kind, even in the form of brilliant offers from the most prominent German publishers, assailed me, but I resisted, until at the end of half a lifetime I could venture to say that I was approaching my goal, and that it was now time to grant the muse what I had so long denied. Thus, that portion of my nature which was probably originally the stronger was permitted to have its life. During long days of suffering romance was again a kind and powerful comforter.
Severe suffering had not succeeded in stifling the cheerful spirit of the boy and the youth; it did not desert me in manhood. When the sky of my life was darkened by the blackest clouds it appeared amid the gloom like a radiant star announcing brighter days; and if I were to name the powers by whose aid I have again and again dispelled even the heaviest clouds which threatened to overshadow my happiness in existence, they must be called gratitude, earnest work, and the motto of blind old Langethal, “Love united with the strife for truth.”
THE END.
A word at the right time and place
Appreciation of trifles
Carpe diem
Child is naturally egotistical
Child cannot distinguish between what is amusing and what is sad
Coach moved by electricity
Confucius’s command not to love our fellow-men but to respect
Deserve the gratitude of my people, though it should be denied
Do thoroughly whatever they do at all
Full as an egg
Half-comprehended catchwords serve as a banner
Hanging the last king with the guts of the last priest
Hollow of the hand, Diogenes’s drinking-cup
How effective a consolation man possesses in gratitude
I approve of such foolhardiness
I plead with voice and pen in behalf of fairy tales
Life is valued so much less by the young
Life is the fairest fairy tale (Anderson)
Loved himself too much to give his whole affection to any one
Men studying for their own benefit, not the teacher’s
Nobody was allowed to be perfectly idle
Phrase and idea “philosophy of religion” as an absurdity
Readers often like best what is most incredible
Required courage to be cowardly
Scorned the censure of the people, he never lost sight of it
Smell most powerful of all the senses in awakening memory
The carp served on Christmas eve in every Berlin family
To be happy, one must forget what cannot be altered
Unjust to injure and rob the child for the benefit of the man
What father does not find something to admire in his child
When you want to strike me again, mother, please take off
A noble mind can never swim with the stream
A first impression is often a final one
A small joy makes us to forget our heavy griefs
A live dog is better than a dead king
A well-to-do man always gets a higher price than a poor one
A subdued tone generally provokes an equally subdued answer
A dirty road serves when it makes for the goal
A knot can often be untied by daylight
A school where people learned modesty
A word at the right time and place
A mere nothing in one man’s life, to another may be great
A debtor, says the proverb, is half a prisoner
A kind word hath far more power than an angry one
A blustering word often does good service
Abandon to the young the things we ourselves used most to enjoy
Abandoned women (required by law to help put out the fires)
Absence of suffering is not happiness
Abuse not those who have outwitted thee
Action trod on the heels of resolve
Age is inquisitive
Age when usually even bad liquor tastes of honey
Aimless life of pleasure
Air of a professional guide
All I did was right in her eyes
All things were alike to me
Always more good things in a poor family which was once rich
Among fools one must be a fool
An admirer of the lovely color of his blue bruises
Ancient custom, to have her ears cut off
And what is great—and what is small
Apis the progeny of a virgin cow and a moonbeam
Appreciation of trifles
Ardently they desire that which transcends sense
Arrogant wave of the hand, and in an instructive tone
Art ceases when ugliness begins
As every word came straight from her heart
Asenath, the wife of Joseph, had been an Egyptian
Ask for what is feasible
Aspect obnoxious to the gaze will pour water on the fire
Assigned sixty years as the limit of a happy life
At my age we count it gain not to be disappointed
At my age every year must be accepted as an undeserved gift
Attain a lofty height from which to look down upon others
Avoid excessive joy as well as complaining grief
Avoid all useless anxiety
Be not merciful unto him who is a liar or a rebel
Be happy while it is yet time
Be cautious how they are compassionate
Bearers of ill ride faster than the messengers of weal
Before you serve me up so bitter a meal (the truth)
Before learning to obey, he was permitted to command
Begun to enjoy the sound of his own voice
Behold, the puny Child of Man
Between two stools a man falls to the ground
Beware lest Satan find thee idle!
