?t ; DM v*l CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY v FROM Mr s.j. F.Lyman B^iP^JI CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 3 1924 082 682 950 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924082682950 QEORGE BELL & SONS. New ^Edition, with a New 'Biographical Supplement of upwards of 9700 Names. WEBSTER'S COMPLETE DICTIONARY OF (THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, AND GENERAL BOOK OS LITERARY REFERENCE. With 3000 Illustrations. Tho- roughly revised and improved by Chaunqky A. Goodrich, D.D., LL.D., and Noah Porter, D.D., of Yale College. In One Volume. Quarto, strongly bound In cloth, 1919 pages, price £1 lit, 6&; half-calf, £2; calf or half-russia, £3 2s.; russia, £2 10*. Besides the matter comprised in the Webster's Guinea Dictionary, this volume contains the following Appendices, which will show that no pains have been spared to make it a complete Literary Reference-book :— A Pronouncing Vocabulary of Greek and Latin Proper Names; By Professor Thaohfe, of tale College, An Etymological Vocabulary of Mo- dem Geographical Names. By the Rev. C. H. Whkklkr. Containing:— i. A Liet of Prefixes, Terminations, and Formative Syllables' In various Languages, with their meaning and derivation; su A brief List Of Geographical Names (not explained by the foregoing List), with their derivation and signification, all doubtful and obscure derivations hem* excluded. , , Pronouncing Vocabularies of Modern Geographical and Biographical Names. . By J. Thomas. M J). A Pronouncing Vocabulary of Com- mon English Christian Names, with their derivations, signification, and diminutives (or nick-names), and their equivalents in several other languages. A Dictionary of Quotations, Selected and translated by William G. Webpter, Containing all Words. Phrases, Proverbs, > and Colloquial Expressions from • the Greek,, Latin, and Modern' Foreign Lan- guages, which are frequently met with in literature and conversation. A New Biographical Dictionary of upwards 9700 Names of Noted Persons, Ancient and Modern, Including many now living-giving the Name, Pronunciation, Nationality, Profession, andDate of Birth and Death, A List of Abbreviations, Contrac- , lions, and Arbitrary .Signs used in Writing and Printing, A Classified Selection of Pictorial Illustrations (70 pages). With references to the text. * The cheapest Dictionary ever published, as it is confessedly one cf the best. The Intro- duction of small woodcut illustrations of technical and scieutmc terms adds greatly to the utility of the Dictionary." — Cku/rchmm. To he obtained through aU Bookseller*. ai 3 A Brief History of the English Lan- guage. By Professor Jamks Hadlev. This Work shows the Philological Rela- tions of the English Language, and traces the progress and influence of the causes which have brought it to its present con- dition. Principles of .. Pronunciation. By Prof easor Goodrich and W. A. Wheeler, JAA-v-. Including- a- Synopsis of Words differently pronounced by different au- thorities. - > » A Short Treatise on Orthography. By Arthur W. Wright. Including a Complete List of Words that are spelt in two or more ways. An Explanatory and Pronouncing Vocabulary of 1 the Names of Noted Fic- titious Persons and Places, &c By W. A, Whbbleb, M.A, This Work includes not only persons and places noted in Fiction, whether, narrative, poetical, or dramatic, but Mythological and Mythical names, names referring to the Angelology and De- momdugy of various races, and those found in the romance writer*} Psen- douyms, Nick-names of eminent persons and parties, &c., Jftc. In fact, it is best described as explaining every name which ia not strictly historical. A reference is given to the originator of each name, and - where the origin is unknown a quotation . -is given to some well-known writer in which the word occurs. Tkii valuable Work may alto be haA tepaJrately, pott 8tw- 5a. A Pronouncing Vocabulary of Scrip- 1 tare Proper Names. By W. A. Wheeler, M.A Including a List of the Variations that occur in the Douay version of the Bible. 8TAXDABD WOBKS PUBLISHED Bl WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY. From, the Quabtebly Review, Oct. 1873. " Seventy yews passed before Johnson was followed by Webster, an American writer, who faced the task of the English Dictionary with a full appreciation of its requirements, leading to better practical results." • • t •> " His laborious comparison of twenty languages, though never pub- lished, bore fruit in his own mind, and his training placed him both in knowledge and judgment far in advance of Johnson as a philologist. Webster's ' American Dictionary of the English Language ' was pub- lished in 1828, and tif course appeared at once in England, where successive re-editing has as yet kept it in the highest place as a practical Dictionary." " The acceptance of an American Dictionary in England has itself had immense effect in keeping up the community of speech, to break which would be a grievous harm, not to English-speaking nations alone, but to mankind. The result of this has been that the ccmmon Dictionary must suit both sides of the Atlantic." .... " The good average business-like character of Webster's Dictionary, both in style and matter, made it as distinctly suited as Johnson's was distinctly unsuited to be expanded and re-edited by other hands. Professor Goodrich's edition of 1847 is not much more than enlarged and amended, but other revisions since have so much novelty of plan as to be described as distinct works." .... " The American revised Webster's Dictionary of 1864, published in America and England, is of an altogether higher order than these last [The London Imperial and Student's]. It bears on its title-page the names of Drs. Goodrich and Porter, but inasmuch as its especial im- provement is in the etymological department, the care of which was committed to Dr. Mahn, of Berlin, we prefer to describe it in short as the Webster-Mahn Dictionary. Many other literary men, among them Professors Whitney and Dana, aided in the task of compilation and revision. On consideration it seems that the editors and contributors have gone far toward improving Webster to the utmost that he will bear improvement. The vocabulary has become almost complete, as regards usual words, while the definitions keep throughout to Webster's simple careful style, and the derivations are assigned with the aid of good modern authorities." " On the wMe, the Webster-Mahn Dictionary as it stands, Is most respectable, and OEBTAIHXY THE BEST PRACTICAL ETOLISH DICTIONARY EXTAHT." ^^^ 10NDOX GEORGE BELL & SONS, YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. GEORGE BELL & SONS. SPECIAL DICTIONARIES AND WORKS OF REFERENCE. Dr. Richardson's Philological Dictionary of the ENGLISH LANGUAGE. Combining Explanation with Etymology, and copiously illustrated by Quotations from the Best Authorities. New Edition, with a Supplement containing additional Words and further Illustrations. In 2 vols. 4to. £4 Us. 6d. Half-bound in Russia, £5 15s. 6(2. Russia, £6 12s. The Supplement separately. 4to. 12«. An 8vo. edition, without the Quotations, 15«. Half-russia, 20«. Russia, 248. A Supplementary English Glossary. Containing 12,000 Words or Meanings occurring in English Literature not found in any other Dictionary. With Illustrative Quotations. By T. Lewis O. Davies, M.A. Demy 8vo. 16«. 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The Translator, however, is bound to acknowledge, that he found many successful renderings in the work of his predecessor, and these he has engrafted without hesitation. The title "Truth -and Poetry" is adopted in common with the American translation, as the nearest rendering of Wahrheit vmd Dichtung. The "Prose and Poetry of my Life * would, perhaps, convey to the English reader the exact meaning of the Author, although not literally his words. AUTHOR'S PREFACE A.s a preface to the present work, ■which, perhaps, more than another requires one. I adduce the letter of a friend, by which so serious an undertaumg was occasioned. "We have now, my dear friend, collected the twelve parts of your poetical works, and on reading them through, find much that is known, much that is unknown; while much that had been forgotten is revived by this collection. These twelve volumes, standing before us, in uniform appearance, we cannot refrain from regarding as a whole ; and one would like to sketch therefrom some image of the author and his talents. But it cannot be denied, considering the,vigour with which he began nis literary career, and the length of time which has since elapsed, that a dozen small volumes must appear incommen- surate. Nor can one forget that, with respect to the detached pieces, they have mostly been called forth by special occasions, and reflect particular external objects, as well as distinct grades of inward culture ; while it is equally clear, that tent- porary moral and aesthetic maxims and convictions prevail in them. As a whole, however, these productions remain without connexion ; nay, it is often difficult to believe that they emanate from one and the same writer. " Your friends, in the meantime, have not relinquished the inquiry, and try, as they become more closely acquainted with your mode of fife and thought, to guess many a riddle, to solve many a problem ; indeed, with the assistance of an old liking, and a connexion of many years' standing, they find a charm even in the difficulties which present themselves. Yet a little assistance here and there would not be unacceptable, and you cannot well refuse this to our friendly entreaties. "The first thing, then, we require, is that your poetical works, arranged in the late edition according to some in- ternal relations, may be presented by you in chronological vi author's feefacb. order, and that the states of life and feeling which afforded the examples that influenced you, and the theoretical prin- ciples by which you were governed, may be imparted m some kind of connexion. Bestow this labour for the gratifi- cation of a limited circle, and perhaps it may give rise to something that will be entertaining and useful to an extensive one. The author, to the most advanced period of his life, should not relinquish the advantage of com- municating, even at a distance, with those whom affection binds to him ; and if it is not granted to every one to step forth anew, at a certain age, with surprising and powerful productions, yet just at that period of life when know- ledge is most perfect, and consciousness most distinct, it must be a very agreeable and re-animating task to treat former creations as new matter, and work them up into a kind of Last Part, which may serve once more for the edifi- cation of those who have been previously edified with and by the artist." This desire, so kindly expressed, immediately awakened within me an inclination to comply with it ; for, if in the early years of life our passions lead us to follow our own course, and, in order not to swerve from it, we impatiently repel the demands of others, so, in our later days, it becomes highly advantageous to us, should any sympathy excite and determine us, cordially, to new activity. I therefore instantly undertook the preparatory labour of separating the poems of my twelve volumes, both great and small, and of arranging them according to years. I strove to recall the times and circumstances under which each had been produced. But the task soon grew more difficult, as full explanatory notes and illustrations were necessary to fill up the chasms between those which had already been given to the world. For, in the first place, all on which I had originally exercised myself were Wanting, many that had been begun and not finished were also wanting, and of many that were finished even the external form had completely disappeared, having since been entirely reworked and cast into a different shape. Besides, I had also to call to mind how I had laboured in the sciences and other arts, and what, in such apparently foreign departments, both individually and in conjunction with friends, I had practised in silence, or had laid before the public. ATJTHOK S PREFACE. VU All this I wished to introduce by degrees for the satisfac- tion of my well-wishers ; but my efforts and reflections always led me further on ; since while I was anxious to comply with that very considerate request, and laboured to set forth in succession my internal emotions, external influences, and the steps which, theoretically and practically, I had trod, I was carried out of my narrow private sphere into the wide world. The images of a hundred important men, who either directly or indirectly had influenced me, presented themselves to my view ; and even the prodigious movements of the great poli- tical world, which had operated most extensively upon me, as well as upon the whole mass of my contemporaries, had to be particularly considered. For this seems to be the main object of Biography, to exhibit the man in relation to the features of his time ; and to show to what extent they have opposed or favoured his progress ; what view of mankind and the world he has formed from them, and how far he himself, if an artist, poet, or author, may externally reflect them. But for this is required what is scarcely attainable, namely, that the individual should know himself and his age : himself, so far as he has remained the same under all circumstances ; his age, as that which carries along with it, determines and fashions, both the willing and the unwilling ; so that one may venture to pronounce, that any person bom ten years earlier or later would have been quite a different being, both as regards his own culture and his influence on others. In this manner, from such reflections and endeavours, from such recollections and considerations, arose the present deline- ation ; and from this point of view, as to its origin, will it be the best enjoyed and used, and most impartially estimated, t For anything further it may be needful to say, particularly ' with respect to the half-poetical, half-historic mode of treat- ment, an opportunity will, no doubt, frequently occur in the course of the narrative. CONTENTS. PAET THE FIEST. I'aga 1 Fibst Book.— Childhood— the City of Frankfort Second Book.— The New Paris— Frankfort Citizens . . 32 Thikd Book. — Occupation of Frankfort by the French . 64 Fodbth Book.— Studies— The Bible— Frankfort Characters 92 Fieth Book. — Gretchen — Coronation Ceremonies . .135 PAET THE SECOND. Sixth Book. — Illness and Eecovery — Leipzig . . .181 Seventh Book. — Leipzig (continued,^— German Literature . 218 Eighth Book. — Art —Dresden — Beturn from Leipzig . . 264 Ninth Book.— Strasbourg ...... 303 Tenth Book. — Strasbourg (continued) — Herder — Tour in Alsace and Lorraine — Frederika .... 342 PAET THE THIED. Eleventh Book. — Frederica (continued) — Beturn from Strasbourg 388 Twelfth Book. — Merck— Wetzlar ; the Imperial Chamber — Charlotte 437 Thirteenth Book — Goetz f on Berlichingen and Werthcr . 484 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. PART THE FIRST. "O fii) Sapds av8pa>nos oi iratSeierai, FIRST BOOK. On the 28th of August, 1749, at mid-day, as the clock struck twelve, I came into the world, at Frankfort-on-the-Maine. My horoscope was propitious : the sun stood in the sign of the Virgin, and had culminated for the day ; Jupiter and Venus looked on him with a friendly eye, and Mercury not adversely; while Saturn and Mars kept themselves indifferent; the Moon alone, just full, exerted/the power of her reflection all the more, as she had then reached her planetary hour. She opposed herself, therefore, to my birth, which could not be accomplished until this hour was passed. These good aspects, which the astrologers managed subse- quently to reckon very auspicious for me, may have been the causes of my preservation ; for, through the unskilfulness of the midwife, I came into the world as dead, and only after various efforts was I enabled to see the light. This event, which had put our household into sore straits, turned to the advantage of my fellow-citizens, inasmuch as my grandfather, the Schultheiss,* John Wolfgang Textor, took occasion from it to have an accoucheur established, and to introduce or revive the tuition of midwives, which may have done some good to those who were bom after me. When we desire to recall what befel us in the earliest period of youth, it often happens that we confound what we have heard from others with 'that which we really possess from our own direct experience. Without, therefore, instituting a very close investigation into the point, which after all could * A chief judge or magistrate of the town, B 2 TRUTH AND VOETKT ; PEOM MY OWN XIPE. lead to nothing, I am conscious that we lived in an old house, which in fact consisted of two adjoining houses, that had been opened into each other. A spiral stair-case led to rooms on different levels, and the unevenness of the stories was remedied by steps. For us children, a younger sister and myself, the favourite resort was a spacious floor below, near the door of which was a large wooden lattice that allowed us direct communication with the street and open air. A bird- cage of this sort, with which many houses were provided, was called a Frame (Gercims). The women sat in it to sew and knit ; the cook picked her salad there ; female neighbours chatted with each other, and the streets consequently in the fine season wore a southern aspect. One felt at ease while in communication with the public. We children, too, by means of these frames, were brought into contact with our neighbours, of whom three brothers Von Ochsenstein, the "umving sons of the deceased Schultheiss, living on the other side of the way, won my love, and occupied and diverted themselves with me in many ways. Our family liked to tell of all sorts of waggeries to which I was enticed by these otherwise grave and solitary men. Let one of these pranks suffice for all. A crockery fair had just been held, from which not only our kitchen had been supplied for a while with articles for a long time to come, but a great deal of small gear of the same ware had been purchased as playthings for us children. One fine afternoon, when every thing was quiet in the house, I whiled away the time with my pots and dishes in the Frame, and finding that nothing more was to be got out of them, hurled one of them into the street. The Von Ochsensteins, who saw me so delighted at the fine smash it made, that I clapped my hands for joy, cried out, "Another." I was not long in flinging out a pot, and as they made no end to their calls for more, by degrees the whole collection, platters, pipkins, mugs and all, were dashed upon the pavement. My neighbours continued to express fheir approbation, and I was highly delighted to give them pleasure. But my stock was exhausted, and still they shouted, "More." I ran, therefore, straight to the kitchen, and brought the earthenware, which produced a still livelier spec- tacle m breaking, and thus I kept running backwards and towards, fetching one plate after another as I could reach it THE STAG-DITCH. 3 from where they stood in rows on the shelf. But as that did not satisfy my audience, I devoted all the ware that I could drag out to similar destruction. It was not till afterwards that any one appeared to hinder and save. The mischief was done, and in place of so much broken crockery, there was at least a ludicrous story, in which the roguish authors took special delight to the end of their days. My father's mother, in whose house we properly dwelt, lived in a large back-room directly on the ground floor, and we were accustomed to carry on our sports even up to her chair, and when she was ill, up to her bedside. I remember her, as it were, a spirit,— a handsome, thin woman, always neatly dressed in white. Mild, gentle, and kind, she has ever remained in my memory. The street in which our house was situated passed by the name of the Stag-Ditch; but as neither stags nor ditches were to be seen, we wished to have the expression explained. They told us that our house stood on a spot that was once outside the city, and that where the street now ran had formerly been a ditch, in which a number of stags were kept. These stags were preserved and fed here because the senate every year, according to an ancient custom, feasted publicly on a stag, which was therefore always at hand in the ditch for such a festival, in case princes or knights interfered with the city's right of chase outside, or the walls were encom- passed or besieged by an enemy. This pleased us much, and we wished that such a lair for tame animals could have been seen in our times. The back of the house, from the second story particularly, commanded a very pleasant prospect over an almost immea- surable extent of neighbouring gardens, stretching to the very walls of the city. But, alas ! in transforming what were once public grounds into private gardens, our house and some others lying towards the corner of the street had been much stinted, since the houses towards the horse-market had appro- priated spacious out-houses and large gardens to themselves, while a tolerably high wall shut us out from these adjacent paradises. On the second floor was a room which was called the gar- den-room, because they had there endeavoured to supply the want of a garden by means of a few plants placed before the B2 4 TRUTH AND POETBY 5 FKOM MY OWN LI1?K. window. Aa I grew older, it was there that I mule ay favourite, not melancholy but somewhat sentimental, retreat. Over these gardens, beyond the city's walls and ramparts might be seen a beautiful and fertile plain; the same which stretches towards Hochst. In the summer season I commonly learned my lessons there, and watched the thunder-storms, but could never look my fill at the setting sun, which went down directly opposite my windows. And when, at the same time, I saw the neighbours wandering through their gardens taking care of their flowers, the children playing, parties of friends enjoying themselves, and could hear the bowls rolling and the nine pins dropping, it early excited within me a feeling of solitude, and a sense of vague longing resulting from it, which, conspiring with the seriousness and awe implanted in me by Nature, exerted its influence at an early age, and showed itself more distinctly in after years. The old, many cornered, and gloomy arrangement of the house was moreover adapted to awaken dread and terror in childish minds. Unfortunately, too, the principle of dis- cipline that young persons should be early deprived of all fear for the awful and invisible, and accustomed to the terrible, still prevailed. We children, therefore, were compelled to sleep alone, and when we found this impossible, and softly slipped from our beds to seek the society of the servants and maids, our father, with his dressing-gown turned inside out, which disguised him sufficiently for the purpose, placed him- self in the way, and frightened us .back to our resting-places. The evil effect of this any one may'imagine. How is he who is encompassed with a double terror to be emancipated from fear? My mother, always cheerful and gay, and willing to render others so, discovered a much better pedagogical expe- dient. She managed to gain her end by rewards. It was the season for peaches, the plentiful enjoyment of which she promised us every morning if we overcame our fears during the night. In this way she succeeded, and both parties were satisfied. In the interior of the house my eyes were chiefly attracted by a series of Roman Views, with which my father had orna- mented an ante-room. They were engravings by some of the accomplished predecessors of Piranesi, who well understood perspective and architecture, and whose touches were clear the PCFP.BT-SHOW. 5 and excellent, There I saw every day, the Piazza del Popolo, the Colosseum, the Piazza of St. Peter's and St. Peter's Church, within and without, the castle of St. Angelo, and many other places. These images impressed themselves deeply upon me, and my otherwise very laconic father was often so kind as to furnish descriptions of the objects. His partiality for the Italian language, and for every thing pertaining to Italy, was very decided. A small collection of marbles and natural curiosities, which he had brought with Mm thence, he often showed to us ; and he devoted a great part of his time to a description of his travels, written in Italian, the copying and correction of which he slowly and accurately completed, in several parcels, with his own hand. A lively old teacher of Italian, called Giovinazzi, was of service to him in this work. The old man moreover did not sing badly, and my mother every day must needs accompany him and herself upon the clavichord, and thus I speedily learned the Solitario hosco om- broso so as to know*it by heart before I understood it. My father was altogether of a didactic turn, and in his retirement from business liked to communicate to others what he knew or was able to do. Thus, during the first years of their marriage, he had kept my mother busily engaged hi writing, playing the clavichord, and singing, by which means she had been laid under the necessity of acquiring some knowledge and a slight readiness in the Italian tongue. Generally we passed all our leisure hours with my grand- mother, in whose spacious apartment we found plenty of room for our sports. She contrived to engage us with various trifles, and to regale us with all sorts of nice morsels. But one Christmas evening, she crowned all her kind deeds, by having a puppet-sho^l exhibited before us, and thus unfolding a new world in th* old house. This unexpected drama attracted our young minds with great force; upon the Boy particularly it made a very strong impression, which con- tinued to vibrate with a great, and lasting effect. . The little stage with its speechless personages, which at the outset had only been exhibited to us, but was afterwardo given over for our own use and dramatic vivification, was prized more highly by us children, as it was the last bequest of our good grandmother, whom encroaching disease first withdrew from our sight, and death next tore away from our fi TBTTTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWN IIFK. nearts for ever. Her departure was of still more importance to our family, as it drew after it a complete change in our condition. As long as my grandmother lived, my father had refrained from any attempt to change or renovate the house, even in the slightest particular, though it was known that he had pretty large plans of building, which were now immediately begun. In Frankfort, as in many other old towns, when anybody put up a wooden structure, he ventured, for the sake of space, to make not only the first, but each successive story project over the lower one, by which means narrow streets especially were rendered somewhat dark and confined. At last a law was passed, that every one putting up a new house from the ground, should confine his projections to the first upper story, and carry the others up perpendicularly. My father, that he might not lose the projecting space in the second story, caring little for outward architectural appearance, and anxious only for the good and convenient arrangement of the interior, resorted to the expedient which otHers had employed before him, of propping the upper part of the house, until one part after another had been removed from the bottom upwards, and a new house, as it were, inserted in its place. Thus, while comparatively none of the old structure remained, the new one merely passed for a repair. Now as the tearing down and building up was done gradually, my father determined not to quit the house, that he might better direct and give his orders-^as he possessed a good knowledge of the techni- calities of building. At the same time he would not suffer his family to leave him. This new epoch was very surprising and strange for the children. To see the rooms in which they had so often been confined and pestered with wearisome tasks and studies, the passages they had played in, the walls which had always been kept so carefully clean, all falling before the mason's hatchet and the carpenter's axe — and that from the bottom upwards ; to float as it were in the air, propped up by beams, being, at the same time, constantly confined to a certain lesson, or definite task — all this produced a commo- tion in our young heads that was not easily settled. But the young people felt the inconvenience less, because they had somewhat more space for play than before, and had many opportunities of swinging on beams, and playing at see-saw with the boards. THE WALK KOTTJSD FKANKFORT. 7 At first my father obstinately persisted in carrying out his plan ; but when at last even the roof was partly removed, and the rain reached our beds, in spite of the" carpets that had been taken up, concerted into tarpaulin, and stretched over as a defence, he determined, though reluctantly, that the children should be entrusted for a time to some kind friends, who had already offered their services, and sent to a public school. This transition was rather unpleasant ; for when the chil- dren who had all along been kept at home in a secluded, pure, refined, yet strict manner, were thrown among a rude mass of young creatures, they were compelled unexpectedly to suffer everything from the vulgar, bad, and even base, since they lacked both weapons and skill to protect themselves. It was properly about this period that I first became ac- quainted with my native city, which I strolled over with more and more freedom, in every direction, sometimes alone, and sometimes in the company of lively companions. To convey to others in any degree the impression made upon me by these grave and revered spots, I must here introduce a description of my birth-place, as in its different parts it was gradually unfolded to me. I loved more than anything else to pro- menade on the great bridge over the Maine. Its length, its firmness, and its fine appearance, rendered it a notable struc- ture, and it was, besides, almost the only memorial left from ancient times of the precautions due from the civil govern- ment to its citizens. The beautiful stream above and below bridge, attracted my eye, and when the gilt weathercock on the bridge-cross glittered in the sunshine, I always had a pleasant feeling. Generally I extended my walk through Sachsenhausen, and for a Kreutzer was ferried comfortably across the river. I was now again on this side of the stream, stole along to the wine market, and admired the mechanism of the cranes when goods were unloaded. But it was par- ticularly entertaining to watch the arrival of the market-boats, from which so many and such extraordinary figures were seen to disembark. On entering the city, the Saalhof, which at least stood on the spot where the Castle of Emperor Charle- magne and his successors was reported to have been, was greeted every time with profound reverence. One liked to lose oneself in the old trading town, particularly on market- 8 TRUTH AND POETBT ; FSOM MY OWN LIFE. days, among the crowd collected about the church of 8t. Bar- tholomew. From the earliest times, throngs of buyers ana sellers had gathered there, and the place being thus occupied, it was not easy in later days to bring about a more roomy and cheerful arrangement. The booths of the so-called Pfarreisen were very important places for us children, and we carried many a Batzen to them in order to purchase sheets of coloured paper stamped with gold animals. But seldom, however, could one make one's way through the narrow, crowded, and dirty market-place. I call to mind, also, that I always flew past the adjoining meat-stalls, narrow and disgusting as they were, in perfect horror. On the other hand, the Roman Hill {Biymerberg) was a most delightful place for walking. The way to the New-Town, along by the new shops, was always cheering and pleasant ; yet we regretted that a street did not lead into the Zeil by the Church of Our Lady, and that we always had to go a round-about way by the Hasemgasse, or the Catherine Gate. But what chiefly attracted the child's attention, were the many little towns within the town, the fortresses within the fortress ; viz., the walled monastic en- closures, and several other precincts, remaining from earlier times, and more or less like castles — as the Nuremberg Court, the Compostella, the Braunfels, the ancestral house of the family of Stallburg, and several strongholds, in later days transformed into dwellings and warehouses. No architecture of an elevating kind was then to be seen in Frankfort, and every thing pointed to a period long past and unquiet, both for town and district. Gates and towers, which defined the bounds of the old city,' — then further on again*, gates, towers, walls, bridges, ramparts, moats, with which the new city was encompassed, — all showed, but too plainly, that a necessity for guarding the common weal in disastrous times had in duced these arrangements, that all the squares and streets, even the newest, broadest, and best laid out, owed their origin to chance and caprice and not to any regulating mind. A certain liking for the antique was thus implanted in the Boy, and was specially nourished and promoted by old chro- nicles and wood-cuts, as for instance, those of Grave relating to the siege of Frankfort. At the same time a different taste was developed in him for observing the conditions of man- kind, in their manifold variety and naturalness, without THE COUNCIL-HOUSE. St regard to their importance or beauty. It was, therefore, one of our favourite walks, which, we endeavoured to take now and then in the course of a year, to follow the circuit of the path inside the city walls. Gardens, courts, and back build- ings extend to the Zwinger ; and we saw many thousand people amid their little domestic and secluded circumstances. From, the ornamental and show gardens of the rich, to the orchards of the citizen, anxious about his necessities — from thence to the factories, bleaching-grounds, and similar esta- blishments, even to the burying-grounds — for a little world lay within the limits of the city — we passed a varied, strange, spectacle, which changed at every step, and with the enjoy- ment of which our childish curiosity was never satisfied. In fact, the celebrated Devil-upon-two-sticks, when he lifted the roofs of Madrid at night, scarcely did more for his friend, than was here done for us in the bright sunshine and open air. The keys that were to be made use of in this journey, to gain us a passage through many a tower, stair and postern, were in the hands of the authorities, whose subordinates we never failed to coax into good-hispiour. But a more important, and in one sense more fruitful place for us, was the Council-House, named from the Romans. In its lower vault-like halls we liked but too well to lose our- selves. We obtained an entrance, too, into the large and very simple session-room of the Council. The walls as well as the arched ceiling were white, though wainscotted to a certain height, and the whole was without a trace of painting, or any kind of carved work ; only, high up on the middle wall, might be read this brief inscription : " One man's word is no man's word, Justice needs that both be heard." After the most ancient fashion, benches were ranged around the wainscotting, and raised one step above the floor for the accommodation of the members of the assembly. This readily suggested to us why the order of rank in our senate was dis- tributed by benches. To the left of the door, on the oppo- site corner, sat the Schbffen ; in the corner itself the Schult- heiss, who alone had a small table before him ; those of the second bench sat in the space to his left as far as the wall to where the windows were ; while along the windows ran the 10 TEUTH AND POETRY; FROM MT OWN IIFB. third bench, occupied by the craftsmen. In the midst of the hall stood a table for the registrar (Protoculfuhrer). Once within the Earner, we even mingled with the crowd at the audiences of the burgomasters. But whatever related to the election and coronation of the Emperors possessed a greater charm. We managed to gain the favour of the keepers, so as to be allowed to mount the new gay imperial staircase, which was painted in fresco, and on other occasions elosed with a grating. The election-chamber, with its purple hangings and admirably-fringed gold borders, filled us with awe. The representations of animals on which little children or genii, clothed in the imperial ornaments and laden with the insignia of the Empire, made a curious figure, were observed by us with great attention; and we even hoped that we might live to see, some time or other, a coronation with our own eyes. They had great difficulty to get us out of the great imperial hall, when we had been once fortunate enough to steal in ; and we reckoned him our truest friend who, while we looked at the half-lengths of all the emperors painted around at a certain height, would tell us something of their deeds. We listened to many a legend of Charlemagne. But that which was historically interesting for us began with Rudolph of Hapsburg, who by his courage put an end to such violent commotions. Charles the Fourth also attracted our notice- We had already heard of the Golden Bull, and of the statutes for the administration of criminal justice. We knew, too, that he had not made the Frankforters suffer for their adhesion to his noble rival, Emperor Gunther of Schwarzburg. We heard Maximilian praised both as a friend to mankind, and to the townsmen, his subjects, and were also told that it had been prophesied of him he would be the last Emperor of a German house ; which unhappily came to pass, as after his death the choice wavered only between the King of Spain, (aftertvards) Charles V., and the King of France, Francis I. With some anxiety it was added, that a similar prophecy, or rather in- timation, was once more in circulation; for it was obvious that there was room left for the portrait of only one more emperor — a circumstance which, though seemingly accidental, filled the" patriotic with concern. Having once entered upon this circuit, we did not fail to IMPERIAL CORONATIONS. 11 repair to the cathedral, and there visit the grave of that bravo Gunther, so much prized both by friend and foe. The famous stone which formerly covered it is set up in the choir. The door close by, leading into the conclave, remained long shut against us, until we at last managed through the higher authorities, to gain access to this celebrated place. But we should have done better had we continued as before to picture it merely in our imagination ; for we found this room, which is so remarkable in German history, where the most powerful princes were accustomed to meet for an act so momentous, in no respect worthily adorned, and even disfigured with beams, poles, scaffolding, and similar lumber, which people had wanted to put out of the way. The imagination, for that very reason, was the more excited and the heart elevated, when we soon after received permission to be present in the Council-House, at the exhibition of the Golden Bull to some distinguished strangers. The Boy then heard, with much curiosity, what his own family, as well as other older relations and acquaintances, liked to tell and repeat, viz., Ihe histories of the two last coronations, which had followed close upon each other ; fo* there was no Frankforter of a certain age who would not have regarded these two events, and their attendant circum- stances, as the crowning glory of his whole life. Splendid as had been the coronation of Charles Seventh, during which particularly the French Ambassador had given magnificent feasts at great cost and with distinguished taste, the results were all the more afflicting to the good Emperor, who could not preserve his capital Munich, and was compelled in some degree to implore the hospitality of his imperial towns. If the coronation of Franpis First was not so strikingly splendid as the former one, it was dignified by the presence- of the Empress Maria Theresa, whose beauty appears to have created as much impression on the men, as the earnest and' noble form and the blue eyes of Charles Seventh on the women. At any rate, the sexes rivalled each other in giving, to the attentive Boy a highly favourable opinion of both these personages. All these descriptions and narratives were given, in a serene and quiet state of mind ; for the peace of Aix-la- Chapelle had, for the moment, put an end to ail feuds ; and "they spoke at their ease of past contests, as well as of their 12 THDTH. AND POETST; FBOM MY OWN IIFB. former festivities — the battle of Dettingen, for instance, and other remarkable events of by-gone years ; and all that was important or dangerous seemed, as generally happens when a peace has been concluded, to have occurred only to afford entertainment to prosperous and unconcerned people. Half a year had scarcely passed away in this narrow patriotism before the fairs began, which always produced an incredible ferment in the heads of all children. The erection, in so short a time, of so many booths, creating a new town within the old one, the roll and crush, the unloading and unpacking of wares, excited from the very first dawn of con- sciousness an insatiable active curiosity and a boundless desire for childish property, which the Boy with increasing years endeavoured to gratify, in one way or another, as fax as his little purse permitted. At the same time he obtained a notion of what the world produces, what it wants, and what the inhabitants of its different parts exchange with each other. These great epochs, which came round regularly in spring and autumn, were announced by curious solemnities, which seemed the more dignified because they vividly brought before us the old time, and what had come down from it to ourselves. On Escort-day, the whole population were on their legs, thronging to the Fahrgasse, to the bridge, and beyond Sachsenhausen ; all the windows were occupied, though nothing unusual took, place on that day ; the crowd seeming to be there only for the sake of jostling each other, and the spectators merely to look at one another ; for the real occa- sion of their coming did not begin till nightfall, and was then rather taken upon trust than seen with the eyes. The affair was thus : in those old, unquiet times, when every one did wrong according to his pleasure, or helped the right as his liking led him, traders on their way to the fairs were so wilfully beset and harassed by waylayers, both of noble and ignoble birth, that princes and other persons of power caused their people to be accompanied to Frankfort by an armed escort. Now the burghers of the imperial city would vield no rights pertaining to themselves or their district ; they went out to meet the advancing party; and thus contests often arose as to how far the escort should advance, or whether it had a right to enter the city at all. But, as this took place, not oolv THE "PIPER'S COUBT." 13 ji regard to matters of trade and fairs, but also when high personages came, in times of peace or war, and especially on the days of election; and as the affair often came to blows when a train which was not to be endured in the city strove to make its way in along with its lord, many negotiations had from time to time been resorted to, and many temporary arrangements concluded, though always with reservations of rights on both sides. The hope had not been relinquished of composing once for all a quarrel that had already lasted for centuries, inasmuch as the whole institution, on account of which it had been so long and often so hotly contested, might be looked upon as nearly useless, or at least as superfluous. Meanwhile, on those days, the city cavalry in several divi- sions, each having a commander in front, rode forth from different gates and found on a certain spot some troopers or hussars of the persons entitled to an escort, who with their leaders were well received and entertained. They stayed till + owards evening, and then rode back to the city, scarcely visible to the expectant crowd, many a city knight not being in a condition to manage his horse, or keep himself in the saddle. The most important bands returned by the bridge- gate, where the pressure was consequently the strongest. Last of all, just as night fell, the Nuremberg post-coach arrived, escorted in the same way, and always containing, as the people fancied, in pursuance of custom, an old woman. Its arrival, therefore, was a signal for all the urchins to break out into an ear-splitting shout, though it was utterly impossible to distinguish any one of the passengers within. The throng that pressed after the coach through the bridge-gate was quite incredible, and perfectly bewildering to the senses. The houses nearest the bridge were those, therefore, most in demand among spectators. Another more singular ceremony, by which the people were excited in broad daylight, was the Piper's-court {Pfeifer- gericht). It commemorated those early times when important larger trading-towns endeavoured, if not to abolish tolls alto- gether, at least to bring about a reduction of them, as they increased in proportion with trade and industry. They were allowed this privilege by the Emperor who needed their aid, when it was in his power to grant it, but commonly only for one year ; so that it had to be annually renewed. This was 14 TBTJTH AND POETRY ; PKOM MY OWN IIFE. effected by means of symbolical gifts, which were presented before the opening of St. Bartholomew's Fair to the imperial magistrate (SchuMheiss), who might have sometimes been the chief toll-gatherer ; and, for the sake of a more imposing show, the gifts were offered when he was sitting in full court with the Schbffen. But when the chief magistrate afterwards came to be no longer appointed by the Emperor, and was elected by the city itself, he still retained these privileges ; and thus both the immunities of the cities from toll, and the ceremonies by which the representatives from Worms, Nurem-r berg, and Old Bamberg once acknowledged the ancient favour, had come down to our times. The day before Lady- day, an open court was proclaimed. In an enclosed space in the great Imperial Hall, the Schoffen took their elevated seats ; a step higher, sat the SchuMheiss in the midst of them ; while below on the right hand, were the procurators of both parties invested with plenipotentiary powers. The Actuarius begins to read aloud the weighty judgments reserved for this day ; the lawyers demand copies, appeal, or do whatever else seems neces- sary. All at once a singular sort of music announces, if we may so speak, the advent of former centuries. It proceeds from three pipers, one of whom plays an old shawm, another a sack- but, and the third a pommer, or oboe. They wear blue mantles trimmed with gold, having the notes made fast to their sleeves, and their heads covered. Having thus left their inn at ten o'clock, followed by the deputies and their attendants, and stared at by all, natives and. strangers, they enter -the hali. The law proceedings are stayed — the pipers and their train halt before the railing — the deputy steps in and stations him- self in front of the Schultheiss. The emblematic presents, which were required to be precisely the same as in the old precedents, consisted commonly of the staple wares of the eity offering them. Pepper passed, as it were, for everything else ; and, even on this occasion, the deputy brought a hand- somely turned wooden goblet filled with pepper. Upon it lay a pair of gloves, curiously slashed, stitched, and tasseled with silW-a token of a favour granted and received — such as the Emperor himself made use of in certain cases. Along with this was a white staff, which in former times was not easily dispensable in judicial proceedings. Some small pieces of silver money were added ; and the city of Worms brought an. SUMMER AMUSEMENTS. 15 old felt hat, which was always redeemed again., so that the same one had been a witness of these ceremonies for many years. After the deputy had made his address, handed over his present, and received from the Schultheiss assurance of con- tinued favour, he quitted the enclosed circle, the pipers blew, the train departed as it had come, the court pursued its busi- ness, until the second and at last the third deputy had been introduced. For each came some time after the other ; partly that the pleasure of the public might thus be prolonged, and partly because they were always the same antiquated virtuosi whom Nuremberg, for itself and its co-cities, had undertaken to maintain and produce annually at the appointed place. We children were particularly interested in this festival, because we were not a little flattered to see our grandfather in a place of so much honour ; and because commonly, on the self-same day, we used to visit him, quite modestly, in order that we might, when my grandmother had emptied the pepper Into her spice box, lay hold of a cup or small rod, a pair of gloves or an old Rader Alius.* THfese symbolical ceremonies, restoring antiquity as if by magic, could not be explained to us without leading us back into past times and informing us of the manners, customs, and feelings of those early ancestors who were so strangely made present to us, by pipers and deputies seemingly risen from the dead, and by tangible gifts, which might be possessed by ourselves. These venerable solemnities were followed, in the fine sea- son, by many festivals, delightful for us children, which took place in the open air, outside of the city. On the right shore of the Maine going down, about half an hour's walk from the gate, there rises a sulphur-spring, neatly enclosed and sur- rounded by aged lindens. Not far from it stands the Good- People's- Court, formerly a hospital erected for the sake of the waters. On the commons around, the hero's of cattle from the neighbourhood were collected on a certain day of the year ; and the herdsmen, together with their sweethearts, celebrated a rural festival, with dancing and singing, with all sorts of pleasure and clownishness. On the other side of the city lay * An old silver coin. 16 TKUTH A.ND POETBT; FROM MY OWN 1IFE. a similar but larger common, likewise graced with a spring and still finer lindens. Thither, at Whitsuntide, the flocks of sheep were driven; and, at the same time, the poor, pale orphan children were allowed to come out of their walls into the open air ; for the thought had not yet occurred that these destitute creatures, who must some time or other help them- selves through the world, ought soon to be brought in contact with it; that instead of being kept in dreary confinement, they should rather be accustomed to serve and to endure ; and that there was every reason to strengthen them physically and morally from their infancy. The nurses and maids, always ready to take a walk, never failed to carry or conduct us to such places, even in our first years ; so that these rural festi- vals belong to the earliest impressions that I can recall. Meanwhile, our house had been finished, and that too ia tolerably short time, because everything had been judiciously planned and prepared, and the needful money provided. We now found ourselves all together again, and felt comfortable : for, when a well-considered plan is once carried out, we forget lie various inconveniences of the means that were necessary to its. accomplishment. The building, for a private residence, was roomy enough ; light and cheerful throughout, with broad staircases, agreeable parlours, and a prospect of the gardens that could be enjoyed easily from several of the windows. The internal completion, and what pertained to mere orna- ment and finish, was gradually accomplished, and served at the same time for occupation and amusement. The first thing brought into order was my father's collec- tion of books, the best of which, in calf and half-calf bind- ing, were to ornament the walls of his office and study. He possessed the beautiful Dutch editions of the Latin classics, which for the sake of outward uniformity he had endeavoured to procure all in quarto ; and also many other works relat- ing to Koman antiquities, and the more elegant jurispru- dence. The most eminent Italian poets were not wanting and for Tasso he showed a great predilection. There were also the best and most recent Travels ; and he took «reat delight in correcting and completing Keyssler and Nemeiz from them. Nor had he omitted to surround hims elf with ali needful assistants to learning, such as dictionaries of various languages, and encyclopedias of science and art, which with FRANKFORT ARTISTS. 