Henry von Ofterdingen

A Romance

Novalis, Ludwig Tieck

• Publisher: Dover Publications
• Year: 2015
• Print ISBN: 9780486795775
• eBook ISBN: 9780486805115
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Classics
• Index: Literature

A gem of German Romanticism, this literary landmark continues to enchant readers with its combination of poetic and fairy tale elements. The young hero of this unfinished experimental novel envisions a blue flower that represents desire, love, and the metaphysical longing for the infinite. He travels the world in pursuit of his dream, discovering that poetry is everywhere for those who can perceive it.
Author Friedrich von Hardenberg ― better known as Novalis (1772–1801) ― was a poet and philosopher who worked closely with Friedrich Schlegel and Ludwig Tieck. Novalis's influence extended to Hermann Hesse and Jorge Luis Borges, and the "blue flower" motif that he originated in Henry von Ofterdingen has appeared in the works of C. S. Lewis and George R. R. Martin. This edition features a Life of the Author and an Afterword by Ludwig Tieck.

PART ONE

The Expectation

DEDICATION

Thou didst to life my noble impulse warm,

Deep in the spirit of the world to look,

And with thy hand a trusting faith I took,

Securely bearing me through every storm.

With sweet forebodings thou the child didst bless,

To mystic meadows leading him away,

Stirring his bosom to its finest play,

Ideal, thou, of woman’s tenderness.

Earth’s vexing trifles shall I not refuse?

Thine is my heart and life eternally,—

Thy love my being constantly renews!

To art I dedicate myself for thee,

For thou, beloved, wilt become the Muse

And gentle Genius of my poesy.

In endless transmutation here below

The hidden might of song our land is greeting;

Now blesses us in form of Peace unfleeting,

And now encircles us with childhood’s glow.

She pours an upper light upon the eye,

Defines the sentiment for every art,

And dwells within the glad or weary heart,

To comfort it with wondrous ecstasy.

Through her alone I work to life the truest,

Drinking the proffered nectar of her breast,

And dared to lift my face with joy the newest.

Yet was my highest sense with sleep oppressed,

Till angel-like thou, loved one, near me flewest,

And, kindling in thy look, I found the rest.

CHAPTER I

THE PARENTS HAD already retired to rest; the old clock ticked monotonously from the wall; the windows rattled with the whistling wind, and the chamber was dimly lighted by the flickering glimmer of the moon. The young man lay restless on his bed, thinking of the stranger and his tales. “It is not the treasures,” said he to himself, “that have awakened in me such unutterable longings. Far from me is all avarice; but I long to behold the blue flower. It is constantly in my mind, and I can think and compose of nothing else. I have never been in such a mood. It seems as if I had hitherto been dreaming, or slumbering into another world; for in the world, in which hitherto I have lived, who would trouble himself about a flower? I never have heard of such a strange passion for a flower here. I wonder, too, whence the stranger comes? None of our people have ever seen his like; still I know not why I should be so fascinated by his conversation. Others have listened to it, but none are moved by it as I am. Would that I could explain my feelings in words! I am often full of rapture, and it is only when the blue flower is out of my mind, that this deep, heart-felt longing overwhelms me. But no one can comprehend this but myself. I might think myself mad, were not my perception and reasonings so clear; and this state of mind appears to have brought with it superior knowledge on all subjects. I have heard, that in ancient times beasts, and trees, and rocks conversed with men. As I gaze upon them, they appear every moment about to speak to me; and I can almost tell by their looks what they would say. There must yet be many words unknown to me. If I knew more, I could comprehend better. Formerly I loved to dance, now I think rather to the music.”

The young man gradually lost himself in his sweet fancies, and fell asleep. Then he dreamed of regions far distant, and unknown to him. He crossed the sea with wonderful ease; saw many strange monsters; lived with all sorts of men, now in war, now in wild tumult, and now in peaceful cottages. Then he fell into captivity and degrading want. His feelings had never been so excited. His life was an unending tissue of the brightest colors. Then came death, a return again to life; he loved, loved intensely, and was separated from the object of his passion. At length towards the break of day his soul became calmer, and the images his fancy formed grew clearer, and more lasting. He dreamed that he was walking alone in a dark forest, where the light broke only at intervals through the green net-work of the trees. He soon came to a passage through some rocks, which led to the top of a neighboring hill, and to ascend which he was obliged to scramble over the mossy stones, which some stream in former times had torn down. The higher he climbed, the more was the forest lit up, until at last he came to a small meadow situated on the declivity of the mountain. Behind the meadow rose a lofty cliff, at whose foot an opening was visible, which seemed to be the beginning of a path hewn in the rock. The path guided him gently along, and ended in a wide expanse, from which at a distance a clear light shone towards him. On entering this expanse, he beheld a mighty beam of light, which, like the stream from a fountain, rose to the overhanging clouds, and spread out into innumerable sparks, which gathered themselves below into a great basin. The beam shone like burnished gold; not the least noise was audible; a holy silence reigned around the splendid spectacle. He approached the basin, which trembled and undulated with ever-varying colors. The sides of the cave were coated with the golden liquid, which was cool to the touch, and which cast from the walls a weak, blue light. He dipped his hand in the basin and bedewed his lips. He felt as if a spiritual breath had pierced through him, and he was sensibly strengthened and refreshed. A resistless desire to bathe himself made him undress and step into the basin. Then a cloud tinged with the glow of evening appeared to surround him; feelings as from Heaven flowed into his soul; thoughts innumerable and full of rapture strove to mingle together within him; new imaginings, such as never before had struck his fancy, arose before him, which, flowing into each other, became visible beings about him. Each wave of the lovely element pressed to him like a soft bosom. The flood seemed like a solution of the elements of beauty, which constantly became embodied in the forms of charming maidens around him. Intoxicated with rapture, yet conscious of every impression, he swam gently down the glittering stream. A sweeter slumber now overcame him. He dreamed of many strange events, and a new vision appeared to him. He dreamed that he was sitting on the soft turf by the margin of a fountain, whose waters flowed into the air, and seemed to vanish in it. Dark blue rocks with various colored veins rose in the distance. The daylight around him was milder and clearer than usual; the sky was of a sombre blue, and free from clouds. But what most attracted his notice, was a tall, light-blue flower, which stood nearest the fountain, and touched it with its broad, glossy leaves. Around it grew numberless flowers of varied hue, filling the air with the richest perfume. But he saw the blue flower alone, and gazed long upon it with inexpressible tenderness. He at length was about to approach it, when it began to move, and change its form. The leaves increased their beauty, adorning the growing stem. The flower bended towards him, and revealed among its leaves a blue, outspread collar, within which hovered a tender face. His delightful astonishment was increasing with this singular change, when suddenly his mother’s voice awoke him, and he found himself in his parents’ room, already gilded by the morning sun. He was too happy to be angry at the sudden disturbance of his sleep. He bade his mother a kind good morning, and returned her hearty embrace.

