1816: the Grandest Tour

Germany: Chapter 13

"You've laid out an exceptionally beautiful garden, Herr Goethe," said Tobias, thinking at last of something to say.

"Thank you young man," said Goethe softly, "We do our best here."

Another pause stretched to an awkward length as the householder surveyed his floral domain.

"Come this way," he said, ushering them over to a bed of bright yellow bulbs.

"It's well that you've managed to keep them healthy," George ventured, "even in this cold summer."

Goethe gave George a queer look in response, frightening the poor young man that he'd said something untoward.

"Astute of you to say, sir," the older man answered at last. "A most peculiar year it's been," he went on, more to himself than his guests. "Peculiar and gray..."

George looked at Tobias, hoping this visit wasn't going as terribly as he felt it was. Tobias gave a sympathetic shrug in reassurance.

"But to the purpose!" Goethe said at once, snapping back to a vigorous bearing. "Do have a look at these flowers. Stand among them, smell them. But above all take in their visual essence – their color."

Cautiously at first, the three young men walked along the yellow flowerbeds, then among their intersecting cross paths, doing their best to follow the great writer's instructions. After a minute or so Goethe seemed satisfied.

"Now what..." the old gentleman began, "do you feel? In response to the color, I mean. Any answer is valid, don't worry."

Despite Goethe's reassurance, George now felt severely out of his depth. What on earth was a good answer to how yellow flowers made him feel? To his relief, Tobias jumped in again.

"I suppose a bit – alive. More energized," he said.

Goethe nodded and turned to George, who gulped.

"Er yes, I also find them quite – stimulating, in their way," George blathered.

Goethe snapped his fingers at a volume only achievable by those in their sixties.

"Pre-cisely!" he cried. A smile of triumph broke out over the man's face and he beckoned them to follow him to another group of flowerbeds.

"I won't torment you with more questions," he said affably. "It suffices me that you've had exactly the impression I myself would have described, unprompted. Bright yellows I find, on the whole, to be quite invigorating."

George decided he would just take the learned man's word for this.

"These blues here?" Goethe continued, "Yearning, I would say. Striving towards some greater goal or ideal. The intensity of the feeling varies, of course, with the hue."

Mulling these findings over, the young men couldn't help but wonder if there were some deeper truth in them.

"I see you've concentrated the greenest plants near the bench over there," Tobias said pointing to it. "What do you find green induces?"

"The most blessed feeling of all," the philosopher-poet said, "peace."

The old gentleman's conviction was so infectious he now had all three visitors firmly converted to his theory of colors.

"But come inside, sirs, and tell me about yourselves," said Goethe.

The giant of letters led them back through dark passages and out to the regular vestibule of his rambling manse.

"Right this way," he said brightly, walking ahead to an elongated stairwell. The walls in this corridor were a calming olive hue, the same as the previous room. In two sconces at the base of the stairs stood Classical bronzes of Apollo and Hercules.