17 much else adapted to profit and amusement, might be con- sulted at will. The other half of this collection, in neat parchment bind- ings, with very beautifully written titles, was placed in a separate attic. The acquisition of new books, as well as their binding and arrangement, he pursued with great composure and love of order : and he was much influenced in his opinion by the critical notices that ascribed particular merit to any work. His collection of juridical treatises was annually in- creased by some volumes. Next, the pictures, which in the old house, had hung about promiscuously, were now collected and symmetrically hung on the walls of a cheerful room near the study, all in black frames, set off with gilt mouldings. My father had a prin- ciple, which he often and strongly expressed, that one ought to employ the living Masters, and to spend less upon the departed, in the estimation of whom prejudice greatly concurred. He had the notion that it was precisely the same with pictures as with Ehenish wines, which, though age may impart to them a higher value, can be produced in«my coming year of just as excellent quality as in years past. After the lapse of some time, the new wine also becomes old, quite as valuable and perhaps more delicious. This opinion he chiefly confirmed by the observation that many old pictures seemed to derive their chief value for lovers of art from the fact that they had become darker and browner ; and that the harmony of tone in such pictures was often vaunted. My father, on the other hand, protested that he had no fear that the new pictures would not also turn black in time, though whether they were likely to gain anything by this he was not so positive. In pursuance of these principles, he employed for many years the whole of the Frankfort artists : — the painter Hikt, who excelled in animating oak and beech woods, and other so- called rural scenes, with cattle; Tratttmann, who had adopted Rembrandt as his model, and had attained great per- fection in inclosed lights and reflections, as well as in effective conflagrations, so that he was once ordered to paint a com- panion-piece to a Rembrandt ; Schtttz, who diligently elabo- rated landscapes of the Rhine country, in the manner of Sachtiebens ; and Junker, who executed with great purity flower and fruit pieces, still life, and figures quietly employed, a 18 TRUTH AND POETRY; FBOM MY OWN LI^H. after the models of the Dutch. But now, by the new arrange- ment, by more convenient room, and still more by the acquaint- ance of a skilful artist, our love of art was again quickened and animated. This artist was Seekatz, a pupil of Brinkmann, court-painter at Darmstadt, whose talent and character will be more minutely unfolded in the sequel. In this way, the remaining rooms were finished, according to their several purposes. Cleanliness and order prevailed throughout. Above all, the large panes of plate-glass contri- buted towards a perfect lightness, which had. been wanting in. the old house for many causes, but chiefly on account of the- panes, which were for the most part round. My father was cheerful on account of the success of his undertaking, and if his good humour had not been often interrupted because the diligence and exactness pf the mechanics did not come up to his wishes, a happier life than ours could not have been con- ceived, since much good partly arose in the family itself, and partly flowed from without. But an extraordinary event deeply disturbed the Boy's peace of mind, for the first time. On the 1st of November, 1755, the earthquake at Lisbon took place, and spread a prodigious alarm over the world, long accustomed to peace and quiet. A great and magnificent capital, which was, at the same time, a trading and mercantile city, is smitten, without warning, by a most fearful calamity. The earth trembles and totters, the sea roars up, ships dash together, houses fall in, and over them churches and towers, the royal palace is in part swallowed by the waters, the bursting land seems to vomit flames, since smoke and fire are seen everywhere amid the ruins. Sixty thousand persons, a moment before in ease and comfort, fall together, and he is to be deemed most fortunate who is no longer capable of a thought or feeling about the disaster. The flames rage on, and with them rage a troop of despera- does, before concealed, or set at large by the event. The wretched survivors are exposed to pillage, massacre, and every outrage : and thus, on all sides, Nature asserts her boundless sapriciousness. Intimations of this event had spread over wide regions more quickly than the authentic reports : slight shocks had been felt in many places : in many springs, particularly those of a mineral nature, an unusual receding of the waters had been EARTHQUAKE AT LISBON. 19 remarked ; and so much the greater was the effect of the accounts themselves, which were rapidly circulated, at first in general terms, but finally with dreadful particulars. Here- upon, the religious were neither wanting in reflections, nor the philosophic in grounds for consolation, nor the clergy in warnings. So complicated an event arrested the attention of the world for a Jong time ; and, as additional and more de- tailed accounts of the extensive effects of this explosion came from every quarter, the minds already aroused by the misfor- tunes of strangers, began to be more and more anxious about themselves and their friends. Perhaps the demon of terror had never so speedily and powerfully diffused his terrors over the earth. The Boy, who was compelled to put up with frequent repe- titions of the whole matter, was not a little staggered. God, the Creator and Preserver of Heaven and Earth, whom the explanation of the first article of the Creed declared so wise and benignant, having given both the just and the unjust a prey to the same destruction, had not manifested Himself, by any means, in a fatherly character. In vain the young mind strove to resist these impressions. It was the more impossible, as the wise and scripture-learned could not themselves agree as to the light in which such a phenomenon should be regarded. The next summer gave a closer opportunity of knowing directly that angry God, of whom the Old Testament records so much. A sudden hail-storm, accompanied by thunder and lightning, violently broke the new panes at the back of our house, which looked towards the west, damaged the new fur- niture, destroyed some valuable books and other. things of worth, and was the more terrible to the children, as the whole household, quite beside themselves, dragged them into a dark passage, where, on their knees, with frightful groans and cries, they thought to conciliate the wrathful Deity. Meanwhile, my father, who was alone self-possessed, forced open and un- hinged the window-frames, by which we saved much glass, but made a broader inlet for the rain that followed the hail, so that after we were finally quieted, we found ourselves in the rooms and on the stairs completely surrounded by floods and streams of water. These events, startling as they were on the whole, did not greatly interrupt the course of instruction which my father o2 '.,0 TRUTH AKD POETRY 5 FROM MY OWN ilFE. himself had undertaken to give us children. He had passed his youth in the Cohourg Gymnasium, which stood as one of the first among German educational institutions. He had there laid a good foundation in languages, and other matters reckoned part of a learned education, had subsequently applied himself to jurisprudence at Leipzig, and had at last taken his degree at Giessen. His dissertation, "Electa de aditione Hereditatis," which had been earnestly and carefully written, "\s yet cited by jurists with approval. It is a pious wish of all fathers to see what they have them- selves failed to attain, realized in their sons, as if in this way they could live their lives over again, and, at last, make a proper use of their early experience. Conscious of his acquire- ments, with the certainty of faithful perseverance, and dis- trusting the teachers of the day, my father undertook to instruct his own children, allowing them to take particular lesson from particular masters only so far as seemed absolutely necessary. A pedagogical dilettantism was already beginning to show itself everywhere. The pedantry and heaviness of the masters appointed in the public schools had probably given rise to this evil. Something better was sought for, but it was forgotten how defective all instruction must be, which is not given by persons who are teachers by profession. My father had prospered in his own career tolerably ac- cording to his wishes : I was to follow the same course, only more easily, and much farther. He prized my natural endow- ments the more, because he was himself wanting in them; for he had acquired everything only by means of unspeakable diligence,, pertinacity, and repetition. He often assured me, early and late, both in jest and earnest, that with my talents he would have deported himself very differently, and would not have turned them to such small account. By means of a ready apprehension, practice, and a good memory, I very soon outgrew the instructions which my father and the other teachers were able to give, without being thoroughly grounded in anything. Grammar displeased me, because I regarded it as a mere arbitrary law; the rules seemed ridiculous, inasmuch as they were invalidated by so many exceptions, which had all to be learned by themselves. And if the first Latin work had not been in rhyme, I should have got on but badly in that ; but as it was, I hummed and JUVENILE STUDIES. H sang it to myself readily enough. In the same way we had a Geography in memory- verses, in which the most wretched doggerel best served to fix the recollection of that which was to be retained : e. g. : Upper-Yssel has many a fen, Which makes it hateful to all men. The forms and inflections of language I caught with ease ; and I also quickly unravelled what lay in the conception of a thing. In rhetoric, composition, and such matters, no one excelled me, although I was often put back for faults of gram- mar. Yet these were the attempts that gave my father particular pleasure, and for which he rewarded me with many presents of money, considerable for such a lad. My father taught my sister Italian in the same room in which I had to commit Cellarius to memory. As I was soon ready with my task, and was yet obliged to sit quiet, I listened with my book before me, and very readily caught the Italian, which struck me as an agreeable softening of Latin. Other precocities, with respeet to memery and the power to combine, I possessed in common with those children who thus acquire an early reputation. For that reason my father could scarcely wait for me to go to college. He very soon declared, that I must study jurisprudence in Leipzig, for which he retained a strong predilection, and I was afterwards to visit some other university and take my degree. As for this second one he was indifferent which I might choose, except that he had for some reason or other a disinclination to Gottingen, to my disappointment, since it was precisely there that I had placed such confidence and high hopes. He told me further, that I was to go to Wetzlar and Katis- bon as well as to Vienna, and thence towards Italy, although he repeatedly mentioned that Paris should first be seen, be- cause after coming out of Italy nothing -else could be pleasing. These tales ,of my future youthful travels, often as they were repeated, I listened to eagerly, the more since they always led to accounts of Italy, and at last to a description of Naples. His otherwise serious and dry manner seemed on these occasions to relax and quicken, and thus a passionate wish awoke in us children to participate in the paradise he described. 22 TBUTH AND POETKYJ FROM MY OWN LIFE. Private lessons, which now gradually multiplied, were «hared with the children of the neighbours. This learning in common did not advance me ; the teachers followed their routine ; and the rudeness, sometimes the ill-nature, of my companions, interrupted the brief hours of study with tumult, vexation, and disturbance. Chrestomathies, by which learn- ing is made pleasant and varied, had not yet reached us. Cornelius Nepos, so dry to young people, the New Testament, which was much too easy, and which by preaching and reli- gious instructions had been rendered even common-place, Cellarius and Pasor could impart no kind of interest ; on the other hand, a certain rage for rhyme and versification, a consequence of reading the prevalent German poets, took complete possession of us. Me it had seized much earlier, as I had found it agreeable to pass from the rhetorical to the poetical treatment of subjects. We boys held a Sunday assembly where each of us was to produce original verses. And here I was struck by something strange, which long caused me uneasiness. My poems, what- ever they might be, always seemed to me the best. But I soon remarked, that my competitors who brought forth very lame affairs, were in the same condition, and thought no less of themselves. Nay, what appeared yet more suspicious, a good lad ^though in such matters altogether unskilful), whom I liked in other respects, but who had his rhymes made by his tutor, not only regarded these as the , best, but was thoroughly persuaded they were his own, as he always main- tained in our confidential intercourse. Now, as this illusion and error was obvious to me, the question one day forced itself upon me, whether I myself might not be in the same state, whether those poems were not really better than mine, and whether I might not justly appear to those boys as mad as they to me ? This disturbed me much and long ; for it was altogether impossible for me to find any external criterion of the truth; I even ceased from producing, until at length I was quieted by my own light temperament, and the feeling of my own powers, and lastly by a trial of skill — started on the spur of the moment by our teachers and parents, who had noted our sport — in which I came off well and won general praise. No libraries for children had at that time been established. The old had themselves still childish notions,- and found it POPULAR WORKS. 23 convenient to impart their own education to their successors. Except the Orlis Pictus of Amos Comenius, no book of the sort fell into our hands ; but the large folio Bible, -with copper- plates by Merian, was diligently gone over leaf by leaf: Gott- fried's Chronicles, with plates by the same master, taught us the most notable events of Universal History ; the Acerra Philologica added thereto all sorts of fables, mythologies and wonders ; and, as I soon became familiar with Ovid's Meta-> morphoses, the first books of which in particular I studied carefully, my young brain was rapidly furnished with a mass of images and events, of significant and wonderful shapes and occurrences, and I never felt time hang upon my hands, as I always occupied myself in working over, repeating, and re- producing these acquisitions. A more salutary moral effect than that of these rude and hazardous antiquities, was produced by Fenelon's Tehmachus, with which I first became acquainted in Neukirch's transla- tion, and which, imperfectly as it was executed, had a sweet and beneficent influence on my mind. That Robinson Crusoe was added in due time, follows in the nature of things ; and it may be imagined that the Island of Fahenberg was not wanting. Lord Anson's Voyage round the Globe combined the dignity of truth with the rich fancies of fable, and while our thoughts accompanied this excellent seaman, we were con- ducted over all the world, and endeavoured to follow him with our fingers on the globe. But a still richer harvest was to spring 'up before me, when I lighted on a mass of writings, which, in their present state, it is truej cannot be called excel- lent, but the contents of which, in a harmless way, bring near to us many a meritorious action of former times. The publication, or rather the manufacture, of those books which have at a later day become so well known and cele- brated under the name Volkschriften, Volksbiicher (popular works or books), was carried on in Frankfort. The enor- mous sales they met with, led to their being almost illegibly printed from stereotypes on horrible blotting-papet We children were so fortunate as to find these precipus renxtms of the Middle Ages every day on a little table at the door of a dealer in che,ap books, and to obtain them at the cost of a couple of kreutzer. The Eulenspiegel, the Four Sons of Hai- mon, the Emperor Octavian, the Fair Melusina, the Beautiful 24 TRUTH AND S OETEY ; rBOM MY OWK LIFE. Magelone, Fortunatus, with the whole race down to the Wan- dering Jew, were all at our service, as often as we. preferred the relish of these works to the taste of sweet things. The greatest benefit of this was, that when we had read through or damaged such a sheet, it could soon be reprocured and swallowed a second time. As a family pic-nic in summer is vexatiously disturbed by a sudden storm, which transforms a pleasant state of things into the very reverse, so the diseases of childhood fall unex- pectedly on the most beautiful season of early life. And thus it happened with me. I had just purchased Fortunatus with nis Purse and Wishing -hat, when I was attacked by a restless- ness and fever which announced the small-pox. Inoculation was still with us considered very problematical, and although it had already been intelligibly and urgently recommended by popular writers, the German physicians hesitated to perform an operation that seemed to forestall Nature. Speculative Englishmen, therefore, had come to the Continent and inocu- lated, for a considerable fee, the children of such persons as were opulent and free from prejudices. Still the majority were exposed to the old disease ; the infection raged through families, killed and disfigured many children ; and few parents dared to avail themselves of a method, the probable efficacy of which had been abundantly confirmed by the result. The evil now invaded our houste and attacked me with unusual severity. My whole body was sown over with spots, and my face covered, and for several days I lay blind and in great pain. They tried the only possible alleviation, and promised me heaps of gold if I would keep quiet and not increase the mischief by rubbing and scratching. I controlled myself, while, according to the prevailing prejudice, they kept me as warm as possible, and thus only rendered my suffering more acute. At last, after a woful time, there fell as it were a mask from my face. The blotches had left no visible mark upon the skin, but the features were plainly altered. I myself was satisfied merely with seeing the light of day again, and gradually putting off my spotted skin ; but others were piti- less enough to remind me often of my previous condition ; especially a very lively aunt, who had formerly regarded me with idolatry, but in after years could seldom look at me without exclaiming—" The deuce, cousin ! what a fright he's DISEASES OF CHILDHOOD. 25 grown !" Then she would tell me circumstantially how I had once been her delight, and what attention she had excited when she carried me about ; and thus I early learned that people very often subject us to a severe atonement for the pleasure which we have afforded them. I neither escaped measles, nor chicken-pox, nor any other of the tormenting demons of childhood ; and I was assured each time that it was a great piece of good luck that this malady was now past for ever. But, alas ! another again threatened in the back-ground, and advanced. All these things increased my propensity to reflection; and as I had already practised myself in fortitude, in order to remove the torture of impatience, the virtues which I had heard praised in the Stoics appeared to me highly worthy of imitation, and the more so, as something similar was commended by the Christian doctrine of patience. While on the subject of these family diseases, I will men- tion a brother about three years younger than myself, who was likewise attacked by that infection, and suffered not a little from it. He was of a tender nature, quiet and capri- cious, and we were never on the most friendly terms. Besides, he scarcely survived the years of childhood. Among several other children born afterwards, who like him did not five long, I only remember a very pretty and agreeable girl, who also' soon passed away ; so that, after the lapse of some years, my sister and I remained alone, and were therefore the mpre deeply and affectionately attached to each other. ' These maladies and other unpleasant interruptions were in their consequences doubly grievous ; for my father, who seemed to have laid down for himself a certain calendar of education and instruction, was resolved immediately to repair every delay, and imposed double lessons upon the young convales- cent. These were not hard for me to accomplish, but were so far troublesome, that they hindered, and to a certain extent repressed, my inward development, which had taken a decided direction. From these didactic and pedagogic oppressions, we com- monly fled to my grandfather and grandmother. Their house stood in the Friedberg-street, and appeared to have been for- merly a fortress ; for, on approaching it, nothing was seen but a large gate with battlements, which were joined on either ado 26 TETTTH AND POETKY ; PEOM MY OWN LIFE. to the two neighbouring houses. On entering through a nar- row passage, we reached at last a tolerably broad court, surrounded by irregular buildings, which were now all united into one dwelling. We usually hastened at once into the garden, which extended to a considerable length and breadth behind the buildings, and was very well kept. The walks were mostly skirted by vine trellises ; one part of the space was used for vegetables, and another devoted to flowers, which from spring till autumn adorned in rich succession the borders as well as the beds. The long wall erected towards the south was used for some well-trained espalier peach-trees, the for- bidden fruit of which ripened temptingly before us through the summer. Yet we rather avoided this side, because we here could not satisfy our dainty appetites ; and we turned to the side opposite, where an interminable row of currant and goose- berry bushes furnished our voracity with a succession of har- vests till autumn. Not less important to us was an old, high, wide-spreading mulberry-tree, both on account of its fruits, and because we were told that the silk- worms fed upon its leaves. In this peaceful region my grandfather was found every evening, tending with genial care and with his own hand the finer growths of fruits and flowers ; while a gardene" managed the drudgery. He was never vexed by the various toils which were necessary to preserve and increase a fine show of pinks* The branches of the peach-trees were care- fully tied to the espaliers with his own hands, in a fan-shape, in order to bring about a full and easy growth of the fruit. The sorting of the bulbs of tulips, hyacinths; and plants of a similar nature, as well as the care of their preservation, he entrusted to none ; and I still with pleasure recall to my mind how diligently he occupied himself in inoculating the different varieties of roses. That he might protect himself from the thornSj he put on a pair of those ancient leather gloves, of which three pair were given him annually at the Piper's Court, ' so that there was no dearth of the article. He wore also a loose dressing-gown, and a folded black velvet cap upon his head, so that he might have passed for an intermediate person between Alcinous and Laertes. All this work in the garden he pursued as regularly and with as much precision as his official business ; for, before he eatne down* he always arranged the list of causes for the next GOTHE S MATEENAl GRANDFATHER. 27 day, and read the legal papers. In the morning he proceeded to the Council House, dined after his return, then nodded in his easy chair, and so went through the same routine every day. He conversed little, never exhibited any vehemence;, and I do not remember ever to have seen him angry. All that surrounded him was in the fashion of the olden time. I never perceived any alteration in his wainscotted room. His library contained, besides law works, only the earliest books of travels, ' sea voyages, and discoveries of countries. Altogether I can call to mind no situation more adapted than his to awaken the feeling of uninterrupted peace and eternal duration. But the reverence which we entertained for this venerable old man was raised to the highest degree by a conviction that he possessed the gift of prophecy, especially in matters that pertained to himself and his destiny. It is true he revealed himself to no one, distinctly and minutely, except to my grandmother; yet we were all aware that he was informed of what was going to happen, by significant dreams. He assured his wife, for instance, at a time when he was still r junior Councillor, that on the firsttvacancy he would obtain the place left open on the bench of the Schbffen ; and soon afterwards when one of those officers actually died of apoplexy, my grandfather gave orders that his house should be quietly got ready prepared on the day of electing and balloting, to receive his guests and congratulators. Sure enough, the deci- sive gold ball was drawn in his favour. The simple dream by which he had learned this, he confided to his wife as fol- lows : He had seen himself in the ordinary full assembly of Councilmen, where all went on just as usual. Suddenly, the late Schoff rose from his seat, descended the steps, pressed him in the most complimentary manner to take the vacant place, and then departed by the door. Something like this occurred on the death of the Schul- theiss. They make no delay in supplying this place, as they always have to fear that the Emperor will at some time resume his ancient right of nominating the officer. On this occasion, the messenger of the Court came at midnight to summon an extraordinary session for the next morning ; and as the light in his lantern was about to expire, he asked for a candle's end to help him on his way. " Give him a whole one," said my grandfather to the ladies* " he takes the trouble 28 TKUTH AND POETRY ; riOM MY OWN LIFE. all on my account." This expression anticipated the result- he was "made Schultheiss ; and what rendered the _ circum- stance particularly remarkable was, that although his repre- sentative was the third and last to draw at the ballot, the two silver balls first came out, leaving the golden ball at the bottom of the bag for him. Perfectly prosaic, simple, and without a trace of the fan- tastic or miraculous, were the other dreams, of which we were informed. Moreover, I remember that once, as a boy, I was turning over his books and memoranda, and found among some other remarks which related to gardening, such sen- tences as these : " To-night N. N. came to me and said " the name and revelation being written in cipher ; or " This night I saw " all the rest being again in cipher, except the conjunctions and similar words, from which nothing could be learned. It is worthy of note also, that persons who showed no signs of prophetic insight at other times, acquired, for the moment, while in his presence, and that by means of some sensible evidence, presentiments of diseases or deaths which were then occurring in distant places. But no such gift has been trans- mitted to any of his children or grandchildren, who for the most part have been hearty people, enjoying life, and never going beyond the Actual. While on this subject, I remember with gratitude many kindnesses I received from them in my youth. Thus, for example, we were employed and entertained in many ways when we visited the second daughter, married to the druggist Melber, whose house and 6hop stood near the market, in the midst of the liveliest and most crowded part of the town. There we could look down from the windows pleasantly enough upon the hurly-burly in which we feared to lose our- selves ; and though, at first, of all the goods in the shop, nothing had much interest for us but the liquorice, and the little brown stamped cakes made from it, we became in time better acquainted with the multitude of articles bought and sold in that business. This aunt was the most vivacious of all the family. When my mother, in her early years, took pleasure in being neatly dressed, working at some domestic occupation, or reading a book, the other, on the contrary, ran about the neighbourhood to pick up neglected children, take KE1IGI0TJS INSTKITCTION. 29 care of them, comb them, and carry them round, as indeed she did me for a good while. At a time of public festivities, such as coronations, it was impossible to keep her at home. "When a little child, she had already scrambled for the money scattered on such occasions ; and it was related of her, that once when she had got a good many together, and was looking at them with great delight in the palm of her hand; it was struck by somebody, and all her well-earned booty vanished at a blow. There was another incident of- which she was very proud. Once, while standing on a post as the Emperor Charles VII. was passing, at a moment when all the people were silent, she shouted a vigorous " Vivat!" into the coach, which made him take off his hat to her, and thank her quite graciously for her bold salutation. Everything in her house was stirring, lively, and cheerful, and we children owed her many a gay hour. In a quieter situation, which was however suited to her character, was a second aunt, married to the Pastor Stark, incumbent of St. Catharine's Church. He lived much alone, ; n accordance with his temperament and vocation, and pos- sessed a fine library. Here I first became acquainted with Homer, in a prose translation, which may be found in the seventh part of Herr Von Loen's new collection of the most remarkable travels, under the title, Homer's Description of the Conquest of the Kingdom of Troy, ornamented with copper- plates, in the theatrical French teste. These pictures per- verted my imagination to such a degree, that for a long time I could conceive the Homeric heroes only under such forms. The incidents themselves gave me unspeakable delight; though I found great fault with the work for affording us no account of the capture of Troy, and breaking off so abruptly with the death of Hector. My uncle, to whom I mentioned this defect, referred me to Virgil, who perfectly satisfied my demands. It will be taken for granted, that we children had among our other lessons, a continued and progressive instruction in religion. But the Church-Protestantism imparted to us was, properly speaking, nothing but a kind of dry morality: ingenious exposition was not thought of; and the doctrine appealed neither to the understanding nor to the heart. For that reason, there were various secessions from the Esta- 30 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. Wished Church. Separatists, Pietists, Herrnhuter (Moravians), Quiet-in-the-Land, and others differently named and charac- terized sprang up, all of whom were animated by the same purpose of approaching the Deity, especially through: Christ, more closely than seemed to them possible under the forms of the established religion. The Boy heard these opinions and sentiments constantly spoken of; for the clergy as well as the laity divided them- selves into pro and con. The minority were composed of those who dissented more or less broadly, .but their modes of thinking attracted by originality, heartiness s , perseverance, and independence. All sorts of stories were told.of their virtues and of the way in which they were manifested. , The reply of a pious master-tinman was especially noted, who, when one of his craft attempted to shame him by asking "who is really your confessor?" answered with great cheer- fulness and confidence in the goodness of his cause, — " I have a famous one — no less than the confessor of King David." Things of this sort naturally made an impression on the Boy, and led him into similar states of mind. In fact, he ^ame to the thought that he might immediately approach the great God of Nature, the Creator and Preserver of Heaven and Earth, whose earlier manifestations of wrath had been long forgotten in the beauty of the world, and the manifold blessings in which we participate while upon it. The way he took to accomplish this was very curious. The Boy had chiefly kept to the first article of Belief. The God who stands in immediate connexion with nature, and owns and loves it as his work, seemed to him the proper God, who might be brought into closer relationship with man, as with everything else, and who would take care of him, as of the motion of the stars, the days and seasons, the animals and plants. There were texts of the Gospels which explicitly stated this. The Boy could ascribe no form to this Being ; he therefore sought Him in His works, and would, in the good Old Testament fashion, build Him an altar. Natural produc- tions were set forth as images of the world, over which a flame was to burn, signifying* the aspirations of man's heart towards his Maker. He brought out of the collection of natural objects which he possessed, and which had been in- creased as chance directed, the best ores and other specimens. THE BOY-PBIEST. 81 But the next difficulty was, as to how they should be arranged and raised into a pile. His father possessed a beautiful red- lackered music-stand, ornamented with gilt flowers, in the form of a four-sided pyramid, with different elevations, which had been found convenient for quartets, but lately was not much in use. The Boy laid hands on this, and built up his representatives of Nature one above the other in steps, so that it all looked quite pretty and at the same time sufficiently sig- nificant. On an early sunrise his first worship of God was to be celebrated, but the young priest had not yet settled how to produce a flame which should at the same time emit an agreeable odour. At last it occurred to him to combine the two, as he possessed a few fumigating pastils, which diffused a pleasant fragrance with a glimmer, if not with a flame. Nay, this soft burning and exhalation seemed a better repre- sentation of what passes in the heart, than an open flame. The sun had already risen for a long time, but the neigbour- ing houses concealed, the East. At last it glittered above the roofs, a burning-glass was at once taken up and applied to the pastils, which were fixed on the summit in a fine porcelain saucer. Everything succeeded according to the wish, and the devotion was perfect. * The altar remained as a peculiar ornament of the room which had been assigned bim in the new house. Every one regarded it only as a well-arranged collec- tion of natural curiosities. The Boy knew better, but con- cealed his knowledge. He longed for a repetition of the solemnity. But unfortunately, just as the most opportune sun arose, the porcelain cup was not at hand ; he placed the pastils immediately on the upper surface of the stand; they were kindled, and so great was the devotion of the priest, that he did not observe, until it was too late, the mischief his sacrifice was doing. The pastils had burned mercilessly into the red lacker and beautiful gold flowers, and as if some evil spirit had disappeared, had left their black, ineffaceable footprints. By this the young priest was thrown into the most extreme per- plexity. The mischief could be covered up, it was true, with the larger pieces of his show-materials, but the spirit for new offerings was gone, and the accident might almost be con- sidered a hint and warning of the danger there always is in wishing to approach the Deity in such a way. SECOND BOOK. Ail that has been hitherto recorded indicates that happy and easy condition in which nations exist during a long peace. But nowhere probably is such a beautiful time enjoyed in greater comfort than in cities living under their own laws, and large enough to include a considerable number of citizens, and so situated as to enrich them by trade and commerce. Strangers find it to their advantage to come and go, and are under a necessity of bringing profit in order to acquire profit. Even if such cities rule but a small territory, they are the better qualified to advance their internal prosperity, as their external relations expose them to no costly undertakings o T alliances. Thus, the Frankforters passed a series of prosperous years during my childhood ; but scarcely, on the 28th of August, ^756, had I completed my seventh year, than that world- renowned war broke out, which was also to exert great influence upon the next seven years of my life. Frederick the Second, King of Frussia, had fallen upon Saxony, with sixty thousand men ; and instead of announcing his invasion by a declaration of war, he followed it up with a manifesto, composed by himself, as it was said, which explained the causes that had moved and justified him in so monstrous a step. The world, which saw itself appealed to not merely as spectator but as judge, immediately split into two parties, and . our family was an image of the great whole. My grandfather, who, as Sckoff of Frankfort, had carried the coronation canopy over Francis the First, and had received from the Empress a heavy gold chain with her likeness, took the Austrian side along with some of his sons-in-law and daughters. My fattier having been nominated to the imperial council by Charles the Seventh, and sympathising sincerely in the fate of that unhappy monarch, leaned towards Prussia, with the other and smaller half of the family. Our meetings, which had been held on Sundays for many years uninter- FAMIIY DISPUTES, 33 ruptedly, were very soon disturbed. The misunderstandings so common among relatives by marriage, now first found a form in which they could be expressed. Contention, discord, silence, and separation ensued. My grandfather, otherwise a serene, quiet, and easy man, became impatient. The women vainly endeavoured to smother the flames ; and after some unpleasant scenes, my father was the first to quit the society. At home now we rejoiced undisturbed in the Prus- sian victories, which were commonly announced with great glee by our vivacious aunt. Every other interest was forced to give way to this, and we passed the rest of the year in perpetual agitation. The occupation of Dresden, the modera- tion of the king at the outset, his slow but secure advances, the victory at Lowositz, the capture of the Saxons, were so many triumphs for our party. Everything that could be alleged for the advantage of our opponents was denied or depreciated; and as the members of the family on the other side did the same, they could not meet in the streets without 1 disputes arising, as in Romeo and Juliet. !' Thus I also was then a Prussian in my views, or, to speak more correctly, a Fritzian ; since what cared we for Prussia ? It was the personal character of the great king that worked upon all hearts. I rejoiced with my father in our conquests, readily copied the songs of triumph, and almost more willingly the lampoons directed against the other party, poor as the rhymes might be. As the eldest grandson and godchild, I had dined every Sunday since my infancy with my grandfather and grand- mother, and the hours so spent had been the most delightfu. of the whole week. But how I relished no morsel that I lasted, because I was compelled to hear the most horrible slanders of my hero. Here blew another wind, here sounded another tone than at home. My liking and even my respect for my grandfather and grandmother fell off. I could mention nothing of this to my parents, but avoided the matter, both on account of my own feelings, and because I had been warned by my mother. In this way I was thrown back upon myself; and as in my sixth year, after the earthquake at Lisbon, the goodness of God had become to me in some measure suspicious, so I began now, on account of Frederick the Second, to doubt the justice of the public. My heart was naturally inclined to 34 truth ai'b poetky; raoM MY own ijpe. reverence, and it required a great shock to stagger my faith in anything that was venerable. But alas 1 , they had commended good manners and a beco min g deportment to us, not for their own sake, but for the sake of the people. What will people say ? was always the cry, and I thought that the people must be right good people, and would know how to judge of anything and everything. But my experience went just to the contrary. .The greatest and most signal services were defamed and attacked ; the noblest deeds, if not denied, were at least mis- represented and diminished ; and this base injustice was done to the onlj man who was manifestly elevated above all his con- temporaries, and who daily proved what he was able to do^r- j&nd that, not by the populace, but by distinguished men, as I /took my grandfather and uncles to be. That parties existed, /and that he himself belonged to a party, had never entered ' in|o the conceptions of the Boy. He, therefore, believed him- self all the more right, and dared hold his own opinion for the better one, sjnce he and those of like mind appreciated the beauty and other good qualities of Maria Theresa, and even did not grudge the Emperor Francis his love of jewelry and money. That Count Daun was often called an old dozer, they thought justifiable. iBut now I consider the matter more closely, I trace here the germ of that disregard and even disdain of the public, which clung to me for a whole period of my life, and only in later days was brought within bounds by insight and cultiva- tion. Suffice it to say, that the perception of the injustice of parties had even then a very unpleasant, nay, an injurious effect upon the Boy, as it accustomed him to separate himself from beloved and highly-valued persons. The quick suc- cession of battles and events left the parties neither quiet nor rest. We _ ever found a malicious delight in reviving and •■e-sharpening those imaginary evils and capricious disputes ; and thus we continued to tease each other, until the occupa- tion of Frankfort by the French some years afterwards, brought real inconvenience into our homes. .Although to most of us the important events occurring in distant parts served only for topics of ardent controversy, there were others who perceived the seriousness of the times, and feared that the sympathy of France might open a scene *f war in our own vicinity. They kept us children at home IN-DOOE AMUSEMENTS. 85 more than before, and strove in many ways to occupy and amuse us. With this view, the puppet-show bequeathed by our grandmother was again brought forth, and arranged in. such a way that the spectators sat in my gable room, while the persons managing and performing, as well as the theatre itself as far as the proscenium, found a place in the room adjoining. We were allowed, as a special favour, to invito first one and then another of the neighbours' children as spectators, and thus at the outset I gained many friends ; but the restlessness inherent in children, did not suffer them to remain long a patient audience. They interrupted the play, and we were compelled to seek a younger public, which could at any rate be kept in order by the nurses and maids. The original drama to which the puppets had been specially adapted, we had learnt by heart, and in the beginning this was exclusively performed. Soon growing weary of it, however, we changed the dresses and decorations, and attempted various other pieces, which were indeed on too grand a scale for so narrow a stage. Although this presumption spoiled and finally quite destroyed what we performed, such childish pleasures and employments nevertheless exercisSd and advanced in many ways my power of invention and representation, my fancy and a certain technical skill, to a degree which in any other way could not perhaps have been secured in so short a time, in so confined a space, and at so little expense. I had early learned to use compasses and ruler, because all the instructions they gave me in geometry were forthwith put into practice, and I occupied myself greatly with paste- board-work. I did not stop at geometrical figures, little boxes, and such things, but invented pretty pleasure-houses adorned with pilasters, steps, and flat roofs. However, but little of this was completed. Far more persevering was I, on the other hand, in arranging, with the help of our domestic (a tailor by trade), an armoury for the service of our plays and tragedies, which we ourselves performed with delight when we had outgrown the puppets. My playfellows, too, prepared for themselves such armouries, which they regarded as quite as fine and good as mine ; but I had made provision not for the wants of one person only, and could furnish several of the little band with every requisite, and thus made myself more and more indispensable to our 1)2 36 TRUTH AHD POETRY J FEOM MY OWN LIFE. little circle. That such games tended to factions, quarrels, and blows, and commonly came to a sad end in tumult and vexation, may easily be supposed. In such cases certain of my companions generally took part with me, while others sided against me ; though many changes of party occurred. One single boy, whom I will call Pylades, urged by the others, once only left my party, but could scarcely for a moment maintain his hostile position. We were reconciled amid many tears, and for a long time afterwards kept faithfully together. To him, as well as other well-wishers, I could render myseb very agreeable by telling tales, which they most delighted tc near when I was the hero of my own story. It greatly re- joiced them to know that such wonderful things could befall one of their own playfellows ; nor was it any harm that they did not understand, how I could find time and space for such adventures, as they must have been pretty well aware of all my comings and goings, and how I was occupied the entire day. Not the less necessary was it for me to select the localities of these occurrences, if not in another world, at least in another spot ; and yet all was told as having taken place only to-day or yesterday. They rather, therefore, deceived themselves, than were imposed upon by me. If I had not gradually learned, in accordance with the instincts -of— my ^nature, to work up these visions and conceit* into, artistic forms", such vain-^hjrioTiS "begmrrings-corrltL not liave gone on without producing evil consequences for myself in the end. Considering this impulse more closely, we may see in it that presumption with which the poet authoritatively utters the greatest improbabilities, and requires every one to recog- nise as real whatever may in any way seem to him, the inventor, as true. But what is here told only in general terms, and by way. of reflection, will perhaps become more apparent and interesting by means of an example. I subjoin, therefore, one of these tales, which, as I often had to repeat it to my comrades, arill hovers entire in my imagination and memory. ar THE NEW PARIS. A BOY'S T/EGEJfD. Oil the night before Whit Sunday, not long since, I dreamed that I stood before a mirror, engaged with the new summer clothes which my dear parents had given me for the holiday. The dress consisted, as you know, of shoes of polished leather, with large silver buckles, fine cotton stockings, black nether garments of serge, and a coat of green baracan with gold buttons. The waistcoat of gold cloth was cut out of my father's bridal waistcoat. My hair had been frizzled and pow- dered, and my curls stuck out from my head like little wings ; but I could not finish dressing myself, because I kept confusing the different articles, the first always .falling off as soon as I was about to put on the next. In this dilemma, a young and handsome man came to me, and greeted me in the friendliest manner. " O ! you are welcome!" said I, "I am very glad to see you here." " Do you know me, then ?" replied he, smiling. " Why not?" was my no less smiling answer ; " you are Mer- cury — I have often enough seen you represented in pictures." " I am, indeed," replied he; "and am sent to you by the gods on an important errand. Do you see these three apples?" — he stretched forth his hand, and showed me three apples, which it could hardly hold, and which were as wonderfully beautiful as they were large, the one of a red, the other of a yellow, the third of a green colour. One could not help thinking they were precious stones made into the form of fruit. I would have snatched them, but he drew back, and said, " You must know, in the first place, that they are not for you. You must give them to the three handsomest youths of the city, who then, each according to his lot, will find wives to the utmost of their wishes. Take them, and success to you!" said he, as he departed, leaving the apples in my open hands. They appeared to me to have become still larger. I held them up at once against the light and found them quite transparent ; but soon they expanded upwards, and became three beautiful little ladies, about as large as middle-sized dolls, whose clothes were of the colours of the apples. They glided gently up my fingers, and when J was about to catch at them, to make sure of one at least, they had already soared high and far, and I 38 TllUTII ASP, POETKT ; FBOM. MY OWN L1F3. had to put upv.ith the disappointment. I stood there all amazed and petrified, holding up my hands and staring at my fingers, as if there were still something on them to see. Sud- denly I beheld, upon the very tips, a most lovely girl dancing, smaller than those, but pretty and lively, and as she did not fly away like the others, but remained dancing, now on one finger-point now on another, I regarded her for a long while with admiration. And, as she pleased me so much, I thought in the end I could catch her, and made as I fancied a very adroit grasp. But at the moment I felt such a blow on my head, that I fell down stunned, and did not awake from my stupor till it was time to dress myself and go to church. During the service I often recalled those images to mind ; and also when I was eating dinner at my grand-father's table. In the afternoon, I wished to visit some friends, partly to show myself in my new dress, with my hat under my arm and my sword by my side, and partly to return their visits. I 'found no one at home, and, as I heard that they were gone to the gardens, I resolved to follow them, and pass the evening pleasantly. My way led towards the en- trenchments, and I came to the spot which is rightly called the Bad Wall ; for it is never quite safe from ghosts there. I walked slowly, and thought of my three goddesses, but espe- cially of the little nymph ; and often held up my fingers, in hopes she might be kind enough to balance herself there again. With such thoughts I was proceeding, when I saw in the wall on my left hand a little gate, which I did not remem- ber to have ever noticed before. It looked low, but its pointed arch would have allowed the tallest man to enter. Arch and wall were chiselled out in the handsomest way, both by mason and sculptor ; but it was the door itself which first properly attracted my attention, The old brown wood, though slightly ornamented, was crossed with broad bands of brass, wrought both in relief and intaglio. The foliage on these, with the most natural birds- sitting in it, I could not sufficiently admire. But, what seemed most remarkable, no keyhole could be seen, no latch, no knocker ; and from this I conjectured that the door could be opened only from within. I was not in error ; for when I went nearer, in order to touch the ornaments, it opened inwards, and there appeared a man whose dress was somewhat long; wide, and singular. A venerable beard enve- ■ " i'HE MEW park. 39 loped his chin, so that I was inclined to think him a Jew. But he, af if he had; divined mythoughts, made the sign of the Holy Cross, by which lie gave me to understand that he was a good Catholic "Christian. "Young gentleman, how came you here, and what are you doing ?" — he said to me, with a friendly voice and manner. " I am admiring," I re- plied, " the workmanship of this door ; for I have never seen anything like it, except in some small pieces in the collections of amateurs." "I am glad," he answered, "that you like such works. The door is much more beautiful inside. Come in, if you like." My heart, in some degree, failed me. The mysterious dress of the porter, the seclusion, and a something, T know not what, that seemed to be in the air, oppressed mc. I paused, therefore, under the pretext of examining the outside still longer; and at the same time_ I cast stolen 1 glances into the garden, for a garden it was whiclwhad opened before me. Just inside the door I saw a space. Old-Unden trees, standing at regular distances from each other, enQxely covered it with their thickly interwoven branches, so that m most numerous parties, during the hottest of the day, might have refreshed themselves in the shade. Already I had stepped upon the threshold, and the old man contrived gra- dually to allure me on. Properly speaking, I did not resist ; for I had always heard that a prince or sultan in such a case must never ask whether there be danger at hand. I had my sword by my side, too ; and could I not soon have finished with the old man, in case of hostile demonstrations ? I there- fore entered perfectly reassured ; the keeper closed the door, which bolted so softly that I scarcely heard it. He now showed me the workmanship on the inside, which in truth was Still more artistic than the outside, explained it to me, and at the Same time manifested' particular good-will. Being thus entirely at my ease, I let myself be guided in the shaded space by the wall, that formed a circle, where I found much to admire. Niches tastefully adorned with shells, corals, and pieces of ore, poured a profusion of water from the mouths of Tritons into" marble basins. Between them were aviaries and other lattice-work, in which squirrels frisked about, guinea- pigs ran hither and thither, with as many other pretty little creatures as one could wish to see. The birds called and sang to us as we advanced ; the starlings particularly chattered tho ■40 TKTJTH AND POETE"? ; FKOM Mr OTOT IIFE silliest stuff. One always cried, Paris ! Paris ! and the other Narcissus ! Narcissus ! as plainly as a schoolboy can say them. The old man seemed to continue looking at me earnestly •while the birds called out thus, but I feigned not to notice it, and had in truth no time to attend to him ; for I could easily per- ceive that we went round and round, and that this shaded space was in fact a great circle, which inclosed another much more important. Indeed we had actually reached the small door again, and it seemed as though the old man would let me out. But my eyes remained directed towards a golden railing, which seemed to hedge round the middle of this wonderful garden, and which I had found means enough of observing in our walk, although the old man managed to keep me always close to the wall, and therefore pretty far from the centre. And now, just as he was-going-to the, door, I said to him, with a bow, " You have been so extremely kind to me, that I would fain venture to make one more request before I part from you. Might I not look more closely at that golden railing, which appears to inclose in a very wide circle the interior of the garden?" " Very willingly," replied he : " but in that case you must submit to some conditions." " In what do they consist ?" I asked hastily. " You must leave here your hat and sword, and must not let go my hand while I accompany you." "Most willingly," I replied; and laid my hat and sword on the nearest stone bench. Immediately he grasped my left hand with his right, held it fast, and led me with some force straight forwards. When we reached the railing, my wonder changed into amazement. On a high socle of marble stood innumerable spears and partisans, ranged beneath each other, joined by their strangely ornamented points, and forming a complete circle. I looked through the intervals, and saw just behind a gently flowing piece of water, bounded on both sides by marble, and displaying in its clear depths a multitude of gold and silver fish, which moved about now slowly and now swiftly, now alone and now in shoals. I would also fain have looked beyond the canal, to see what there was in the heart of the garden. But I found; to my great sorrow, that the other side of the water was bordered by a similar railing, and with so much art, that to each interval on this side exactly fitted a spear or partisan on the .other. Theso and the other ornaments rendered it impossible for one to see THE NEW PAKIS. 