Blessings go as quickly as they come
Blind tenderness which knows no reason
Blossom of the thorny wreath of sorrow
Brief “eternity” of national covenants
Brought imagination to bear on my pastimes
But what do you men care for the suffering you inflict on others
Buy indugence for sins to be committed in the future
By nature she is not and by circumstances is compelled to be
Call everything that is beyond your comprehension a miracle
Called his daughter to wash his feet
Cambyses had been spoiled from his earliest infancy
Camels, which were rarely seen in Egypt
Can such love be wrong?
Canal to connect the Nile with the Red Sea
Cannot understand how trifles can make me so happy
Caress or a spank from you—each at the proper time
Carpe diem
Cast my warning to the winds, pity will also fly away with it
Cast off their disease as a serpent casts its skin
Cast off all care; be mindful only of pleasure
Catholic, but his stomach desired to be Protestant (Erasmus)
Caught the infection and had to laugh whether she would or no
Cautious inquiry saves recantation
Child is naturally egotistical
Child cannot distinguish between what is amusing and what is sad
Childhood already lies behind me, and youth will soon follow
Choose between too great or too small a recompense
Christian hypocrites who pretend to hate life and love death
Christianity had ceased to be the creed of the poor
Clothes the ugly truth as with a pleasing garment
Coach moved by electricity
Colored cakes in the shape of beasts
Comparing their own fair lot with the evil lot of others
Confess I would rather provoke a lioness than a woman
Confucius’s command not to love our fellow-men but to respect
Contempt had become too deep for hate
Corpse to be torn in pieces by dogs and vultures
Couple seemed to get on so perfectly well without them
Creed which views life as a short pilgrimage to the grave
Curiosity is a woman’s vice
Death is so long and life so short
Death itself sometimes floats ‘twixt cup and lip’
Debts, but all anxiety concerning them is left to the creditors
Deceit is deceit
Deem every hour that he was permitted to breathe as a gift
Deficient are as guilty in their eyes as the idle
Desert is a wonderful physician for a sick soul
Deserve the gratitude of my people, though it should be denied
Desire to seek and find a power outside us
Despair and extravagant gayety ruled her nature by turns
Devoid of occupation, envy easily becomes hatred
Did the ancients know anything of love
Do not spoil the future for the sake of the present
Do thoroughly whatever they do at all
Does happiness consist then in possession
Dread which the ancients had of the envy of the gods
Dried merry-thought bone of a fowl
Drink of the joys of life thankfully, and in moderation
Drinking is also an art, and the Germans are masters of it
Easy to understand what we like to hear
Enjoy the present day
Epicurus, who believed that with death all things ended
Eros mocks all human efforts to resist or confine him
Especial gift to listen keenly and question discreetly
Ever creep in where true love hath found a nest—(jealousy)
Every misfortune brings its fellow with it
Everything that exists moves onward to destruction and decay
Evolution and annihilation
Exceptional people are destined to be unhappy in this world
Exhibit one’s happiness in the streets, and conceal one’s misery
Eyes kind and frank, without tricks of glance
Eyes are much more eloquent than all the tongues in the world
Facts are differently reflected in different minds
Fairest dreams of childhood were surpassed
Faith and knowledge are things apart
False praise, he says, weighs more heavily than disgrace
Flattery is a key to the heart
Flee from hate as the soul’s worst foe
Folly to fret over what cannot be undone
For fear of the toothache, had his sound teeth drawn
For the sake of those eyes you forgot all else
For the errors of the wise the remedy is reparation, not regret
For what will not custom excuse and sanctify?
