Page:The Works of J. W. von Goethe, Volume 12.djvu/287

Rh either remain at home, or else be content to travel on foot. And there are no lack of fearful stories, which tell how unbelieving masters, who forced their coachmen to drive them on this day, were punished by suffering great calamities.

The church of the saint lies in so wide and open a district, that it might almost be called a desert. On this day, however, it is full of life and fun. Horses and mules, with their manes and tails prettily, not to say gorgeously, decked out with ribbons, are brought before the chapel (which stands at some distance from the church), where a priest, armed with a brush, and not sparing of the holy water, which stands before him in buckets and tubs, goes on sprinkling the lively creatures, and often plays them a roguish trick, in order to make them start and frisk. Pious coachmen offer their wax-tapers, of larger or smaller size. The masters send alms and presents, in order that the valuable and useful animals may go safely through the coming year without hurt or accidents. The donkeys and horned cattle, no less valuable and useful to their owners, have, likewise, their modest share in this blessing.

Afterward we delighted ourselves with a long walk under a delicious sky, and surrounded by the most interesting objects, to which, however, we this time paid very little attention, but gave full scope and rein to joke and merriment.

Jan. 19, 1787.

So, then, the great king, whose glory filled the world, whose deeds make him worthy of even the Papists' paradise, has gone at last from this life, to converse with heroes like himself in the realm of shades. How disposed one feels to be still after bringing the like of him to his rest.

This has been a very good day. First of all, we visited a part of the Capitol which we had previously neglected; then we crossed the Tiber, and drank some