41 through, stand as one would. Besides, the old man, who still held me fast, prevented me from moving freely . My curiosity, meanwhile, after all that I had seen, increased more and more ; and I took heart to ask the old man whether one could not pass over. "Why not?" returned he, "but on new condi- tions." When I asked him what these were, he gave me to understand that I must put on other clothes. I was satisfied to do so ; he led me back towards the wall, into a small neat room, on the sides of which hung many kinds of garments, all of which seemed to approach the oriental costume. I soon changed my dress. He confined my powdered hair under a many coloured net, after having to my horror violently dusted it out. Now standing before a great mirror, I found myself quite handsome in my disguise, and pleased myself better than in my formal Sunday clothes. I made gestures and leaped as I had seen the dancers do at the Fair-theatre. In the midst of this I looked in the glass, and saw by chance the image of a niche which was behind me. On its white ground hung three green cords, each of them twisted up in a way which from the distance I could not clearly discern. I there- fore turned round rather hastily, and asked the old man about the niche as well as the cords. He very courteously took a cord down, and showed it to me. It was a band of green silk of moderate thickness ; the ends of which joined by green leather with two holes in it, gave it the appearance of an in- strument for no very desirable purpose. The thing struck me as suspicious, and I asked the old man the meaning. He answered me very quietly and kindly, " This is for those who abuse the confidence which is here readily shown them." He hung the cord again in its place, and immediately desired me •to follow him ; for this time he did not hold me, and so I walked freely beside him. My chief curiosity now was to discover where the gate and bridge, for passing through the railing and over the canal, might be ; since as yet I had not been able to find anything of the kind. I therefore watched the golden fence very narrowly as we hastened towards it. But in a moment my sight failed ; lances, spears, halberds, and partisans, began unexpectedly to rattle and quiver, and this strange movement ended in all the points sin king towards each other, just as if two ancient hosts, armed with pikes, were about to charge. The confusion lo 42 TRUTH AND POETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. the C3-es, the clatter to the ears, was hardly" to be borne : but infinitely surprising was the sight when falling perfectly level, they covered the circle of the canal, and formed the' most glorious bridge that one can imagine. For now a most varie- gated garden parterre met my sight. It was laid out in cur- vilinear beds, which, looked at together, formed a labyrinth of ornaments; all with green borders of a low woolly plant, which I had. never seen before ; all with flowers, each division of different colours, which being likewise low and close to the ground, allowed the plan to be easily traced. This delicious sight, which I enjoyed in the full sunshine, quite rivetted my eyes. But I hardly knew where I was to set my foot ; for the serpentine paths were most delicately laid with blue sand, which seemed, to form upon the earth a darker sky, or a sky seen in the water : and so I walked for a while beside my conductor, with my eyes fixed upon the ground, until at last I perceived that, in the middle of this round of beds and flowers, there was a great circle of cypresses or poplar-like, trees, through which one could not see, because the lowest branches seemed to spring out of the ground. My guide, without taking me directly the shortest way, led me nevertheless immediately towards that centre : and how was I astonished, when on entering the circle of high trees, I saw before me the peristyle of a magnificent garden-house, which seemed to have similar prospects and entrances on the other sides ! The heavenly music which streamed from the building, transported me still more than this model of architecture. I fancied that I heard now a lute, now a harp, now a guitar, and now some- thing tinkling, which did not belong to any of these instru- ments. The door which we approached opened soon after a light touch by the old man. But how was I amazed, when the porteress, who came out, perfectly resembled the delicate girl who had danced upon my fingers in the dream ! She greeted me as if we were already acquainted, and invited me to walk in. The old man remained behind, and I went with her through a short passage, arched and finely ornamented, to the middle hall, the splendid dome-like ceiling of which attracted my gaze on my entrance, and filled me with asto- nishment. Yet my eye could not linger long on this, being allured down by a more charming spectacle. On a carpet, directly under the middle of the cupola, sat three women, ia THE NEW PAKIS. <*8 a triangle, clad in three different colours ; one red, the other yellow, the third green. The seats were gilt, and the carpei was a perfect flower-bed. In their arms lay the three instru- ments which I had been able to distinguish from the outside ; for being disturbed by my arrival, they had stopped their play- ing. " Welcome !" said the middle one, who sat with her face to the door, in a red dress, and with the harp. " Sit down by Alerte, and listen, if you are a lover of music.'' Now first I remarked that there was a rather long bench placed obliquely before them, on which lay a mandoline. The pretty girl took it up, sat down, and drew me to her side. Now also I looked at the second lady on my right. She wore the yellow dress, and had the guitar in her hand ; and if the harp-player was dignified in form, grand in features, and majestic in her deportment, one might remark in the guitar- player an easy grace and cheerfulness. She was a slender blonde — while the other was adorned by dark brown hair. The variety and accordance of their music could not prevent me from remarking the third beauty, in the green dress, whose lute-playing was for me at once touching and striking. She was the one who seemed to notice me the most, and to direct her music to me ; only I could not make up my mind about her ; for she appeared to me now tender, now whimsical, now frank, now self-willed, according as she changed her mien and mode of playing. Sometimes she seemed to wish to move me, sometimes to teaze me ; but do what she would, she got little out of me ; for my little neighbour, by whom I sat elbow to elbow, had gained me entirely to herself; and while I clearly saw in those three ladies the Sylphides of my dream, and re- cognised the colours of the apples, I conceived that I had no cause to detain them. The pretty little maiden I would rather have captured, if I had not but too feelingly remem- bered the blow which she had given me in my dream. Hitherto she had remained quite quiet with her mandoline ; but when her mistresses had ceased, they commanded her to perform some pleasant little piece. Scarcely had she jingled off some dancing tune, in a most exciting manner, than she sprang up ; I did the same. She played and danced ; I was- hurried on to accompany her steps, and we executed a kind of little ballet, with which the ladies seemed satisfied;, for as- eoon as we had done, they commanded the little girl to refresh 44 TKUTH AND POETEY ; FROM MY. OWN LIFE. me with something nice till supper should come in. I had indeed forgotten that there was anything in the world beyond ■this paradise. Alerteled me back immediately into the passage by which I had entered. On one side of it she had two well- arranged rooms. In that in which she lived, she set before me oranges, figs, peaches, and grapes ; and I enjoyed with great gusto both the fruits of foreign lands and those of our own not yet in season. Confectionary there was in profusion; she filled, too, a goblet of polished crystal with foaming wine ; but I had no need to drink, as I had refreshed myself with the fruits. " Now we will play," said she, and led me into the other room. Here all looked like a Christmas fair ; but 6uch costly and exquisite things were never seen in a Christ- mas booth. There were all kinds of dolls, dolls' clothes, and dolls' furniture ; kitchens, parlours, and shops, and single toys innumerable. She led me round to all the glass cases, in which these ingenious works were preserved. But she soon closed again the first cases, and said— "That is nothing for you, I know well enough. Here," she said, " we could find building materials, walls and towers, houses, palaces, churches, to put together a great city. But this does not entertain me. We will take something else, which will be pleasant alike to both of us." Then she brought out some boxes, in which I saw an army of little soldiers piled one upon the other, of which I must needs confess that I had never seen anything so beautiful. She did not leave me time to examine them closely in detail, but took one box under her arm, while I seized the other.—*" We will go," she said, " upon the golden bridge. There one plays best with soldiers ; the lances give at once the direction in which the armies are to be opposed to each other." We had now reached the golden trembling floor ; and below me I could hear the waters gurgle, and the fishes splash, while I knelt down to range my columns. All, as I now saw, were cavalry. She boasted that she had the Queen of the Amazons as leader of her female host. I, on the contrary, found Achilles and a very stately Grecian cavalry. The armies stood facing each other, and nothing could have been seen more beautiful. They were not flat leaden horsemen like ours, but man and horse were round and solid, and most finely wrought ; nor could one conceive how they kept their balance, for they stood of themselves, without a support for their feet. THE NEW PARIS. 4& Both of us had inspected our hosts with much self-compla- cency, when she announced the onset. We had found ordnance in our chests, viz., little boxes full of well-polished agate balls. With these we were to fight against each other from a certain distance, while, however, it was an express condition that we should not throw with more force than was necessary to upset the figures, as none of them were to be injured. Now the cannonade began on both sides, and at first it succeeded to the satisfaction of us both. But when my adversary observed that I aimed better than she, and might in the end win the victory, which depended on the majority of pieces remaining upright, she came nearer, and her girlish way of throwing had then the desired result. She prostrated a multitude of my best troops, and the. more I protested the more eagerly did she throw. This at last vexed me, and I declared that "l would do the same. In fact, I not only went nearer, but in my rage threw with much more violence, so that it was not long before a pair of her little centauresses flew in pieces. In her eagerness she did not instantly notice it, but I stood petrified when the broken figures joined together again of themselves ; Amazon and horse became again one whole, and also perfectly close, set up a gallop from the golden bridge under the lime-trees, and running swiftly backwards and for- wards, were lost in their career, I know not how, in the direction of the wall. My fair opponent had hardly perceived this, when she broke out into loud weeping and lamentation, and exclaimed that I had caused her an irreparable loss, which was far greater than could be expressed. But I, by this time provoked, was glad to annoy her, and blindly flung, a couple of the remaining agate balls with force into the midst of her army. Unhappily I hit the queen, who had hitherto, during our regular game, been excepted. She flew in pieces, and her nearest officers were also shivered. But they swiftly set themselves up again, and started off like the others, galloping 7ery merrily about under the lime-trees, and disappearing against the wall. My opponent scolded and abused me ; but being now in full play, I stooped to pick up some agate balls which rolled about upon the golden lances. It was my fierce desire to destroy her whole army. She, on the other hand, not idle, sprang at me, and gave me a box on the ear which mads my head ring again. Having always heard that a 46 TRUTH AND POETRY; FSOM MT OWN I.IFE. hearty kiss was the proper response to a girl's box of the ear, I took her by the ears, and kissed her repeatedly. But she gave such a piercing cry as frightened even me ; I let her go, and it was fortunate that I did so ; for in a moment I knew not what was happening to me. The ground beneath me began to quake and rattle ; I soon remarked that the railings again set themselves in motion ; but I had no time to con- sider, nor could I get a footing so as to fly. I feared every instant to be pierced, for the partisans and lances, which had lifted themselves up, were already slitting my clothes. It is. sufficient to say that, I know not how it was, hearing and sight failed me, and I recovered from my swoon and terror at the foot of a lime-tree, against which the pikes in springing up had thrown me. As I awoke, my anger awakened also, and violently increased when I heard from the other side the gibes and laughter of my opponent, who had probably reached the A earth somewhat more softly than I. Thereupon I sprang up, and as I saw the little host, with its leader Achilles, scattered around me, having been driven over with me by the rising of the rails, I seized the hero first and threw him against a tree. His resuscitation and flight now pleased me doubly, a malicious pleasure combining with the prettiest sight in the world ; and I was on the point of sending all the other Greeks after him, when suddenly hissing waters spurted at me on all sides, from stones and walls, from ground and branches ; and wherever I turned dashed against me crossways. My light garment was in a short time wet through ; it was already rent, and I did not hesitate to tear it entirely off my body. I cast away my slippers, and one covering after another. Nay, at last I found it very agreeable to let such a shower-bath play over me in the warm day. Now, being quite naked, I walked gravely along between these welcome waters, where I thought to enjoy myself for some time. My anger cooled, and I wished for nothing more than a reconcilia- tion with my little adversary. But, in a twinkling the water stopped, and I stood drenched upon the saturated ground. The presence of the old man, who appeared before me unex- pectedly, was by no means welcome ; I could have wished, if not to hide, at least to clothe myself. The shame, the shiver- ing, the effort to cover myself in some degree, made me cut a most piteous figure. The old man employed the moment i». THE NEW TARTS, 4? venting the severest reproaches against me. " What hinders me," he exclaimed, " from taking one of the green cords, and -fitting it, if not to your neck, to your back?" This threat I took in very ill part. " Refrain," I cried, " from such words, even from such thoughts, for otherwise you and your mis- tresses will be lost." " Who then are you," he asked in defiance, " who dare speak thus ?" " A favourite of the gods," I said, " on whom it depends whether those ladies shall find worthy husbands and pass a happy life, or be left to pine and wither in their magic cell." The old man stepped some paces back. " Who has revealed that to you?" he inquired, with astonishment and concern. " Three apples," I said — "three jewels." "And what reward do you require?" he exclaimed. " Before all things, the little creature," I replied, " who has brought me into this accursed state." The old man cast himself down before me, without shrinking from the wet and miry soil ; then he arose without being wetted, took me kindly by the hand, led me into the hall, clad me again quickly, and I was soon once more decked out and frizzled in my Sunday fashion as before. The porter did not speak another word ; but before he let me pass the entrance, he stopped me, and showed me some objects on the wall over the way, while, at the same time, he pointed backwards to the door. I understood him ; he wished to imprint the objects on my mind, that I might the more certainly find the door, which had unexpectedly closed behind me, I now took good notice of what was opposite to me. Above a high wall rose the boughs of extremely old nut-trees, and partly covered the cornice at the top. The branches reached down to a stone tablet, the ornamented border of which I could perfectly recognise, though I could not read the inscription. It rested on the top-stone of a niche, in which a finely-wrought foun- tain poured water from cup to cup into a great basin, that formed, as it were, a little pond, and disappeared in the earth. Fountain, inscription, nut-trees, all stood directly one above another ; I. would paint it as I saw it. Now, it may well be conceived how I passed this evening and many following days, and how often I repeated to mysel this story, which even I could hardly believe. As .soon as it was in any degree possible, I went again to the Bad Wall, at least to refresh my remembrance of these signs, and to look at -JS TRUTH AND F0ETBY ; FEOM Sir OWN LIFE. the. precious door. But, to my great amazement, I found ail changed. Nut-trees, indeed, overtopped the wall, but they did not stand immediately in contact. A tablet also was in- serted in the wall, but far to the right of the trees, without ornament, and with a legible inscription. A niche with a fountain was found far to the left, but with no resemblance whatever to that which I had seen ; so that I almost believed that the second adventure was, like the first, a dream ; for of the door there is not the slightest trace. The only thing that consoles me is the observation, that these three objects seem always -to change their places. For in repeated visits to the spot, I think I have noticed that the nut-trees have moved somewhat nearer together, and that the tablet and the fountaii: seem likewise to approach each other. Probably, when all is brought together again, the door, too, will once more be visible ; and I will do my best to take up the thread of the adventure. Whether I shall be able to tell you what further happens, or whether it will be expressly forbidden me, I cannot say. This tale, of the truth of which my playfellows vehemently strove to convince themselves, received great applause. Each of them visited alone the place described, without confiding it to me or the others, and discovered the nut-trees, the tablet, and the spring, though always at a distance from each other ; as they at last confessed to me afterwards, because it is not easy to conceal a secret at that early age. But here the con- test first arose. One asserted that the objects did not stir from the spot and always maintained the same distance: a second averred that they did move, and that too away from each other : a third agreed with the latter as to the first point of their moving, though it seemed to him that the nut-tree, tablet, and fountain rather drew near together : while a fourth had something still more wonderful to announce, which was, that the nut-trees were in the middle, but that the tablet and the fountain were on sides opposite to those which I had stated. With respect to the traces of the little door they also varied. _ And thus they furnished me an early instance of the contradictory views men can hold and maintain in regard to matters quite simple and easily cleared up. As I obstinately refused the continuation of my tale, a repetition of the fire* part was often desired, I was on my guard, however, not to JUVENILE STOICISM. 4? change the circumstances much, and by the uniformity of the narrative I converted the fable into truth in the minds of my hearers. Yet I was averse to falsehood and dissimulation, and alto- gether by no means frivolous. Rather, on the contrary, tne inward earnestness with which I had early begun to consider myself and the world, was seen even in my exterior, and I was frequently called to account, often in a friendly way, and often in raillery, for a certain dignity which I had assumed. For, although good and chosen friends were cer- tainly not wanting to me, we were always a minority against those who found pleasure in assailing us with wanton rude- ness, and who indeed often awoke us in no gentle fashion from that legendary and self-complacent dreaming in which we — 1 by inventing, and my companions by sympathising— were too readily absorbed. Thus we learned once more, that instead of sinking into effeminacy and fantastic delights, there was reason rather for hardening ourselves, in order either to bear or to counteract inevitable evils. Among the stoical exercises which I cultivated, as earnestly as it was possible for a lad, was even the endurance of bodily pain. Our teachers often treated us very unkindly and unskil- fully, with blows and cuffs,' against which we hardened our- selves all the more as obstinacy was forbidden under the severest penalties. A great many of the sports of youth, moreover, depend on a rivalry in such endurances ; as, for instance, when they strike each other alternately, with two fingers or the whole fist, till the limbs are numbed, or when they bear the penalty of blows, incurred in certain games, with more or less firmness; when in wrestling or scuffling they do not let themselves be perplexed by the pinches of a half-conquered opponent; or finally, when they suppress the pain inflicted for the sake of teasing, and even treat with indifference the nips and ticklings with which young persons are so active towards each other. Thus we gain a great advantage, of which others cannot speedily deprive us. But as I made a sort of boast of this impassiveness, the im- , portunity of the others was increased ; and, since rude bar- barity knows no limits, it managed to force me beyond my bounds. Let one case suffice for several. It happened once that the teacher did not come for the usual hour of instruction. 50 TRUTH AND POETBY. ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. As long as we children were all together, we entertained ourselves quite agreeably; but when my adherents, after wait- ing long enough, went away, and I remained alone with three of my enemies, these took it into their heads to torment me, to shame me, and to drive me away. Having Deft me an instant in the room, they came back with switches, which they had made by quickly cutting up a broom. I noted their design, and as I supposed the end of the hour near, I at once resolved not to resist them till the clock struck. They began, therefore, without remorse, to lash my legs and calves in the cruellest fashion. I did not stir, but soon felt that I had mis- calculated, and that such pain greatly lengthened the minutes. My wrath grew with my endurance, and at the first stroke of the hour, I grasped the one who least expected it by the hair behind, hurled him to the earth in an instant, pressing my knee upon his back ; the second, a younger and weaker one, who attacked me from behind, I drew by the head under my arm, and almost throttled him with the pressure. The last, and not the weakest, still remained ; and my left hand only was left for my defence. But I seized him by the clothes, and with a dexterous twist on my part, and an over precipitate one on his, I brought him down and struck his face on the ground. They were not wanting in bites, pinches, and kicks, but I had nothing but revenge in my limbs as well as in my heart. With the advantage which I had acquired, I repeatedly knocked their heads together. At last they raised a dreadful shout of murder, and we were soon surrounded by all the inmates of the house. The switches scattered around, and my legs, which I had bared of the stockings, soon bore witness for me. They put off the punishment, and let me leave the house ; but I declared that in futn-e, on the slightest offence, I would scratch out the eyes, teat >ff the ears, of any one of them, if not throttle him. This event, though, as usually happens in childish affairs, it was soon forgotten, and even laughed over, was yet the cause that these instructions in common became fewer, and at last entirely ceased. I was thus again, as formerly, kept more at home, where I found my sister Cornelia, who was only one year younger than myself, a companion always growing more agreeable. Still, I will not leave this topic without narrating some more EUDENESS OP JUVENILE COMPANIONS 51 stories of the many vexations caused me by my playfellows ; for this is the instructive part of such moral communications, that a man may learn how it has gone with others, and what he also has to expect from life ; and that whatever comes to pass, he may consider that it happens to him as a man, and not as one specially fortunate or unfortunate. If such know- ledge is of little use for avoiding evils, it is very serviceable so far as it qualifies us to understand our condition, and bear or even to overcome it. Another general remark will not be out of place here, which is, that as the children of the cultivated classes grow up, a great contradiction appears. I refer to the fact, that they are urged and trained, by parents and teachers, to deport them- selves moderately, intelligently, and even wisely; to give pain to no one from petulance or arrogance, and to suppress all the evil impulses which may be developed in them ; but yet, on the other hand, while the young creatures are engaged in this discipline, they have to suffer from others that which in them is reprimanded and punished. In this way, the poor things are brought into a sad strait between the natural and civilised states, and after restraining themselves for a while, break out according to their characters into cunning or violence. Force is rather to be put down by force ; but a well-disposed child, inclined to love and sympathy, has little to oppose to scorn and ill-will. Though I managed pretty well to keep off the active assaults of my companions, I was by no means equal to them in sarcasm and abuse ; because he who merely defends himself in such cases, is always a loser. Attacks of this sort, consequently, when they went so far as to excite anger, were repelled with physical force, or at least excited strange reflections in me, which could not be without results. Among other advantages which my ill-wishers grudged me, was the pleasure I took in the relations that accrued to the family from my grandfather's position of Schultheiss, since, as he was the first of his class, this had no small effect on those belonging to him. Once, when after the holding of the Piper' s- court, I appeared to pride myself on having seen my grand- father in the midst of the council, one step higher than the rest, enthroned, as it were, urider the portrait of the Emperor, one of the boys said to me in derision, that like the peacock contemplating his feet, I should cast my eyes back <■« my e 2 62 TRUTH AND POETRY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE. paternal grandfather, who had been keeper of the Willow-inn, and would never have aspired to thrones and coronets. I replied that I was in no wise ashamed of that, as it was the glory and honour of our native eity that all its citizens might consider eaeh other equal, and every one derive profit and honour from his exertions in his own way. I was sorry only that the good man had been so long dead; for I had often yearned to know him in person, had many times gazed upon his likeness, nay, had visited his tomb, and had at least derived pleasure from the inscription on the simple monu- ment of that past existence to which I was indebted for my own. Another ill-wisher, who was the most malicious of all, took the first aside, and whispered something in his ear, while they still looked at me scornfully. My gall already began to rise, and I challenged them to speak out. " What is more, then, if you will have it," continued the first, " this one thinks you might go looking about a long time before you could find your grandfather !" I now threatened them more vehemently if they did not more clearly explain themselves. Thereupon -hey brought forward an old story, which they pretended to have overheard from their parents, that my father was the son of some eminent man, while that good citizen had shown him- self willing to take outwardly the paternal office. They had the impudence to produce all sorts of arguments; as, for example, that our property came exclusively from our grand- mother, that the other collateral relations, who lived in Fried- burg and other places, were all alike destitute of property, and other reasons of the sort, which could merely derive their weight from malice. I listened to them more composedly than they expected, for they stood ready to fly the very moment that I should make a gesture as if I would seize their hair. But I replied quite calmly, and in substance, " that even this was no great injury to me. Life was such a boon, that one might be quite indifferent as to whom one had to thank for it, since at least it must be derived from God, before whom we all were equals." As they could make nothing of it, they let the matter drop for this time ; we went on playing together as before, which among children is an approved mode of reconciliation. _ Still these spiteful words inoculated me with, a sort of moral disease, which crept on in secret. It would not have dis- goethe's befitted geandfather. 53 pleased me at all to have been the grandson of any person of consideration, even if it had not been in the most lawful way. My acuteness followed up the scent — my imagination was excited, and my sagacity put in requisition. I began to inves- tigate the allegation, and invented or found for it new grounds of probability. I had heard little said of my grandfather, except that his likeness, together with my grandmother's, had nung in a parlour of the old house ; both of which, after the building of the new one, had been kept in an upper chamber. My grandmother must have been a very handsome woman, and of the same age as her husband. I remembered, also, to have seen in her room the miniature of a handsome gentleman in uniform, with star and order, which, after her death, and during the confusion of house-building, had disappeared with many other small pieces of furniture. These, and many other things, I put together in my childish head, and exercised that modern poetical talent which contrives to obtain the sympa- thies of the whole cultivated world by a marvellous combina- tion of the important events of human life. But as I did not venture to trus]t such an affair to any one, or even to ask the most remote questions concerning it, I wa.. not wanting in a secret diligence, in order to get, if possible, somewhat nearer to the matter. I had heard it explicitly maintained, that sons often bore a decided resemblance to their fathers or grandfathers. Many of our friends, especially Councillor Schneider, a friend of the family, were connected by business with all the princes and noblemen of the neigh- bourhood, of whom, including both the ruling and the younger branches, not a few had estates on the Rhine and Maine, and in the intermediate country, and who at times honoured their faithful agents with their portraits. These, which I had often seen on the walls from my infancy, I now regarded with re- doubled attention, seeking whether I could not detect some resemblance to my father or even to myself, which too often happened to lead me to any degree of certainty. For now it was the eyes of this, now the nose of that, which seemed to indicate some relationship. Thus these marks led me delusively backwards and forwards ; and though in the end I was compelled to regard the reproach as a completely empty tale, the impression remained, and I could not from time to tims refrain from privately calling up and testing all the noble- 54 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM M3T OWN LIFE. men whose images had remained very clear in my fancy. So true is it that whatever inwardly confirms man in his self- conceit, or natters his secret vanity, is so highly desirable to him, that he does not ask further, whether in other respects xt may turn to his honour or his disgrace. But instead of mingling here serious and even reproachful 'reflections, I rather turn my look away from those beautiful times ; for who is able to speak worthily of the fulness of childhood ? "We cannot behold the little creatures which flit about before us otherwise than with delight, nay, with admira- tion ; for they generally promise more than they perform, and it seems that nature, among the other roguish tricks that she plays us, here also especially designs to make sport of us. The first organs she bestows upon children coming into the world, are adapted to the nearest immediate condition of the creature, which, unassuming and artless, makes use of them in the readiest way for its present purposes. The child, con- sidered in and for itself, with its equals, and in relations suited to its powers, seems so intelligent and rational, and at the same time so easy, cheerful, and clever, that one can hardly wish it further cultivation. If children grew up according to earl; indications, we should have nothing but geniuses ; but growth / is not.merely development ; the various organic systems which f constitute one man, spring one from another, follow each ') other, change into each other, supplant each other, and even (consume each other ; so that after a time scarcely a trace is to Ibe found of many aptitudes and manifestations of ability. Even when the talents of the man have on the whole a decided direction, it will be hard for the greatest and most experienced connoisseur to declare them beforehand with confidence, although afterwards it is easy to remark what has pointed to a future. By no means, therefore, is it my design wholly to comprise the stories of my childhood in these first books ; but I will rather afterwards resume and continue many a thread which ran through the early years unnoticed. Here, however, I must remark what an increasing influence the incidents of the . war gradually exercised upon our sentiments and mode of life. The peaceful citizen stands in a wonderful relation to the great events of the world. They already excite and disquiet him from a distance, and even if they do not touch him, he can. FEELINGS OF IHE FRANKFORTERS IN 1757. 55 scarcely refrain from an opinion and a sympathy. Soon he takes a side, as his character or external circumstances may determine. But when such grand fatalities, such important changes, draw nearer to him, then with many outward incon- veniences remains that inward discomfort, which doubles and sharpens the evil and destroys the good which is still possible. Then he has really to suffer from friends and foes, often more from those than from these, and he knows not how to secure and preserve either his interests or his inclinations. The year 1757, which still passed in perfectly civic tranquil- lity, kept us, nevertheless, in great uneasiness of mind. Per- haps no other was more fruitful of events than this. Conquests, achievements, misfortunes, restorations, followed one upon another, swallowed up and seemed to destroy each other ; yet the image of Frederick^ his name and glory, soon hovered again above all. The enthusiasm of his worshippers grew always stronger and more animated, the hatred of his enemies more bitter, and the diversity of opinion, which separated even families, contributed not a little to isolate citizens, already sundered in many ways and on other grounds. For in a city like Frankfort, where three religions divide the inhabitants into three unequal masses, where only a few men, even of the ruling faith, can attain to political power, there must be many wealthy and educated persons who are thrown back upon themselves, and, by means of studies and tastes, form for themselves an individual and secluded existence. It will be i necessary for us to speak of such men, now and hereafter, if we are to bring before us the peculiarities of a Frankfort citizen of that time. My father, immediately after his return from his travels, had in his own way formed the design, that to prepare himself for the service of the city, he would undertake one of the subor- dinate offices, and discharge its duties without emolument, if it were conferred upon him without' balloting. In the con- sciousness of his good intentions, and according to his way of thinking and the conception which he had of himself, he • believed that he deserved such a distinction, which indeed was not conformable to law or precedent. Consequently, when his suit was rejected, he fell into ill-humour and disgust, vowed that he would never accept of any place, and in order to lender it impossible, procured the title of Imperial Councillor, So TKUTH AND FOETKY ; FKOM MT OWN LIlfK. which the Schultheiss and elder Schbffen bear as a special honour. He had thus made himself an equal of the highest, and could not begir again at the bottom. The same impulse induced him also to woo the eldest daughter of the Schultheiss, so that he was excluded from the council on this side also. ' He was now of that number of, recluses v^p^e^^formtiiem- selves into_ a .society. They are a"S fflucTiSatedmTespectTo reacOTother as they are in regard to the whole, and the more \ so as in this seclusion the character becomes more and more uncouth. My father, in his travels and in the world which he had seen, might have formed some conception of a more elegant and liberal mode of life than was, perhaps, common among his fellow-citizens. In this respect, however, he was not entirely without predecessors and associates. The name of Uffenbach is well known. At that time there was a Schoff von Uffenbach, who was generally respected. He had been in Italy, had applied himself particularly to music, sang an agreeable tenor, and having brought home a fine collection of pieces, concerts and oratorios were performed at his house. Now, as he sang in these himself, and held musicians in. great favour, it was not thought altogether suit- able to his dignity, and his invited guests, as well as the other people of the country, allowed themselves many a jocose remark on the matter. I remember, too, a' Baron von Hakel, a rich nobleman, who being married, but childless, occupied a charming house in the Aitonius-street, fitted up with all the appurtenances of a dignified position in life. He also possessed good pictures, engravings, antiques, and much else which generally accumulates with collectors and lovers of art. From time to time he asked the more noted personages to dinner, and was beneficent in a careful way of his own, since he clothed the poor in his own house, but kept back their old rags, and gave them a weekly charity, on condition that they should present themselves every time clean and neat in the clothes bestowed on them. I can recall him but. indistinctly, as a genial, well- made man ; but more clearly his auction, which I attended from beginning to end, and, partly by command of my father, partly from my own impulse, purchased many things "that are still to be found in my collections. At an earlier date than this— so early that I scarcely set DB. OBTH. 57 eyes upon him— John Michael von Loen gained consider- able repute in the literary world, as well as at Frankfort. Not a native of Frankfort, he settled there, and married a sister of my grandmother Textor, whose maiden-name was Lindheim. Familiar with the court and political world, and rejoicing in a renewed title of nobility, he had acquired repu- tation by daring to take part in the various excitements which arose in Church and State. He wrote the Count of Rivera, a didactic romance, the subject of which is made apparent by the second title, " or, the Honest Man at Court." This work was well received, because it insisted on morality even in courts, where prudence only is generally at home ; and thus his labour brought him applause and respect. A second work, for that very reason, would be accompanied by more danger. He wrote The Only True Religion, a book designed to ad- vance tolerance, especially between Lutherans and Calvinists. But here he got in a controversy with the theologians : one Dr. Benner, of Giessen, in particular, wrote against him. Von Loen rejoined ; the contest grew violent and personal, and the unpleasantness which arose from it caused him to accept the office of President at Lingen, which Frederick II. offered him, supposing that he was an enlightened, unpreju- diced man, and not averse to the new views that more exten- sively obtained in France. His former countrymen, whom he left in some displeasure, averred that he was not contented there, nay, could not be so, as a place like Lingen was not to be compared with Frankfort. My father also doubted whether the President would be happy, and asserted that the good uncle would have done better not to connect himself with the king,, as it was generally hazardous to get too near him, extraordinary sovereign as he undoubtedly was ; for it had been seen how disgracefully the famous Voltaire had been arrested in Frank- fort, at the requisition of the Prussian Resident Freitag, though he had formerly stood so high in favour, and had been regarded as the king's teacher in French poetry. There was . no want, on such occasions, of reflections and examples, to warn one against courts and princes' sendee, of which a native Frankforter could scarcely form a conception. An excellent man, Dr. Okih, I will only mention by name, because here I have not so much to erect a monument to i the deserving citizens of Frankfort, but rather refer to them 58 TBUTH AND POETRY % FROM MY OWN 1.IFJS. so far forth as their renown or personal character had some influence upon me in my earliest years. Dr. Orth was a wealthy man, and was also of that number who never took part in the government, although perfectly qualified to do so by his knowledge and penetration. The antiquities of Germany, and more especially of Frankfort, have been much indebted to him ; he published remarks on the so-called Reformation of Frankfort, a work in which the statutes of the state are col- lected. The historical portions of this book I diligently read in my youth. Von Ochsenstein, the eldest of the three brothers whom I have mentioned above as our neighbours, had not been remarkable during his lifetime, in consequence of his recluse habits, but became the more remarkable after his death, by leaving behind him a direction that common working-men should carry him to the grave, early in the morning, in perfect silence, and without an attendant or follower. This was done, and the affair excited great attention in the city, where they were accustomed to the most pompous funerals. All who discharged the customary offices on such occasions, rose against the innovation. But the stout patrician found imitators in all classes, and though such ceremonies were derisively called ox- burials,* they came into fashion, to the advantage of many of the more poorly-provided families, while funeral parades were less and less in vogue. I bring forward this circumstance, because it presents one of the earlier symptoms of that ten- dency to humility and equality, which in the second half of the last century was manifested in so many ways, from above downwards, and broke out in such unlooked-for effects. Nor was there any lack of antiquarian amateurs. There were cabinets of pictures, collections of engravings, while the curiosities of our own country especially were zealously sought and hoarded. The older decrees and mandates of the imperial city, of which no collection had been prepared, were carefully searched for in print and manuscript, arranged in the order of time, and preserved with reverence, as a treasure of native laws and customs. The portraits of Frankforters, which existed in great number, were also brought together, and formed a special department of the cabinets. * A pun upon the name of Ochsenstein. — Trans. THE SENKENBEBGS. 59 Such men my father appears generally to have taken as his models. He was wanting in none of the qualities that pertain io an upright and respectable citizen. Thus, after he had built his house, he put his property of every sort into order. An excellent collection of maps by Schenck and other geographers at that time eminent, the aforesaid decrees and mandates, the portraits, a chest of ancient weapons, a case of remarkable Venetian glasses, cups and goblets, natural curiosi- ties, works in ivory, bronzes, and a hundred other things, were separated and displayed, and I did not fail, whenever an auction occurred, to get some commission for the increase of his possessions. I must still speak of one important family, of which I had heard strange things since my earliest years, and of some of whose members I myself lived to see a great deal that was wonderful — I mean the Senkenbergs. The father, of whom I have little to say, was an opulent man. He had three sons, who even in their youth uniformly distinguished themselves as oddities. Such things are not well received in a limited city, where no one is suffered to render himself conspicuous, either for good or evil. Nicknames and odd stories, long kept in memory, are generally the fruit of such singularity. The ■father lived at the corner of Hare-street {Hasengasse), which took its name from a sign on the house, that represented one hare at least, if not three hares. They consequently called these three brothers only the three Hares, which nick-name they could not shake off for a long while. But as great endowments often announce themselves in youth in the form of singularity and awkwardness, so was it also in this case. The eldest of the brothers was the Reichshqfrath (Imperial Councillor) von Senkenberg afterwards so celebrated. The second was admitted into the magistracy, and displayed eminent abilities, which, however, he subsequently abused in a pettifogging and even infamous way, if not to the injury of his native city, certainly to that of his colleagues. The third brother, a physician and man of great integrity, but who practised little, and that only in high families, preserved even in his old age a somewhat whimsical exterior. He was always very neatly dressed, and was never seen in the street .otherwise than in shoes and stockings, with a well-powdered curled wig, and his hat under his arm. He walked oa 60 TBUTH AND FOETBY; FROM MY OWN LIFB. rapidly, but with a singular sort of stagger, so that he was sometimes on one and sometimes on the other side of the way, and formed a complete zigzag as he went. The wags said that he made this irregular step to get out of the way of the departed souls, who might follow him in a straight line, and that he imitated those who are afraid of a cro- codile. But all these jests and many merry sayings were transformed at last into respect for him, when he devoted his handsome dwelling-house in Eschenheimer-street, with court, garden, and all other appurtenances, to a medical establish- ment, where, in addition to a hospital designed exclusively for the citizens of Frankfort, a botanic garden, an anatomical theatre, a chemical laboratory, a considerable library, and a house for the director, were instituted in a way of which no university need have been ashamed. Another eminent man, whose efficiency in the neighbour- hood and whose writings, rather than his presence, had a very important influence upon me, was Charles Frederick ■your Moser, who was perpetually referred to in our district for his activity in business. He also had a character essen- tially moral, which as the vices of human nature frequently gave him trouble, inclined him to the so-called pious. Thus, what Von Loen had tried to do in respect to court life, he would have done for business-life, introducing into it a more con- scientious mode of proceeding. The great number of small German courts gave rise to a multitude of princes and ser- vants, the former of whom desired unconditional obedience, while the latter, for the most part, would work or serve only according to their own convictions. Thus arose an endless conflict, and rapid changes and explosions, because the effects of an unrestricted course of proceeding become much sooner noxHceablc and injurious on a small scale than on a large one. Many families were in debt, and Imperial Commissions of Pebts were appointed: others found themselves sooner or later on the same road; while the officers either reaped an unconscionable profit, or conscientiously made themselves disagreeable and odious. Moser wished to act as a statesman and man of business, and here his hereditary talent, cultivated to a profession, gave him a decided advantage ; but he at the game time wished to act as a man and a citizen, and surrender as little as possible of his moral dignity. His Prince atut XIOPSTOCK. £ " MESSIAH." 61 Servant, his Daniel in the Lions' Sen, his Relics, paint throughout his own condition, in which he felt himself not indeed tortured, but always cramped. They all indicate im- patience in a condition, to the bearings of which one cannot reconcile oneself, yet from which one cannot get free. "With this mode of thinking and feeling, he was, indeed, often compelled to seek other, employments, which, on account of his great cleverness, were never wanting. I remember him as a pleasing, active, and at the same time gentle man. The name of Klopstock had already produced a great effect upon us, even at a distance. In the outset, people wondered how so excellent a man could be so strangely named; but they soon got accustomed to this, and thought no more of the meaning of the syllables. In my father's library I had hitherto found only the earlier poets, especially those who in his day had gradually appeared and acquired fame. All these had written in rhyme, and my father held rhyme as indispensable in poetical works. Canitz, Hagedorn, Drollinger, Gellert, Creuz, Haller, stood in a row, in handsome calf bindings, to these were added .Neukirch's Telemachus, Koppen's Jerusalem Delivered, and other translations. I had from mf childhood diligently read through the whole of these works, and committed portions to memory, whence I was often called upon to amuse the company. A vexatious era on the other hand opened upon my father, when through Klopstock's Messiah, verses, which seemed to him no verses, became an object of public admiration.