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Updated: June 10, 2025
If you had read Cassiodorus Remus you might, of course, reply that, according to his veracious chronicle, the celebrated Magdalena de la Croix, abbess of a convent at Cordova, in Spain, lived for thirty years in the happiest wedlock imaginable with a little gnome, whilst a similar result followed in the case of a sylph and the young Gertrude, a nun in Kloster Nazareth, near Cologne.
He was in his 77th year; feeble, but not feebler than usual, unless, perhaps, the unaccountable news from Kloster Kampen may have been too agitating to the dim old mind?
And all the while, while he was telling me these things, on the shore lay Kloster and his wife, neatly spread out side by side beneath a tree asleep with their handkerchiefs over their faces. That's the idea we've got in England of Germany, multitudes of comfortable couples, kindly and sleepy, snoozing away the afternoon hours in gardens or pine forests.
Actually Kloster brought out his Strad and said I should play on that. It was evident he thought it important for me to play to these particular people, so though I was dreadfully taken aback and afraid I was going to disgrace my master, I was so much touched by this kindness and care for my future that I obeyed without a word.
Kloster says the nation thinks it feels all this, but it is merely being stage-managed by the group of men at the top, headed by S. M. So well stage-managed is it, so carefully taught by such slow degrees, that it is absolutely convinced it has arrived at its opinions and judgments by itself. I wonder if these people are mad. Is it possible for a whole nation to go mad at once?
I'd love to ride on these forest roads, the sandy ones are perfect for riding; but when I asked the Oberforster today, after I got Herr von Inster's letter, whether he could lend me a horse while I was here, what do you think I found out? That Kloster, suspecting I might want to ride, had written him instructions on no account to allow me to.
In my turn I said Nonsense, and laughed with that heavenly, glorious security one has when one has a lover. I expect there are some people who may be as Kloster says, but we're not like them, Bernd and I. We're not going to waste a minute.
"But Kloster says you're a nation of slaves, and that the drilling you get does make you behave in the way Authority wishes."
"I pray you to visit me; my name is Moritz. I live in Kloster Strasse, near the gray convent." "Your name is Moritz?", asked Herr Wolff, earnestly. "Then you are the author of the 'Journey to England?" "Yes, the same, and my highest encomium is, that the work is not unknown to you, or the name of the author." "All Germany knows it, and do you think I could possibly remain a stranger to it?"
Indeed, it is in that condition that he does his best work; which is why the man artist is so seldom a faithful husband, for the faithful husband is precluded from being in love." "Why can't he be in love?" I asked, husbands now having become very interesting to me. "Because he is a faithful husband." "But he can be in love with his wife." "No," said Kloster, "he cannot.
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