Forbidden the folly of spoiling the present by remorse
Force which had compelled every one to do as his neighbors
Forty or fifty, when most women only begin to be wicked
From Epicurus to Aristippus, is but a short step
Fruits and pies and sweetmeats for the little ones at home
Full as an egg
Galenus—What I like is bad for me, what I loathe is wholesome
Gave them a claim on your person and also on your sorrows
Germans are ever proud of a man who is able to drink deep
Go down into the grave before us (Our children)
Golden chariot drawn by tamed lions
Good advice is more frequently unheeded than followed
Great happiness, and mingled therefor with bitter sorrow
Greeks have not the same reverence for truth
Grief is grief, and this new sorrow does not change the old one
Had laid aside what we call nerves
Half-comprehended catchwords serve as a banner
Hanging the last king with the guts of the last priest
Happiness has nothing to do with our outward circumstances
Happiness is only the threshold to misery
Happiness should be found in making others happy
Harder it is to win a thing the higher its value becomes
Hast thou a wounded heart? touch it seldom
Hat is the sign of liberty, and the free man keeps his hat on
Hate, though never sated, can yet be gratified
Hatred and love are the opposite ends of the same rod
Hatred for all that hinders the growth of light
Hatred between man and man
Have not yet learned not to be astonished
Have never been fain to set my heart on one only maid
Have lived to feel such profound contempt for the world
He may talk about the soul—what he is after is the girl
He who kills a cat is punished (for murder)
He who looks for faith must give faith
He is clever and knows everything, but how silly he looks now
He was steadfast in everything, even anger
He only longed to be hopeful once more, to enjoy the present
He who is to govern well must begin by learning to obey
He was made to be plundered
He is the best host, who allows his guests the most freedom
He has the gift of being easily consoled
He who wholly abjures folly is a fool
He out of the battle can easily boast of being unconquered
He spoke with pompous exaggeration
Held in too slight esteem to be able to offer an affront
Her white cat was playing at her feet
Her eyes were like open windows
Here the new custom of tobacco-smoking was practised
His sole effort had seemed to be to interfere with no one
Hold pleasure to be the highest good
Hollow of the hand, Diogenes’s drinking-cup
Homo sum; humani nil a me alienum puto
Honest anger affords a certain degree of enjoyment
Hopeful soul clings to delay as the harbinger of deliverance
How easy it is to give wounds, and how hard it is to heal
How could they find so much pleasure in such folly
How tender is thy severity
How effective a consolation man possesses in gratitude
Human sacrifices, which had been introduced by the Phoenicians
Human beings hate the man who shows kindness to their enemies
I am human, nothing that is human can I regard as alien to me
I approve of such foolhardiness
I plead with voice and pen in behalf of fairy tales
I must either rest or begin upon something new
I cannot... Say rather: I will not
I know that I am of use
I have never deviated from the exact truth even in jest
I was not swift to anger, nor a liar, nor a violent ruler
I do not like to enquire about our fate beyond the grave
Idleness had long since grown to be the occupation of his life
If you want to catch mice you must waste bacon
If one only knew who it is all for
If it were right we should not want to hide ourselves
If speech be silver, silence then is gold!