* He had taken good care not to buy fhis book; but the friend of the family, Councillor Schneider, smuggled it in, and slipped it into the hands of my mother and her children. On this man of business, who read but little, the Messiah, as soon as it appeared, made a powerful impression. Those pious feelings, so naturally expressed, and yet so beautifully elevated, that agreeable language, even if considered merely as harmonious prose, had so won the otherwise dry man' of business, that he regarded the first ten cantos, of which alone we are properly speaking, as the finest Book of Devotion, and once every year in Passion week, when he managed to escape from business, read it quietly through by himself, and thus refreshed himself for the entire year. In the beginning he " The Messiah is written in hexameter verse. — Trans. 62 TRUTH AND P0ETI41' j FROM MY OWN LIFE. thought to communicate his emotions to his old friend; but he was much shocked when forced to perceive an incurable dislike cherished against a book of such valuable substance, merely because of what appeared to him an indifferent ex- ternal form. It may readily be supposed that their conver- sation often reverted to this topic ; but both parties diverged more and more widely from each other, there were violent scenes, and the compliant man was at last pleased to be silent on his favourite work, that he might not lose, at the same time, a friend of his youth, and a good Sunday meal. It is the most natural wish of every man to make proselytes, and how much did our friend find himself rewarded in secret, when he discovered in the rest of the family hearts so openly disposed for his saint. The copy which he used only one week during the year, was devoted to us all the remaining time. My mother kept it secret, and we children took possession of it when we could, that in leisure hours, hidden in some nook, we might learn the most striking passages by heart, and par- ticularly might impress the most tender as well as the most violent parts on our memory, as quickly as possible. Porcia's dream we recited in a sort of rivalry, and divided between us the wild dialogue of despair between Satan and Adramelech, who have been cast into the Red Sea. The first part, as the strongest, had been assigned to me, and the second, as a little more pathetic, was undertaken by my sister. The alternate and horrible but well-sounding curses flowed only thus from our mouths, and we seized every opportunity to accost each other with these infernal phrases. One Saturday evening, in winter — my father always had himself shaved over night, that on Sunday morning he might dress himself for church at his ease — we sat on a footstool behind the stove, and ntuttered our customary imprecations in a tolerably low voice, while the barber was putting on the lather. But now Adramelech had to lay his iron hands on Satan ; my sister seized me with violence, and recited, softly enough, but with increasing passion :— " Give me thine aid, I intreat thee, will worship thee, if thou requirest. Thee, thou monster abandoned, yes thee, of all criminals blackest ; Aid me, I suffer the tortures of death, which is vengeful, eternal, Once, in the times gone by, with a hot fierce hate I could hate thee, Njw I can hate thee no more ! E'en this is the sharpest of tortures." KLOPSTOCK's " MESSIAH." 63 Thus far all went on tolerably ; but loudly, with a dreadful voice, she cried the following words : — " How am I crushed !" The good surgeon was startled, and emptied the lather- basin into my father's bosom. There was a great uproar, and a severe investigation was held, especially with respect to the mischief which might have been done if the shaving had been actually going forward. In order to relieve ourselves of all suspicions of wantonness in the affair, we confessed our Satanic characters, and the misfortune occasioned, by the hexameters was so apparent, that they were again condemned and banished. Thus children and common people are accustomed to trans, form the great and sublime into a sport, and even a jest ; and tow indeed could they o&p^wiso abide and tolerate it ? THIED BOOK. At that time the general interchange of personal good wishes made the city very lively on New Year's day. Those who otherwise did not easily leave home, donned their best clothes, that for a moment they might be friendly and courteous to their friends and patrons. The festivities at my grandfather's house on this day were pleasures particularly desired by us children. At early dawn the grandchildren had already assembled there to hear the drums, oboes, clarionets, trumpets, and cornets played upon by the military, the city musicians, and whoever else might furnish his tones. The New Year's gifts, sealed and superscribed, were divided by us children among the humbler congratulators, and, as the day advanced, the number of those of higher rank increased. The relations and intimate friends appeared first, then the subordinate offi- cials ; even the gentlemen of the council did not fail to pay their respects to the Schultheiss, and a select number were entertained in the evening in rooms which were else scarcely opened throughout the year. The tarts, biscuits, marchpane, and sweet wine had the greatest charm for the children, and, besides, the Schultheiss and the two Burgomasters annually received from some institutions some article of silver, which was then bestowed upon the grandchildren and godchildren in regular gradation. In fine, this small festival was not wanting in any of those things which usually glorify the greatest. The New Year's day of 1759 approached, as desirable and pleasant to us children as any preceding one, but full of im- port and foreboding to older persons. To the passage of the French troops people certainly had become accustomed, and they happened often, but they had been most frequent in the last days of the past year. According to the old usage of an imperial town, the warder of the chief tower sounded his trumpet whenever troops approached, and on this New- Years day he would not leave off, which was a sign that large bodies were in motion on several sides. They actually OCCUPATION OF FRANKFOKT BY THE FRENCH G& marched through the city in greater masses on this day, and tbe people ran to see them pass by. We had generally been used to see them go through in small parties, but these gradually swelled, and there was neither power nor inclination to stop them. In short, on the 2nd of January, after a column had come through Sachsenhausen over the bridge, through the Fahrgasse, as far as the Police Guard House— it halted, over- powered the small company which escorted ify took possession of the before-mentioned Guard House, marched down the Zeil, and after a slight resistance, the main guard were also obliged to yield. In a moment the peaceful streets were turned into a scene of war. The troops remained and bivouacked there until lodgings were provided for them by regular billetting. This unexpected, and, for many years, unheard-of burden weighed heavily upon the comfortable citizens, and to none could it be more cumbersome than to my father, who was obliged to take foreign military inhabitants into his scarcely finished house, to open for them his well-furnished reception rooms, which were generally closed, and to abandon to the caprices of strangers all that he had been used to arrange and keep so carefully. Siding as he did with the Prussians, he was now to find himself besieged in his own chambers by the French ;— it was, according to his way of thinking, the greatest misfortune that could happen to him. Had it, however, been possible for him to have taken the matter more easily, he might have saved himself and us many sad hours, since he spoke , French well, and could deport himself with dignity and grace / in the daily intercourse of life. For it was the King's Lieu- j tenant who was quartered on us, and he, although a military 1 person, had only to settle civil occurrences, disputes between soldiers and citizens, and questions of debt and quarrels. This was the Count Thorane, a native of Grasse in Provence, not far from Antibes ; a tall, thin, stern figure, with a face much disfigured by the small pox, black fiery eyes, and a dig- nified, reserved demeanour. His first entrance was at once favourable for the inmates of the house. They spoke of the different apartments, some of which were to be given up, and others retained by the family; and when the Count heard a picture-room mentioned, he immediately requested permission, although it was already night, at least to give a hasty look at 66 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN MifE. the pictures by candlelight. He took extreme pleasure ill these things, behaved in the most obliging manner to my father, who accompanied him, and when he heard that the greater part of the artists were still living, and resided in Frankfort and its neighbourhood, he assured us that he desired nothing more than to know them as soon as possible, and to employ them. But even this sympathy in respect to art could not change my father's feelings nor bend his character. He permitted what he could not prevent, but kejrtat a-distance jn inactivity, and the uncommon state of things around him was intolerable to him, even in the veriest trifle. Count Thorane behaved himself meanwhile in an exemplary manner. He would not even have his maps nailed on the walls, that he might not injure the new hangings. His people were skilful, quiet, and orderly ; but, in truth, as during the whole day and a part of the night there was no quiet with him, one complainant quickly following another, arrested persons being brought in and led out, and all officers and adjutants being admitted to his presence ;— as, moreover, the Count kept an open table every day; it made in the moderately-sized house, arranged only for a family, and with but one open staircase running from top to bottom, a movement and a buzzing like that in a beehive, although everything was managed with moderation, gravity, and severity. As mediator between the irritable master of the house, who became daily more of a hypochondriac self-tormentor, and his well-intentioned, but stern and precise military guest, there was a pleasant interpreter, a handsome, corpulent, lively man, who was a citizen of Frankfort, spoke French well, knew how tp adapt himself to everything, and only made a jest of many little annoyances. Through him my mother had sent a representation to the Count of the situation in which she was placed, owing to her husband's state of mind. He had ex- plained the matter so skilfully — had laid before him the new and scarcely furnished house, the natural reserve of the owner, his occupation in the education of his family — and all that could be said to the same effect, that the Count, who in his capacity took the greatest pride in the utmost justice, integrity, and honourable conduct, resolved here also to behave in an exemplary manner to those upon whom he was quartered, COUMT IHOEANE. G7 and, indeed, never swerved from this resolution under varying circumstances during the several years he stayed with us. My mother possessed some knowledge of Italian, a language not altogether unknown to any of the family ; she therefore resolved to |learn French immediately, for which purpose the interpreter, for whose child she had stood godmother during these stormy times, and who now therefore, as a gossip,* felt a redoubled interest in our house, devoted every spare moment to his child's godmother — for he lived directly opposite — and above all, he taught her those phrases which she would be obliged to use in her personal intercourse with the Count. This succeeded admirably. The Count was flattered by the pains taken by the mistress of the house at her years, and as ne had a cheerful, witty vein in his character, and he liked to exhibit a certain dry gallantry, a most friendly relation arose between them, and the allied godmother and father could obtain whatever they wanted from him. As I said before, if it had been possible to cheer up my father, this altered state of things would have caused little inconvenience. The Count practised the severest disinterest- edness; he even declined receiving gifts which pertained to his situation ; the most trifling thing which could have borne the appearance of bribery, he rejected angrily, and even punished. His people were most strictly forbidden to put the proprietor of the house to the least expense. We children, on the con- trary, were bountifully supplied from the dessert. To give an idea of the simplicity of those times, I must take this oppor- tunity to mention that my mother grieved us excessively one day by throwing away the ices which had been sent us from the table, because she would not believe it possible for the stomach to bear real ice, however it might be sweetened. Besides these dainties, which we gradually learned to enjoy and to digest with perfect ease, it was very agreeable for. us children to be in some measure released from fixed hours of study and strict discipline. My father's ill-humour increased, I / he could not resign himself to the unavoidable. How hey * The obsolete word "gossip" has been revived as an equivalent for the German " Gevatter." But it should be observed that this word not only signifies godfather, but < that the person whose child has another per- son for godfather 'or godmother) is that person's Gevattw, or Gevatterirt (feminine). 68 TKUTH. AND POETKY ; FSOJI MY OWN !IFE. tormented himself, my mother, the interpreter, the councillors, and all his friends, only to rid him of the Count ! In vain they represented to him that under existing circumstances the presence of such a man in the house was an actual benefit, and that the removal of the Count would be followed by a constant succession of officers or of privates. None of these arguments had any effect. To him the present seemed so intolerable, that his indignation prevented his conceiving any- thing worse that could follow. In this way his activity, which he had been used chiefly to employ upon us, was crippled. The lessons he gave us were no longer required with the former exactness, and we tried to gratify our curiosity for military and other public proceedings as much as possible, not only at home, but also in the streets, which was the more easily done, as the front door, open day and night, was guarded by sentries who paid no attention to the running to and fro of restless children. The many affairs which were settled before the tribunal of the Royal Lieutenant had quite a peculiar charm, from his making it a point to accompany his decisions with some witty, ingenious, or lively turn. What he decreed was strictly just, his manner of expressing it whimsical and piquant. He seemed to have taken the Duke of Ossuna as his model. Scarcely a day passed in which the interpreter did not tell some anecdote or other of this kind to amuse us and my mother. This lively man had made a little collection of such Sclomonian decisions ; but I only remember the general im- pression, and cannot recall to my mind any particular case. By degrees we became better acquainted with the strange character of the Count. This man clearly understood his own peculiarities, and as there were times in which he was seized , with a sort of dejection, hypochondria, or by whatever name we may call the evil demon, he withdrew into his room at such hours, which were often lengthened into days, saw no one but his valet, and in urgent cases could not even be prevailed upon to receive any one. But as soon as the Evil Spirit had \eft him, he appeared as before, active, mild, and cheerful. It might be inferred from the talk of his valet, Saint Jean, a small, thin man 'of lively good-nature, that in his earlier years he had caused a great misfortune when overcome by this temper ; and that therefore, in so important a position as his, THE FKANKFOKT PAINTERS'. 69 exposed to the eyes of all the world, he had earnestly resolved to avoid similar aberrations. During the very first days of the Count's residence with us, all the Frankfort artists, as Hirt, Schiitz, Trautmann, Noth- nagel, and Junker, were called to him. They showed theii finished pictures, and the Count bought what were for sale. My pretty, light room in the gable-end of the attic was given up to him, and immediately turned into a cabinet and studio, for he designed to keep all the artists at work for a long time, especially Seekatz of Darmstadt, whose pencil, particularly in simple and natural representations, highly pleased him. He therefore caused to be sent from Grasse, where his elder brother possessed a handsome house, the dimensions of all the rooms and cabinets ; then considered with the artists, the {livisions of the walls, and fixed accordingly upon the size ot the large oil-pictures, which were not to be set in frames, but to be fastened upon the walls like pieces of tapestry. And now the work went on zealously. Seekatz undertook country scenes, and succeeded extremely well in his old people and children, which were copied directly from nature. His young men did not answer so well, they*were almost all too thin, and his women failed from the opposite cause. For as he had a little, fat, good, but unpleasant-looking wife, who would let him have no model but herself, he could produce nothing agreeable. He was also obliged to exceed the usual size of bis figures. His trees had truth, but the foliage was over minute. He was a pupil of Brinkmann, whose pencil in easel pictures is not contemptible. Schiitz, the landscape painter, had perhaps the»best of the matter. He was thoroughly master of the Rhine country, and of the sunny tone which animates it in the fine season. Nor was he entirely unaccustomed to work on a larger scale, and then he showed no want of execution or keeping. His paintings were of a cheerful cast. Trautmann Rembrandtized some resurrection-miracles out of the New Testament, and alongside of them set fire to villages and mills. One cabinet was entirely allotted to him, as 1 found from the designs of the rooms. Hirt painted some good oak and beech forests. His cattle were praiseworthy. Junker, accustomed to the imitation of the most elaborate Dutch, was least able to manage this tapestry-work, but hi TO TBUTH AND POJEXKf ; FKOM MY OWN 1IFE. condescended to ornament many compartments with flowers and fruits for a handsome price. As I had known all these men from my earliest youth, and had often visited them in their studios, and as the Count also liked to have me with him, I was present at the suggestions, consultations, and orders, as well as at the deliveries of the pictures, and ventured to speak my opinion freely when sketches and designs were handed in. I had already gained among amateurs, particularly at auctions, which I attended diligently, the reputation of being able to tell at once what any historical picture represented, whether taken from Biblical or Profane History, or from Mythology ; and even if I did not always hit upon the meaning of allegorical pictures, there was seldom any one present who understood it better than I. Often had I persuaded the artists to represent this or that subject, and I now joyfully made use of these advantages. I still remember writing a circumstantial essay, in which I described twelve pictures which were to exhibit the history of Joseph ; some of them were executed. After these achievements, which were certainly laudable in a boy, I will mention a little disgrace which happened to me within this circle of artists. I was well acquainted with all the pictures which had been from time to time brought into that room. My youthful curiosity left nothing unseen or unexplored. I once found a little black box behind the stove ; I did not fail to investigate what might be concealed in it, and drew back the bolt without long deliberation. The picture contained was certainly of a kind not usually exposed to view, and although I tried to bolt it again immediately, I was not quick enough. The Count entered and caught me — " Who allowed you to open that box ?" he asked, with all his air of a Royal Lieutenant. I had not much to say for myself, and he immediately pronounced my sentence in a very stern manner : " For eight days," said he, " you shall not enter this room." I made a bow, and walked out. Even this order I obeyed most punctually, so that the good Seekatz, who was then at ' work in the room, was very much annoyed, for he liked to have me about him ; and, out of a little spite, I carried my obedience so far, that I left Seekatz's coffee, which I generally Drought him, upon the threshold. He was then obliged to leave his work and fetch it, which he took so ill, that he almost conceived a dislike to me. FHE15CH XUEATHE. 71 It now seems necessary to state more circumstantially and, to make intelligible how, under these circumstances, I made my way with more or less ease through the French language, which, however, I had never learned. Here, too, my natural gift was of service to me, enabling me easily to catch the sound of a language, its movement, accent, tone, and all other outward peculiarities. I knew many words from the Latin ; Italian sug- gested still more ; and by listening to servants and soldiers, sentries and visitors, I soon picked up so much that, if I could not join in conversation, I could at any rate manage single ques- tions and answers. All this, however, was little compared to the profit I derived from the theatre. My grandfather had given me a free ticket, which I used daily, in spite of my father's reluctance, by dint of my mother's support. There ] sat in the pit, before a foreign stage, and watched the more narrowly the movement and the expression, both of gesture and speech, as I understood little or nothing of what was said, and therefore could only derive entertainment from the action and the tone of voice. I understood least of comedy, because it was spoken rapidly, and related to the affairs of common life, of the phrases of which I knew nothing. Tragedy was not so often played, and the measured step, the rhythm of the Alexandrines, the generality of the expression, made it more intelligible to me in every way. It was not long before I took up Racine, which I found in my father's library, and de- claimed the pieces to myself, in the theatrical style and manner, as the organ of my ear and the organ of speech, so aearly akin to that, had caught it, and this with considerable animation, although I could not perceive the connexion of a whole speech. I even learned entire passages by rote, like a trained talking-bird, which was easier to me, from having previously committed to memory passages from the Bible which are generally unintelligible to a child, and accustomed myself to reciting them in the tone of the Protestant preachers. The versified French comedy was then much in vogue ; the pieces of Destouches, Marivaux, and La Chaussee, were often produced, and I still remember distinctly many characteristic figures. Of those of Moliere I recollect less. What made the greatest impression upon me was the Hypermnestrw of Lemiere, which, as a new piece, was brought out with care and often repeated. The Devin du Village, Rose et Colas, Annette d>. 72 TKUTH AND POETKY ; MIOM MY OWN LIFE. Lulin, made each a very pleasant impression upon me. I caa even now recall the youths and maidens decorated with ribands, and their gestures. It was not long before the wish arose in me to see the interior of the theatre, for which many opportunities were offered me. For as I had not always patience to hear out the whole pieces, and often carried on all sorts of games with other children of my age in the corridors, and in the milder season even before the door, a handsome, lively boy joined us, who belonged to the theatre, and whom I had seen in many little parts, though only casually. He came to a better understanding with me than with the rest, as I could turn my French to account with him, and he the more attached himself to me because there was no boy of his age or his nation at the theatre, or anywhere in the neighbour- hood. We also went together at other times, as well as during the play, and even while the representations went on he seldom left me in peace. He was a most delightful little braggart, chattered away charmingly and incessantly, and could tell so much of Ids adventures, quarrels, and other strange incidents, that he amused me wonderfully, and I learned from him in four weeks more of the language, and of the power of expressing myself in it, than can be imagined ; so that no one knew how I had attained the foreign tongue all at once, as if by inspiration. In the very earliest days of our acquaintance he took me with him upon the stage, and led me especially to the foyers, where the actors and actresses remained during the intervals of the performance, and dressed and undressed. The place was neither convenient nor agreeable, for they had squeezed the theatre into a concert-room, so that there were no separate chambers for the actors behind the stage. A tolerably large room adjoining, which had formerly served for card-parties, was now mostly used by both sexes in common, who appeared to feel as little ashamed before each other as before us children, if there was not always the strictest propriety in putting on or changing the articles of dress. I had never seen anything of the kind before, and yet from habit, after repeated "risks, I soon foimd it quite natural. It was not long before a very peculiar interest of my owl: arose. Young Derones, for so I will call the boy whose acquaintance I still kept up, was, with the exception of his "l/ERONES" AND HIS SISTER. 73 boasting, a youth, of good manners and very courteous de- meanour. He made me acquainted with his sister, a girl who was a few years older than we were, and a very pleasant, well- grown girl, of regular form, brown complexion, black hair and eyes ; her whole deportment had about it something quiet, oven sad. I tried to make myself agreeable to her in every way, but I could not 'attract her notice. Young girls think them- selves far advanced beyond younger boys, and while aspiring to young men, they assume the manner of an aunt towards the boy whose first inclination is turned towards them. — With a younger brother of his I had no acquaintance. Often, when their mother had gone to rehearsals, or was out visiting, we met at her house to play and amuse ourselves. I never went there without presenting the fair one with a flower, a fruit, or something else, which she always received very courteously, and thanked me for most politely, but I never saw her sad look brighten, and found no trace pf her having given me a further thought. At last I fancied I had discovered her secret. Tie boy showed me a crayon-drawing of a handsome man, behind his mother's bed, which was hung with elegant silk curtains, remarldhg at the same time, with a sly look, that this was not papa, but just the same as papa ; and as he glorified this man, and told me many things in his circumstantial and ostentatious manner, I thought I had dis- covered that the daughter might belong to the father, but the other two children to the intimate friend. I thus explained to myself her melancholy look, and loved her for it all the more. My liking for this girl assisted me in bearing the extrava- gances of her brother, who was not always within bounds. I had often to endure prolix accounts of his exploits, how he had already often fought, without wishing to injure the othei — all for the mere sake of honour. He had always contrived to disarm his adversary, and had then forgiven him ; nay, he was such a good fencer, that he was once very much perplexed by striking the sword of his opponent up into a high tree, so that it was not easy to be got again. What much facilitated my visits to the theatre was, that my free ticket, coming from the hands of the Schultheiss, gave me access to any of the seats, and therefore also to those in the proscenium. This was very deep, after the French style, *4 TSDTII AND TOETKf ; FltOM MY OWN L.IFB. and was bordered on both sides with seats, which, surroundeJ by a low rail, ascended in several rows one behind another, so that the first seats were but a little elevated above the stage. The whole was considered a place of special honour, and was generally used only by officers, although the nearness of the actors destroyed, I will not say all illusion, but, in a measure, all enjoyment. I have thus experienced and seen with my own eyes the usage or abuse of which Voltaire so much complains. If, when the house was very full at such time as troops were passing through the town, officers of distinction strove for this place of honour, which was gene- rally occupied already, some rows of benches and chairs were placed in the proscenium on the stage itself, and nothing re- mained for the heroes and heroines but to reveal their secrets in the very limited space between the uniforms and orders. I have even seen the Hypermnestra performed under such circumstances. The curtain did not fall between the acts, and I must yet mention a strange custom which I thought quite extraordi- nary, as its inconsistency with art was to me, as a good German boy, quite unendurable. The theatre was considered the greatest sanctuary, and any disturbance occurring there would have been instantly resented as the highest crime against the majesty of the public. Therefore in all comedies, two grenadiers stood with their arms grounded, in full view, at the two sides of the back scene, and were witnesses of all that occurred in the bosom of the family. Since, as I said before, the curtain did not fall between the acts, two others, while music struck up, relieved guard, by coming from the wings, directly in front of the first, who retired in the same measured manner. Now, if such a practice was well fitted to destroy all that in the theatre is called illusion, this is the more striking, because it was done at a time when, accord- ing to Diderot's principles and examples, the most natural naturalness was required upon the stage, and a perfect decep- tion was proposed as the proper aim of theatrical art. Tra- gedy, however, was absolved from any such military-police regulations, and the heroes of antiquity had the right of guarding themselves ; nevertheless, the same grenadiers stood near enough behind the side-scenes. I will also mention that I saw Diderot's "Father of a DUEL WITH "DEK0NES." 75 ■Family," and " The Philosopliers" of Palissot, and still per- fectly remember the figure of the philosopher in the latter piece going upon all fours, and biting into a raw head of lettuce. • " All this theatrical variety could not, however, keep us chil- dren always in the theatre. In fine weather we played in front of it, and in the neighbourhood, and committed all manner of absurdities, which, especially on Sundays and festivals, by no means corresponded to our personal appearance ; for I and my comrades then appeared dressed as I described myself in the tale, with the hat under the arm, and a little sword, the hilt ot which was ornamented with a large silk knot. One day when we had long gone in this way, and Derones had joined us, he took it into Ms head to assert to me that I had insulted him, and must give him satisfaction. I could not, in truth, con- ceive what was the cause of this ; but I accepted his chal- lenge, and was going to draw my sword. However, he assured me that in such cases it was customary to go to secluded spots, in order to be able to settle the matter more conveniently. We therefore went behind some barns, and placed ourselves in the proper position. The duel took place in a somewhat theatrical style, the blades clashed, and the thrusts followed close upon each other ; but in the heat of the combat he remained with the point of his sword lodged in the knot of my hilt. This was pierced through, and he fissured me that he had received the most complete satisfac- tion ; then embraced me, also theatrically, and. we went to- the next coffee-house to refresh ourselves with a glass of almond-milk after our mental agitation, and to knit more closely the old bond of friendship. On this occasion I will relate another adventure which also happened to me at the theatre, although at a later time. I was sitting very quietly in the pit with one of my playmates, and we looked with pleasure at a pas seul, which was executed with much skill and grace by a pretty boy about our own age- — the son of a French dancing-master who was passing through the city. After the fashion of dancers, he was dressed in a close vest of red silk, which ending in a short hoop-petticoat, like a runner's apron, floated above the knee. We had given our meed of applause to this young artist with the whole public, when — I know not how — it occurred to me to make a 76 TRUTH and poetky; fkoji my own like. moral reflection. I said to my companion, " How handsomely this boy was dressed, and how well he looked ; who knows in how tattered a jacket he may sleep to-night!" — All had already risen, but the crowd prevented our moving. A woman who had sat by me, and who was now standing close beside me, chanced to be the mother of the young artist, and felt much offended by my reflection. Unfortunately, she knew German enough to understand me, and spoke it just as much as was necessary to scold. She abused me violently. "Who was I, she would like to know, that had a right to doubt the family and respectability of this young man ? At all events, she would be bound he was as good as I, and his talents might probably procure him a fortune, of which I could not even venture to dream. This moral lecture she read me in, the crowd, and made those about me wonder what rudeness I had committed. As I could neither excuse myself nor escape from her, I was really embarrassed, and when she paused for a moment, said without thinking, " Well ! why do you make such a noise about it ? — to-day red, to-morrow dead."* These words seemed to strike the woman dumb. She stared at me, and moved away from me as soon as it was in any degree possible. I thought no more of my words ; only, some time afterwards, they occurred to me, when the boy, instead of continuing to perform, became ill, and that very dangerously. "Whether he died or not, I cannot say. Such intimations, by an unseasonably or even improperly spoken word, were held in repute even by the ancients, and it is very remarkable that the forms of belief and of superstition have always remained the same among all people and in all times. From the first day ot the occupation of our city, there was no lack of constant diversion, especially for children and young people. Plays and balls, parades, and marches through the town, attracted our attention in all directions. The last par- ticularly were always increasing, and the soldiers' life seemed to us very merry and agreeable. The residence of the King's Lieutenant at our house pro- cured us the advantage of seeing by degrees all the distin- guished persons in the French army, and especially of * A German proverb, " Heute roth, morgen todt." MARSHAL DE BROGLIO. 77 beholding close at hand the leaders whose names had already been made known to us by reputation. Thus we looked from stairs and landing-places, as if from galleries, very conveniently upon the generals who passed by. Before all I remember the Prince Sotjbise as a handsome, courteous gentleman, but most distinctly the Marechal de Broglio, who was a younger man, not tall, but well-built, lively, active, and abounding in keen glances. He often came to the King's Lieutenant, and it was soon remarked that the conversation was on weighty matters. We had scarcely become accustomed to having strangers quartered upon us in the first three months, when a rumour was obscurely circulated that the Allies were on the march, and that Duke Ferdinand of Brunswick was c omin g to drive the French from the Maine. Of these, who could not boast of any especial success in war, no high opinion was held, and after the battle of Rossbach it was thought they might be dispersed. The greatest confidence was placed in Duke Ferdinand, and all those favourable to Prussia awaited with eagerness their de- livery from the yoke hitherto borne, My father was in some- what better spirits — my mother was apprehensive. She was wise enough to see that a small present evil might easily be exchanged for a great affliction ; since it was but too plain that the French would not advance to meet the Duke, but would wait an attack in the neighbourhood of the city. A defeat of the French, a flight, a defence of the city, if it were only to cover their rear and hold the bridge, a bombardment, a sack— all these presented themselves to the excited imagi- nation, and gave anxiety to both parties. My mother, who could bear everything but suspense, imparted her fears to the Count through the interpreter. She received the answer usual in such cases : she might be quite easy, for there was nothing|to fear, and should keep quiet and mention the matter to no one. Many troops passed through the city ; we learned that they halted, at Bergen. The coming and going, the riding and running constantly increased, and our house was in an uproar day and night. At this time I often saw Marshal de Broglio, always cheerful, always the same in look and manner, and I was afterwards pleased to find a man whose form had made such a good and lasting impression upon me, so honourably mentioned in history. 78 TRUTH AND POETKY ; PKOM MI OWN IIF2i Thus, after an unquiet Passion-week, the Good-Friday of 1 759 arrived. A profound stillness announced the approach- ing storm. We children were forbidden to quit the house : my father had no quiet, and went out. The battle began: I ascended to the garret, where indeed I was prevented seeing the country round, but could very well hear the thunder of cannon and the general discharge of musketry. After some hours we saw the first symptoms of the battle in a line of wagons, in which the wounded, with various sad mutilations and gestures, were slowly drawn by us, to be taken to the con- vent of St. Mary, now transformed into a hospital. The com- passion of the citizens was instantly moved. Beer, wine, bread, and money were distributed to those who were yet able to take them. But when, some time after, wounded and captive Ger- mans were seen in the train, the pity knew no limits, and it , seemed as if everybody would strip himself of every moveable that he possessed to assist his suffering countrymen. i The prisoners, however, were an evidence of a battle un- | favourable to the allies. My father, whose party feelings made 1 him quite certain that these would come off victorious, had the violent temerity to go forth to meet the expected victors, without thinking that the beaten party must pass over him ; in their flight. He first repaired to his garden before the VFriedberg gate, where he found" everything lonely and quiet, then he ventured to the Bornheim heath, where he soon descried various stragglers of the army, who were scattered 1 and amused themselves by shooting at the boundary-stones, so that the rebounding lead whizzed round the head of the inquisitive wanderer. He therefore considered it more pru- ; dent to go back, and learned on enquiry what the report of the firing might have before informed him, that all stood well for the French, and that there was no thought of retreating. Beaching home in an ill-humour, the sight of his grounded and captured countrymen brought him altogether out of his usual self-command. He also caused various donations to be given to the passers by, but only the Germans were to have them, which was not always possible, as fate had packed together both friend and fof>. My mother and we children, who had already relied on the Count's word, and had therefore passed a tolerably quiet day, were highly rejoiced, and my mother doubly consoled, the aUAKBEI, WITH COUNT THOEANE. 7'J next day, when haying consulted the oracle of her treasure- box, by the prick of a needle, she received a very comfortable answer, both for present and future. We wished our father similar faith and feelings ; we flattered him as much as we could ; we entreated him to take some food, from which he had abstained all day; bat he repulsed our caresses and every enjoyment, and betook himself to his chamber. Our joy, however, was not interrupted ; the affair was decided ; the King's Lieutenant, who, against his habit, had been on horseback to-day, at last returned home, where his presence was more necessary than ever. We sprang to meet him, kissed his hands, and testified our delight. This seemed much to please him. "Well," said he more kindly than usual, "I am glad also for your sakes, my dear children." He immediately ordered that sweetmeats, sweet wine, and the best of everything should be given us, and went to his room, already surrounded by a crowd of the urgent, the demanding, and the suppliant. We had now a fine collation, pitied our poor father who would not partake of it, and pressed our mother to call him in ; but she, more prudent than we, well knew how distasteful such gifts would be to him. In tne meantime she had pre- pared some supper, and would readily have sent a portion up to his room, but he never tolerated such an irregularity even in the most extreme cases ; and after the sweet things were removed, we endeavoured to persuade him to come down into the ordinary dining-room. At last he allowed himself to be persuaded unwillingly, and we had no notion of the mischief which we were preparing for him and ourselves. The stair- case ran through the whole house, along all the ante-rooms. My father in coming down had to go directly past the Count's apartment. This ante-room was so full of people, that the Count, to get through much at once, resolved to come out, and this happened unfortunately at the moment when my father descended. The Count met him cheerfully, greeted him, and remarked, " You will congratulate yourselves and us that this dangerous affair is so happily terminated." " By no means I" replied my father in a rage ; " would that it had driven you to the devil, even if I had gone with you." The Count restrained himself for a moment, and then broke out with wrath— "You shall pay for this," cried he; "you shall 80 TBUTK AND POETKST ; FB.0M MY OWN LIFE. find that you have not thus insulted the good cause anl myself for nothing !" My father, meanwhile, came down very calmly, seated himself near us, seemed more cheerful than before, and began to eat. We were glad of this, unconscious of the dangerous method in which he had rolled the stone from his heart. Soon afterwards my mother was called out, and we had great pleasure in chattering to our father about the sweet things the Count had given us. Our mother did not return. At last the interpreter came in. At a hint from him we were sent to bed ; it was already late, and we willingly obeyed. After a night quietly slept through, we heard of the violent commotion which had shaken the house the previous evening. The King's Lieutenant had instantly ordered my father to be led to the guard-house. The subalterns well knew that he was never to be contradicted ; yet they had often earned thanks by delaying the execution of his orders. The interpreter, "whose presence of mind never forsook him, contrived to excite this disposition in them very strongly. The tumult, more- over, was so great, that a delay brought with it its own con- cealment and excuse. He had called out my mother, and put the adjutant, as it were, into her hands, that by prayers and representatians she might gain a brief postpone- ment of the matter. He himself hurried up to the Count, who with great self-command had immediately retired into the inner room, and would rather allow the most urgent affair to stand still, than wreak on an innocent person the ill- humour once excited in him, and give a decision derogatory to his dignity. The address of the interpreter to the Count, the train of the whole conversation, were often enough repeated to us by the fat interpreter, who prided himself not a little on the fortunate result, so that I can still describe it from recollection. The interpreter had ventured to open the cabinet and enter, an actwhichwas severely prohibited. "What do you want?" shouted the Count* angrily. " Out with you !— no one but St. Jean has a right to enter here." "Well, suppose I am St. Jean for a moment," answered the interpreter. _ " It would need a powerful imagination for that ! Two cf him would not make one such as you. Retire !" THE " GOSSIP " AND COUNT THORANE. 81 " Count, you have received a great gift from heaven, and to that I appeal." " You think to flatter me ! Do not fancy you will suc- ceed." " You have the great gift, Count, even in moments of pas- sion — in moments of rage, of listening to the opinions of others." "Well, well, the question now is just about opinions, to which I have listened too long. I know but too well that we are not liked here, and that these citizens look askance at us." "Not all!" " Very many. What ! These towns will be imperial towns, will they? They saw their emperor elected and crowned, and when, being unjustly attacked, he is in danger of losing his dominions and surrendering to an usurper; when he fortunately finds faithful allies who pour out their blood and treasure in his behalf — they will not put up with the slight burden that falls to their share, towards humbling the enemy !" "But you have long known these sentiments, and have sndured them like a wise man ; they are, besides, held only by a minority. A few, dazzled by the splendid qualities of the enemy, whom you yourself prize as an extraordinary man, a few only — as you are aware." "Yes, indeed! I have known and suffered it too long! otherwise this man would not have presumed to utter such insults to my face, and at the most critical moment. Let them be as many as they please, they shall be punished in the person of this their audacious representative, and perceive what they have to expect." " Only delay, Count." " In certain things one cannot act too promptly." , " Only a little delay, Count." " Neighbour, you think to mislead me into a false step ; you shall not succeed." " I would neither lead you into a false step nor restrain you from one ; your resolution is just ; it becomes the Frenchman and the Ring's Lieutenant; but consider that you are also Count Thorane !" " He has no right to interfere here. 1 " " B»t the gallant man has a right to be heard." 82 TRUTH AND FOETKT ; FROSl MY OWN LIFB. " What would lie say then ?" " King's Lieutenant," he would begin, " you have so long had patience with so many gloomy, untoward, bungling men, if they were not really too bad. This man has certainly been too bad, but control yourself, King's Lieutenant, and every one will praise and extol you on that account." " You know I can often endure your jests, but do not abuse my good- will. These men — are they then completely blinded ? Suppose we had lost the battle, what would have been their fate at this moment? We fight up to the gates, we shut up the city, we halt, we defend ourselves to cover our retreat over the bridge. Think you, the enemy would have stood with his hands before him? He throws grenades, and what he has at hand, and they catch where they can. This house- holder — what would he have ? Here, in these rooms, a bomb might now have burst, and another have followed it; — in these rooms, the cursed China-paper of which I have spared,. in- commoding myself, by not nailing up my maps ! They ought to have spent the whole day on their knees." " How many would have done that!" "They ought to have prayed for a blessing on us, and to have gone out to meet the generals and oflicers with tokens of honour and joy, and the wearied soldiers with refreshments. Instead of this, the poison of party-spirit de- stroys the fairest and happiest moments of my life, won by so many cares and efforts." "It is party-spirit; but you will only increase it by the punishment of this man. Those who t.hi-nV with him will proclaim you a tyrant and a. barbarian :— they will consider him a martyr, who has suffered for the good cause; and even those of the other opinion, who are now his opponents, will see in him only their fellow-citizen, will pity him, and while they confess your justice, will yet feel that you have pro- ceeded too severely." "I have listened to you too much already, — now, away with you!" " Hear only this. Remember this is the most unheard-of thing that could befall this man, this family. You have had no reason to" be edified by the good- will of the master of the house; but the mistress has anticipated all your wishes, and the children have regarded you as their uncle. With this THOKANE'3 MAGNANIMITY. 83 single blow, you will for ever destroy the peace and happi- ness of this dwelling. Indeed, I may say, that a bomb falling into the house, would not have occasioned greater desolation. I have so often admired your self-command, Count; give me this time opportunity to adore you. A warrior is worthy of honour who considers himself a guest in the house of aH enemy; but here there is no enemy, only a mistaking man. Control yourself, and you will acquire an everlasting fame." " That would be odd," replied the Count, with a smile. "Merely natural," continued the interpreter; " I have not sent the wife and children to your feet, because I know you detest such scenes ; but I will depict to you this wife and these children, how they will thank you. I will depict them, to you conversing all their lives of the battle of Bergen, and of your magnanimity on this day, relating it to their children, and children's children, and inspiring even strangers with their own interest for you: an act of this kind can never perish." " But you do not hit my weak side yet, interpreter! About posthumous fame I am not in the habit of thinking; that is for otners, not for me ; but to do right at the moment, not to neglect my duty, not to prejudice my honour — that is my care. We have already had too many words ; now go — and receive the thanks of the thankless, whom I spare." The interpreter, surprised and moved by this unexpectedly favourable issue, could not restrain his tears, and would have kissed the Count's hands. The Count motioned him off, and said severely and seriously, " You know I cannot bear such things." And with these words he went into the ante-room, to attend to his pressing affairs, and hear the claims of so many expectant persons. So the matter was disposed of, and the next morning we celebrated with the remnants of the yesterday's sweetmeats, the passing over of an evil through the threatenings of which we had happily slept. Whether the interpreter really spoke so wisely, or merely so painted the scene to himself, as one is apt to do after a good and fortunate action, I will not decide ; at least ho never varied it in repeating it. Indeed, this day seemed to him both the most anxious and the most glorious in his life. ')ne little incident will show how the Count in general ' a 2 84 TKUTH AND POETBX J *BOM MY OWN I.IVK. rejected all false parade, never assumed a title which did not belong to him, and how witty he was in his more cheerful moods. A man of the higher class, who was one of the abstruse, soli- tary Frankforters, thought he must complain of the quartering of the soldiers upon him. He came in person, and the inter- preter proffered him his services, but the other supposed that he did not need them. He came before the Count with a most becoming bow, and said, "Your excellency!" The Count returned the bow, as well as the " excellency." Struck by this mark of honour, and not supposing but that the title was too humble, he stooped lower, and said, " Monseigneur." "Sir," said the Count, very seriously, "we will not go further, or else we may easily bring it to Majesty." The ether gentle- man was extremely confused, and had not a word to utter. The interpreter, standing at some distance, and apprised of the whole affair, was wicked enough not to move, but the Count, with much cheerfulness, continued, "Well now, for instance, sir, what is your name?" " Spangenberg," replied the other. "And mine," said the Count, "is Thorane. Spangenberg, what is your business with Thorane? Now, then, let us sit down; the affair shall at once he settled." And thus the aflair was indeed settled at once, to the great satisfaction of the person I have here named Spangenberg, and the same evening, in our family circle, the story was not only told by the waggish interpreter, but was given with all the circumstances and gestures. After these confusions, disquietudes, and grievances, the former security and thoughtlessness soon returned, in which the young particularly live from day to day, if it be in any Vlegree possible. My passion for the French theatre grew with every performance. I did not miss an evening, though on every occasion, when after the play I sat down with the family to supper,— often putting up with the remains, — I had to endure the constant reproaches of my father, that theatres were useless, and would lead to nothing. In these cases I adduced all and every argument which is at hand for the apologists of the stage when they fall into a difficulty like mine. Vice in prosperity and virtue in misfortune, are in the end set right by poetical justice. Those beautiful exam- ples of misdeeds punished, Miss Sarah Sampson, and the Mir- JUVEJSIIE ATTEMPT AT THE DRAMA. 