Translation:Writings of Novalis/Klarisse

by Georg Philipp Friedrich Freiherr von Hardenberg

3

Klarisse

Her precociousness. She wishes to please everyone. Her submissiveness and her respect for her father. Her sense of reserve and yet her innocent true-heartedness. Her stubbornness and her flexibility toward people who she at one time esteems or who she is afraid of. Her demeanor in illness. Her moods. What does she like to talk about? Politeness toward strangers. Charitableness. A preference for childish play. Attachment to women. Her Judgements. Opinions. Elegant clothing. Dance. The bustling activity of home. Love of her siblings. An ear for music. Her favorites. Taste. Religiosity. Free enjoyment of life. Does she like to read. A preference for woman's work. There is nothing she wants to be. She is something. Her face—her figure—her life, her health—her—political outlook. Her movements. Her speech. Her touch. She doesn't make much out of poetry. Her behavior towards others, towards me. Sincerity. She appears to not yet have come to a state of self-reflection. I only got there after a certain period. With whom will she spend her life. Where has she been. What is she fond of. Her behavior towards me. Her fear of marriage. I must ask her according to her particularity.—So also her M[other]. Her way of being happy—of grieving. What does she like most about people and things. Has her character awakened? What did she say to Just. Her tobacco smoking. Her devotion to her mother, like a child. The anecdote with Selmnitz—about her brothers[?]. Her brazenness towards her father. Her confirmation. She once received a whack from Ma chère. Je reviens. Her fear of ghosts. Her thrift. Heynemann. Three horsemen rode around the tower. How she wanted to stop the thief. Her face after a smutty joke. Her talent for mimicry. Her charitableness. Judgements about her. She is modest—charitable. She is irritable—sensible. Her desire to be educated. Her abhorrence of teasing, gossip; her attentiveness to the judgement of strangers. Her power of observation. Love of children. Orderliness. Bossiness. Her care and passion for seemly things.—She wants me to be liked everywhere. She got upset that I went to her parents too soon, and I let them become aware of it too early and too publically. She likes to hear stories. She will not let herself be embarrassed by my love. My love often suffocates her. She is consistently cold.—(Tremendous imagination, gift for concealment that women actually have. Her fine sense of observation. Her very proper tactfulness.)—(All women have this, which Schlegel has disparaged as a beautiful soul.) They are more perfect than us. More free than us. Usually, we are better. They perceive better than us. Their nature appears to be our art—our nature their art. They are born artists. They individualize, we universalize. She does not believe in any future life, but in the transmigration of souls. Schlegel interests her. She cannot suffer too much attention and takes offense at being neglected. She dreads spiders and mice. She always wants to please me. I shall not see her wound. She will not let me address her familiarly. Her H on her cheek. Her favorite dishes—herb soup—beef and beans—eel. She likes to drink wine. She likes to see anything, loves comedy. She thinks more about others than about herself.