Ill-judgment to pronounce a thing impossible
Impartial looker-on sees clearer than the player
In order to find himself for once in good company—(Solitude)
In whom some good quality or other may not be discovered
In those days men wept, as well as women
In this immense temple man seemed a dwarf in his own eyes
In our country it needs more courage to be a coward
In war the fathers live to mourn for their slain sons
Inn, was to be found about every eighteen miles
Inquisitive eyes are intrusive company
Introduced a regular system of taxation-Darius
It is not seeing, it is seeking that is delightful
It was such a comfort once more to obey an order
It is not by enthusiasm but by tactics that we defeat a foe
It is the passionate wish that gives rise to the belief
Jealousy has a thousand eyes
Judge only by appearances, and never enquire into the causes
Kisra called wine the soap of sorrow
Know how to honor beauty; and prove it by taking many wives
Last Day we shall be called to account for every word we utter
Laugh at him with friendly mockery, such as hurts no man
Laughing before sunrise causes tears at evening
Learn early to pass lightly over little things
Learn to obey, that later you may know how to command
Life is not a banquet
Life is a function, a ministry, a duty
Life is the fairest fairy tale (Anderson)
Life is valued so much less by the young
Life had fulfilled its pledges
Like the cackle of hens, which is peculiar to Eastern women
Like a clock that points to one hour while it strikes another
Love has two faces: tender devotion and bitter aversion
Love means suffering—those who love drag a chain with them
Love which is able and ready to endure all things
Love laughs at locksmiths
Love is at once the easiest and the most difficult
Love overlooks the ravages of years and has a good memory
Loved himself too much to give his whole affection to any one
Lovers delighted in nature then as now
Lovers are the most unteachable of pupils
Maid who gives hope to a suitor though she has no mind to hear
Man, in short, could be sure of nothing
Man works with all his might for no one but himself
Man is the measure of all things
Man has nothing harder to endure than uncertainty
Many creditors are so many allies
Many a one would rather be feared than remain unheeded
Marred their best joy in life by over-hasty ire
May they avoid the rocks on which I have bruised my feet
Medicines work harm as often as good
Men studying for their own benefit, not the teacher’s
Men folks thought more about me than I deemed convenient
Mirrors were not allowed in the convent
Misfortune too great for tears
Misfortunes commonly come in couples yoked like oxen
Misfortunes never come singly
Money is a pass-key that turns any lock
More to the purpose to think of the future than of the past
Mosquito-tower with which nearly every house was provided
Most ready to be angry with those to whom we have been unjust
Multitude who, like the gnats, fly towards every thing brilliant
Museum of Alexandria and the Library
Must take care not to poison the fishes with it
Must—that word is a ploughshare which suits only loose soil
Natural impulse which moves all old women to favor lovers
Nature is sufficient for us
Never speaks a word too much or too little
Never so clever as when we have to find excuses for our own sins
Never to be astonished at anything
No judgment is so hard as that dealt by a slave to slaves
No man is more than man, and many men are less
No man was allowed to ask anything of the gods for himself
No good excepting that from which we expect the worst
No, she was not created to grow old
No happiness will thrive on bread and water
No one we learn to hate more easily, than the benefactor
No man gains profit by any experience other than his own
No false comfort, no cloaking of the truth
No one so self-confident and insolent as just such an idiot
No virtue which can be owned like a house or a steed
Nobody was allowed to be perfectly idle
None of us really know anything rightly
Not yet fairly come to the end of yesterday
Nothing in life is either great or small
Nothing is perfectly certain in this world
Nothing permanent but change
Nothing so certain as that nothing is certain
Nothing is more dangerous to love, than a comfortable assurance
Numbers are the only certain things
Observe a due proportion in all things
Obstacles existed only to be removed
Obstinacy—which he liked to call firm determination
Of two evils it is wise to choose the lesser
Often happens that apparent superiority does us damage
Old women grow like men, and old men grow like women
Old age no longer forgets; it is youth that has a short memory
Olympics—The first was fixed 776 B.C.