85 chant of London, were very energetically cited on my part; but, on the other hand, I often came off worst -when the Fovheries de Scapin, and others of the sort, were in the bill, and I was forced to bear reproaches for the delight felt by the public in the deceits of intriguing servants, and the suc- cessful follies of prodigal young men. Neither party was convinced; but my father was very soon reconciled to the theatre when he saw that I advanced with incredible rapidity in the French language. Men are so constituted that everybody would rather under- take himself what he sees done by others, whether he has aptitude for it or not. I had soon exhausted the whole range of the French stage; several pieces I had already witnessed for the third and fourth times ; all had passed before my eyes and mind, from the stateliest tragedy to the most frivolous afterpiece; and as when a child I had presumed to imitate Terence, I did not fail now as a boy, on a much more inciting occasion, to copy the French forms to the best of my abilify and want of ability. There were then performed some half- mythological, half-allegorical pieces in the taste of Pikon ; they partook somewhat of the nature of parody, and were much liked. These representations particularly attracted me: the little gold wings of a lively Mercury, the thunder- bolt of a disguised Jupiter, an amorous Danae, or by whatever name a fair one visited by the gods might be called, if in- deed it were not a shepherdess or huntress to whom they descended. And as elements of this kind, from Ovid's Meta- morphosis, or the Pantheon Mythicum of Pomey, were hum- ming in swarms about my head. — I had soon put together in my imagination a little piece of the kind, of which I can only say that the scene was rural, and that there was no lack in it of king's daughters, princes, or gods. Mercury, espe- cially, made so vivid an impression on my senses, that I could almost be sworn that I had seen him with my own eyes. I presented my friend Derones with a very neat copy, made by myself, which he accepted with quite a special grace, and with a truly patronizing air, glanced hastily over the manu- script, pointed out a few grammatical blunders, found soma speeches too long, and at last promised to examine and judge the work more attentively when he had the requisite leisure 86 TKU'fH AND POETRY: FROM MY OWN LIFE. To my modest question, whether the piece could by aiiy chance be performed, he assured me that it -was not alto- gether impossible. In the theatre, he said, a great deal went by favour, and he would support me with all his heart : only the affair must be kept private; for he had himself once on a ■"ime surprised the directors with a piece of his own, and it would certainly have been acted if it had not been too spon detected that he was the author. I promised him all possible silence; and already saw in my mind's eye the name of my piece posted up in large letters on the corners of the streets and squares. Light-minded as my friend generally was, the opportunity of playing the master was but too desirable. He read the piece through with attention, and while he sat down with me to make some trivial alterations, turned the whole thing, in the course of the conversation, completely topsy-turvy, so that not one stone remained on another. He struck out, added, took away one character, substituted another, — in short, went on with the maddest wantonness in the world, so that my hair stood on end. My previous persuasion that he ' must understand the matter, allowed him to have his way, ; for he had often laid before me so much about the Three i Unities of Aristotle, the regularity of the French drama, the probability, the harmony of the verse, and all that belongs to these, that I was forced to regard him, not merely as informed, but thoroughly grounded. He abused the English and scorned the Germans; in short, he laid before me the whole drama- turgic litany which I have so often in my life been compelled to hear. Like the boy in the fable, I carried my mangled offspring home, and strove in vain to bring it to life. As, however, I ■would not quite abandon it, I caused a fair copy of my first manuscript, after a few alterations, to be made by our clerk, which I presented to my father, and thus gained so much that for a long time he let me eat my supper in quiet after the play was over. This unsuccessful attempt had made me reflective, and I resolved now to learn at the very sources, these theories, these laws, to which every one appealed, but which had be- come suspicious to me chiefly through the impoliteness of my arrogant master. This was notandeed difficult, but laborious, BSAMATIC THEORIES. 87 I immediately read Corneille' s Treatise on the Three Unities, and learned from that how people -would have it, but why they desired it so was by no means clear to me; and what was worst of all, I fell at once into still greater confusion when I made myself acquainted with the disputes on the Cid, and read the prefaces in which Corneille and Racine are obliged to defend themselves against the critics and public. Here at least I plainly saw that no man knew what he wanted; that a piece like the Cid, which had produced the noblest effect, was to be condemned at the command of an all-powerful cardinal; that Racine, the idol of the French living in my day, who had now also become my idol — (for I had got intimately acquainted with him when ■ Schoff Von Olenschlager made us children act Britannicus, in which the part of Nero fell to me) — that Racine, I say, even in his own day, was not able to get on with the amateurs nor critics. Through all this I became more perplexed than ever, and after having pestered myself a long time with this talking backwards and forwards, and theoretical quackery of the pre- vious century, threw them to the dogs, and was the more resolute in casting all the rubbish away, the more I thought I observed that the authors themselves who had produced excellent things, when they began to speak about them, when they set forth the grounds of their treatment, when they desired to defend, justify, or excuse themselves, were not always able to hit the proper mark. I hastened back again, therefore, to the living present, attended the theatre far more zealously, read more scrupulously and connectedly, so that I had perseverance enough this time to work through the whole of Racine and Moliere, and a great part of Corneille. The King's Lieutenant still lived at our house. He in no respect had changed his deportment, especially towards us; but it was observable, and the interpreter made it still more evident to us, that he no longer discharged his duties with the same cheerfulness and zeal as at the outset, though always with the same rectitude and fidelity. His character and habits, which showed the Spaniard rather than the French- man; his caprices, which were not without their influence on his business; his unbending will under all circumstances; his Susceptibility as to everything that concerned his person or reputation— all this together might perhaps sometimes bring 88 TETJTH AND P0ETKY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFZ. him into conflict with his superiors. Add to this, that he had been wounded in a duel, which had arisen in the theatre, and it was deemed wrong that the King's Lieutenant, himself chief of police, should have committed a punishable offence. As I have said, all this may have contributed to make him live more retired., and here and there perhaps to act with less energy. Meanwhile, a considerable part of the pictures he had or- dered had been delivered. Count Thorane passed his leisure hours in examining them, while in the aforesaid gable-room he had them nailed up, canvas after canvas, large and small, side by side, and because there was want of space, even one over another, and then taken down and rolled up. The works were constantly inspected anew; the parts that were con- sidered the most successful were repeatedly enjoyed; but there was no want of wishes that this or that had been dif- ferently done. Hence arose a new and very singular operation. As one painter best executed figures, another middle-grounds and distances, a third trees, a fourth flowers, it struck the Count that these talents might perhaps be combined in the paint- ings, and that in this way perfect works might be produced. A beginning was made at once, by having for instance some beautiful cattle painted into a finished landscape. But be- cause there was not always adequate room for aU, and a few sheep more or less was no great matter to the cattle-painter,, the largest landscape proved in the end too narrow. Now also the painter of figures had to introduce the shepherd, and some travellers; these deprived each other of air, as we may say; and we marvelled that they were not all stifled, even in the most open country. No one could anticipate what was to come of the matter, and when it was finished it gave no satisfaction. The painters were annoyed. They had gained something by their first orders, but lost by these after-labours, though the Count paid for them also very liberally. And as the parts worked into each other in one picture by several hands, produced no good effect after all the trouble, every one, at last, fancied that his own work had been spoiled and destroyed by that of the others; hence the artists were within a hair's-breadth of falling out, and becoming irreconcilably hostile to each other. These alterations, or rather additions, THE PAINTER SEEKATZ. 89 were made in the before-mentioned studio, where I remained quite alone with the artists ; and it amused me to hunt out from the studies, particularly of animals, this or that indi- vidual or group, and to propose it for the foreground or the distance, in which respect they many times, either from con- viction or kindness, complied with my wishes. The partners in this affair were therefore greatly dis- couraged, especially Seekatz, a very hypochondriacal, retired man, who indeed by his incomparable humour was the best of companions among friends, but who, when he worked, desired to work alone, abstracted and perfectly free. This man, after solving difficult problems, and finishing them with the greatest diligence and the warmest love, of which he was always capable, was forced to travel repeatedly from Darm- stadt to Frankfort, either to change something in his own pic- tures, or to touch up those of others, or even to allow, under his superintendence, a third person to convert his pictures into a variegated mess. His peevishness augmented, his resistance oecame more decided, and a great deal of effort was necessary on our part to guide this " gossip "-j-for he was one also- according to the Count's wishes. I still remember that when the boxes were standing ready to pack up all the pictures, in, the order in which the upholsterer at their place of destina- tion might fix them up at once, a small but indispensable bit of afterwork was demanded, but Seekatz could not be moved to come over. He had, by way of conclusion, done the best he could, having represented in paintings to* be placed over the doors, the four elements as children and boys, after life,, and having expended the greatest care, not only on the figures, but on the accessories. These were delivered and paid for, and he thought he was quit of the business for ever ; but now he was to come over again, that he might enlarge, by a few touches of his pencil, some figures, the size of which was too small. Another, he thought, could do it just as well ; he had already set about some new work ; in short, he would not come. The time for sending off the pictures was at hand; they must also have opportunity to dry ; every delay was pre- carious ; and the Count, in despair, was about to have him fetched in military fashion. We all wished to see the .pic- tures finally gone, and found at last no expedient than for the fDssip interpreter to seat himself in a wagon, and fetch over 90 TBTJTH AND POETRY : FKOM MY OWS LIKE. the refractory subject, with his wife and child. He was kindly received by the Count, well treated, and at last dismissed with liberal payment. After the pictures had been sent away, there was great peace in the house. The gable-room in the attic was cleaned and given up to me ; and my father, when he saw the boxes go, could not refrain from wishing to send off the Count after them. For much as the tastes of the Count coincided with his own, much as he must have rejoiced to see his principle of patronizing living artists so generously followed out by a man richer than himself, much as it may have flattered him that his collection had been the occasion of bringing so consider- i able a profit to a number of brave artists in a pressing time, \ he nevertheless felt such a repugnance to the foreigner who | had intruded into his house, that he could not think well I of any of his doings. One ought to employ painters, but not 1 degrade them to paper-stainers ; one ought to be satisfied with what they have done; according to their conviction and ability, even if it does not thoroughly please one, and not be per- petually carping at it. In short, in spite of all the Count's own generous endeavours, there could, once for all, be no mutual understanding. My father only visited that room when the Count was at table, and I can recall but one instance, when, Seekatz having excelled himself, and the wish to see these pictures having brought the whole house together, my father and the Count met, and manifested a common pleasure in these works of art, which they could not take in each other. Scarcely, therefore, had the house been cleared of the chests and boxes, than the plan for removing the Count, which had formerly been begun, but was afterwards interrupted, was re- sumed. The endeavour was made to gain justice by repre- sentations, equity by entreaties, favour by influence, and the quarter-masters were prevailed upon to decide thus : the Count was to change his lodgings, and our house, in con- sideration of the burden borne day and night for several years uninterruptedly, was to be exempt for the future from billetting. But, to furnish a plausible pretext for this, we were to take in lodgers on the first floor, which the Count had occupied, and thus render a new quartering as it were impossible. The Count, who after the separation from his dear pictures felt no further peculiar interest in the house, DEPABTTTKE OF THORANE. 91 and hoped moreover to be soon recalled and placed else- where, was pleased to move without opposition to another good residence, and left us in peace and good-will. Soon afterwards he quitted the city, and received different ap- pointments in gradation, but, it was rumoured, not to his own satisfaction. Meantime, he had the pleasure of seeing the pictures which he had preserved with so much care felici- tously arranged in his brother's chateau ; he wrote sometimes, sent dimensions, and had different pieces executed by the artists so often named. At last we heard nothing further about him, except after several years we were assured that he had died as governor of one of the French colonies in the West Indies. FOURTH BOOK. Mitch inconvenience as the quartering of the French had occasioned us, we had become so accustomed to it, that we could not fail to miss it, nor could we children fail to feel as if the house were deserted. Moreover it was not decreed that we should again attain perfect family unity. New -odgers were already agreed upon, and after some sweeping and scouring, planing and rubbing with bees' -wax, painting and varnishing, the house was completely restored again. The chancery-director Moritz, with his family, very worthy friends of my parents, moved in. He was not a native of Frankfort, but an able jurist and man of business, and managed the legal affairs of many small princes, counts, and lords. I never saw him otherwise than cheerful and pleasant, and diligent with his law papers. His wife and children, gentle, quiet, and benevolent, did not indeed increase the sociableness of our house, for they kept to themselves ; but a stillness, a peace returned, which we had not enjoyed for a long time. I now again occupied my attic room, in which the ghosts of the many pictures sometimes hovered before me, while I strove to frighten them away by labour and study. The Counsellor of Legation Moritz, a brother of the chan- cellor, came from this time often to our house. He was even more a man of the world, had a handsome figure, while his manners were easy and agreeable. He also managed the affairs of different persons of rank, and on occasions of meetings of creditors and imperial commissions fre- quently came into contact with my father. They had a high opinion of each other, and commonly stood on the side of the creditors, though they were generally obliged to per- ceive, much to their vexation, that a majority of the agents on such occasions are usually gained over to the side of the debtors. The counsellor of legation readily communicated his knowledge, was a friend to the mathematics, and as these did not occur in his present course of life, he made himself LE9S0MS IN DRAWING. 93 a pleasure by helping me on in this branch of study. I was thus enabled to finish my architectural sketches more accurately than heretofore, and to profit more by the instruc- tion of a drawing-master, who now also occupied us an hour every day. This good old man was indeed only half an artist. We were obliged to draw and combine strokes, from which eyes and noses, lips and ears, nay, at last, whole faces and heads, were to arise, but of natural or artistic forms there was no thought. We were tormented a long while with this quia pro quo of the human figure, and when the so-called Passions of Le Brun were given us to copy, it was supposed at last that we had made great progress. But even these caricatures did not improve us. Then we went off to landscapes, foliage, and all the things which in ordinary instruction are practised without consistency or method. Finally we dropped into close imitation and neatness of strokes, without troubling ourselves about the merit or taste of the original. In these attempts our father led the way in an exemplary manner. He had never drawn, but he was unwilling to remain behind now that his children pursued this art, and would give, even in his old age, an example how they should proceed in their youth. Several heads, therefore, of Piazetta, from his well-known sheets in small octavo, he copied with an English lead-pencil upon the finest Dutch paper. In these he not only observed the greatest clearness of outline, but most accurately imitated the hatching of the copper-plate with a light hand — only too slightly, as in his desire to avoid hardness he brought no keeping into his sketches. Yet they were always soft and accurate. His unrelaxing and untiring assiduity went so far, that he drew the whole considerable collection number by number, while we children jumped from one head to another, and chose only those that pleased us. About this time the long-debated project, long under con- sideration, for giving us lessons in music, was carried into effect ; and the last impulse to it certainly deserves mention. It was settled that we should learn the harpsichord ; but there was always a dispute about the choice of a master. At last I went once accidentally into the room of one of my com- panions, who was just taking his lesson on the harpsichord, and found the teacher a most charming man. For each 9+ TRUTH AND POETS* ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. finger of the right and left hand he had a nickname, by which he indicated in the merriest way when it was to be used. The black and white keys were likewise symbolically designated, and even the tones appeared under figurative names. Such a motley company worked most pleasantly together. Fingering and time seemed to become perfectly easy and obvious, and while the scholar was put into the. best humour, everything else succeeded beautifully Scarcely had I reached home, than I importuned my parents to set about the matter in good earnest at last, and give us this incomparable man for our master on the harp- sichord. They hesitated, and made inquiries; they indeed heard nothing bad of the teacher; but, at the same time, nothing particularly good. Meanwhile I had informed my sister of all the droll names ; we could hardly wait for £he lesson, and succeeded in having the man engaged. The reading of the notes began first, but as no jokes occurred here, we comforted ourselves with the hope that when we went to the harpsichord, and the fingers were needed, the jocular method would oommence. But neither keys nor fingering seemed to afford opportunity for any com- parisons. Dry as the notes were, with their strokes on and between the five lines, the black and white keys were no less so : and not a syllable was heard either of " thumbling," " point- erling," or " goldfinger," while the countenance of the man remained as imperturbable during his dry teaching as it had been before during his dry jests. My sister reproached me most bitterly for having deceived her, and actually believed that it was all an invention of mine. But I was myself con- founded and learned little, though the man at once went regularly enough to work ; for I kept always expecting that the former jokes would make their appearance, and so con : soled my sister from one day to another. They did not reappear, however, and I should never have been able to explain the riddle if another accident had not solved it for me. One of my companions came in during a lesson, and at once all the pipes of the humorous jet d'eau were opened ; the "thumblings" and " pointerlings," the "pickers" and "stealers," as he used to call the fingers, the "falings" and "galings," meaning "f" and "g," the "fielings" aa>J THE ECCENTRIC MUSIC-MA.STEK. 95 "gielings," meaning "f" and "g" sharp,* became once moro extant, and made the most wonderful mannikins. My young friend could not leave off laughing, and was rejoiced that one could learn in such a merry manner. He vowed that he would give his parents no peace until they had given him such an excellent man for a teacher. And thus the way to two arts was early enough opened to' me, according to the principles of a modern theory of educa- tion, merely by good luck, and without any conviction that I should be furthered therein by a native talent. My father maintained that everybody ought to learn drawing; for which reason, he especially venerated the Emperor Maxi- milian, by whom this had been expressly commanded. He therefore held me to it more steadily than to music, which, on the other hand, he especially recommended to my sister, and even out of the hours for lessons kept her fast, during a good part of the day, at her harpsichord. But the more I was in this way made to press on, the more I wished to press forward of myself, and my hours of leisure were employed in all sorts of curious occupations. From my earliest years I felt a love«for the investigation of natural things. It is often regarded as an instinct of cruelty that children like at last to break, tear, and devour objects with which for a long time they have played, and which they have handled in various manners. Yet even in this way is manifested the curiosity, the desire of learning how such things hang together, how they look within. I remember that as a child, I pulled, flowers to pieces to. see how the leaves were inserted into the calyx, or even plucked birds to observe how the feathers were inserted into the wings. Children are not to be blamed for this, when even our naturalists believe they get their knowledge oftener by separation and division than by union and combination, — more by killing than by making alive. An armed loadstone, very neatly sewed up in scarlet cloth, was one day destined to experience the effects of this spirit of inquiry. For the secret force of attraction which it exercised not only on the little iron bar attached to it, but which was of such a kind that it could gain strength and could daily * The names of the sharp notes in German terminate in "is," and. hence "f" and "g" sharp are called "fis" and "gis." 96 THTJIH AND POETRY; i'EOM MY OWN LIFE. bear a heavier weight — this mysterious virtue had so excited my admiration, that for a long time I was pleased with merely staring at its operation. But at last I thought I might arrive at some nearer revelation by tearing away the external cover- ing. This was done, but I became no wiser in consequence, as the naked iron taught me nothing further. This also I took off, and I held in my hand the mere stone, with which I never grew weary of making experiments of various kinds on filings and needles — experiments from which my youthful mind drew no further advantage beyond that of a varied experience. I could not manage to reconstruct the whole arrangement ; the parts were scattered, and I lost the wondrous phenomenon at the same time with the apparatus. Nor was I more fortunate in putting together an electrica. machine. A friend of the family, whose youth had fallen in the time when electricity occupied all minds, often told us how as a child he had desired to possess such a machine, had got together the principal requisites, and by the aid of an old spinning-wheel and some medicine bottles, had produced '.olerable results. As he readily and frequently repeated the story, and imparted to us some general information on electri- city, we children found the thing very plausible, and long tormented ourselves with an old spinning-wheel and some medicine bottles, without producing even the smallest result. We nevertheless adhered to our belief, and were much de- lighted when at the time of the fair, among other rarities, magical and legerdemain tricks, an electrical machine per- formed its marvels, which, like those of magnetism, were at that time already very numerous. The want of confidence in the public method of instruction was daily increasing. 'People looked about for private tutors, and because single families could not afford the expense, several of them united to attain their object. Yet the children seldom agreed, the young man had not sufficient authority, and after frequently repeated vexations, there were only angry partings. It is not surprising, therefore, that other arrangements were thought of which should be more permanent as well as more advantageous. The thought of establishing boarding-schools {Pensionen) had arisen from the necessity which every one felt for having the French language taught and communicated orally. M^ PFEIIi'S EOABDING-SCHOOL. 97 father had brought up a young person who had been his foot- man, valet, secretary, and in short successively all in all. This man, whose name was Pfeil, spoke French well. After he had married, and his patrons had to think of a situation for him, they hit upon the plan of making him establish a boarding-school, which extended gradually into a small aca- demy, in which everything necessary, and at last even Greek and Latin, were taught. The extensive connexions of Frank- fort caused young French and English men to be brought to this establishment, that they might learn German and be other- wise cultivated. Pfeil, who was a man in the prime of life, and of the most wonderful energy and activity, superintended the whole very laudably, and as he could never be employed enough, and was obliged to keep music-teachers for his scholars, he set about music on the occasion, and practised the harpsichord with such zeal that, without having previously touched a note, he very soon played with perfect readiness and spirit. He seemed to have adopted my father's maxim, that nothing can more cheer and excite young people, than when at mature years one declares one's self again a learner, and at an age when new accomplishments are acquired with diffi- culty, one endeavours, nevertheless, by zeal and perseverance, to excel the younger, who are more favoured by nature. By this love of harpsichord-playing Pfeil was led to the instruments themselves, and while he hoped to obtain the best, came into connexion with Frederici of Gera, whose in- struments were celebrated far and wide. He took a number of them on sale, and had now the joy of seeing not only one piano, but many, set up in his residence, and of practising and being heard upon them. The vivacity of this man brought a great rage for music into our house. My father remained on lasting good terms with bim up to certain points of dispute. A large piano of Frederici was purchased also for us, which I, adhering to my harpsichord, hardly touched, but which so much increased the troubles of my sister, as, to do proper honour to the new instrument, she had to spend some time longer every day in practice ; while my father as overseer, and Pfeil as a model and encouraging friend, alternately took their positions at her side. A singular taste of my father caused much inconvenience to H I 93 TKTJTH AND POETBY ; FROM MT OWN Z.IFZ. us children. This was the cultivation of silk, of the advan- tages of which, when it should be more widely extended, ho had a high opinion. Some acquaintances at Hanau, where the breeding of the worms was carried on with great care, gave him the immediate impulse. At the proper season, the eggs were sent to him from that place, and as soon as the mulberry- trees showed sufficient leaves, they had to be stripped, and the scarcely visible creatures were most diligently tended. Tables and stands, with boards, were set up in a garret cham- ber, to afford them more room and sustenance ; for they grew rapidly, and after their last change of skin were so voracious, that it was scarcely possible to get leaves enough to feed them ; nay, they had to be fed day and night, as everything depends upon there being no deficiency of noivrishment when the great and wondrous change is about to take place in them. If the weather was favourable, this business might indeed be regarded as a pleasant amusement ; but if the cold set in, so that the mulberry-trees suffered, it was exceedingly trouble- some. Still more unpleasant was it when rain fell during the last epoch, for these creatures cannot at all endure moisture, and the wet leaves had to be carefully wiped and dried, which could not always bo done quite perfectly ; and for this, or per- haps some other reason also, various diseases came among the ■flock, by which the poor things were swept off in thousands. The corruption which ensued produced a smell really pesti- lential, and because the dead and diseased had to be taken away and separated from the healthy, the business was indeed ex- tremely wearisome and repulsive, and caused many an unhappy hour to us children. After we had one year passed the finest weeks of the spring and summer in tending the silk-worm's, we were obliged to assist our father in another business, which, though simpler, was no less troublesome. The Roman views, which, bound by black rods at the top and bottom, had hung for many years on the walls of the old house, had become very yellow, through the light, dust, and smoke, and not a little unsightly through the flies. If such uncleanliness was not to be tolerated in the new house, yet, on the other hand, these pictures had gained in value to my father, in consequence of his longer absence from the places represented. For in the outset such copies only serve to refresh and vivify the impressions shortly before received. LESSONS IN ENGLISH. 99 They seem trifling in comparison, and at the best only a melancholy substitute. But as the remembrance of the ori- ginal forms fades more and more, the copies imperceptibly assume their place, they become as dear to us as those once were, and what we at first contemned, now gains esteem and affection. Thus it is with all copies, and particularly with portraits. No one is easily satisfied with the counterfeit of an object still present, but how we value every silhouette of one who is absent or departed. In short, with this feeling of his former extravagance, my father wished that these engravings might be restored as much as possible. It was well known that this could be done by- bleaching ; and the operation, always critical with large plates, was undertaken under rather unfavourable circumstances. For the large boards on which the smoked engravings were moistened and exposed to the sun, stood in the gutters before the garret windows, leaning against the roof, and were therefore liable to many accidents. The chief point was, that the paper should never thoroughly dry, but must be kept constantly moist. This was the duty of my sister and myself; and the idleness, which would have been other- wise so desirable, was excessively annoying, on account of the tedium and impatience, and the watchfulness which allowed of no distraction. The end, however, was attained, and the bookbinder who fixed each sheet upon thick paper, did his best to match and repair the margins, which had been here and there torn by our inadvertence. All the sheets together were bound in a volume, and for this time preserved. That we children might not be wanting in every variety of life and learning, a teacher of the English language must announce himself just at this time, who pledged himself to teach English to anybody not entirely raw in languages, within four weeks ; and to advance him to such a degree that, with some diligence, he could help himself further. His price was moderate, and he was indifferent as to the number of scholars at one lesson. My father instantly determined to make the attempt, and took lessons, in connexion with my sister and myself, from this expeditious master. "The hours were faithfully kept ; there was no want of repeating our lessons ; other exercises were neglected rather than this, during the four weeks ; and the teacher parted from us, and • H 2 100 TJRUT11 AND POETKT; FKOM MY OWN I.TFK. wc from him, with satisfaction. As he remained longer in the town, and found many employers, he came from time to time to look after us and to help us, grateful that we had been among the first who placed' confidence in him, and proud to be able to cite us as examples to the others. My father, in consequence of this, entertained a new anxiety that English might neatly stand in the series of my other studies in languages. Now, I will confess that it became more and more burdensome for me to take my occasions for study now from this grammar or collection of examples, now from that; now from one author, now from another, and thus to divert my interest in a subject every hour. It occurred to me, therefore, that I might despatch all at once, and I invented a romance of six or seven brothers and sisters, who, separated from each other and scattered over the world, should communicate with each other alternately as to their conditions and feelings. The eldest brother gives an account in good German of all the manifold objects and incidents of his journey. The sister, in a ladylike style, with short sentences and nothing but stops, much as Siegwart was after- wards written, answers now him, now the other brothers, partly about domestic matters, and partly about affairs of the heart. One brother studies theology, and writes a very formal Latin, to which he often adds a Greek postscript. To another brother, holding the place of mercantile clerk at Hamburgh, the English correspondence naturally falls, while a still younger one at Marseilles has the French. For the Italian was found a musician, on his first trip into the world ; while the youngest of all, a sort of pert nestling, had applied himself to Jew- German, the other languages having been cut off from him, and by means of his frightful cyphers brought the rest of them into despair, and my parents into a hearty laugh at the good notion. I sought for matter to fill up this singular form by studying the geography of the countries in which my creations resided, and by inventing for those dry localities all sorts of human incidents, which had some aflmity with the characters and employments of my heroes. Thus my exercise-books became much more voluminous, my father was better satisfied, and I was much soouer made aware of the acquirements and the sort of readiness in which I was wanting. BECTOB AI/BKECHT. 101 Now, as sucn things once begun have no end and no limits, bo it happened in the present case; for, while I strove to attain the odd Jew-German, and to write it as well as I could read it, I soon discovered that I ought to know Hebrew, from which alone the modern corrupted dialect could be de- rived and handled with any certainty. I consequently ex- plained the necessity of my learning Hebrew to my father, and earnestly besought his consent, for I had a still higher object. Everywhere I heard it said that to understand the Old as well as the New Testament, the original languages were requisite. The latter I could read quite easily, because, that there might be no want of exercise even on Sundays, the so-called Epistles and Gospels had, after church, to be recited, translated, and in some measure explained. I now- designed doing the same thing with the Old Testament, the peculiarities of which had always especially interested me. My father, who did not like to do anything by halves, determined to request the rector of our Gymnasium, one Dr. Axbkecht, to give me private lessons weekly, until I should have acquired what was most essential in so simple a language, for he hoped that if it would not be despatched as soon as English was learned, it could at least be managed in double the time. Rector Albrecht was' one of the most original figures in the world, short, broad, but not fat, ill-shaped without being deformed,— in short, an JEsop in gown and wig. His more than seventy-years-old face was completely twisted into a sarcastic smile, while his eyes always remained large, and, though red, were always brilliant and intelligent. He lived in the old cloister of the Barefoot TViars, the seat of the Gymnasium. Even as a child, I had often visited him in company with my parents, and had, with a kind of trembling delight, glided through the long dark passages, the chapels transformed into reception-rooms, the place broken up and full of stairs and corners. Without annoying me, he ques- tioned me familiarly whenever we met, and praised and encouraged me. One day, on the changing of the pupil's places after a public examination, he saw me standing as a mere spectator, not far from his chair, while he distributed the silver prcemia virtutis et diligentia. I was probably gaz- ing very eagerly upon the little bag out of which he drew 102 TEUTH AND POEIKT; THOM MY OWN IIFE. the medals ; he nodded to me, descended a step, and handed me one of the silver pieces. My joy was great, although others thought that this gift bestowed upon a boy not belong- ing to the school was out of all order. But for this the good old man cared but little, having always played the eccentric, and that in a striking manner. He had a very good repu- tation as a schoolmaster, and understood his business, although age no more allowed him to practise it thoroughly. But almost more than by his own infirmities was he hindered by greater circumstances, and, as I already knew, he was satis- fled neither with the eonsistory, the inspectors, the clergy, nor the teachers. To his natural temperament, which inclined to satire, and the watching for faults and defects, he allowed free play, both in his programs and his public speeches, and as Lucian was almost the only writer whom he read and esteemed, he spiced all that he said and wrote with biting ingredients. Fortunately for those with whom he was dissatisfied, he never went directly to work, but only jeered at the defects which he wanted to reprove, with hints, allusions, classie passages, and Scripture texts. His delivery, moreover — he always read his ■ discourses — was unpleasant, unintelligible, and, above all, was often interrupted by a cough, but more frequently by a hollow paunch-convulsing laugh, with which he was wont to announce and accompany the biting pas- sages. This singular man I found to be mild and obliging when I began to take lessons from him. I now went to him daily at six o'clock in the evening, and always experienced a secret pleasure when the outer door closed behind me, and I had to thread the long dark cloister-passage. We sat in his library at a table covered with oil-cloth, a much-read Lucian never quitting his side. In spite of all my willingness, I did not get at the matter without difficulty, for my teacher could not suppress certain sarcastic remarks as to the real truth about Hebrew. I con- cealed from him my designs upon Jew-German, and spoke of a better understanding of the original text. He smiled at this, and said I should be satisfied if I only learned to read. This vexed- me in secret, and I concentrated all my attention when we came to the letters. I found an alphabet something like the Greek, of which the forms were easy, and the names, for HEBREW STUDIES. 103 the most pail;, not strange to me. All this I had soon com- prehended and retained, and supposed we should now go to reading. That this was done from right to left I was well aware. But now, all at once appeared a new army of little characters and signs, of points and strokes of all sorts, which were in fact to represent vowels. At this I wondered the more, as there were manifestly vowels in the larger alphabet, and the others only appeared to be hidden under strange appellations. It was also taught, that the Jewish nation, so long as it nourished, actually were satisfied with the first signs, and knew no other way to write and read. Most wil- lingly then would I have gone on along this ancient, and, as it seemed to me, easier path ; but my worthy declared rather sternly, that we must go by the grammar as it had been approved and composed. Reading without these points and strokes, he said, was a very hard undertaking, and could be accomplished only by the learned, and those who were well practised. I must therefore make up my mind to learn these little characters ; but the matter became to me more and more confused. Now, it seemed, some of the first and larger pri- mitive letters had no value in their peaces, in order that their little after-born kindred might not stand there in vain. Now they indicated a gentle breathing, now a guttural more or less rough, and now served as mere equivalents. But, finally, when one fancied that one had well noted every- thing, some of these personages, both great and small, were rendered inoperative, so that the eyes always had very much, and the lips very little to do. As that of which I already knew the contents had now to be stuttered in a strange gibberish, in which a certain snuffle and gargle were not a little commended as something unat- tainable, I in a certain degree deviated from the matter, and diverted myself in a childish way with the singular names of these accumulated signs. There were " emperors," " kings," and " dukes," * which, as accents, governing here and there, gave me not a little entertainment. But even these shallow jests soon lost their charm. Nevertheless, I was indemnified, inasmuch as by reading, translating, repeating, and commit- ting to memory, the substance of the book came out more * These are the technical names for classes of accents in the Hebrew grammar . — Trans. 104 TEUTH AND POETRY; PKOM KY OWN LIFE. vividly, and it was this, properly, about which. I desired to be enlightened. Even before this time the contradiction be- tween tradition and the actual and possible had appeared to me very striking, and I had often put my private tutors to a non-plus with the sun which stood still on Gibeon, and the moon in the vale of Ajalon, to say nothing of other impro- babilities and incongruities. Everything of this kind was now awakened, while, in order to master the Hebrew, I occu- pied myself exclusively with the Old Testament, and studied it, though no longer in Luther's translation, but in the literal version of Sebastian Schmid, printed under the text which my father had procured for me. Here, unfortunately, our lessons began to be defective, so far as practice in the Ian* guage was concerned. Reading, interpreting, grammar, tran- scribing, and the repetition of words, seldom lasted a full half hour; for I immediately began to aim at the sense of the matter, and, though we were still engaged in the first book of Moses, to utter several things suggested to me by the later books. At first the good old man tried to restrain me from such digressions, but at last they seemed to entertain him. also. It was impossible for him to suppress his characteristic cough and chuckle, and although he carefully avoided giving me any information that might have compromised himself, my importunity was not relaxed ; nay, as I cared more to set forth my doubts than to learn their solution, I grew constantly more vivacious and bold, seeming justified by his deportment. Yet I could get nothing out of him, except that ever and anon he would exclaim, with his peculiar shaking laugh, " Ah ! mad fellow ! ah ! mad boy ! " Still, my childish vivacity, which scrutinized the Bible on all sides, may have seemed to him tolerably serious and worthy of some assistance. He therefore referred me, after a time, to the large English Biblical work which stood in his library, and in which the interpretation of difficult and doubtful pas- sages was attempted in an intelligent and judicious manner. By the great labours of German divines the translation had obtained advantages over the original. The different opinions were cited, and at last a kind of reconciliation was attempted, so that the dignity of the book, the ground of religion, and the human understanding might in some degree co-exist. Now, is often as towards the end of the lesson I came out with my THE OLD TESTAMENT. 105 usual questions and doubts, so often did he point to the repo- fiitory. I took the volume, he let me read, turned over his Lucian, and when I made any remarks on the book, his ordi- nary laugh was the only answer to my sagacity. In the long summer days he let me sit as long as I could read, many times alone ; after a time he suffered me to take one volume after another home with me. A man may turn whither he pleases, and undertake anything whatsoever, but he will always return to the path which mature has once prescribed for him. Thus it happened also with me in the present case. My trouble about the language, about •the contents of the Sacred Scriptures, themselves, ended at last in producing in my imagination a livelier picture of that beau- tiful and famous land, its environs and its vicinities, as well as of the people and events by which that little spot of earth was made glorious for thousands of years. This small space was to see the origin and growth of the human race ; thence, we were to derive our first and only accounts of primitive history ; and such a locality was to lie before our imagination, no less simpje and comprehensible than varied and adapted to the most wonderful migrations and settlements. Here, between four designated rivers, a small ■delightful spot was separated from the whole habitable earth, for youthful man. Here he was to unfold his first capacities, .and here at the same time was the lot to befal him, which was appointed for all his posterity, namely, that of losing peace by striving after knowledge. Paradise was trifled away; men increased and grew worse ; and the Elohim, not yet accus- tomed to the wickedness of the new race, became impatient and utterly destroyed it. Only a few were saved from the uni- versal deluge ; and scarcely had this dreadful flood ceased, than the well known ancestral soil lay once more before the .grateful eyes of the preserved. Two rivers out of four, the Euphrates and Tigris, still flowed in their beds. The name of the first remained ; the other seemed to be pointed out by its course. Minuter traces of Paradise were not to be looked for after so great a revolution. The renewed race of man went forth from hence a second time ; it found occasion to sustain and employ itself in all sorts of ways, but chiefly to gather around it large herds of tame ani- mals and to wander with them in every direction. 106 TBTTTH AND POEIKT ; PBOM MY OWTf LIFE. This mode of life, as well as the increase of the families, soon compelled the people to disperse. They could not at once resolve to let their relatives and friends go for ever ; they hit upon the thought of building a lofty tower which should show them the way back from the far distance. But this attempt, like their first endeavour, miscarried. They could not be at the same time happy and wise, numerous and united. The Elohim confounded their minds — the building remained un- finished — the men were dispersed — the world was peopled, but sundered. But our regards, our interests, are still fastened to these regions. At last the founder of a race again goes forth from hence, . and is so fortunate as to stamp a distinct character upon his descendants, and by that means to unite them for all time to come into a great nation, inseparable through all changes of place or destiny. From the Euphrates, Abraham, not without divine guid- ance, wanders towards the west. The desert opposes no invincible barrier to his march. He attains the Jordan, passes over its waters, and spreads himself over the fair southern regions of Palestine. This land was already occupied, and tolerably inhabited. Mountains, not extremely high, but rocky and barren, were severed by many watered vales favour- able to cultivation. Towns, villages, and solitary settlements lay scattered over the plain and on the slopes of the great valley, the waters of which are collected in Jordan. Thus inhabited, thus tilled was the land ; but the world was still large enough, and the men were not so circumspect, necessi- tous, and active, as to usurp at once the whole adjacent country. Between their possessions were extended large spaces, in which grazing herds could freely move in every direc- tion. In one of these spaces Abraham resides ; his brother Lot is near him ; but they cannot long remain in such places. The very condition of a land, the population of which is now increasing, now decreasing, and the productions of which are never kept in equilibrium with the wants, produces unex- pectedly a famine, and the stranger suffers alike with the native, whose own support he has rendered difficult by hia accidental presence. The two Chaldean brothers move onward to Egypt, and thus is traced out for us the theatre on which, for some thousands of years, the most important events of the THE OLD TESTAMENT. 