Robert Walser - A Schoolboy's Diary and Other Stories

A majestic boulevard of chestnut trees leading out to the lake, resembling a high, green hallway, a sap-green convent passageway or church nave, a corridor or a beautiful, sprightly grotto, and then again perhaps bearing some similarity to a long oval sultan’s tent full of greenish decorative paintings and stage scenery, in any case unique and of very probably princely splendor in its way, in fact downright bewitching, just as likely to be found in some castle grounds or somewhere like that as where it actually was in fact to be found, and, incidentally, dating from the era of foreign rule or the time of the French, during which it was said to have been planted on the orders of a general, army corps commander, or imperious conqueror — Hans never stopped admiring or in other words continually admired it anew.

Such a long sentence may well give rise to some amazement. On account of its audacity it does doubtless deserve our notice. How lamentable that writers would rather express themselves simply and easily comprehensibly than capriciously and complicatedly.

Hans loved five to eight nearby communities and localities as dearly as if every single one of these thus-favored villages were his very own homeland and birthplace. He always made sure to dutifully and lovingly alternate the paying of visits to the various villages, perhaps giving slight preference to one or another of them without for all that meaning this partiality all too seriously, since in the end they were all fully equal in his affections.

He kept in living and faithful memory a companionable, gentle, old, good meadow path under the shadow of the tall walnut trees with a sweet, beautiful girl coming home from work who might well have made quite a good match for him as a wife under certain circumstances if she liked him, which he never dared to convince himself she did, since he told himself with rather good reason that such presumption and brazen impertinence would be fresh.

Likewise, a wide country road, swimming, shining in the light of the sunset, completely deluged with liquid yellow or gold, with all sorts of pretty factory girls, whose faces, expressions, gestures, and figures were wonderfully wreathed in the bewitching phosphorescent flames of evening, stuck with him and clung faithfully to him — a sight that gave rise to the thought that he would have truly loved to put his arms around and caress every one of these young, sweet, feminine fellow human beings, which naturally could have proved to be a bold and thus difficult undertaking given their considerable number.

Another time, somewhat later of course, namely already in the middle of the following snowy, foggy winter, he saw on that same road two children standing right next to each other in silence, with the wild gypsyish hair of children surrounding their little faces, looking deeply out into the space before them from strange black eyes.

This and other things came to mind again and again in later years. Again and again it was like seeing each thing again, finding it again. Various and sundry things seen long before would sometimes occur to him new and fresh again, which made him happy.

To see an object again at a later hour purely through mere reflection may perhaps be more beautiful than the moment itself of actual experience and perception, he felt and said.

In general, children deeply moved him and their games delighted him. Was there not, alighting upon the children’s games and children’s groups to be seen here and there on the village streets alongside all the nice, old-fashioned architecturalities, always both the trace of grace and the allure of the poor?

Children are always poor and defenseless, after all, no matter how powerful, prosperous, and defenseful their parents might be. For Hans, every child was beautiful in the entirely unique way children are, he himself sometimes did not know quite why.

“Do I deserve so many pleasures?” he oftentimes asked himself when he found himself particularly well entertained by a lovely view, a good sentiment, or an especially rich feeling. Sometimes the world seemed to him unutterably good, warm, and bright. He had a tendency to stand still before certain beauties of landscape, architecture, or whatever other natural sort, like a painter who starts sketching out hues and outlines in his imagination as soon as he sees. Some of the things he liked to look at reminded him of the strange paintings of Cézanne. Another occasion might bring to mind the magnificent painter Renoir. Upon catching sight of a waving yellow cornfield with a delightful hot summer wind sweeping through it, playing gracefully with the stalks, he could not help but think of van Gogh, who painted such things with a perhaps almost terrifyingly ardent love.

When Hans was standing on a hill one time, from where he could see spread out enticingly before him an extensive rich river region with all sorts of scattered fields, stands of trees, villages, church spires, and castle towers, he said to himself, “This beautiful segment of the globe, so radiant before me, inhabited by friendly human creatures, does it not from this distance look almost like a painting by a Dutch Old Master?” Nature often reminded him of art in this way, which was entirely natural, since after all in the end all art emerges from loving, maternal nature.

The grazing of the cows on the high mountain meadows, along with the charming, melodious tinkling of the bells so delightfully bound up with it; the beautifully free way the peaceful animals stood and lay around; the loafing of a certain, apparently unfortunately entirely useless average or exceptional person who clearly had inordinate amounts of time available for lying in the grass; on the one hand the echoing of and on the other hand the conscientious listening to just these soothing and sanctifying sounds, hearing this high, pure voice of ancient times, the trees and the good blue sky at peace all around, the cliffs, the quiet mountain cabins: all this absolutely refused to leave the memory of an extremely unserviceable but nonetheless still arguably otherwise quite nice, well-mannered, polite and respectable individual, namely Hans, nor did he want it to, since he seized with pleasure and an unquestionably heartfelt delight at all times upon anything beautiful and invigorating.

Of the bright, clear vineyard country by the lake with its cozy wine villages, the imposing boulders and outcroppings, the delicate, slender church spires, the graceful walls supporting the vines, and the steep, precipitous, narrow streets running through it all; of the good men and women he saw busily, undourly creating, building, and working, which made him, I should rather hope, not only marvel at but even be properly ashamed of his own laziness, which in turn, thank God, will have filled him with some serious concern; of the subsequent eventual sitting inside in the pub over a lightly foaming and sparkling white wine, which in his prominent or negligible opinion tasted excellent; of the venerable old lady by the pub window; of the dark-tabled, amiable room itself with several depictions on the wall from the world-famous story of the prodigal son mentioned in a charming novella by Pushkin alongside other attractive illustrations: of all this, and of the arbor and outdoor seating on the lakeside where it was so marvelous to sit in the evenings, he (you know who I mean) thought with no less pleasure than of various other happy, pleasant things.

Architectural matters, such as for instance certain medieval castles and seats of nobility on the lake, or, in the city, the city’s church on its magnificent raised platform, or an old fountain crowned with the striking, impressive figure of a man-at-arms, of necessity remained no less memorable than various nearly just as meaningful and beautiful things like for example a round fortress tower with merlons and embrasures, which would not have been out of place in Damascus or somewhere else like that, or a nicely situated swan rookery, where ducks, geese, pigeons, sparrows, chickens, and swans could be observed as well as fed, or several and similar other items.