Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 12.djvu/19

Rh hitherto been fixed on the precious words: a shudder ran through me from head to foot. Ferdinand, who saw my perplexity, took the paper up and read it. She scarcely allowed him to finish before she drew out the lots for another pair. The game was not kept up long after this, and refreshments were brought in.

Shall I, or shall I not? Is it right of me to hide in silence anything from him to whom I tell so much, nay, all? Shall I keep back from you a great matter, when I yet weary you with so many trifles which assuredly no one would ever read but you who have taken so wonderful a liking for me? or shall I keep back anything from you, because it might, perhaps, give you a false, not to say an ill, opinion of me? No: do you know me better than I even know myself. If I should do anything which you do not believe possible I could do, you will amend it: if I should do anything deserving of ensure, you will not spare me; you will lead me and guide me whenever my peculiarities entice me off the right road.

My joy, my rapture, at works of art when they are true, when they are immediate and speaking expressions of Nature, afford the greatest delight to every collector, to every dilettante. Those, indeed, who call themselves connoisseurs, are not always of my opinion; but I care nothing for their connoisseurship when I am happy. Does not living nature vividly impress itself on my sense of vision? Do not its images remain fixed in my brain? Do not they there grow in beauty, delighting to compare themselves, in turn, with the images of art which the mind of others has also embellished and beautified? I confess to you that my fondness for Nature arises from the fact of my always seeing her so beautiful, so lovely, so brilliant, so ravishing, that the simulation of the artist, even his imperfect imitation, transports me almost as much as