107 world were to be enacted. From the Tigris to the Euphrates, from the Euphrates to the Nile, we see the earth peopled ; and this space also is traversed by a well-known, heaven-beloved man, who has already become worthy to us, moving to and fro with his goods and cattle, and, in a short time, abundantly increasing them. The brothers return; but, taught by the distress they have endured, they determine to part. Both, indeed, tarry in Southern Canaan; but while Abraham re- mains at Hebron, near the wood of Mamre, Lot departs for the valley of Siddim, which, if our imagination is bold enough to give Jordan a subterranean outlet, so that in place of the present Dead Sea we should have dry ground, can and must appear like a second Paradise ; a conjecture all the more probable, because the residents about there, notorious- for effeminacy and wickedness, lead us to infer that they led an easy and luxurious life. Lot lives among them, but apart. But Hebron and the wood of Mamre appear to us as the important place where the Lord speaks with Abraham, and promises him all the land as far as his eye can reach in four directions. From these quiet districts, from these shepherd tribes, who can associate with celestials, entertain them as^ guests, and hold many conversations with them, we are com- pelled to turn our glance once more towards the East, and to think of the condition of the surrounding world, which on the whole, perhaps, may have been like that of Canaan. Families hold together : they unite, and the mode of life of the tribes is determined by the locality which they have appro- priated or appropriate. On the mountains which send down their waters to the Tigris, we find warlike populations, who- even thus early foreshadow those world-conquerors and world- rulers — and in a campaign, prodigious for those times, give us a prelude of future achievements. Chedor Laomer, king of Elam, has already a mighty influence over his allies. He reigns a long while ; for twelve years before Abraham's arrival in Canaan, he had made all the people tributary to him as far as the Jordan. They revolted at last, and the allies equipped for war. We find them unawares upon a route by which pro- bably Abraham also reached Canaan. The people on the left and lower side of the Jordan were subdued. Chedor Laomer directs his march southwards towards the people of the Desert,. then wending north, he smites the Amalekites, and when he 108 ISTJ1H AND POETBY : FEOM MY OWN IIFE. has also overcome the Amorites, he reaches Canaan, falls upon the kings of the valley of Siddim, smites and scatters them, and marches with great spoil up the Jordan, in order to extend his conquests as far as Lebanon. Among the captives, despoiled and dragged along with their property, is Lot, who shares the fate of the country in which he fives a guest. Abraham learns this, and here at once we behold the patriarch a warrior and hero. He gathers together his servants, divides them into troops, attacks and falls upon the luggage of booty, confuses the victors, who could not sus- pect another enemy in the rear, and brings back his brother and his goods, with a great deal more belonging to the con- quered kings. Abraham, by means of this brief contest, acquires, as it were, the whole land. To the inhabitants he appears as a protector, saviour, and, by his disinterestedness, a king. Gratefully the kings of the valley receive him : — Melchisedek, the king and priest, with blessings. Now the prophecies of an endless posterity are renewed, nay, they take a wider and wider scope. From the waters of the Euphrates to the river of Egypt all the lands are promised him ; but yet there seems a difficulty with respect to his next heirs. He is eighty years of age, and has no son. Sarai, less trusting in the heavenly powers than he, becomes impatient ; ehe desires, after the oriental fashion, to have a descendant by means of her maid. But scarcely is Hagar given up to the master of the house, scarcely is there hope of a son, than dis- sensions arise. The wife treats her own dependent ill enough, and Hagar flies to seek a happier position among other tribes. She returns, not without a higher intimation, and Ishmael is born. Abraham is now ninety-nine years old, and the promises of a numerous posterity are constantly repeated, so that in the be able to visit her immediately, and^to see and converse with her again; for I dreaded the reproofs and importunities of her cousins. The good Pylades, who might have arranged the affair, I could not contrive to meet. The next Sunday, there- fore, I set out for Niederrad, where these associates generally used to go, and actually found them there. I was, however, greatly surprised, when, instead of behaving in a cross, distant manner, they came up to me with joyful:countenances. The youngest particularly was very friendly, took me by the hand, arid said, " You have lately played us a sorry trick, and we were very angry with you ; but your absconding and taking away the poetical epistie has suggested a good thought to us, which otherwise might Aever have occurred. Byway of atone- ment, you may treat us to-day, and you shall learn at the same time the notion we have, which will certainly give you plea- sure." This address put me in no little perplexity ; for I had about me only money enough to regale myself and a friend ; but to treat a whole company, and especially one which did not always stop at the right time, I was by no means pre- pared ; nay, the proposal astonished me the more, as they had always insisted, in the most honourable manner, that each 142 TRUTH AND PO-ETBYJ FKOM MY OWN 1IPE. one should pay only his own share. They smiled at my dis- tress, and the youngest proceeded, " Let us first take a seat in the bower, and then you shall learn more." We sat down, and he said, " When you had taken the love-letter with you, we talked the whole affair over again, and came to a conclusion that we had gratuitously misused your talent to the vexation of others and our own danger, for the sake of a mere paltry love of mischief, when we could have employed it to the advantage of all of us. See, I have here an order for a wed- ding-poem, as well as for a dirge. The second must be ready immediately, the other can wait a week. Now, if you make these, which is easy for you, you will treat us twice, and we shall long remain your debtors." This proposition pleased me in every respect ; for \ had already in my childhood looked with a certain envy on the occasional poems,* of which then several circulated every week, and at respectable mar- riages especially came to light by the dozen, because I thought I could make such things as well, nay, better than others. Now an opportunity was offered me to show myself, and espe- cially to see myself in print. I did not appear disinclined. They acquainted me with the personal particulars and the position of the family; I went somewhat aside, made my plan, and produced some stanzas. However, when I returned to the company, and the wine was not spared, the poem began to halt, and I could not deliver it that evening. " There is still time till to-morrow evening," they said ; " and we will confess to you that the fee which we receive for the dirge is enough to get us another pleasant evening to-morrow. Come to us ; for it is but fair that Gretchen too should sup with us, as it was she properly who gave us the notion." My joy was unspeakable. On my way home I had only the remaining stanzas in my head, wrote down the whole before I went to sleep, and the next morning made a very neat fair copy. The day seemed infinitely long to me ; and scarcely was it dusk, than I found myself again in the narrow little dwelling beside the dearest of girls. The young persons with whom in this way I formed a closer and closer connexion were not properly low, but ordinary sort of people. Their activity was commendable, and * That is to say, a poem written for a certain occasion, as a wedding, funeral, &c. The German word is " Gelegenheitsgedicht." — Trans. GRETCHEN AND HER FRIENDS. 148 I listened to them with pleasure when they spoke of the mani- fold ways and means by which one could gain a living ; above all they loved to tell of people, now very rich, who had begun with nothing. Others to whom they referred had, as poor clerks, rendered themselves indispensable to their employers, and had finally risen to be their sons-in-law : while others had so enlarged and improved a little trade in matches and the like, that they were now prosperous merchants and tradesmen. But above all, to young men, who were active on their feet, the trade of agent and factor, and the undertaking of all sorts of commissions and charges for helpless rich men was, they said, a most profitable means of gaining a livelihood. We all heard this eagerly, and each one fancied himself somebody, when he imagined, at the moment, that there was enough in him, not only to get on in the world, but to acquire an extra- ordinary fortune. But no one seemed to carry on this conver- sation more earnestly than Pylades, who at last confessed that he had an extraordinary passion for a girl, and was actually engaged to her. The circumstances of his parents would not allow him to go to universities, but he had endeavoured to acquire a fine handwriting, a knowledge of accounts, and the modern languages, and would now do his best in hopes of attaining that domestic felicity. The cousins praised him for this, although they did not approve of a premature engage- ment to a girl, and they added, that while forced to acknow- ledge! him to be a fine good fellow, they did not consider him active or enterprising enough to do anything extraordinary. "While he, in vindication of himself, circumstantially set forth what he thought himself fit for, and how he was going to begin, the others were also incited, and each one began to tell what he was now able to do, doing, or carrying on, what he had already accomplished, and what he saw immediately before him. The turn at last came to me. I was to set forth my course of life and prospects, and while I. was considering, Pylades said, " I make this one proviso, if we all would stand on a level, that he does not bring into the account the external advantages of his position. He should rather tell us a tale how he would proceed if at this moment he were thrown entirely upon his own resources, as we are." Gretchen, who till this moment had kept on spinning, rose end seated herself as usual at the end of the table. We had. 144 TRUTH AND POETKY J FKOM MY OWN LIFE. already emptied some bottles, and I began to relate the hypo- thetical history of my life in the best humour. " First of all, then, I commend myself to you," said I, " that you may con- tinue the custom you have begun to bestow on me. If you gra- dually procure me the profit of all the occasional poems, and we do not consume them in mere feasting, I shall soon come to something. But then you must not take it ill if I dabble also in your handicraft." Upon this I told them what I had observed in their occupations, and for which I held myself fit at any rate. Each one had previously rated his services in money, and I asked them to assist me also in completing my establishment. Gretchen had listened to all hitherto very attentively, and that in a position which well suited her, whether she chose to hear or to speak. "With both hands she clasped her folded arms, and rested them on the edge of the table. Thus she could sit a long while without moving any- thing but her head, which was never done without occasion or meaning. She had several times put in a word and helped us on over this and that, when we halted in our projects, and then was again still and quiet as usual. I kept her in my eye, and it may readily be supposed that I had not devised and uttered my plan without reference to her. My passion for her gave to what I said such an air of truth and probability, that for a moment I deceived myself, imagined myself as lonely and helpless as my story supposed, and felt extremely happy in the prospect of possessing her. Pylades had closed his con- fession with marriage, and the question arose among the rest of us, whether our plans went as far as that. " I have, not the least doubt on that score," said I, " for properly a wife is necessary to every one of us, in order to preserve at home and enable us to enjoy as a whole what we rake together abroad in such an odd way." I then made a sketch of a wife, such as I wished, and it must have turned out strangely if she had not been a perfect counterpart of Gretchen. The dirge was consumed ; the epithalamium now stood be- neficially at hand ; I overcame all fear and care, and contrived, as I had many acquaintances, to conceal my actual evening entertainments from my family. To see and to be near the dear girl was soon an indispensable condition of my being. The friends had grown just as accustomed to me, and we were almost daily together, as if it could not be otherwise. Pylades THE HOCHST MAKKES-8HIF. 145 had, in the meantime, introduced hig fair one into the house, and this pair passed many an evening with us. They, as hride and bridegroom, though still very much in the bud, did not conceal their tenderness ; Gretchen's deportment towards me was only suited to keep me at a distance. She gave her hand to no one, not even to me ; she allowed no touch ; yet she many times seated herself near me, particularly when I wrote or read aloud, and then laying her arm familiarly upon my shoul- der, she looked over the book or paper. If, however, I ventured on a similar freedom towards her, she withdrew, and would not soon return. This position she oftaa repeated, and indeed all her attitudes and motions were very uniform, but always equally fitting, beautiful, and charming. But such a familiarity I never saw her practise towards anybody else. One of the most innocent, and at the same time amusing, parties of pleasure in which I engaged with different com- panies of young people, was this : that we seated ourselves in the Hochst market-ship, observed the strange passengers packed away in it, and bantered and teased, now this one, now that, as pleasure or caprice prompted. At Hochst we got out at the same time as the market-boat from Mentz arrived. At a hotel there was a well-spread table, where the better sort of travellers, coming and going, ate with each other, and then proceeded, each on his way, as both ships returned. Every time, after dining, we sailed up to Frankfort, having, with a very large company, made the cheapest water-excursion that was possible. Once I had undertaken this journey with Gretchen's cousins, when a young man joined us at table in Hochst, who might be a little older than we were. They knew him, and he got himself introduced to me. He had something very pleasing in his manner, though he was not otherwise dis- tinguished. Coming from Mentz, he now went back with us to Frankfort, and conversed with me of everything that re- lated to the internal arrangements of the city, and the public offices and places, on which he seemed to me to be very well informed. "When we separated he bade me farewell, and added, that he wished 1 might think well of him, as he hoped on occasion to avail himself of my recommendation. I did not know what he meant by this, but the cousins enlightened me some days after ; they spoke well of him, and asked me to in- tercede with my grandfather, as a moderate appointment was 146 Tsuiii axd poetky; from him own lips. just now vacant, which, this friend would like to obtain. I at first excused myself, because I had never meddled in such affairs ; but they went on urging me until I resolved to do it. I had already many times remarked that, in these grants of offices, which unfortunately were often regarded as matters of favour, the mediation of my grandmother or an aunt had not been without effect. I was now so advanced as to arrogate some influence to myself. For that reason, to gratify my friends, who declared themselves under every sort of obligation for such a kindness, I overcame the timidity of a grandchild, and under- took to deliver a written application that was handed in to me. One Sunday, after dinner, as my grandfather was busy in his garden, all the more because autumn was approaching, and I tried to assist him on every side, I came forward with my request and the petition, after some hesitation. He looked at it, and asked me whether I knew the young man. I told him in general terms what was to be said, and he let the matter rest there. " If he has merit, and. moreover good testimonials, I will favour him for your sake and his own." He said no more, and for a long while I heard nothing of the matter. For some time I had observed that Gretchen span no more, but on the other hand was employed in sewing, and that, too, on very fine work, which surprised me the more, as the days were already shortening, and winter was coming on. I thought no further about it, only it troubled me that several times I had not found her at home in the morning as formerly, and could not learn, without importunity, whither she had gone. Yet I was destined one day to be surprised in a very odd manner. My sister, who was getting herself ready for a ball, asked me to fetch her some so-called Italian flowers, at a fashionable milliner's. They were made in convents, and were small and pretty ; myrtles especially, dwarf-roses, and the like, came out quite beautifully and naturally. I granted her the favour, and went to the shop where I had already often been with her. Hardly had I entered and greeted the proprietress, than 1 saw sitting in the window a lady, who in a lace cap looked very young and pretty, and in a silk mantilla seemed very well shaped. I could easily recognize that she was an assistant, for she was occupied in fastening a ribbon and feathers upon a hat. The milliner showed me the long box with single flowers of various sorts ; I looked them over, and as I made my chioce gbetchen's NEW SITU\iTI01T. 147 glanced again towards the lady in the window ; but how great was my astonishment when I perceived an incredible similarity to Gretchen, nay, was forced to be convinced at last that it was Gretchen herself. No doubt remained, when she winked with her eyes and gave me a sign that I must not be- tray our acquaintance. I now with my choosing and rejecting drove the milliner into despair more than even a lady could have done, I had, in fact, no choice, for I was excessively confused, and at the same time liked to linger, because it kept me near the girl, whose disguise annoyed me, though in that dis- guise she appeared to me more enchanting than ever. Finally, the milliner seemed to lose all patience, and with her own hands selected for me a whole bandbox full of flowers, which I was to place before my sister and let her choose for herself. Thus I was, as it were, driven out of the shop, while she sent the box first by one of her girls. Scarcely had. I reached home than my father caused me to be called, and communicated to me that it was now quite certain that the Archduke Joseph would be elected and crowned King of Rome. An event so highly important .was not to be expected without preparation, nor allowed to pass with mere gaping and staring. He wished, therefore, he said, to go through with me the election- and coronation-diaries of the two last coronations, as well as through the last capitulations of election, in order to remark what new conditions might be added in the present instance. The diaries were opened, and we occupied ourselves with them the whole day till far into the night, while the pretty girl, sometimes in her old house- dress, sometimes in her new costume, ever hovered before me, backwards and forwards among the most august objects of the Holy Roman Empire. This evening it was impossible to see her, and I lay awake through a very restless night. The study of yesterday was the next day zealously resumed, and it was not till towards evening that I found it possible to visit my fair one, whom I met again in her usual house-dress. She smiled when she saw me, but I did not venture to mention anything before the others. When the whole company sat quietly together again, she began and said, " It is unfair that you do not confide to our friend what we have lately resolved upon." She then continued to relate, that after our late con- versation, in which the discussion was how any one could get z. 2 148 TRUTH AND POETKT ; FBOM. KI OWN XIFE. on in tie world, something was also said of the way in which, a woman could enhance the value of her talent and labour, and advantageously employ her time. The cousins had conse- quently proposed that she should make an experiment at a milliner's who was just then in want of an assistant. They had, she said, arranged with the woman ; she went there so many hours a-day, and was well paid ; only when there she was obliged, for propriety's sake, to conform to a certain dress, which, however, she left behind her every time, as it did not at all suit her other modes of life and employment. I was indeed set at rest by this declaration, but it did not quite please me to know that the pretty girl was in a public shop, and at a place where the fashionable world found a convenient resort. But I betrayed nothing, and strove to work off my jealous care in silence. For this the younger cousin did not allow me a long time, as he once more came forward with a proposal for an occasional poem, told me all the personalities, and at once desired me to prepare' myself for the invention and disposition of the work. He had already spoken with me several times concerning the proper treatment of such a theme, and as I was voluble in these cases, he readily asked me to explain to him circumstantially what is rhetorical in these things, to give him a notion of the matter, and to make use of my own and others' labours in this kind for examples. The young man had some brains, though he was without a trace of a poetical vein, and now he went so much into particulars, and wished to have such an account of everything, that I gave utterance to the remark : " It seems as if you wanted to encroach upon my trade and steal away my customers !" "I will not deny it," said he, smiling, " as I shall do you no harm by it. This will only continue to the time when you go to the university, and till then you must allow me still to profit something by your society." " Most cordially," I replied, and I encouraged him to draw out a plan, to choose a metre according to the character of his subject, and to do whatever else might seem necessary. He went to- work in earnest, but did not succeed. I was in the end com- pelled to re-write so much of it, that I could more easily and; better have written it all from the beginning myself. Yet this teaching and learning, this mutual labour, afforded us good entertainment : Gretchen took part in it and had many a pretty notion, so that we were all pleased, we may indeed say, happy. PREPARATIONS TOR X'HE ELECTION. 149 During the day she worked at the milliner's : in the evenings we generally met together, and our contentment was not even disturbed when at last the commissions for occasional poems began to leave off. Still we felt hurt once, when one of them came back under protest, because it did not suit the party who ordered it. We consoled ourselves, however, as we considered it our very best work, and could therefore declare the other a bad judge. The cousin, who was determined to learn some- thing at any rate, resorted to the expedient of inventing pro- blems, in the solution of which we always found amusement enough, but as they brought in nothing, our little banquets had to be much more frugally managed. That great political object, the election and coronation of a King of Borne, was pursued with more and more earnestness. The assembling of the electoral college, originally appointed to take place at Augsburg in the October of 1 763, was now trans- ferred to Frankfort, and both at the end of this year and in the beginning of the next, preparations went forward, which should usher in this important business. The beginning was made by a parade never yet seen by us. One of our chancery officials on horseback, escorted by four trumpeters likewise mounted, and surrounded by a guard of infantry, read in a loud clear voice at all the corners of the city, a prolix edict, which an- nounced the forthcoming proceedings, and exhorted the citi- zens to a becoming deportment suitable to the circumstances. The council was occupied with weighty considerations, and it was not long before the Imperial Quarter-Master, despatched by the Hereditary Grand Marshal, made his appearance, in order to arrange and designate the residences of the ambassa- dors and their suites, according to the old custom. Our house lay in the Palatine district, and we had to provide for a new but agreeable billetting. The middle story, which Count Tho- rane had formerly occupied, was given up to a cavalier of the Palatinate, and as Baron von Konigsthal, the Nuremberg chargi d'affaires, occupied the upper floor, we were still more crowded than in the time of the French. This served me as a new excuse to be out of doors, and to pass the greater part of the day in the streets, that I might see all that was open to public view. After the preliminary alteration and arrangement of the rooms- in the town-house had seemed to us worth seeing, after 150 XEUTH AND POETEY J FEOM MT O'VN LIVE. the arrival of the ambassadors one after another, and their first solemn ascent in a body, on the 6th of February, had taken place, we admired the coming in of the imperial commissioners, and their ascent also to the Romer, which was made with great pomp. The dignified person of the Peince of Licht- enstein made a good impression; yet connoisseurs main- tained that the showy liveries had already been used or. another occasion, and that this election and coronation would hardly equal in brilliancy that of Charles the Seventh. We younger folks were content with what was before our eyes ; all seemed to us very fine, and much of it perfectly astonishing. The electoral congress was fixed at last for the 3rd of March. New formalities again set the city in motion, and the alternate visits of ceremony on the part of the ambassadors kept us always on our legs. We were compelled, too, to watch closely, as we were not only to gape about, but to note everything well, in order to give a proper report at home, and even to make out many little memoirs, on which my father and Herr von Ko- nigsthal had deliberated, partly for our exercise and partly for their own information. And certainly this was of peculiar ad- vantage to me, as I was enabled very tolerably to keep a living election- and coronation-diary, as far as regarded externals. The person who first of all made a durable impression upon me was the chief ambassador from the electorate of Mentz, Baeon von Eethai,, afterwards Elector., Without having anything striking "in his figure, he was always highly pleasing to me in his black gown trimmed with lace. The second am- bassador, Baeon von Geoschxag, was a well-formed man of the world, easy in his exterior, but conducting himself witlr great decorum.' He everywhere produced a very agreeable impression. Peince Esteehazy, the Bohemian envoy, was not tall, though well-formed, lively, and at the same time emi- nently decorous, without pride or coldness. I had a specia. liking for him, because he reminded me of Maeshai de Beo- olio. Yet the form and dignity of these excellent persons vanished, in a certain degree, before the prejudice that Was entertained in favour of Baeon von Plotho, the Branden- burg ambassador. This man, who was distinguished by a certain parsimony, both in his own clothes and in his liveries and equipages, had been greatly renowned from the time of the •tovea years' war, as a diplomatic hero. At Batisbon, when the BABON VON PLOTHO. l5l Notary April thought, in the nresence of witnesses, to serve him with the declaration of outlawry which had been issued against his king, he had, with the laconic exclamation: " What ! you serve ? " thrown him, or caused him to be thrown, down stairs. We believed the first, because it pleased us best, and we could readily believe it of the little compact man, with his blaclc, fiery eyes glancing here and there. All eyes were directed towards him, particularly when he alighted. There arose every time a sort of joyous whispering, and but little was wanting to a regular explosion, or a shout of Vivat ! Bravo ! So high did the king, and all who were devoted to him, body and soul, stand in favour with the crowd, among whom, besides the Frankforters, were Germans from all parts. On the one hand these things gave me much pleasure ; as all that took place, no matter of what nature it might be, con- cealed a certain meaning, indicated some internal relation, and such symbolic ceremonies again, for a moment, represented as living the old Empire of Germany, almost choked to death by so many parchments, papers, and books. But, on the other hand, I could not suppress a secret displeasure, when I was forced, at home, on my father's account, to transcribe the in- ternal transactions, and at the same time to remark that here several powers, which balanced each other, stood in opposition, and only so far agreed, as they designed to limit the new ruler even more than the old one ; that every one valued his influence only so far as he hoped to retain or enlarge his privileges, and better to Secure his independence. Nay, on this occasion they were more attentive than usual, because they began to fear Joseph the Second, his vehemence and probable plans. With my grandfather and other members' of the council, whose families I used to visit, this was no- pleasant time, they had so much to do with meeting distinguished guests, compli-i menting, and the delivery of presents. No less had the magis- trate, both in general and in particular, to defend himself, to resist, and to protest, as every one on such occasions desires to extort something from him, or burden him with something, and few of those to whom he appeals support him, or lend hirn their aid. In short, all that I had read in Lersner's Chronicle of similar incidents on similar occasions, with admiration ol the patience and perseverance of those good old councilmen, oaine once more vividly before my eyes. 152 TBTJTH AND POETRY ; FKOJtt MY OWN LIFE. Many vexations arise also from this, that the city is gra- dually overrun with people, both useful and needless. In vaiii are the courts reminded, on the part of the city, of prescrip- tions of the Golden Bull, now, indeed, obsolete. Not only the deputies with their attendants, but many persons of rank, and others who come from curiosity or for private objects, stand under protection, and the question as to who is to be billetted out, and who is to hire his own lodging, is not always decided at once. The tumult constantly increases, and even those who have nothing to give, or to answer for, begin to feel uncom- fortable. Even we young people, who could quietly contemplate it all, ever found something which did not quite satisfy our eyes or our imagination. The Spanish mantles, the huge feathered hats of the ambassadors, and other objects here and there, had indeed a truly antique look ; but there was a great deal, on the other hand, so half-new or entirely modern, that the affair assumed throughout a motley, unsatisfactory, often tasteless appearance. We were very happy to learn, therefore, that great preparations were made on account of the journey to Frankfort of the Emperor and future King ; that the proceed- ings of the college of electors, which were based on the last electoral capitulation, were now going forward rapidly ; and that the day of election had been appointed for the 27th. of March. Now there was a thought of fetching the insignia of the Empire from Nuremberg and Aix-la-Chapelle, and nest we expected the entrance of the Elector of Mentz, while the disputes with his ambassadors about the quartering ever con- tinued. Meanwhile I pursued my clerical labours at home very actively, and perceived many little suggestions (monita) which came in from all sides, and were to be regarded in the new capitulation. Every rank desired to see its privileges gua- ranteed and its importance increased in this document. Very many such observations and desires were, however, put aside; much remained as it was, though the suggestors (monentes) received the most positive assurances that the neglect should in no wise ensue, to their prejudice. In the meanwhile the office of Imperial Marshal was forced to undertake many dangerous affairs ; the crowd of strangers increased, ani it became more and more difficult to fiad LAVATEB. 153 Jodgings for them. Nor was there unanimity as to the limits ■of the different precincts of the Electors. The magistracy wished to keep from the citizens the burdens which they were not bound to bear, and thus day and night there were hourly .grievances, redresses, contests, and misunderstandings. The entrance of the Elector of Mentz happened on the 21st of May. Then began the cannonading, with which for, a long time we were often to be deafened. This solemnity was important in the series of ceremonies ; for all the men whom •we had hitherto seen, high as they were in rank, were still only subordinates ; but here appeared a sovereign, an inde- pendent prince, the first after the Emperor, preceded and accompanied by a large retinue worthy of himself. Of the pomp which marked his entrance I should have much to tell, if I did not purpose returning to it hereafter, and on an occa- sion which no one could easily guess. "What I refer to is this : — the same day, Lavatek, on his return home from Berlin, came through Frankfort, and saw the : solemnity. Now, though such worldly formalities could not have the least value for him, this procession, with its display and all its accessaries, might have 'been distinctly impressed ■ on his very lively imagination ; for, many years afterwards, when this eminent but singular man showed me a poetical paraphrase of, I believe, the Revelation of St. John, I dis- covered the entrance of Anti-Christ copied, step by step, figure by figure, circumstance by circumstance, from the en- trance of the Elector of Mentz into Frankfort, in such a manner, too, that even the tassels on the heads of the dun- coloured, horses were not wanting. More can be said on this point when I reach the epoch of that strange kind of poetry, by which it was supposed that the myths of the Old and New Testaments were brought nearer to our view and feelings when they were completely travestied into the modern style, and clothed with the vestments of present life, whether gentle or simple. How this mode of treatment gradually obtained favour, will be likewise discussed hereafter; yet I may here simply remark that it could not well be car- ried further than it was by Lavater and his emulators, one •of these having described the three holy kings riding into ► Bethlehem, in such modern form, that the princes and gen- "tlemen whom Lavater used to visit were not to be mistaken tos the persons. 15-i TltUTH AND POETRY ; PK0M MY OWN LIFE. We will then for the present allow the Elector Emeric Joseph to enter the Compostello incognito, so to speak,, and turn to Gretchen, whom, just as the crowd was dis- persing, I spied in the crowd, accompanied by Pylades and his mistress, the three now seeming to be inseparable. We nad scarcely come up to each other and exchanged greetings, than it was agreed that we should pass the evening together, and I kept the appointment punctually. The usual company had assembled, and each one had something to relate, to say, or to remark— how one had been most struck by this thing and another by that. "Your speeches," said Gretchen at last, " perplex me even more than the events of the time themselvesi What I have seen I cannot make out ; and should very much like to know what a great deal of it means." I replied that it was easy for me to render her this ser- vice. She had only to say what particularly interested her. This she did, and as I was about to explain some points, it was found that it would be better to proceed in order. I not unskilfully compared these solemnities and functions to a play, in which the curtain was let down at will, while the actors played on, and was then raised again, so that the spec- tators could once more, to some extent, take part in the action. As now I was veiy loquacious when I was allowed my own way, I related the whole, from the beginning down to. the time present, in the best order ; and to make the subject of my discourse more apparent, did not fail to use the- pencil and the large slate. Being only slightly interrupted by some questions and obstinate assertions of the others, I brought my discourse to a close, to the general satisfaction, while Gretchen, by her unbroken attention, had highly en- couraged me. At last she thanked me, and envied, as she said, all who wo y e informed of the affairs of this world, and knew how this and that came about and what it signified. She wished she were a boy, and managed to acknowledge, with much kindness, that she was indebted to me for a great deal of instruction. " If I were a boy," said she, " we would leam something good together at the university." The con- versation continued in this strain ; she definitively resolved to take instruction in French, of the absolute necessity of which she had become well aware in the milliner's shop. I. asked her why she no longer went there ; for during the latter ArPKOACH OP THE ELECTION. 155 times, not being able to go out much in the evening, I had often passed the shop during the day for her sake, merely to see her for a moment. She explained that she had not liked to expose herself there in these unsettled times. As soon as the city returned to its former condition she intended to go there again. Then the discourse was on the impending day of election. I contrived to tell, at length, what was going to happen, and how, and to support my demonstrations in detail by drawings on the tablet ; for I had the place of conclave, with its altars, thrones, seats, and chairs, perfectly before my mind. We separated at the proper time, and in a peculiarly comfortable frame of mind. For, with a young couple who are in any degree harmo- niously formed by nature, nothing can conduce to a more beautiful union than when the maiden is anxious to learn, and the youth inclined to teach. There arises from it a well- grounded and agreeable relation. She sees in him the creator of her spiritual existence, and he sees in her a creature that ascribes her perfection, not to nature, not to chance, nor to any one-sided inclination, but to a imitual will ; and this reci- procation is so sweet, that we cannot wonder, if from the days of the old and the new* Abelara, the most violent passions, and as much happiness as unhappiness, have arisen from such an intercourse of two beings. With the next day began great commotion in the city, on account of the visits paid and returned which now took place with the greatest ceremony. But what particularly interested me, as a citizen of Frankfort, and gave rise to a great many reflections, was the taking of the oath of security (Sicherheits ieides) by the council, the military, and the body of citizens, not through representatives, but personally, and in mass : first, in the great hall of the Romer, by the magistracy and staff- officers ; then in the great square (Plafa), the Komerberg, by all the citizens, according to their respective ranks, grada- tions, or quarterings ; and lastly by the rest of the military. Here one could survey at a single glance the entire common- wealth, assembled for the honourable purpose of swearing security to the head and members of the Empire, and un * The " new Abelard " is St. Preux, in the Nouvelle Heloise of Ro*^ «sghu. — Trans. 156 TRUTH AND POETKY ; TKOM MY OWN LIFE. broken peace during the great work now impending. Th6 Electors of Treves and of Cologne had now also arrived in person. On the evening before the day of election all strangers are sent out of the city, the gates are closed, the Jews are confined to their quarter, and the citizen of Frank- fort prides himself not a little that he alone may be a witness of so great a solemnity. All that had hitherto taken place was tolerably modern ; the highest and high personages moved about only in coaches ; but now we were going to see them in the primitive manner on horseback. The concourse and rush were extraordinary. I managed to squeeze myself into the Komer, which I knew as familiarly as a mouse does the private corn-loft, till I reached the main entrance, before which the Electors and ambassadors, who had first arrived in their state-coaches, and had assem- bled above, were now to mount their horses. The stately, well-trained steeds were covered with richly laced housings, and ornamented in every way. " The Elector Emeric Joseph, a comfortable-looking man, looked well on horseback. Of the other two I remember less, excepting that the red princes' mantles, trimmed with ermine, which we had been accus- tomed to see only in pictures before, seemed to us very romantic in the open air. The ambassadors of the absent temporal Electors, , with their Spanish dresses of gold bro- cade, embroidered over with gold, and trimmed with gold lace, likewise did our eyes good ; and the large feathers par- ticularly, that waved most splendidly from the hats, which were cocked in the antique style. But what did not please me were the short modern breeches, the white silk stockings, and the fashionable shoes. We should have liked half-boots •—gilded as much as they pleased — sandals, or something of the kind, that we might have seen a more consistent costume. In deportment the Ambassador Von Plotho again distin- guished himself from all the rest. He appeared lively and cheerful, and seemed to have no great respect for the whole ceremony. For when his front-man, an elderly gentleman, could not leap immediately on his horse, and he was therefore forced to wait some time in the grand entrance, he did not refrain from laughing, till his own horse was brought forward, upon which he swung himself very dexterously, and was again admired by us as a most woithy representative of Frederick the Second. APPROACH OP THE EMPEKOS AND KING. 15T Now the curtain was for us once more let down. I had indeed tried to force my way into the church ; but that place was more inconvenient than agreeable. The voters had with- drawn into the sanctum, where prolix ceremonies usurped the place of a deliberate consideration as to the election. After long delay, pressure, and bustle, the people at last heard the name of Joseph the Second, who was proclaimed King of Rome. The thronging of strangers into the city became greater and greater. Everybody went about in his holiday clothes, so that at last none but dresses entirely of gold were found worthy of note. The Emperor and King had already arrived at Heusenstamm, a castle of the Counts of Schonborn, and were there, in the customary manner greeted and welcomed ; but the city celebrated this important epoch by spiritual festi- vals of all the religions, by high masses and sermons ; and on the temporal side by incessant firing of cannon as an accom- paniment to the Te Deums. If all these public solemnities, from the beginning up to this point, had been regarded as a deliberate work of art, not much to find fault with would havejbeen found. All was well prepared. The public scenes opened gradually, and went on increasing in importance j the men grew in number, the per- sonages in dignity, their appurtenances, as well as themselves in splendour; and thus it advanced with every day, till a : : last even a well-prepared and firm eye became bewildered. The entrance of the Elector of Mentz, which we have re* fused to describe more completely, was magnificent and im- posing enough to suggest to the imagination of an eminent man, the advent of a great prophesied World-Ruler ; even we were not a little dazzled by it. But now our expectation was stretched to the utmost, as it was said that? the Emperor and the future King were approaching the city. At a little dis- tance from Sachsenhausen, a tent had been erected, in which the entire magistracy remained, to show the appropriate honour, and to proffer the keys of the city to the chief of the Empire. Further out, on a fair spacious plain, stood another —a state pavilion, whither the whole body of electoral princes and ambassadors repaired, while their retinues extended along the whole way, that gradually, as their turns came, they might again move towards the city, and enter properly into 158 XBTJTH AND POETRY; FKOM MI OWN LIFE. the procession. By this time the Emperor reached the tent, entered it, and the princes and ambassadors, after a most respectful reception, withdrew, to facilitate the passage of the chief ruler. We others who remained in the city to admire ibis pomp within the walls and streets, still more than could have been done in the open fields, were very well entertained for a while by the barricade set up by the citizens in the lanes, by the throng of people, and by the various jests and improprieties which arose, till the ringing of bells and the thunder of cannon announced to us the immediate approach of Majesty. What must have been particularly grateful to a Frankforter was, that on this occasion, in the presence of so many sove- reigns and their representatives, the imperial city of Frank- fort also appeared as a little sovereign ; for her equerry opened the procession ; chargers with armorial trappings, upon which the white eagle on a red field looked very fine, followed him ; then came attendants and officials, drummers and trumpeters, and deputies of the council, accompanied by the clerks of the council, in the city livery, on foot. Immediately behind these were the three companies of citizen cavalry, very well mounted — the same that we had seen from our youth, at the reception of the escort and on other public occasions. We rejoiced in our participation of the honour, and in our hundred- thousandth part of a sovereignty which now appeared in its full brilliancy. The different trains of the Hereditary Imperial Marshal, and of the envoys deputed by the six temporal Electors, marched after these step by step. None of them consisted of less than twenty attendants, and two state-car- riages — some even of a greater number. The retinue of the spiritual Electors was ever on the increase, — their servants and domestic officers seemed innumerable, — the Elector of Cologne and the Elector of Treves had above twenty state- carriages, and the Eleetor of Mentz quite as many alone. The servants, both on horseback and on foot, were clothed most splendidly throughout; the lords in the equipages, spiritual and temporal, had not omitted to appear richly and venerably dressed, and adorned with all the badges of their orders. The train of his Imperial Majesty now, as was fit, surpassed all the rest. The riding-masters, the led horses, the equipages, the shabracks and caparisons, attracted every THE IMPERIAL CAKBIAGE, 159 eye, and the sixteen six-horse gala-wagons of the Imperial Chamberlains, Privy Councillors, High Chamberlain, High Stewards, and High Equerry, closed, with great pomp, this division of the procession, which, in spite of its magnificence and extent, was still only to be the van-guard. But now the line concentrated itself more and more, while the dignity and parade kept on increasing. ,For, in the midst of a chosen escort of their own domestic attendants, the most of them on foot, and a few on horseback, appeared the Elec- toral ambassadors as well as the Electors in person, in ascend- ing order, each one in a magnificent state-carriage. Imme- diately behind the Elector of Mentz, ten imperial footmen, one and forty lackeys, and eight Heyducks,* announced their Ma- jesties. The most magnificent state-carriage, furnished even at the back part with an entire window of plate-glass, orna- mented with paintings, lacker, carved work, and gilding, covered with red embroidered velvet on the top and inside, allowed us very conveniently to behold the Emperor and King, the long-desired heads, in all their glory. The procession was led a long circuitous route, partly from necessity, that it might be able to unfold itself, and partly to render it visible to the great multitude of people. It had passed through Sachsen- hausen, over the bridge, up the Fahrgasse, then down the Zeile, and turned towards the inner city through the Eatha- rinenpforte, formerly a gate, and since the enlargement of the city, an open thoroughfare. Here it had been fortunately considered that, for a series of years, the external grandeur of the world had gone on expanding both in height and breadth. Measure had been taken, and it was found that the present imperial state-carriage could not, without striking its carved work and other outward decorations, get through this gateway, through which so many princes and emperors had gone back- wards and forwards. The matter was debated, and to avoid an inconvenient circuit, it was resolved to take up the pave- ments, and to contrive a gentle descent and ascent. With the same view they had also removed all the projecting eaves from the shops and booths in the street, that neither crown, nor eagle, nor the genii should receive any shock or injury. Eagerly as we directed our eyes to the high personages when this p recipus vessel with such pr^cious_conieats approached us, * A (lass of attendants dressed in Hungarian costume. — Trans. 160 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. we could not avoid turning our looks upon the noble horses,, their harness, and its embroidery ; but the strange coachmen- and outriders, both sitting on the horses, particularly struck us. They looked as if they had come from some other nation, or even from another world, with their long black and yellow velvet coats, and their caps with large plumes of feathers, after the imperial court fashion. Now the crowd became so dense that it was impossible to distinguish much more. The Swiss guard on both sides of the carriage, the Hereditary Marshal holding the Saxon sword upwards in his right hand, the Field- Marshals, as leaders of the Imperial Guard, riding behind the carriage, the imperial pages in a body, and finally, the Imperial Horse-guard (Hatschiergarde) itself, in black velvet frocks {Flugelriicfy, with all the seams edged with gold, under which were red coats and leather-coloured camisoles, likewise richly decked with gold ! One scarcely recovered oneself from sheer seeing, pointing, and showing, so that the scarcely less splen- didly clad body-guards of the Electors were barely looked at, and we should perhaps have withdrawn from the windows, if we had not wished to take a view of our own magistracy, who closed the procession in their fifteen two-horse coaches, and particularly the clerk of the council, with the city keys on red velvet cushions. That our company of city grenadiers should cover the rear, seemed to us honourable enough, and we felt doubly and highly edified as Germans and as Frankforters by this great day. We had taken our place in a house which the procession had to pass again when it returned from the cathedral. Oi religious services, of music, of rites and solemnities, of addresses and answers, of propositions and readings aloud, there was so much in church, choir, and conclave, before .it came to- the swearing of the electoral capitulation, that we had time enough to partake of an excellent collation, and to empty many bottles to the health of our old and young ruler. The conversation, in the meanwhile, as is usual on such occasions, reverted to the time past, and there were not wanting aged persons who pre- ferred that to the present, at least with respect to a certain human interest and impassioned sympathy which then pre- vailed. At the coronation of Francis the First all had not been so settled as now ; peace had not yet been concluded ; France and the Electors of Brandenburg and the Palatinate MAMA I'JIEEESA. 161 were opposed to the election ; the troops of the future emperor were stationed at Heidelberg, where he had his head-quarters, and the insignia of the Empire coming from Aix, were almost carried off by the inhabitants of the Palatinate. Meanwhile negotiations went on, and on neither side was the affair con- ducted in the strictest manner. Maeia Theeesa, though then pregnant, comes in person to see the coronation of her husband, which is at last carried into effect. She arrived at Aschaffenburg, and went on board a yacht in order to repair to Frankfort. Francis, from Heidelberg, thinks to meet his wife, but comes too late; she has already departed. Unknown, he throws himself into a little boat, hastens after her, reaches her ship, and the loving pair is delighted at this surprising meeting. The story spreads immediately, and all the world sympathizes with this tender pair, so richly blessed with their children, who have been so inseparable since their union, that once on a journey from Vienna to Florence they are forced to keep quarantine together on the Venetian border. Maria Theresa is welcomed in the city with rejoicings, she enters the Homan Mnperor inn, while the great tent for the reception of her husband is erected on the Bornheim heath. There of the spiritual Electors is found only Mentz, and of the ambassadors of the temporal Electors, only Saxony, Bohemia, and Hanover. The entrance begins, and what it may lack of completeness and splendour is richly compensated by the presence of a beau- tiful lady. She stands upon the balcony of the well-situated house, and greets her husband with cries of Vivat and clapping of hands ; the people joined, excited to the highest enthusiasm. As the great are, after all, men, the citizen thinks them his equals when he wishes to love them, and that he can best do when he can picture them to himself as loving husbands, tender parents, devoted brothers, and true friends. At that time all happiness had been wished and prophesied, and to-day it was seen fulfilled in the first-born son ; to whom everybody was well inclined on account of his handsome youthful form, and upon whom the world set the greatest hopes, on account of the great qualities that he showed. We hctd become quite absorbed in the past and future, when some friends who came in recalled us to the present. They were of those who know the value of novelty, and therefore hasten to announce it first. They were even able to tell of a finp T£. 162 TRUTH AND P0ETBY ; TEOM! MY OW3ST LIFE. humane trait in those exalted personages whom we had seen go by with the greatest pomp. It had been concerted that on the way, between Heusenstamm and the great tent, the Empe- ror and King should find the Landgrave of Darmstadt in the forest. This old prince, now approaching the grave, wished to see once more the master to whom he had been devoted in former times. Both might remember the day when the Land- grave brought over to Heidelberg the decree of the Electors choosing Francis as Emperor, and replied to the valuable pre- sents he received with protestations of unalterable devotion. These eminent persons stood in a grove of firs, and the Land- grave, weak with old age, supported himself against a pine, to j continue the conversation, which was not without emotion on I both sides. 