Omnipotent God, who had preferred his race above all others
On with a new love when he had left the third bridge behind him
Once laughed at a misfortune, its sting loses its point
One falsehood usually entails another
One of those women who will not bear to be withstood
One should give nothing up for lost excepting the dead
One hand washes the other
One must enjoy the time while it is here
One who stood in the sun must need cast a shadow on other folks
One Head, instead of three, ruled the Church
Only the choice between lying and silence
Only two remedies for heart-sickness:—hope and patience
Ordered his feet to be washed and his head anointed
Our thinkers are no heroes, and our heroes are no sages
Overbusy friends are more damaging than intelligent enemies
Overlooks his own fault in his feeling of the judge’s injustice
Ovid, ‘We praise the ancients’
Pain is the inseparable companion of love
Papyrus Ebers
Patronizing friendliness
Pays better to provide for people’s bodies than for their brains
People who have nothing to do always lack time
People see what they want to see
Perish all those who do not think as we do
Philosophers who wrote of the vanity of writers
Phrase and idea “philosophy of religion” as an absurdity
Pilgrimage to the grave, and death as the only true life
Pious axioms to be repeated by the physician, while compounding
Pleasant sensation of being a woman, like any other woman
Possess little and require nothing
Pray for me, a miserable man—for I was a man
Precepts and lessons which only a mother can give
Prefer deeds to words
Preferred a winding path to a straight one
Prepare sorrow when we come into the world
Prepared for the worst; then you are armed against failure
Pretended to see nothing in the old woman’s taunts
Priests that they should instruct the people to be obedient
Priests: in order to curb the unruly conduct of the populace
Principle of over-estimating the strength of our opponents
Provide yourself with a self-devised ruler
Rapture and anguish—who can lay down the border line
Readers often like best what is most incredible
Reason is a feeble weapon in contending with a woman
Refreshed by the whip of one of the horsemen
Regard the utterances and mandates of age as wisdom
Regular messenger and carrier-dove service had been established
Remember, a lie and your death are one and the same
Repeated the exclamation: “Too late!” and again, “Too late!”
Repos ailleurs
Repugnance for the old laws began to take root in his heart
Required courage to be cowardly
Resistance always brings out a man’s best powers
Retreat behind the high-sounding words “justice and law”
Robes cut as to leave the right breast uncovered
Romantic love, as we know it, a result of Christianity
Rules of life given by one man to another are useless
Scarcely be able to use so large a sum—Then abuse it
Scorned the censure of the people, he never lost sight of it
Sea-port was connected with Medina by a pigeon-post
Seditious words are like sparks, which are borne by the wind
See facts as they are and treat them like figures in a sum
Seems most charming at the time we are obliged to resign it
Self-interest and egoism which drive him into the cave
Sent for a second interpreter
Shadow which must ever fall where there is light
Shadow of the candlestick caught her eye before the light
She would not purchase a few more years of valueless life
Shipwrecked on the cliffs of ‘better’ and ‘best’
Should I be a man, if I forgot vengeance?
Shuns the downward glance of compassion
Sing their libels on women (Greek Philosophers)
Sky as bare of cloud as the rocks are of shrubs and herbs
Sleep avoided them both, and each knew that the other was awake
Smell most powerful of all the senses in awakening memory
So long as we are able to hope and wish
So long as we do not think ourselves wretched, we are not so
So hard is it to forego the right of hating
Some caution is needed even in giving a warning
Soul which ceases to regard death as a misfortune finds peace
Speaking ill of others is their greatest delight
Spoilt to begin with by their mothers, and then all the women
Standing still is retrograding
Strongest of all educational powers—sorrow and love
Successes, like misfortunes, never come singly
Take heed lest pride degenerate into vainglory
Talk of the wolf and you see his tail
Temples would be empty if mortals had nothing left to wish for
Temples of the old gods were used as quarries
Tender and uncouth natural sounds, which no language knows
That tears were the best portion of all human life
The heart must not be filled by another’s image
The blessing of those who are more than they seem
The past belongs to the dead; only fools count upon the future
The priests are my opponents, my masters
The carp served on Christmas eve in every Berlin family
The gods cast envious glances at the happiness of mortals
The past must stand; it is like a scar
The man who avoids his kind and lives in solitude
The beautiful past is all he has to live upon
The altar where truth is mocked at
The older one grows the quicker the hours hurry away
The shirt is closer than the coat
The beginning of things is not more attractive
The mother of foresight looks backwards
