s he wrote are the intense expression of the mental strain
in which he set forth on a journey which was to have such a different
issue from what he dreamt. The parting from Lili was uppermost in his
thoughts. "Adieu, Lili," he wrote, "adieu for the second time! The
first time we parted I was full of hope that our lots should one day
be united.[238] Fate has decided that we must play our _roles_ apart."

[Footnote 238: This, as we have seen, is not consistent with certain
of his former statements.--In June of 1776 Lili was betrothed to
another, but, owing to his bankruptcy, marriage did not follow. In
1778, however, she was married to a Strassburg banker. Like all
Goethe's loves, she retained a kindly memory of him. She is reported
to have said that she regarded herself as owing her best self to
him.--Max Morris, _op. cit._ v. 468.]

At Heidelberg he spent a few days in the house of a lady of whom we
have already heard--that Mademoiselle Delf who had so effectually
brought matters to a point between Goethe and Lili. She was now
convinced that the betrothal had been a mistake, but, undismayed, she
now suggested to him that there was a lady in Heidelberg who would be
a satisfactory substitute for the lost one. One night he had retired
to rest after listening to a protracted exposition of the Fraeulein's
projects for his future, when he was roused by the sound of a
postilion's horn. The postilion brought a letter which cleared up the
mystery of the delayed messenger. Hastily dressing, Goethe ordered a
post-chaise, and, amid the vehement expostulations of his hostess,
began the first stage of the journey which was to lead him not to
Italy but to the Court of Weimar. It was the most momentous hour of
his life, and, as he took his place in the carriage, he called aloud,
in mock heroics, to the excited Fraeulein words which he may have
recently written in _Egmont_, and which had even more significance as
bearing on his own future than he could have dreamed at the moment:
"Child! Child! Forbear! As if goaded by invisible spirits, the
sun-steeds of time bear onward the light car of our destiny; and
nothing remains for us but, with calm self-possession, firmly to grasp
the reins, and now right, now left, to steer the wheels here from the
precipice and there from the rock. Whither he is hasting, who knows?
Does anyone consider whence he came?"[239]

[Footnote 239: Miss Swanwick's translation. Goethe concludes his
Autobiography w