'The place was afterwards marked in an innocent l way, and we young people sometimes wandered to it. Thus several hours had passed in remembrance of the old and consideration of the new, when the procession, though curtailed and more compact, again passed before our eyes, and- we were enabled to observe and mark the detail more closely, and imprint it on our minds for the future. From that moment the city was in uninterrupted motion ; for until each and every one whom it behoved, and of whom it was required, had paid their respects to the highest dignities, and exhibited themselves one by one, there was no end to the marching to and fro, and the court of each one of the high persons present could be very conveniently repeated in detail. , Now, too, the insignia of the Empire arrived. But that no ancient usage might be omitted even in this respect, they had to remain half a day till late at night in the open field, on account of a dispute about territory and escort between the Elector of Mentz and the city. The latter yielded, the' people of Mentz escorted the insignia as far as the barricade, and so the affair terminated for this time. In these days I did not come to myself. At home I had to write and copy ; everything had to be seen ; and so ended the month of March, the second half of which had been so rich in festivals for us. I had promised Gretchen a faithful and com- plete account of what had lately happened, and of what was to be expected on the coronation-day. This' great day ap- proached ; I thought more how I should tell it to her than of what properly was to be told ; all that came under my eyes AN ETENI^a WITH GRETCHEN. 163 and my pen I merely worked up rapidly for this sole and imme- diate use. At last I reached her residence somewhat late one evening, and was not a little proud to think how my discourse on this occasion would be much more successful than the first unprepared one. But a momentary incitement often brings us, and others through us, more joy than the most deliberate purpose can afford. I found, indeed, pretty nearly the same company, but there were some unknown persons among them. They sat down to play, all except Gretchen and her younger cousin, who remained with me at the slate. The dear girl expressed most gracefully her delight that she, though a stranger, had passed for a citizen on the election-day, and had taken part in that unique spectacle. She thanked me most warmly for having managed to take care of her, and for hav- ing been so attentive as to procure her, through Pylades, all sorts of admissions by means of billets, directions, friends, and intercessions. She liked to hear about the jewels of the Empire. I pro- mised her that we should, if possible, see these together. She made some jesting remarks when she learned that the garments and crown had been tried on the young king. I knew where she would gaze at the solemnities of the coronation-day, and directed her attention to everything that was impending, and particularly to what might be minutely inspected from her place of view. Thus we forgot to think about time ; it was already past midnight; and I found that I unfortunately had not the house- key with me. I could not enter the house without making the greatest disturbance. I communicated my embarrassment to her. " After all," said she, " it will be best for the com- pany to remain together." The cousins and the strangers had already had this in mind, because it was not known where they would be lodged for the night. The matter was soon decided ; Gretchen went to make some coffee, after bringing in and lighting a large brass lamp, furnished with oil and wick, because the candles threatened to burn out. The coffee served to enliven us for several hours, but the game gradually slackened; conversation failed; the mother slept in the great chair ; the strangers, weary from travelling, nodded here and there, and Pylades and his fair one sat in a corner. She had laid her head on his shoulder and had gone to i.64 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN I.IFB. sleep, and he did not keep long awake. The younger cousir sitting opposite to us by the slate, had crossed his arms before him, and slept -with his face resting upon them. I sat in the window-corner, behind the table, and Gretchen by me. We talked in a low voice : but at last sleep overcame her also, she leaned her head on my shoulder, and sank at once into a slumber. Thus I now sat, the only one awake, in a most singular posi- tion, in which the kind brother of death soon put me also to rest. I went to sleep, and when I awoke it was already bright day. Gretchen was standing before the mirror arranging her little cap ; she was more lovely than ever, and when I de- parted cordially pressed my hands. I crept home by a round- about way ; for, on the side towards the little Stag-ditch, my father had opened a sort of little peep-hole in the wall, not without the opposition of his neighbour. This side we avoided when we wanted not to be observed by him in coming home. My mother, whose mediation always came in well for us, had endeavoured to palliate my absence in the morning at breakfast, by the supposition that I had gone out early, and I experienced no disagreeable 'effects from this innocent night. Taken as a whole, this infinitely various world which sur- rounded me, produced upon me but a very simple impression. I had no interest but to mark closely the outside of the objects, no business but that with which I had been charged by my father and Herr von Konigsthal, by which, indeed, I perceived the inner course of things. I had no liking but for Gretchen, and no other view than to see and apprehend all properly, that I might be able to repeat it with her, and explain it to her. Often when a train was going by, I described it half aloud to myself, to assure myself of all the particulars, and to be praised by my fair one for this attention and accuracy ; the applause and acknowledgments of the others I regarded as a mere appendix. I was indeed presented to many exalted and distinguished persons ; but partly, no one had time to trouble himself about others, and partly, older people do not know at once how they should converse with a young man and try him. I, on my side, was likewise not particularly skilful in adapting myself to people. Generally I acquired their favour, but not their approbation. Whatever occupied me was completely present to me ; but I did not ask whether it might be also suitable t? THE CORONATION-DAI. 135 others. I was mostly too lively or too quiet, and appeared either importunate or sullen, just as persons attracted or repelled me ; and thus I was considered to be indeed full of promise, but at the same time was declared eccentric. The coronation-day dawned at last, on the 3rd of April, 1764 ; the weather was favourable, and everybody was in motion. I, with several of my relations and friends, had been provided with a good place in one of the upper stories of the Romer itself, where we might completely survey the whole. We betook ourselves to the spot very early in the morning, and from above, as in a bird's-eye view, contemplated the arrange- ments which we had inspected more closely the day before. There was the newly-erected fountain, with two large tubs on the left and right, into which the double-eagle on the post was to pour from its two beaks white wine on this side and red wine on that. There, gathered into a heap, lay the oats ; here stood the large wooden hut, in which we had several days since seen the whole fat ox roasted and basted on a huge spit before a charcoal fire. All the avenues leading out from the Romer, and from other streets back to the Romer, were secured on both sides by barriers and guards. The great square was gra- dually filled, and the waving and pressure grew every moment stronger and more in motion, as the multitude always, if pos- sible, endeavoured to reach the spot where some new scene arose, and something particular was announced. All this time there reigned a tolerable stillness, and when the alarm-bells were sounded, all the people seemed struck with terror and amazement. "What first attracted the atten- tion of all who could overlook the square from above, was the train in which the lords of Aix and Nuremberg brought the crown-jewels to the cathedral. These, as palladia, had been assigned the first place in the carriage, and the deputies sat before them on the back seat with becoming reverence. Now the three Electors betake themselves to the cathedral. After the presentation of the insignia to the Elector of Mentz, the crown and sword are immediately carried to the imperial quarters. The further arrangements and manifold ceremonies occupied, in the interim, the chief persons, as well as the spec- tators, in the church, as we other well-informed persons could well imagine. In the meanwhile before our eyes the ambassadors ascended 166 TEL'TH ASTD POETBY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE. to the Romer, from which the canopy is carried by the under- officers into the imperial quarters. The Hereditary Marshal Cotjnt tout Pappenheim instantly mounts his horse ; he was a very handsome, slender gentleman, whom the Spanish cos- tume, the rich doublet, the gold mantle, the high feathered hat, and the loose flying hair, became very well. He puts himself in motion, and, amid the sound of all the bells, the ambassadors follow him on horseback to the quarters of the Emperor in still greater magnificence than on the day of elec- tion. One would have liked to be there too, as indeed on this day it would have been altogether desirable to multiply one's- self. However, we told each other what was going on there. Now the Emperor is putting on his domestic robes, we said, a new dress, made after the old Carolingian pattern. The hereditary officers receive the insignia, and with them get on horseback. The Emperor in his robes, the Roman King in the Spanish habit, immediately mount their steeds ; and while this is done, the endless procession which precedes them has already announced them. The eye was already wearied by the multitude of richly- dressed attendants and magistrates, and by the nobility who, in stately fashion, were moving along ; but when the Elec- toral envoys, the hereditary officers, and at last, under the richly-embroidered canopy, borne by twelve Schoffen, and senators, the Emperor, in romantic costume, and to the left, a little behind him, in the Spanish dress, his son, slowly floated along on magnificently-adorned horses, the eye was no more sufficient for the sight. One would have liked to detain the scene, but for a moment, by a magic charm ; but the glory passed on without stopping, and the space that was scarcely quitted was immediately filled again by the crowd, which poured in like billows. But now a new pressure took place ; for another approach from the market to the Romer gate had. to be opened, and a road of planks to be bridged over it, on which the train returning from the cathedral was to walk. What passed within the cathedral, the endless ceremonies which precede and accompany the anointing, the crowning, the dubbing of knighthood,— all this we were glad to hear told afterwards by those who had sacrificed much else to be present in the church THE CORONATION PROCESSION. 167 The rest of us, in tie interim, partook of a frugal repast ; for in this festal day we had to be contented with cold meat But, on the other hand, the best and oldest wine had beer, brought out of all the family-cellars, so BiaFin this respect a1 least we celebrated the ancient festival in ancient style. In the square, the sigEtTmost worth seeing : was now the bridge, which had been finished, and covered with orange and white cloth ; and we who had stared at the Emperor, first in his carriage and then on horseback, were now to admire him walking on foot. Singularly enough, the last pleased us the' most ; for we thought that in this way he exhibited himself both in the most natural and in the most dignified manner. Older persons, who were present at the coronation of Francis the First, related that Maria Theresa, beautiful beyond measure, had looked on this solemnity from a bal- cony window of the Frauenstein house, close to. the Romer. As her consort returned from the cathedral in his strange costume, and seemed to her, so to speak, like a ghost of Charlemagne, he had, as if in jest, raised both his hands, and shown her the imperial globe, the sceptre, and the curious gloves, at which she had broken out into immoderate laugh- ter, which served for the great deKght and edification of the crowd, which was thus honoured with a sight of the good and natural matrimonial understanding between the most exalted couple of Christendom. But when the Empress, to greet her consort, waved her handkerchief, and even shouted a loud vivat to him, the enthusiasm and exultation of the people was raised to the highest, so that there was no end to the cheers of joy. Now, the sound of bells, and the van of the long trftin which gently made its way over the many-coloured bridge, announced that all was done. The attention was greater than ever, and the procession more distinct than before, particu- larly for us, since it now came directly up to us. We saw it, as well as the whole of the square, which was thronged with people, almost as if on a ground-plan. Only at the end the magnificence was too much crowded; for the envoys, the hereditary officers, the Emperor and King, under the canopy {Baldachin), the three spiritual Electors, who immediately followed, the Schoffen and senators, dressed in black, the gold embroidered canopy (HimmeV), — all seemed only one 168 TStTTH AND POETRY ; FHOM MT OVfN XIFK. mass, which, moved by a single will, splendidly harmonious, and thus stepping from the temple amid the sound of tho bells, beamed towards us as something holy. A politico-religious ceremony possesses an infinite charm. We behold earthly majesty before our eyes, surrounded by all the symbols of its power ; but while it bends before that of heaven, it brings to our minds the communion of both. For even the individual can only prove his relationship with the Deity by subjecting himself and adoring, The rejoicings, which resounded from the market-place, now spread likewise over the great square, and a boisterous vivat burst forth* from thousands upon thousands of throats, and doubtless from as many hearts. For this grand festival was to be the pledge of a lasting peace, which indeed for many a long year actually blessed Germany. Several days before, it had been made known by public proclamation, that neither the bridge nor the eagle over the fountain were to be exposed to the people, and were therefore not, as at other times, to he touched. This was done to pre- vent the mischief inevitable with such a rush of persons. But in order to sacrifice in some degree to the genius of the mob, persons expressly appointed went behind the procession, loosened the cloth from the bridge, wound it up like a flag, and threw it into the air. This gave rise to no disaster, but to a laughable mishap ; for the cloth unrolled itself in the air, and, as it fell, covered a larger or smaller number of persons. Those now who took hold of the ends and drew them towards themselves, pulled all those in the middle to the ground, en- veloped them and teased them till they tore or out themselves through, and everybody, in his own way, had borne off a corner of the stuff made sacred by the footsteps of Majesty. 1 did not long contemplate this rude sport, but hastened from my high position, through all sorts of little steps and passages, down to the great Romer stairs, where the distin- guished and majestic mass, which had been Stared at from the distance, was to ascend in its undulating course. The crowd was not great, because the entrances to the council- house were well garrisoned, and I fortunately reached at once the iron balustrades above. Now the chief personages as- cended past me, while their followers remained behind in the lower arched passages, and I could observe them on the thriae broken stairs from all sides, and at last quite close. CORONATION CEREMONIES. 169 Finally both, their Majesties came up. Father and son were altogether dressed like MenEechmi. The Emperor's domestic robes, of purple-coloured silk, richly adorned 'with pearls and stones, as well as his crown, sceptre, and imperial orb, struck the eye with good effect. For all in them was new, and the imitation of the antique was tasteful. He moved, too, quite easily in his attire, and his true-hearted, dignified face, indicated at once the emperor and the father. The young King, on the contrary, in his monstrous articles of dress, with the crown-jewels of Charlemagne, dragged himself along as if he had been in a disguise, so that he himself, looking at his father from time to time, could not refrain from laughing. The crown, which it had been necessary to line a great deal, stood out from his head like an overhanging roof. The dal- matica, the stole, well as they had been fitted and taken in by sewing, presented by no means an advantageous appeal ance. The sceptre and imperial orb excited some admiration ; but one would, for the sake of a more princely effect, rather have seen a strong form, suited to the dress, invested and adorned with it. Scarcely were the gates of the great hall closed behind these figures, than I hurried to my former place, which being already occupied by others, I only regained with some trouble. It was precisely at the right time that I again took possession of my window ; for the most remarkable part of all that was to be seen in public was just about to take place. All the people had turned towards the Romer, and a reiterated shout of vivat gave us to understand that the Emperor and King, in their vestments, were showing themselves to the populace from the balcony of the great hall. But they were not alone to serve as a spectacle, since another strange spectacle occurred before their eyes. First of all, the handsome slender Heredi- tary Marshal flung himself upon his steed ; he had laid aside his sword ; in his right hand he held a silver-handled vessel, and a tin spatula in his left. He rode within the barriers to the great heap of oats, sprang in, filled the vessel to overflow, smoothed it off, and carried it back again with great dignity. The imperial stable was now provided for. The Hereditary Chamberlain then rode likewise to the spot, and brought back a basin with ewer and towel. But more entertaining for the spectators was the Hereditary Carver, who came to fetch a 170 TBT/TH AND POETBY ; FBOM MY OWN LIJfE. piece of the roasted ox. He also rode, with a silver dish, through the barriers, to the large wooden kitchen, and came forth again with his portion covered, that he might go back to the Romer. Now it was the turn of the Hereditary Cup- bearer, who rode to the fountain and fetched wine. Thus now was the imperial table furnished, and every eye waited upon the Hereditary Treasurer, who was to throw about the money. He, too, mounted a fine steed, to the sides of whose saddle, instead of holsters, a couple of splendid bags em- broidered with the arms of the Palatinate, were suspended. Scarcely had he put himself in motion than he plunged his hands into these pockets, and generously scattered right and left gold and silver coins, which on every occasion glittered merrily in the air like metallic rain. A thousand hands waved instantly in the air to catch the gifts ; but hardly had the coins fallen than the crowd tumbled over each other on the ground, and struggled violently for the pieces which might have reached the earth. As this agitation was con- stantly repeated on both sides as the giver rode forwards, it afforded the spectators a very diverting sight. It was most lively at the close, when he threw out the bags themselves, and everybody tried to catch this highest prize. Their Majesties had retired from the balcony, and another offering was to be made to the mob, who, on such occasions, would rather steal the gifts than receive them tranquilly and gratefully. The custom prevailed, in more rude and uncouth times, of giving up to the people on the spot the oats, as soon as the Hereditary Marshal had taken away his share, the fountain and the kitchen, after the cup-bearer and the carver had performed their offices. But this time, to guard against all mischief, order and moderation were preserved as far as possible. But the old malicious jokes, that when one filled a sack with oats another cut a hole in it, with sallies of the kind, were revived. About the roasted ox, a serious battle on this occasion, as usual, was waged. This could only be contested en masse. Two guilds, the butchers and the wine-porters, had, according to ancient custom, again stationed themselves so that the monstrous roast must fall to one of the two. The butchers believed that they had the best right to an ox which they provided entire for the kitchen; the wine-porters, on the other hand, laid claim because the THE OX AND THE "WOODEN KITCHEN. 171 kitchen was built near the abode of their guild, and because they had gained the victory the last time, the horns of the captured steer still projecting from the latticed gable-window of their guild and meeting-house as a sign of victory. Both these companies had very strong and able members ; but which of them conquered this time, I no longer remember. But as a festival of this kind must always close with something dangerous and frightful, it was really a terrible moment when the wooden kitchen itself was made a prizes The roof of it swarmed instantly with men, no one knowing how they got there, the boards were torn loose, and pitched down, so that one could not help supposing, particularly at a distance, that each would kill a few of those pressing to the spot. In a trice the hut was unroofed, and single indivi- duals hung to the beams and rafters, in order to pull them also out of their joinings; nay, many floated above upon the posts which had been already sawn off below, and the whole skeleton, moving backwards and forwards, threatened to fall in. Sensitive persons turned their eyes away, and everybody expected a great calamity ; but we did not hear of any mischief, and the whole affair, though impetuous and violent, had passed off happily. » Everybody knew now that the Emperor and King would return from the cabinet, whither they had retired from the balcony, and feast in the great hall of the Bomer. We had been able to admire the arrangements made for it, the day before ; and my most anxious wish was, if possible, to look in to-day. I repaired, therefore, by the usual path, to the great staircase, which stands directly opposite the door of the hall. Here I gazed at the distinguished personages who this day acted as the servants of the head of the Empire. Forty-four counts, all splendidly dressed, passed me, carrying the dishes from the kitchen, so that the contrast between their dignity and their occupation might well be bewildering to a boy. The urowd was not great, but, considering the little space, suffi- liently perceptible. The hall-door was guarded, while those who were authorised went frequently in and out. I saw one of the Palatine domestic officials, whom I asked whether he could not take me in with him. He did not deliberate long, but gave me one of the silver vessels he just then bore,— Itrhich he could do so much the more as I was neatly clad ; 172 TKUTH ANU POETKT ; FKOM SIT OWN LIFB. and thus I reached the sanctuary. The Palatine buffet stood to the left, directly by the door, and with some steps I placed myself on the elevation of it, behind the barriers. At the other end of the hall, immediately by the windows, raised on the steps of the throne, and under canopies, sat the Emperor and King in their robes ; but the crown and sceptre lay at some distance behind them on gold cushions. The three spiritual Electors, their buffets behind them, had taken their places on single elevations ; the Elector of Mentz oppo- site their Majesties, the Elector of Treves at the right, and the Elector of Cologne at the left. This upper part of the hall was imposing and cheerful to behold, and excited the remark that the spiritual power likes to keep as long as pos- sible with the ruler. On the contrary, the buffets and tables of all the temporal Electors, which, were, indeed, magni- ficently ornamented, but without occupants, made one think of the misunderstanding which had gradually arisen for cen- turies between them and the head of the Empire. Their ambassadors had already withdrawn to eat in a side-chamber; and if the greater part of the hall assumed a sort of spectral appearance, by so many invisible guests being so magnifi- cently attended, a large unfurnished table in the middle was still more sad to look upon ; for there also many covers stood empty, because all those who had certainly a right to sit there had, for appearance sake, kept away, that on the greatest day of honour they might not renounce any of their honour, if, indeed, they were then to be found in the city. Neither my years nor the mass of present objects allowed me to make many reflections. I strove to see all as much as possible ; and when the dessert was brought in and the am- bassadors re-entered to pay their court, I sought the open air, and contrived to refresh myself with good friends in the neighbourhood, after a day's half-fasting, and to prepare for ' the illumination in the evening. This brilliant night I purposed celebrating in a right hearty way; for I had agreed with Gretchen, and Fylades and his mistress, that we should meet somewhere at nightfall. The city was already resplendent at every end and comer when I met my beloved. I offered Gretchen my arm ; we went from one quarter to another, and found ourselves very happy in each other's society. The cousins at first were als* THE ILLUMINATIONS. 173 ng,/that our note-books became disordered, and the conclu- sion of them, towards spring, melted away, together with the snow, and was lost. It was soon quite as bad with the law lectures : for I already knew just as much as the professor thought good to commu- nicate to us. My stubborn industry in writing down the lec- tures at first, was paralyzed by degrees, for I found it exces- sively tedious to pen down once more that which, partly by question, partly by answer, I had repeated with my fattier often enough to retain it for ever in my memory. The harm which is done when young people at school are advanced too far in many things, was afterwards manifested still more when time and attention were diverted from exercises in the languages, and a foundation in what are, properly speaking, preparatory studies, in order to be applied to what are called " Realities," which dissipate more than they cultivate, if they are not me- thodically and thoroughly taught. I here mention, by the way, another evil by which students are much embarrassed. Professors, as well as other men in office, cannot all be of the same age ; but when the younger ones teach, in fact, only that they may learn, and moreover, if they have talent, anticipate their age, they acquire their own cultivation altogether at the cost of their hearers, since these are not instructed in what tbpy really need, but in that which DOMESTIC TAILORING. 200 the professor finds it necessary to elaborate for himself. Among the oldest professors, on the contrary, many are for a long time stationary ; they deliver on the whole only fixed views, and, in the details, much that time has already condemned as useless and false. Between the two arises a sad conflict, in which young minds are dragged hither and thither, and which can scarcely be set right by the middle-aged professors, who, though sufficiently instructed and cultivated, always feel within themselves an active endeavour after knowledge and reflection. Now as in this way I learned to know much more than 7 could digest, whereby a constantly increasing uncoinfortable- ness was forced upon me, so also from life I experienced many disagreeable trifles, as indeed one must always pay one's footing when one changes one's place and comes into a new position. The first thing that the ladies blamed in me related to my dress ; for I had come from home to the university lather oddly equipped. My father, who detested nothing so much as when some- thing happened in vain, when any one did not know how to make use of his time, or found no opportunity for turning it to account, carried his economy of time«and abilities so far, that nothing gave him greater pleasure than to kill two birds with one stone.* He had therefore never engaged a servant who could not be useful to the house in something else. Now, as he had always written everything with his own hand, and had, latterly, the convenience of dictating to the young inmate of the house, he found it most advantageous to have tailors for his domestics, who were obliged to make good use of their time, as they not only had to make their own liveries, but the clothes for my father and the children, besides doing all the mending. My father himself took pains to have the best cloths and stuffs, by getting fine wares of the foreign merchants at the fair, and laying them up in store. I still remember well that he always visited the Herrn von Lowenicht, of Aix- la-Chapelle, and from my earliest youth made me acquainted with these and other eminent merchants. Care was also taken for the fitness of the stuff, and there was a plentiful stock of different kinds of cloth, serge, and Gdtting stuff, besides the requisite lining, so that, as far as the materials were concerned, we might well venture to be seen. * Literally : " to strike two flies with one flapper." — Tram. 210 TEDTH AUD POETKT ; FROM MY OWN UFE. But the form spoiled almost everything. For if one of our home- tailors was anything of a clever hand at sewing and making up a coat which had been cut out for him in masterly feshion,_h& was now obliged also to cut out the dress for himself, which, did not always succeed to perfection. In addition to this my father kept whatever belonged to his clothing in very good and neat order, and preserved more than used it for many yeans.. Thus he had a predilection for certain old cuts and trimmings, by which our dress sometimes acquired a strange appearance. In this same way had the wardrobe which I took with me to the university been furnished : it was very complete and handsome, and there was even a laced suit amongst the rest. Already accustomed to this kind of attire, I thought myself sufficiently well dressed ; but it was not long before my female friends, first by gentle raillery, then by sensible remonstrances, convinced me that I looked as if I had dropped down out of another world. Much as I felt vexed at this, I did not at first see how I could help myself. But when Herr von Masuren, the favourite poetical country squire, once entered the theatre in a similar costume, and was heartily laughed at, more by reason of his external than his internal absurdity, I took courage, and ventured at once to exchange my whole wardrobe for a new-fashioned one, suited to the place, by which, howeve% it shrunk considerably. After this trial was surmounted, a new one was to make its appearance, which proved to be far more unpleasant, because it concerned a matter which one does not so easily put off and exchange. I had been born and bred in the Upper-German dialect, and although my father always laboured after a certain purity of language, and, from our youth upwards, had made us children attentive to what may be really called the defects of that idiom, and so prepared us for abetter manner of speaking, I retained nevertheless many deeper-seated peculiarities, which, because they pleased me by their ndiveti, I was fond of making con- spicuous, and thus every time I used them incurred a severe reprimand from my new fellow-townsmen. The Upper-Ger- man, and perhaps chiefly he who lives by the Rhine and Maine (for great rivers, like the sea-coast, always have something animating ahout them), expresses himself much in similes and allusions, and makes use of proverbial sayings with a native TBOVIHCIAL DIAIECT. 211 common-sense aptness. In both cases he is often blunt, but when one sees the drift of the expression, it is always appro- priate ; only something, to be sure, may often slip in, which proves offensive to a more delicate ear. Every province loves its own dialect: for it is, properly speaking, the element in which the soul draws its breath. But every one knows with what obstinacy the Misnian dialect has contrived to domineer over the rest, and even, for a long time, to exclude them. We have suffered for many years under this pedantic tyranny, and only by reiterated struggles have all the provinces again established themselves in their ancient rights. What a Evely young man had to endure from this continual tutoring, may be easily inferred by any one who reflects that modes of thought, imagination, feeling, native character, must be sacrificed with the pronunciation which one at last consents to alter. And this intolerable demand was made by men and women of education, whose convictions I could not adopt, whose injustice I believed I felt, though I was unable to make it plain to myself. Allusions to the pithy biblical texts were to be forbidden me, as well as the use of the honest-hearted expressions from thejDhronicles. I had to forget that I had read the -Kaiser von Geisersberg, and eschew the use of proverbs, which nevertheless, instead of much fiddle- faddle, just hit the nail upon the head ; — all this, which I had appropriated to myself with youthful ardour, I was now to do without ; I felt myself paralyzed to the core, and scarcely knew any more how I had. to express myself on the commonest things. I was told, besides, that one should speak as one writes, and write as one speaks ; while, to me, speaking and writing seemed once for all two different things, each of which might well maintain its own rights. And even in the Misnian dialect had I to hear many things which would have made no great figure on paper. Every one who perceives in this the influence which men and women of education, the learned, and other persons who take pleasure in refined society, so decidedly exercise over a young student, would be immediately convinced that we were in Leipzig, even if it had not been mentioned. Each one of the German universities has a particular character : for, as no universal cultivation can pervade our fatherland, every place adheres to its own fashion, and carries out, even to the last, p8 212 TRUTH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. its own characteristic peculiarities ; exactly the same thing holds good of the universities. In Jena and Halle roughness had been carried to the highest pitch : bodily strength, skill in fighting, the wildest self-help was there the order of the day ; and such a state of affairs can only be maintained and propagated by the most universal riot. The relations of the students to the inhabitants of those cities, various as they might be, nevertheless agreed in this, that the wild stranger had no regard for the citizen, and looked upon himself as a peculiar being, privileged to all sorts of freedom and insolence. In Leipzig, on the contrary, a student could scarcely be anything else than polite, as soon as he wished to stand on any footing at all with the rich, well-bred, and punctilious inhabitants. All politeness, indeed, when it does not present itself as the flowering of a great and comprehensive mode of life, must ap- pear restrained, stationary, and from some points of view, perhaps, absurd ; and so those wild huntsmen from the Saale* thought they had a great superiority over the tame shepherds on the Pleisse.f Zacharia's Renommist will always be a valu- able document, from which the manner of life and thought at that time rises visibly forth ; as in general his poems mus+ybe welcome to every one who wishes to form for himself a con- ception of the then prevailing state of social life and manners, which was indeed feeble, but amiable on account of its in- nocence and childlike simplicity. All manners which result from the given relations of a common existence are indestructible, and, in my time, many things still reminded us of Zacharia's epic poem. Only one of our fellow-academicians thought himself rich and indepen- dent enough to snap his fingers at public opinion. He drank acquaintance with all the hackney-coachmen, whom he allowed to sit inside the coach as if they were gentlemen, while he drove them on the box, thought it a great joke to upset them now and then, and contrived to satisfy them for their smashed vehicles as well as for their occasional bruises ; but otherwise he did no harm to any one, seeming only to make ft mock of the public en masse. Once, on a most beautiful promenade-day, he and a comrade of his seized upon the dou- * The river on which Halle is built. — Trans. f The river that flows by Leipzig. — Trans. STUDENT-LIFE AT LEIPZIG. 213 keys of the miller in St. Thomas's-square ; well-dressed, and in their shoes and stockings, they rode around the city with the greatest solemnity, stared at by all the proinenaders, with whom the glacis was swarming. When some sensible persons remonstrated with him on the subject, he assured them, quite unembarrassed, that he only wanted to see how the Lord Christ might have looked in a like case. Yet he found no imitators, and few companions. For the student of any wealth and standing had every reason to show himself attentive to the mercantile class, and to be the more solicitous about the proper external forms, as the colony- 5 exhibited a model of French manners. The profes- sors, opulent both from their private property and from their liberal salaries, were not dependent upon their scholars, and many subjects of the state, educated at the Government schools or other gymnasia, and hoping for preferment, did not venture to throw off the traditional customs. The neigh- bourhood of Dresden, the attention paid to us from thence, and the true piety of the superintendent of the course of study, could not be without a moral, nay, a reljgious influence. At first this kind of life was not repugnant to me; my letters of introduction had given me the entree into good families, whose circle of relatives also received me well. But as I was soon forced to feel that the company had much to find fault with in me, and that after dressing myself in their fashion, I must now talk according to their tongue also, and as, more- over,, I could plainly see that I was, on the other hand, but little benefited by the instruction and mental improvement I had promised myself from my academical residence, I began to be lazy, and to neglect the social duties of visiting, and other attentions, and indeed I should have sooner withdrawn from all such connexions, had not fear and esteem bound me fast to Hofrath Bohme, and confidence and affection to his wife. The husband, unfortunately, had not the happy gift of deahng with young people, of winning their confidence, and of guid- ing them, for the moment, as occasion might require. When I visited him I never got any good by it ; his wife, on the contrary, showed a genuine interest in me. Her ill health * Leipzig was so called, because a large and influential portion of its citizens were sprung from a colony of Huguenots, who settled there after the revocation of the edict of Nantes. — American Note. 5214 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN I.1F3. kept her constantly at home. She invited me to spend many an evening with her, and knew how to direct and improve me in many little external particulars ; for my manners were good, indeed, but I was not yet master of what is properly termed itiquette. Only one female friend spent the evenings with her ; but she was more dictatorial and pedantic, for which reason she displeased me excessively, and, out of spite to her, I often resumed those unmannerly habits from which the other had already weaned me. Nevertheless she always had patience enough with me, taught me piquet, ombre, and similar games, the knowledge and practice of which is held indispensable in society. But it was in the matter of taste that Madame Bohme had the greatest influence upon me ; in a negative way truly, yet one in which she agreed perfectly with the critics. The Gottsched waters* had inundated the German world with a true deluge, which threatened to rise up even over the highest mountains. It takes a long time for such a flood to subside again, for the mire to dry away ; and as in any epoch there are numberless aping poets, so the imitation of the flat =uid watery produced a chaos, of which now scarcely a notion remains. To find out that trash was trash was hence the greatest sport, yea, the triumph of the critics of those days. "Whoever had only a little common sense, was superficially ac- quainted with the ancients, and was somewhat more familiar with the moderns, thought himself provided with a standard scale which he could everywhere apply. Madame Bohme was an educated woman, who opposed the trivial, weak, and commonplace ; she was, besides, the wife of a man who lived on bad terms with poetry in general, and would not even allow that of which she perhaps might have somewhat approved. She listened, indeed, for some time, with patience, when I ven- tured to recite to her the verse or prose of famous poets, who already stood in good repute, — for then, as always, I knew by heart everything that chanced in any degree to please me ; but her complaisance was not of long duration. The first whom she outrageously abused were the poets of the Weisse school, who were just then often quoted with great applause, and had delighted me very particularly. If I looked more * That is to say, the influence of Gottsehsd on German literature, of which more is said in the next book.— 7Van*. GEBMAN POETKY. 215 elosely into the matter, I could not say she was wrong. I had sometimes even ventured to repeat to her, though anony- mously, some of my own poems ; but these fared no better than the rest of the set. And thus, in a short time, the beau- tiful variegated meadows at the foot of the German Parnassus, where I was fond of luxuriating, were mercilessly mowed down, and I was even compelled to toss about the drying hay myself, and to ridicule that as lifeless which, a short time before, had given me such lively joy. Without knowing it, Professor Morus came to strengthen her instructions. He was an uncommonly gentle and friendly man, with whom I became acquainted at the table of Hofrath Ludwig, and who received me veiy pleasantly when I begged the privilege of visiting him. Now while making inquiries of him concerning antiquity, I did not conceal from him what delighted me among the moderns ; when he spoke about such things with more calmness, but, what was still worse, with more profundity than Madame Bohme ; and he thus opened my eyes, at first to my greatest chagrin, but afterwards to my surprise, and at last to my edification. Besides this, there came the Jeremiads, with which Gellert, in his course, was wont to warn us against poetry. He wished only for prose essays, and always criticised these first. Verses he treated as a sorry addition, and what was the worst of all, even my prose found little favour in his eyes ; for, after my old fashion, I used always to lay, as the foundation, a little romance, which I loved to work out in the epistolary form. The subjects were impassioned, the style went beyond ordinary prose, and the contents probably did not display any very deep knowledge of mankind in the author ; and. so I stood in very little favour with our professor, although he carefully looked over my labours as well as those of the others, corrected them with re'd ink, and here and there added a moral remark. Many leaves of this kind, which I kept for a long time with satisfaction, have unfortunately, in the course of years, at last disappeared from among my papers. If elderly persons wish to play the pedagogue properly, they should neither prohibit nor render disagreeable to a young man anything which gives him pleasure, of whatever kind it may be, unless, at the same time, they have something eiss to put in its place, or can contrive a substitute. Every- 216 HUTCH AND FOETEY. ; FBOM MY. OWN 1IFZ. body protested against my tastes and inclinations ; and, on the other hand, what they commended to me, lay either so far from me that 1 could not perceive its excellencies, or stood so near me that I thought it not a whit better than what they inveighed against. I thus became thoroughly perplexed on the subject, and promised myself the best results from a lec- ture of Ernesti's on Cicero de Oratore. I learned something, indeed, from this lecture, but was not enlightened on the subject which particularly concerned me. I required a standard of opinion, and thought I perceived that nobody possessed it ; for no one agreed with another, even when they brought forward examples ; and where were we to get a set- tled judgment, when they managed to reckon up against a man like Wieland so many faults in his amiable writings, which so completely captivated us younger folks ? Amid this manifold distraction, this dismemberment of my existence and my studies, it happened that I took my dinners at Hofrath Ludwig's. He was a medical man, a botanist, and his company, with the exception of Morus, consisted of physicians just commencing or near the completion of their studies. Now during these hours I heard no other conversa- tion than about medicine or natural history, and my imagina- tion was drawn over into quite a new field. I heard the names of Haller, Linnaeus, Buffon, mentioned with great respect ; and even if disputes often arose about mistakes into which it was said they had fallen, all agreed in the end to honour the acknowledged abundance of their merits. The subjects were entertaining and important, and enchained my attention. By degrees I became familiar with many names and a copious terminology, which I caught up the more wil- lingly as I was afraid to write down a rhyme, however spon- taneously it presented itself, or to read a poem, for I was fearful that it might please me at the time, and that perhaps immediately afterwards, like so much else, I should be forced to pronounce it bad. This uncertainty of taste and judgment disquieted me more and more every day, so that at last I fell into despair. I had brought with me those of my youthful labours which I thought the best, partly because I hoped to get some credit by them, partly that I might be able to test my progress with greater certainty ; but I found myself in the miserable situation , DESTRUCTION OF JUVENIXE POEMS. 217 m which, one is placed when a complete change of mind is required, — a renunciation of all that one has hitherto loved and found good. However, after some time, and many struggles, I conceived so great a contempt for my labours, begun and ended, that one day I burnt up poetry and prose, plans, sketches, and projects all together on the kitchen hearth, and threw our good old landlady into no small fright and anxiety by the smoke which filled the whole house. SEVENTH BOOK, About the condition of German literature at that time so much has been written, and that bo sufficiently, that every one who takes any interest in it can be completely informed ; the judgments of it are now pretty well agreed ; and what at pre- sent I intend to say piece-meal and disconnectedly concerning it, relates not so much to how it was constituted in itself, as to how it stood towards me. I will therefore first speak of those things by which the public is particularly excited ; of those two hereditary foes of all comfortable life, and of all cheerful, self-sufficient, living poetry: — I mean, satire and criticism. In quiet times every one will live after his own fashion ; the citizen will carry on his trade or his business, and enjoy the fruits of it afterwards ; thus will the author too willingly com- pose something, publish his labours, and since he thinks he has done something good and useful, hope for praise, if not reward. , In this tranquillity the citizen is disturbed by the satirist, the author by the critic, and peaceful society is thus put into a disagreeable agitation. . The literary epoch in which I was born was developed out of the preceding one by opposition. Germany, so Jong inun- dated by foreign people, interpenetrated by other nations, directed to foreign languages in learned and diplomatic trans- actions, could not possibly cultivate her own. TCgct%r with so many new ideas, innumerable strange words were obtruded necessarily and unnecessarily upon her, and even for objectf already known, people were induced to make use of foreign expressions and turns of language. The German, having run wild for nearly two hundred years in an unhappy tumultuary state, went to school to the French to learn manners, and to the Romans in order to express himself properly. But this was to be done in the mother-tongue, when the literal appli- cation of those idioms, and their half-Germanization, made both the social and business style ridiculous. Besides this, LISKOW. 219 they adopted without moderation the similes of the southern languages, and employed them most extravagantly. Just so they transferred the stately deportment of the prince-like citi- zens of Rome to the learned German small-town officers, and were at home nowhere, least of all with themselves. But as in this epoch works of genius had already appeared, the German sense of freedom and joy also began to stir itself. This, accompanied by a genuine earnestness, insisted that men should write purely and naturally, without the intermixture of foreign words, and as common intelligible sense dictated. By these praiseworthy endeavours, however, the doors and gates were thrown open to an extended national insipidity, nay, the dike was dug through by which the great deluge was shortly to rush in. Meanwhile, a stiff pedantry long stood its ground m all the four faculties, until at last, much later, it fled for refuge from one of them into another. Men of parts, children of nature looking freely about them, had therefore two objects on which they could exercise them- selves, against which they could labour, and, as the matter was of no great importance, give a vent Jo their petulance ; these were : a language disfigured by foreign words, forms, and turns of speech on the one hand, and the worthlessness of such writings as had been careful to keep themselves free from those faults on the other, though it occurred to nobody, that while they were battling against one evil, the other was called on for assistance. Liskow, a daring young man, first ventured to attack by name a shallow, silly writer, whose awkward demeanour soon gave him an opportunity to proceed still more severely. He then went further, and constantly aimed his scorn at particular persons and objects, whom he despised and sought to render despicable, nay, even persecuted them with passionate hatred. But his career was short ; for he soon died, and was gradually forgotten as a restless, irregular youth. The talent and cha- racter shown in what he did, although he had accomplished little, may have seemed valuable to his countrymen : for the Germans have always shown a peculiar pious kindliness to talents of good promise, when prematurely cut off. Suffice it *o say, that Liskow was very early praised and recommended to us as an excellent satirist, who could have attained a rank even above the universally-beloved Babener, Here, indeed, 220 TKUTH and poetky; fkom my own life. we saw ourselves no better off than before : for we could dis- cover nothing in his writings, except that he had found the silly, silly, which seemed to us quite a matter of course. _ Kabeneb, well educated, grown up under good scholastic in- struction, of a cheerful, and by no means passionate or malicious disposition, took, up general satire. His censure of the so- called vices and follies springs from the clear views of a quiet common sense, and from a fixed moral conception of what the world ought to be. His denunciation of faults and f ailings' is harmless and cheerful ; and in order to excuse even the slight boldness of his writings, it is supposed that the improving of fools by ridicule is no fruitless undertaking. Kabener's personal character will not easily appear again. As an able, punctual man of business, he does his duty, and thus gains the good opinion of Ms fellow-townsmen and the confidence of his superiors ; along with which, he gives him- self up to the enjoyment of a pleasant contempt for all that immediately surrounds him. Pedantic literati, vain youngsters, every sort of narrowness and conceit, he banters rather than satirizes, and even his banter expresses no contempt. Just in the same way does he jest about his own condition, his mis- fortune, his life, and his death. There is little of the aesthetic in the manner in which this writer treats his. subjects. In external forms he is indeed varied enough, but throughout he makes too much use of direct irony, namely, in praising the blameworthy and blaming the praiseworthy, whereas this figure of speech should be used but extremely seldom ; for, in the long run, it becomes annoying to clear-sighted men, perplexes the weak, while indeed it pleases the great middle class, who, without any special expense of mind, can fancy themselves more knowing than others. But all that he brings before us, and however he does it, alike bears witness to his rectitude, cheerfulness, and equanimity, so that we always feel prepossessed in his favour. The unbounded applause of his own times was a consequence of such moral excellencies. That people looked for originals to his general descriptions and found them, was natural ; that individuals complained of him, followed from the above ; his over-long apologies that his satire is not personal, prove the spite which has been pro- voked. Some of his letters crown him at once as a man and KABENEB. 