The greatness he had gained he overlooked
The dressing and undressing of the holy images
The god Amor is the best schoolmaster
The not over-strong thread of my good patience
The man within him, and not on the circumstances without
The scholar’s ears are at his back: when he is flogged
The best enjoyment in creating is had in anticipation
The experienced love to signify their superiority
Then hate came; but it did not last long
There is no ‘never,’ no surely
There are no gods, and whoever bows makes himself a slave
There is nothing better than death, for it is peace
They who will, can
They praise their butchers more than their benefactors
They keep an account in their heart and not in their head
They get ahead of us, and yet—I would not change with them
Thin-skinned, like all up-starts in authority
Think of his wife, not with affection only, but with pride
Those are not my real friends who tell me I am beautiful
Those who will not listen must feel
Those two little words ‘wish’ and ‘ought’
Those whom we fear, says my uncle, we cannot love
Thou canst say in words what we can only feel
Though thou lose all thou deemest thy happiness
Thought that the insane were possessed by demons
Time is clever in the healing art
Title must not be a bill of fare
To pray is better than to bathe
To govern the world one must have less need of sleep
To know half is less endurable than to know nothing
To her it was not a belief but a certainty
To the child death is only slumber
To expect gratitude is folly
To the mines meant to be doomed to a slow, torturing death
To whom the emotion of sorrow affords a mournful pleasure
To whom fortune gives once, it gives by bushels
To-morrow could give them nothing better than to-day
To be happy, one must forget what cannot be altered
Tone of patronizing instruction assumed by the better informed
Trifling incident gains importance when undue emphasis is laid
Trouble does not enhance beauty
True host puts an end to the banquet
Trustfulness is so dear, so essential to me
Two griefs always belong to one joy
Unjust to injure and rob the child for the benefit of the man
Until neither knew which was the giver and which the receiver
Unwise to try to make a man happy by force
Use their physical helplessness as a defence
Use words instead of swords, traps instead of lances
Usually found the worst wine in the taverns with showy signs
Vagabond knaves had already been put to the torture
Very hard to imagine nothingness
Virtues are punished in this world
Voice of the senses, which drew them together, will soon be mute
Wait, child! What is life but waiting?
Waiting is the merchant’s wisdom
Wakefulness may prolong the little term of life
War is a perversion of nature
We live for life, not for death
We quarrel with no one more readily than with the benefactor
We each and all are waiting
We’ve talked a good deal of love with our eyes already
Welcome a small evil when it barred the way to a greater one
Were we not one and all born fools
Wet inside, he can bear a great deal of moisture without
What had formerly afforded me pleasure now seemed shallow
What changes so quickly as joy and sorrow
What are we all but puny children?
What father does not find something to admire in his child
Whatever a man would do himself, he thinks others are capable of
When love has once taken firm hold of a man in riper years
When a friend refuses to share in joys
When men-children deem maids to be weak and unfit for true sport
When hate and revenge speak, gratitude shrinks timidly
When you want to strike me again, mother, please take off
Whether the form of our benevolence does more good or mischief
Whether man were the best or the worst of created beings
Whether the historical romance is ever justifiable
Who watches for his neighbour’s faults has a hundred sharp eyes
Who can point out the road that another will take
Who can be freer than he who needs nothing
Who only puts on his armor when he is threatened
Who does not struggle ward, falls back
Who gives great gifts, expects great gifts again
Who do all they are able and enjoy as much as they can get
Who can take pleasure in always seeing a gloomy face?
Who can prop another’s house when his own is falling
Who can hope to win love that gives none
Whoever condemns, feels himself superior
Whoever will not hear, must feel
Wide world between the purpose and the deed
Wise men hold fast by the ever young present
Without heeding the opinion of mortals
Woman who might win the love of a highly-gifted soul (Pays for it)
Woman’s disapproving words were blown away by the wind
Woman’s hair is long, but her wit is short
Women are indeed the rock ahead in this young fellow’s life
Wonder we leave for the most part to children and fools
Words that sounded kindly, but with a cold, unloving heart
Wrath has two eyes—one blind, the other keener than a falcon’s
Ye play with eternity as if it were but a passing moment
Years are the foe of beauty
You have a habit of only looking backwards
Young Greek girls pass their sad childhood in close rooms
Youth should be modest, and he was assertive
Youth calls ‘much,’ what seems to older people ‘little’
Zeus does not hear the vows of lovers
Zeus pays no heed to lovers’ oaths