“You sleeper,” said his father, “how long have I been sitting here filing? I have not dared to do any hammering on your account. Your mother would let her dear son sleep. I have been obliged to wait for my breakfast too. You have done wisely in choosing to become one of the learned, for whom we wake and work. But a real, thorough student, as I have been told, is obliged to spend his nights in studying the works of our wise forefathers.”

“Dear father,” said Henry, “let not my long sleep make you angry with me, for you are not accustomed to be so. I fell asleep late, and have been much disturbed by dreams. The last, however, was pleasant, and one which I shall not soon forget, and which seems to me to have been something more than a mere dream.”

“Dear Henry,” said his mother, “you have certainly been lying on your back, or else your thoughts were wandering at evening prayers. Come, eat your breakfast, and cheer up.”

Henry’s mother went out. His father worked on industriously, and said; “Dreams are froth, let the learned think what they will of them; and you will do well to turn your attention from such useless and hurtful speculations. The times when Heavenly visions were seen in dreams have long past by, nor can we understand the state of mind, which those chosen men, of whom the Bible speaks, enjoyed. Dreams, as well as other human affairs, must have been of a different nature then. In the age in which we live, there is no direct intercourse with Heaven. Old histories and writings are now the only fountains, from which we can draw, as far as is needful, a knowledge of the spiritual world; and instead of express revelations, the Holy Ghost now speaks to us immediately through the understandings of wise and sensible men, and by the lives and fate of those most distinguished for their piety. I have never been much edified by the visions, which are now seen; nor do I place much confidence in the wonders, which our divines relate about them. Yet let every one, who can, be edified by them; I would not cause any one to err in his faith.”

“But, dear father, upon what grounds are you so opposed to belief in dreams, when singular changes, and flighty, unstable nature, are at least worthy of some reflection? Is not every dream, even the most confused, a peculiar vision, which, though we do not call it sent from Heaven, yet makes an important rent in the mysterious curtain, which, with a thousand folds, hides our inward natures from our view? We can find accounts of many such dreams, coming from credible men, in the wisest books; and you need only call to mind, to support what I have said, the dream which our good pastor lately related to us, and which appeared to you so remarkable. But, without taking those writings into account, if now for the first time you should have a dream, how would it overwhelm you, and how constantly would your thoughts be fixed upon the miracle, which, from its very frequency, now appears such a simple occurrence. Dreams appear to me to break up the monotony and even tenor of life, to serve as a recreation to the chained fancy. They mingle together all the scenes and fancies of life, and change the continual earnestness of age, into the merry sports of childhood. Were it not for dreams, we should certainly grow older; and though they be not given us immediately from above; yet they should be regarded as Heavenly gifts, as friendly guides, in our pilgrimage to the holy tomb. I am sure that the dream, which I have had this night, has been no profitless occurrence in my life; for I feel that it has, like some vast wheel, caught hold of my soul, and is hurrying me along with it in its mighty revolutions.”

Henry’s father smiled humorously, and said, looking to his wife, who had just come in, “Henry cannot deny the hour of his birth. His conversation boils with the fiery Italian wines, which I brought with me from Rome, and with which we celebrated our wedding eve. I was another sort of man then. The southern breezes had thawed out my northern phlegm. I was overflowing with spirit and humor, and you also were an ardent, charming girl. Everything was arranged at your father’s in grand style; musicians and minstrels were collected from far and wide, and Augsburg had never seen a merrier marriage.”

“You were just now speaking of dreams,” said Henry’s mother. “Do you not remember, that you then told me of one, which you had had at Rome, and which first put it into your head to come to Augsburg as my suitor?”

“You put me opportunely in mind of it,” said the old man, “for I had entirely forgotten that singular dream, which, at the time of its occurrence, occupied my thoughts not a little; but even that is only a proof of what ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Advertisement
• Life of the Author
• Contents
• Part One: The Expectation
• Part Two: The Fulfilment
• Notes