y viewpoint of the history of mankind. Even
in our meagre histories of culture, which, for the most part, resemble
a collection of variant readings accompanied by a running commentary
the classical text of which has perished, many a little book of which
the noisy rabble took scant notice in its day, plays a greater role
than all that this rabble did.

It is very one-sided and presumptuous to assert that there is only one
Mediator. To the ideal Christian--and in this respect the unique
Spinoza comes nearest to being one--everything ought to be a Mediator.

He alone can be an artist who has a religion of his own, an original
view of the infinite.

It is a peculiar trait of humanity that it must exalt itself above
humanity.

Plato's philosophy is a worthy preface to the religion of the future.

Man is free when he brings forth God or makes Him visible; and thereby
he becomes immortal.

The morality of a book lies not in its theme or in the relation of the
writer to his public, but in the spirit of the treatment. If this
breathes the full abundance of humanity, it is moral. If it is merely
the work of an isolated power and art, it is not moral.

He is an artist who has his centre within himself. He who lacks this
must choose a definite leader and mediator outside himself--naturally,
not forever, but only at the first. For without a living centre man
cannot exist, and if he does not yet have it within himself he can
seek it only in a human being, and only a human being and his centre
can arouse and awaken the artist's own.

NOVALIS (FRIEDRICH VON HARDENBERG)

* * * * *

THE STORY OF HYACINTH AND ROSEBLOSSOM

From _The Novices at Sais_ (1798)

TRANSLATED BY LILLIE WINTER

Long ages ago there lived in the far west a guileless youth. He was
very good, but at the same time peculiar beyond measure. He constantly
grieved over nothing at all, always went about alone and silent, sat
down by himself whenever the others played and were happy, and was
always thinking about strange things. Woods and caves were his
favorite haunts, and there he talked constantly with birds and
animals, with rocks and trees--naturally not a word of sense, nothing
but stuff silly enough to make one die a-laughing. Yet he continued to
remain morose and grave in spite of the fact that the squirrel, the
long-tailed monkey, the parrot, and the bullfinch took great pains to
distract him and lead him into the