221 uithor. The confidential epistle in which he describes the ;e of Dresden, and how he loses his house, his effects, his tings, and his wigs, without having his equanimity in the t shaken or his cheerfulness clouded, is highly valuable, ough his contemporaries and fellow-citizens could not for- : him his happy turn of mind. The letter where he speaks he decay of his strength and of his approaching death is in highest degree worthy of respect, and Rabener deserves to honoured as a saint by all cheerful intelligent men, who erfully resign themselves to earthly events. tear myself away from him reluctantly, yet I would make i remark : his satire refers throughout to the middle-class ; lets us see here and there that he is also well acquainted h the higher ranks, but does not hold it advisable to come contact with them. It may be said, that he has had no cessor, that no one has been found who could consider him- ' equal, or even similar to him. few for criticism ! and first of all for the theoretic attempts. s not going too far when we say that the ideal had, at that .e, escaped out of the world into religion ; it scarcely even de its appearance in moral philosophy ;• of a highest prin- le of art no one had a notion. They put Gottsched's Critical t of Poetry into our hands ; it was useful and instructive iugh, for it gave us a historical information of all the lands Doetry, as well as of rhythm and its different movements ; poetic genius was presupposed! But besides that the it was to have acquirements and even learning, he should sess taste, and everything else of that kind. They directed it last to Horace's Art of Poetry ; we gazed at single golden xims of this invaluable work, but did not know in the least at to do with it as a whole, or how we should use it. The Swiss stepped forth as Gottsched's antagonists ; they st take it into their heads to do something different, U omplish something better : accordingly we heard that they re, in fact, superior. Breitingek's Critical Art of Poetry i taken in hand. Here we reached a wider field, but, pro- ly speaking, only a greater labyrinth, which was so much more tiresome, as an able man, in whom we had confidence, 5 driving us about in it. Let a brief review justify these :-ds. ?or poetry in itself they had been able to find no funda- 222 TKTJTII AKD POEIEY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. mental axiom ; it was too spiritual and too volatile. Painting, an art which one could hold fast with one's eyes, and follow step by step with the external senses, seemed more favourable for such an end ; the English and French had already theorized about plastic art, and by a comparison drawn from this, it was thought that poetry might be grounded. The former placed images before the eyes, the latter before the fancy ; poetical images, therefore, were the first thing which was taken into consideration. People began with comparisons, descriptions followed, and only that was expressed which had always been apparent to the external senses. Images, then ! But where should these images be got ex- cept from nature ? The painter professedly imitated nature ; why not the poet also ? But nature, as she lies before us, cannot be imitated : she contains so much that is insignificant and worthless, that one must make a selection ; but what de- termines the choice ? one must select that which is important; 'nit what is important ? To answer this question the Swiss may have taken a long time to consider : for they came to a notion, which is indeed singular, but clever, and even comical, inasmuch as they say, the new is always the most important : and after they have considered this for a while, they discover that the marvellous is always newer than everything else. They had now pretty well collected their poetical requisi- tions ; but they had still to consider that the marvellous might also be empty and without relation to man. But this relation, demanded as necessary, must be a moral one, from which the improvement of mankind should manifestly follow, and thus a poem had reached its utmost aim when, with everything else accomplished, it was useful besides. They now wished to test the different kinds of poetry according to all these requisites ; those which imitated nature, besides being marvellous, and at the same time of a moral aim and use, were to rank as the first and highest. And after much deliberation this great pre- eminence was at last ascribed, with the highest degree of con- viction, to iEsop's fables ! Strange as such a deduction may now appear, it had the most decided influence on the best minds. That Geilekt and subsequently Lichtwer devoted themselves to this de- partment, that even Lessing attempted to labour in it, that BODMEB— BREITIKGEK — GTJENTHEK. 223 so many others turned their talents towards it, speaks for the confidence which this species of poetry had gained. Theory and practice always act upon each other; one can see from their works what is the men's opinion ; and, from their opinions, predict what they will do. Yet we must not dismiss our Swiss theory without doing it justice. Bodmek, with all the pains he took, remained theo- retically and practically a child all his life, Bbeitin-geb was an able, learned, sagacious man, whom when he looked rightly about him, the essentials of a poem did not all escape ; nay, it can be shown that he may have dimly felt the deficiencies of his system. Remarkable, for instance, is his query :— " "Whether a certain descriptive poem by Konig, on the Review-camp of Augustus the Second, is properly a poem ?" and the answer to it displays good sense. But it may serve for his complete justification that he, starting from a false point, on a circle almost run out already, still struck upon the main principle, and at the end of his book finds himself compelled to recommend as additions, so to speak, the representation of manners, cha- racter, passions, in short, the whole inner man; to which, indeed, poetry pre-eminently belongs. It may well be imagined into what perplexity young minds felt themselves thrown by such dislocated maxims, half-under- stood laws, and shivered up dogmas. We adhered to examples, and there, too, were no better off; foreigners as well as the ancients stood too far from us, and from the best native poets always peeped out a decided individuality, to the good points of which we could not lay claim, and into the faults of which we could not but be afraid of falling. For him who felt any- thing productive in himself it was a desperate condition. When one considers closely what was wanting in the Ger- man poetry, it was a material, and that, too, a national one ; there was never a lack of talent. Here we make mention only of Gt/enther, who may be called a poet in the full sense of the word. A decided talent, endowed with sensuousness, imagination, memory, the gifts of conception and representa- tion, productive in the highest degree, ready at rhythm, inge- nious, witty, and of varied information besides; — he pos- sessed, in short, all the requisites for creating, by means of poetry, a second life within life, even within common real life. We admire the great facility with which, in his occasional 224 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MT OWN LIFE. poems, he elevates all circumstances by the feelings, and embellishes them with suitable sentiments, images, and his- torical and fabulous traditions. Their roughness and wild- aess belong to his time, his mode of life, and especially to his oharacter, or if one would have it so, his want of fixed cha- racter. He did not know how to curb himself, and so his life, like his poetry, melted away from him. By his vacillating conduct, Giinther had trifled away the good fortune of being appointed at the court of Augustus the Second, where, in addition to every other species of ostenta- tion, they were also looking about for a court-poet, who could give elevation and grace to their festivities, and immortalize a transitory pomp. Vow Koentg was more mannerly and more fortunate ; he filled this post with dignity and applause. In all sovereign states the material for poetry comes down- wards from above, and the Review-camp at Miihlberg [Das Lustlager bei Miihlberg) was, perhaps, the first worthy object, provincial, if not national, which presented itself to a poet. Two kings saluting one another in the presence of a great host, their whole courts and military state around them, well- appointed troops, a mock-fight, fites of all kinds, — this is business enough for the outward sense, and overflowing mate- rial for delineating and descriptive poetry. This subject had, indeed, the internal defect, that it was only pomp and show, from which no real action could result. None except the very first distinguished themselves, and even if they had done so, the poet could not render any one con- spicuous lest he should offend the others. He had to consult the Court and State Calendar, and the delineation of the per- sons therefore went off pretty drily ; nay, even his contem- poraries very strongly reproached him with having described the horses better than the men. But should not this redound to his credit, that he showed his art just where an object for it presented itself? The main difficulty, too, seems soon to have manifested itself to him — since the poem never advanced beyond the first canto. Amidst such studies and reflections, an unexpected event" surprised me, and frustrated my laudable design of becoming acquainted with our new literature from the beginning. My countryman, John Geor&e Schiosser, after spending his academical years with industry and exertion, had repaired to SCHXOSSEB. 225 Frankfort-on-the-Maiiie, in the customary profession of an advocate ; but his mind, aspiring and seeking after the uni- versal, could not reconcile itself to this situation for many reasons. He accepted, without hesitation, an office as private secretary to the Duke Lttdwio of "Wtjbtembeeg, who re- sided in Treptow; for the Prince was named among those great men who, in a noble and independent manner, purposed to enlighten themselves, their families, and the world, and to unite for higher aims. It was this Prince Ludwig who, to ask advice about the education of his children, had written to Rousseau, whose well-known answer began with the suspicious- looking phrase—" Si J avals le malheur d'itre ni prince." Not only in the affairs of the Prince, but also in the educa- tion of his children, Schlosser was now willingly to assist in word and deed, if not to superintend them. This noble young man, who harboured the best will, and laboured after a perfect purity of morals, would have easily kept men from him by a certain dry austerity, if his fine and rare literary cultivation, his knowledge of languages, and his facility at expressing himself by writing, both in verse and prose, had not attracted every one, and made living with him more agreea*ble. It had been announced to me that he would pass through Leipzig, and I expected him with longing. He came and put up at a little inn or wine-house that stood in the Briihl (Marsh), and the host of which was named Schonkopf. This man had a Prank- fort woman for his wife, and although he entertained few persons during the rest of the year, and could lodge no guests in his little house, yet at fair-time he was visited by many Prankforters, who used to eat, and, in case of need, even take quarters there also. Thither I hastened to seek after Schlosser, when he had sent to inform me of his arrival. I scarcely remembered having seen him before, and found a young, well- formed man, with a round, compressed face, without the fea- tures losing their sharpness on that account. The form of his rounded forehead, between black eyebrows and locks, indi. cated earnestness, sternness, and perhaps obstinacy. He was, in a certain measure, the opposite of myself, and this very thing doubtless laid the foundation of our lasting friend- ship. I had the greatest respect for his talents, the more so as I very well saw that in the certainty with which he acted and produced, he was completely my superior. The respect and Q 226 IETJTH AND POETKY ; TJiOM MY OWN IIFE. tie confidence which. I showed him confirmed his affection, and increased the indulgence he was compelled _ to hare for my lively, impetuous, and ever-excitable disposition, in such contrast with his own. He studied the English _ writers dili- gently ; Pope, if not his model, was his aim, and in opposition to that author's Essay on Man, he had written a poem in like form and measure, which was to give the Christian religion the triumph over the deism of the other work. From the great store of papers which he carried with him, he showed me poetical and prose compositions in all languages, which, as they challenged, me to imitation, once more gave me infinite disquietude. Yet I contrived to help myself immediately by activity. I wrote German, French, English and Italian poems, addressed to him, the subject-matter of which I took from our conversations, which were always important and instructive. Schlosser did not wish to leave Leipzig without having seen face to face the men who had a name. I willingly took him to those I knew ; with those whom I had not yet visited, I in this way became honourably acquainted, since he was received with distinction as a well-informed man of education, of already established character, and well knew how to pay for the outlay of conversation. I cannot pass over our visit to Gotisched, as it exemplifies the character and manners of that man. He lived very respectably in the first story of the Golden Bear, where the elder Breitkopf, on account of the great advantage which Gottsched's writings, translations, and other aids had brought to the trade, had promised him a lodging for life. We were announced. The servant led us into a large chamber, saying his master would come immediately. Now whether we misunderstood a gesture which he made, I cannot say ; it is enough, we thought he directed us into an adjoin- ing room. "We entered, and to a singular scene ; for, on the instant, Gottsehed, that tall, broad, gigantic man, came in at the opposite door in a morning-gown of green damask lined with red taffeta ; but his monstrous head was bald and un- covered. This, however, was to be immediately provided for; the servant sprang in at a side-door with a great full-bottomed wig in his hand (the curls came down to the elbows), and handed the head-ornament to his master with gestures of terror. Gottsehed, without manifesting the least vexation, EEllOW-BOARDERS AT LEIPZIG. 227 saised the wig from the servant's arm with his left hand, and 'while he very dexterously swung it up on his head, gave the poor fellow such a box on the ear with his right paw, that the latter, as often happens in a comedy, went spinning out at the door; whereupon the respectable old grandfather invited us quite gravely to be seated, and kept up a pretty long discourse with good grace. As long as Schlosser remained in Leipzig, I dined daily with him, and became acquainted with a very pleasant set of boarders. Some Livonians, and the son of Hekmahn (chief court-preacher in Dresden), afterwards burgermaster in Leip- zig, and their tutor, Hoekath Peeii, author of the Count von P., a continuation of Gellert's Swedish Countess; Zacha- b£ze, a brother of the poet ; and Keebel, editor of geogra- phical and genealogical manuals ; all these were polite, cheer- ful, and friendly men. Zacharia was the most quiet ; Pfeil, an elegant man, who had something almost diplomatic about him, yet without affectation, and with great good-humour; Krebel, a genuine Falstaff, tall, corpulent, fair, with pro- minent, merry eyes, as bright as the sky, always happy and in good spirits. These persons all treated me in the most hand- some manner, partly on Schlosser's account — partly, too, on account of my own frank good-humour and obliging disposition ; and it needed no great persuasion to make me partake of their table in future. In fact, I remained with them after Schlos- ser's departure, deserted Ludwig's table, and found myself so much the better off in this society, which was limited to a certain number, as I was very well pleased with the daughter of the family, a very neat, pretty girl, and had opportunities to exchange friendly glances with her, — a comfort which I had neither sought nor found by accident since the mischance with Gretchen. I spent the din Tier-hours with my friends cheer- fully and profitably. Krebel, indeed, loved me, and continued to teaze me and stimulate me in moderation ; Pfeil, on the contrary, showed his earnest affection for me by trying to guide and settle my judgment upon many points. During this intercourse, I perceived through conversation, through examples, and through my own reflections, that the first step in delivering ourselves from the wishy-washy, long- winded, empty epoch, could be taken only by definiteness, precision, and brevity. In the style which had hitherto pre- * " U 2 228 TRTTTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. vailed, one could not distinguish the commonplace from what was better, since all were brought down to a level with each other. Authors had already tried to escape from this wide- spread disease, with more or less success. Haller and Ramler were inclined to compression by nature ; Lessing and Wieiand were led to it by reflection. The former be- came by degrees quite epigrammatical in his poems, terse in Minna, laconic in Emilia Galotti, — it was not till afterwards that he returned to that serene naivete 1 which becomes him so well in Nathan. Wieland, who had been occasionally prolix in Agathon, Don Sylvio, and the Comic Tales, becomes con- densed and precise to a wonderful degree, as well as exceed- ingly graceful, in Musarion and Jdris. KiiOPSTOCK, in the first cantos of the Messiah, is not without difiuseness ; in his Odes and other minor poems he appears compressed, as also in his tragedies. By his emulation of the ancients, especially Tacitus, he sees himself constantly forced into narrower limits, by which he at last becomes obscure and unpalatable. Gerstenberg, a fine but eccentric talent, also distinguishes himself; his merit is appreciated, but on the whole he gives little pleasure. Gleim, diffuse and easy by nature, is scarcely once concise in his war-songs. Ramies, is properly more a critic than a poet. He begins to collect what the Germans have accom- plished in lyric poetry. He now finds that scarcely one poem fully satisfies him ; he must leave out, arrange, and alter, that the things may have some shape or other. By this means he makes himself almost as many enemies as there are poets and amateurs, since every one, properly speaking, recognizes him- self only in his defects ; and the public interests itself sooner for a faulty individuality than for that which is produced or amended according to a universal law of taste. Rhythm lay yet in the cradle, and no one knew of a method to shorten its childhood. Poetical prose came into the ascendant. Gessner and Kiopstock excited many imitators ; others, again, still demanded an intelligible metre, and translated this prose into rhythm. But even these gave nobody satisfaction ; for they were obliged to omit and add, and the prose original always passed for the better of the two. But the more, with all this, conciseness is aimed at, the more does a judgment become pos- sible, since that which is important, being more closely com- pressed, allows a certain comparison at last. It happened, WIELAND. 229 also, at the same time, that many kinds of truly poetical forms arose ; for as they tried to represent only what was necessary in the objects they wished to imitate, they were forced to do justice to every one of these ; and in this manner, though no one did it consciously, the modes of representation multiplied themselves, among which, indeed, were some which were really caricatures, while many an attempt proved unsuccessful. Without question, Wielakd possessed the finest natural gifts of all. He had early cultivated himself thoroughly in those ideal regions where youth so readily lingers ; but when, by what is called experience, by the events of the world and women, these were rendered distasteful to him, he threw him- self on the side of the actual, and pleased himself and others with the contest of the two worlds, where, in light skirmish- ing between jest and earnest, his talent displayed itself most beautifully. How many of his brilliant productions fall into the time of my academic years ! Musarion had the most effect upon ine, and I can yet remember the place and the very spot where I got sight of the first proof-sheet, which Oeser gave me. Here it was that I believed I saw antiquity again living and fresh. Everything that is plastic in Wieland's genius here showed itself in its highest perfection ; and when that Phanias- Timon, condemned to an unhappy insipidity, finally reconciles himself to his mistress and to the world, one can well, with him, live through the misanthropical epoch. For the rest, we willingly conceded to these works a cheerful aversion from those ■exalted sentiments, which, by reason of their easy misapplica- tion to life, are often open to the suspicion of dreaminess, We pardoned the author for prosecuting with ridicule what we held as true and reverend, the more readily, as he thereby gave us to understand that it caused him continual trouble. How miserably criticism then received such labours may be seen from the first volumes of the Universal Germain Library. Of the Comic Tales there is honourable mention ; but there is no trace of any insight into the character of the kind of poetry. The reviewer, like every one at that time. had formed his taste on examples. He never takes it hits consideration that, in a judgment of such parodistical works, one must first of all have before one's eyes the original noble, beautiful object, in order to see whether the parodist has really gotten from it a weak and comical side, whether he has bor- 230 TRUTH AND POETKT*, FBOM MY OWN MFB. rowed anything from it, or, under the appearance of such an imitation, has perhaps given us an excellent invention of his own. Of all this there is not a notion, but the poems are praised and blamed by passages. The reviewer, as he himself confesses, has marked so much that pleased him, that hecan- not quote it all in print. When they even meet the highly meritorious translation of Shakspeare with the exclamation : " By rights, aman like Shakspeare should not have been trans- lated at all ! " it will be understood, without further remark, how infinitely the Universal German Library was behind- hand in matters of taste, and that young people, animated by true feeling, had to look about them for other guiding stars. The material which, in this manner, more or less determined the form, the Germans sought everywhere. They had handled few national subjects, or none at all. Schlegel's Hermann only showed the way. The idyllic tendency extended itself without end. The want of distinctive character with Gessner, with all his great gracefulness and childlike heartiness, made every one think that he could do something of the same kind. Just in the same manner, out of the more generally human, some snatch those poems which should have portrayed a fo- reign nationality, as, for instance, the Jewish pastoral poems, those on the patriarchs altogether, and whatever else related to the Old Testament. Bodmer's Noachide was a perfect symbol of the watery deluge that swelled high around the German Parnassus, and which abated but slowly. The lead- ing-strings of Anacreon likewise allowed innumerable mediocre geniuses to reel about at large. The precision of Horace com- pelled the Germans, though but slowly, to conform to him. Comic heroic poems, mostly after the model of Pope's Rape of the Loch, did not serve to bring in a better time. Yet I must here mention a delusion, which operated as se- riously as it must be ridiculous when one examines it more closely. The Germans had now sufficient historical knowledge of all the kinds of poetry in which the different nations had distinguished themselves. This pigeon-hole work, which, pro- perly speaking, totally destroys the inner conception of poetry, had been already pretty completely hammered together by Gottsched in his Critical Art of Poetry, and it had been shown at the same time that German poets, too, had already known how to fill up all the rubrics with excellent works. And thus POPULAR PHILOSOPHY. 2S1 it ever went on. Each year the collection was more consider- able, but every year one work pushed another out of the place in which it had hitherto shone. We now possessed, if not Homers, yet Virgils and Miltons ; if not a Pindar, yet a Ho- race; of Theocrituses there was no lack; and thus they weighed themselves by comparisons from without, whilst the mass of poetical works always increased, so that at last there could be a comparison from within. Now, though matters of taste stood on a very uncertain foot- ing, there could be no dispute but that, within the Protestant part of Germany and of Switzerland, what is generally called common-sense began to bestir itself briskly at that epoch. The scholastic philosophy — which always has the merit of pro- pounding according to received axioms, in a favourite order, and under fixed rubrics, everything about which man can at all inquire, — had, by the frequent darkness and apparent use- lessness of its subject-matter, by its unseasonable application of a method in itself respectable, and by its too great extension over so many subjects, made itself foreign to the mass, unpa- latable, and at last superfluous. Many a one became con- vinced that nature had endowed hint* with as great a portion of good and straightforward sense as, perchance, he required to form such a clear notion of objects that he could manage them and turn them to his own profit, and that of others, without laboriously troubling himself about the most universal problems, and inquiring how the most remote things which do not particularly affect us may hang together. Men made the trial, opened their eyes, looked straight before them, observant, industrious, active, and believed that when one jndges and acts correctly in one's own circle, one may well presume to speak of other things also, which lie at a greater distance. In accordance with such a notion, every one was now en- titled, not only to philosophize, but also by degrees to consider himself a philosopher. Philosophy, therefore, was more or less sound and practised common sense, which ventured to enter upon the universal, and to decide upon inner and outer experiences. A clear-sighted acuteness and an especial mode- ration, while the middle path and fairness to all opinions was held to be right, procured respect and confidence for writings and oral statements of the sort, and thus at last philosophers were found in all the faculties, nay, in all classes and trades. 232 TKUTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN MPB. In this way the theologians could not help inclining to -what is called natural religion, and when the discussion was how fer the light of nature may suffice to advance us in the knowledge of God and the improving and ennobling of ourselves, they cbmmonly ventured to decide in its favour without much scruple. According to the same principle of moderation, they then granted equal rights to all positive religions, by which they all became alike indifferent and uncertain. For the rest, they let everything stand, and since the Bible is so full of matter, that, more than any other book, it offers material for reflection and opportunity for meditation on human affairs, it could still, as before, be always laid as the foundation of all sermons and other religious treatises. But over this work, as well as over the whole body of pro- fane writers, was impending a singular fate, which, in the lapse of time, was not to be averted. Hitherto it had been received as a matter of implicit faith, that this book of books was com- posed in one spirit ; that it was even inspired, and, as it were, dictated by the Divine Spirit. Yet already for a long time the discrepancies of the different parts of it had been now cavilled at, now apologized for, by believers and unbelievers. English, French, and Germans had attacked the Bible with more or less violence, acuteness, audacity, and wantonness ; and just as often had it been taken under the protection of earnest, sound-ihinking men of each nation. As for myself, I loved and valued it: for almost to it alone did I owe my moral culture, and the events, the doctrines, the symbols, the similes, had all impressed themselves deeply upon me, and had influ- enced me in one way or another. These unjust, scoffing, and perverting attacks, therefore, disgusted me ; but people had already gone so far as very willingly to admit, partly as a main ground for the defence of many passages, that God had accom- modated himself to the modes of thought and power of com- prehension in men ; that even those moved by the Spirit had not on that account been able to renounce their character, iheir individuality, and that Amos, a cow-herd, did not wield the language of Isaiah, who is said to have been a prince. Out of such views and convictions, especially with a con- stantly increasing knowledge of languages, was very naturally developed that kind of study by which it was attempted to examine more accurately the oriental localities, nationalities, STATU OF THEOLOGY. 238 natural products, and phenomena, and in this manner to make present to one's-self that ancient time. Michaelis employed the whole strength of his talents and his knowledge on this side. Descriptions of travels became a powerful help in ex- plaining the Holy Scriptures, and later travellers, furnished with numerous questions, were made, by the answers to them, to ttar witness for the prophets and apostles. But whilst they were on all sides busied to bring the Holy Scriptures to a natural intuition, and to render peculiar modes of thought and representation in them more universally com- prehensible, that by this historico-critical aspect many an objection might be removed, many offensive things effaced, and many a shallow scoffing be made ineffective, there appeared in some men just the opposite disposition, since these chose the darkest, most mysterious writings as the subject of their meditations, and wished, if not to elucidate them, yet to con- firm them through internal evidence, by means of conjectures, calculations, and other ingenious and strange combinations, and so far as they contained prophecies, to prove them by the results, and thus to justify a faith in what was next to be expected. " The venerable Bengex had procured a decided reception for his labours on the Revelations of St. John, from the fact that he was known as an intelligent, upright, God-fearing, blameless man. Deep minds are compelled to live in the past as well as in the future. The ordinary movements of the world can be of no importance to them, if they do not, in the course of ages up to the present, revere prophecies which have been revealed, and in the immediate, as well as in the most remote futurity, predictions still veiled. Hence arises a connexion that is wanting in history, which seems to give us only an accidental wavering backwards and forwards in a necessarily limited circle. Doctor Cbusitjs was one of those whom the prophetic part of Scripture suited more than any other, since it brings into action the two most opposite qualities of human nature, the affections, and the acuteness of the intellect. Many young men had devoted themselves to this doctrine, and already formed a respectable body, which attracted the more attention, as Eknesti with his friends threatened, not to illuminate, but .^completely to disperse the obscurity in which these delighted. Hence arose controversies, hatred, persecution and much that 234 TKTJTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN MFE. was unpleasant. I attached myself to tie lucid party, and sought to appropriate to myself their principles and advan. tages, although I ventured to forebode, that by this extremely praiseworthy, intelligent method of interpretation, the poetic contents of the writings must at last be lost along with the prophetical. But those who devoted themselves to German literature and the belles lettres were more nearly concerned with the efforts of such men, who, as Jerusalem, Zoixikofer, and Spald- ing, tried, by means of a good and pure style in their sermons and treatises, to gain even among persons of a certain degree of sense and taste, applause and attachment for religion, and for the moral philosophy which is so closely related to it. A pleasing manner of writing began to be everywhere necessary; and since such a manner must, above all, be comprehensible, so did writers arise, on many sides, who undertook to write about their studies and their professions clearly, perspicu- ously, and impressively, and as well for the adepts as for the multitude. After the example of Tissot, a foreigner, the physicians also now began to labour zealously for the general cultivation, Haixer, Unzee, Zimmerman had a very great influence, and whatever may be said against them in detail, especially the last, they produced a very great effect in their time. And mention should be made of this in history, but particularly in biography : for a man remains of consequence, not so far as he leaves something behind him, but so far as he acts and enjoys, and rouses others to action and enjoyment. The jurists, accustomed from their youth upwards to an ab- struse style, which, in all legal papers, from the petty court of the Immediate Knight up to the Imperial Diet at Batisbon, was still maintained in all its quaintness, could not easily elevate themselves to a certain freedom, the less so as the subjects of which they had to treat were most intimately connected with the external form, and consequently also with the style. Yet the younger Von Moser had already shown himself an inde- pendent and original writer, and Putter, by the clearness of his delivery, had also brought clearness into his subject, and the style in which he was to treat it. All that proceeded from his school was distinguished by this. And even the philo- sophers, in order to be popular, now found themselves com- \ THE "IMAGE-HUNT." 23J> pelled to write clearly and intelligibly. Mendelsohn and Garve appeared, and excited universal interest and admiration. With the cultivation of the German language and style in every department, the capacity for forming a judgment also increased, and we admire the reviews then published of works upon religious and moral, as well as medical subjects ; while, on the contrary, we remark that the judgments of poems, and of whatever else may relate to the belles lettres, will be found, if not pitiful, at least very feeble. This holds good of the Literary Epistles (Literaturbriefen), and of the Universal Ger- man Library, as well as of the Library of the Belles Lettres, notable instances of which could easily be produced. No matter in how motley a manner all this might be con- tused, still for every one who contemplated producing anything from himself, who would not merely take the words and phrases out of the mouths of his predecessors, there was nothing further left but, early and late, to look about him for some subject-matter which he might determine to use. Here, too, we were much led astray. People were constantly repeating a saying of Kleist, which, we had to hear often enough. He had sportively, in- geniously, and truly replied to those who took hfin to task on account of his frequent lonely walks : " that he was not idle at such times, — he was going to the image hunt." This simile was very suitable for a nobleman and soldier, who by it placed himself in contrast with the men of his rank, who , did not neglect going out, with their guns on their shoulders, hare- hunting and patridge-shooting, as often as an opportunity presented itself. Hence we find in Kleist's poems many such individual images, happily seized, although not always happily elaborated, which in a kindly manner remind us of nature. But now they also recommended us, quite seriously, to go out on the image-hunt, which did not at last leave us wholly with- out fruit, although Apel's Garden, the kitchen-gardens, the Rosenthal, Golis, Raschwitz and Konnewitz, would be the oddest ground to beat up poetical game in. And yet I was often induced by that motive to contrive that my walk should be solitary, and, because many objects neither beautiful nor sublime met the eye of the beholder, and in the truly splendid Rosenthal, the gnats, in the best season of the year, allowed no tender thoughts to arise, so did I, by unwearied, persever- ing endeavour, become extremely attentive to the small life of 236 TBUTH AND POETKY ; PKOM HT OWN LII'JS. nature, (I would use this word after the analogy of "still life,") and since the pretty events which one perceives within this circle represent but little in themselves, so I accustomed myself to see in them a significance, which inclined now to- wards the symbolical, now towards the allegorical side, accord- ingly as intuition, feeling, or reflection had the preponderance. I will relate one incident, in place of many. I was, after the fashion of humanity, in love with my name, and, as young uneducated people commonly do, I wrote it down everywhere. Once I had carved it very handsomely and accurately on the smooth bark of a linden-tree of mode- rate age. The following autumn, when my affection for An- nette was in its fullest bloom, I took the trouble to cut hers above it. Towards the end of the winter, in the meantime, like a capricious lover, I had wantonly sought many opportu- nities to teaze her and cause her vexation ; in the spring I chanced to visit the spot, and the sap, which was rising strongly in the trees, had welled out through the incisions which formed her name, and which were not yet crusted over, and moistened with innocent vegetable tears the already hardened traces of my own. Thus to see her here weeping over me, — me, who had so often called up her tears by my ill-conduct, filled me with confusion. At the remembrance of my injustice and of her love, even the tears came into my eyes, I hastened to implore pardon of her, doubly and trebly, and I turned this incident into an idyl*, which I never could read to myself without affection, or to others without emotion. "While I now, lik-e a shepherd on the Pleisse, was absorbed childishly enough in such tender subjects, and always chose only such as I could easily recall into my bosom, provision from a greater and more important side had long been made for German poets. The first true and really vital material of the higher order came into German poetry through Frederick the Great and the deeds of the Seven Years' War. All national poetry must be shallow or become shallow which does not rest on that which is most universally human, — upon the events of nations and their shepherds, when both stand for one man. Kings are to be represented in war and danger, where, by that veiy means, they appear as the first, because they determine and * " Die Laune des Verliebten," translated as The Lover's Caprice, see p. 241. GIEIM— KAMLEK. 287 share the fate of the very least, and thus become much more interesting than the gods themselves, who, when they have once determined the fates, withdraw from all participation in them. In this view of the subject, every nation, if it would be worth anything at all, must possess an epopee, to which the precise form of the epic poem is not necessary. The war-songs started by Gleim maintain so high a rank among German poems, because they arose with and in the achievements which are their subject, and because, moreover, their felicitous form, just as if a fellow-combatant had pro- duced them in the loftiest moments, makes us feel the most complete effectiveness. Bamler sings the deeds of his king in a different and most noble manner. All bis poems are full of matter, and occupy us with great, heart-elevating objects, and thus already main- tain an indestructible value. For the internal matter of the subject worked is the begin- ning and end of art. It will not, indeed, be denied that genius, that thoroughly cultivated artistical talent, can make everything out of everything by its method of treatment, and can subdue the most refractory material. But when closely examined, the result is rather a trick of art than a work of art, which should rest upon a worthy object, that the treat- ment of it by skill, pains, and industry, may present to us the dignity of the subject-matter only the more happily and splendidly. The Prussians, and with them Protestant Germany, ac- quired thus for their literature a treasure which the opposite party lacked, and the want of which they have been able to supply by no subsequent endeavours. Upon the great idea which the Prussian writers could well entertain of their king, they first established themselves, and the more zealously as he, in whose name they did it all, wished once for all to know nothing about them. Already before this, through the French colony, afterwards through the king's predilection for the literature of that nation, and for their financial institu- tions, had a mass of French civilization come into Prussia, which, was highly advantageous to the Germans, since by it they were challenged to contradiction and resistance; thus the very aversion of Frederick from German was a fortunate thing for the formation of its literary character. They did 238 XKTJTH and poetky; fbom my own iirE everything to attract the king's attention, not indeed to be honoured, but only noticed by him ; yet they did it in Ger- man fashion, from an internal conviction ; they did what they held to be right, and desired and -wished that the king should recognize and prize this German uprightness. That did not and could not happen ; for how can it be required of a king, who wishes to live and. enjoy himself intellectually, that he shall lose his years in order to see what he thinks barbarous developed and rendered palatable too late? In matters of trade and manufacture, he might indeed force upon himself, but especially upon his people, very moderate substitutes instead of excellent foreign wares ; but here everything comes to perfection more rapidly, and it needs not a man's life-time to bring such things to maturity. But I must here, first of all, make honourable mention of one work, the most genuine production of the Seven Years' War, and of perfect North German nationality ; it is the first theatrical production caught from the important events of life, one of specific temporary value, and one which therefore pro- duced an incalculable effect, — Minna von Barnhelm. Lessing, who, in opposition to Klopstock and Gleim, was fond of cast- ing off his personal dignity, because he was confident that he could at any moment seize it and take it up again, delighted in a dissipated life in taverns and the world, as he always needed a strong counterpoise to his powerfully labouring inte- rior ; and for this reason also he had joined the suite of Gene- ral Tauentzien. One easily discovers how the above-men- tioned piece was generated betwixt war and peace, hatred and affection. It was this production which happily opened the view into a higher, more significant world, from the literary and citizen world in which poetic art had hitherto moved. The intense hatred in which the Prussians and Saxons stood towards each other during this war, could not be re- moved by its termination. The Saxon now first felt, with true bitterness, the wounds which the upstart Prussian had inflicted upon him. Political peace could not immediately re-establish a peace between their dispositions. But this was to be brought about symbolically by the above-mentioned drama. The grace and amiability of the Saxon ladies con- quer the worth, the dignity, and the stubbornness of the goethe's peculiar tendency. 239 Prussians, and, in the principal as well as in the subordinate characters, a happy union of bizarre and contradictory ele- ments is artistically represented. If I have put my reader in some perplexity by these cur- sory and desultory remarks on German literature, I have suc- ceeded in giving them a conception of that chaotic condition in which my poor brain found itself, when, in the conflict of two epochs so important for the literary fatherland, so much that was new crowded in typon me before I could come to terms with the old, so much that was old yet made me feel its right over me, when I believed I had already cause to venture on renouncing it altogether. I will at present try to impart, as well as possible, the way I entered on to extricate myself from this difficulty, if only step by step. The period of prolixity into which my youth had fallen, I had laboured through with genuine industry, in company with so many worthy men. The numerous quarto volumes of manuscript which I left behind with my father might serve for sufficient witnesses of this ; and what a mass of essays, rough draughts, and half-executed designs, had, more from despon- dency than conviction, gone up in smoke ! Now, through conversation, through instruction in general, through so many conflicting opinions, but especially through my fellow-boarder Hofrath PieO., I learned to value more and more the import- ance of the subject-matter, and the conciseness of the treat- ment ; without, however, being able to make it clear to myself where the former was to be sought, or how the latter was to be attained. For, what with the great narrowness of my situation, — what with the indifference of my companions, the reserve of the professors, the exclusiveness of the educated inhabitants, and what with the perfect insignificance of the natural objects, I was compelled to seek for everything within myself. If I now desired a true basis in feeling or reflection for my poems, I was forced to grasp into my own bosom ; if 1 required, for my poetic representation an immediate intuition of an object or an event, I could not step outside the circle which was fitted to teach me and inspire me with an interest. In this view I wrote at first certain little poems, in the form of songs or in a freer measure ; they are founded on reflection, treat of the past, and for the most part take an epigrammatic turn. 240 TKTTTH AND POETET ; PKOM MI OWN IIFE. And thus began that tendency from which I could not deviate my whole life through ; namely, the tendency to turn into an image, into a poem, everything that delighted or troubled me, or otherwise occupied me, and to come to some certain understanding with myself upon it, that I might both rectify my conceptions of external things, and set my mind at rest about them. The faculty of doing this was necessary to no one more than to me, for my natural disposition whirled me constantly from one extreme to the other. All, therefore, that has been confessed by me, consists of fragments of a great confession, and this little book is an attempt which I have ventured on to render it complete. My early affection for Gretchen I had now transferred to one Annette (Aennchen), of whom I can say nothing more than that she was young, handsome, sprightly, loving, and so agreeable that she well deserved to be set up for a time in the shrine of the heart as a little saint, that she might receive all that reverence which it often causes more pleasure to bestow than to receive. I saw her daily without hindrance ; she helped to prepare the meals which I enjoyed, she brought, in the evening at least, the wine which I drank, and indeed our select club of noon-day boarders was a warranty that the little house, which was visited by few guests except during the fair, well merited its good reputation. Opportunity and inclination were found for various kinds of amusement. But as she neither could nor dared go much out of the house, the pastime was somewhat limited. We sang the songs of Zacha- ria, played the Duke Michael of Kriiger, in which a knotted handkerchief had to take the place of the nightingale ; and so, for a while, it went on quite tolerably. But since such connexions, the more innocent they are, afford the less variety in the long run, — so was I seized with that wicked dis- temper which seduces us to derive amusement from the tor- ment of a beloved one, and to domineer over a girl's devoted- ness with wanton and tyrannical caprice. My ill-humour at the failure of my poetical attempts, at the apparent impossi- bility of coming to a clear understanding about them, and at everything else that might pinch me here and there, I thought I might vent on her, because she truly loved me with all her heart, and did whatever sne could to please me. By un- founded and absurd fits ot jealousy, I destroyed our most DIE 1AUNE JOES VEKLIEBTEN. 241 delightful days both for myself and her. She endured it for a time with incredible patience, which I was cruel enough to try to the uttermost. But to my shame and despair I was at last forced to remark that her heart was alienated from me, and that I might now have good ground for the madness in which I had indulged without necessity and without cause. There were also terrible scenes between us, in which I gained nothing ; and I then first felt that I had truly loved her, and could not bear to lose her. My passion grew, and assumed all the forms of which it is capable under such circumstances ; nay, at last I even took up the role which the girl had hitherto played. I sought everything possible in order to be agreeable to her, even to procure her pleasure by means of others ; for I could not renounce the hope of winning her again. But it was too late ! I had lost her really, and the frenzy with which. I revenged my fault upon myself, by assaulting in various frantic ways my physical nature, in order to inflict some hurt on my moral nature, contributed very much to the bodily maladies under which I lost some of the best years of my life ; indeed I should perchance have been completely ruined by this loss, had not my poetic talent here shown itself parti- cularly helpful with its healing power. Already, at many intervals before, I had clearly enough perceived my ill-conduct. I really pitied the poor child, when I saw her so thoroughly wounded by me, without necessity. I pictured to myself so often and so circumstan- tially, her condition and my own, and, as a contrast, the con- tented, state of another couple in our company, that at last 1 could not forbear treating this situation dramatically, as a painful and instructive penance. Hence arose the oldest of my extant dramatic labours, the little piece entitled, Die Laune des Verliebten {The Lover's Caprice) ; in the simple nature of which one may at the same time perceive the impetus of a boiling passion. But before this, a deep, significant, impulsive world had already interested me. Through my adventure with Gretchen and its consequences, I had early looked into the strange labyrinths by which civil society is undermined. Reli- gion, morals, law, rank, connexions, custom, all rule only the surface of city existence. The streets, bordered by splendid houses, are kept neat, and every one behaves him. 242 TKUTH AUTD'POETRV; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. self there properly enough; but indoors, it often seenia only so much the more disordered; and a smooth exterior, like a thin coat of mortar, plasters over many a rotten wall that tumbles together overnight, and produces an effect the more frightful, as it comes into the midst of a condition of repose. How many families, far and near, had I not already seen, either overwhelmed in ruin or kept miserably hanging on the brink of it, by means of bankruptcies, divorces, seduced daughters, murders, house-robberies, poisonings; and young as I was, I had often, in such cases, lent a hand for help and preservation. For as my frankness awakened con- fidence, as my secresy was proved, as my activity feared no sacrifice, and loved best to exert itself in the most dangerous affairs, I had often enough found opportunity to mediate, to hush up, to divert the lightning-flash, with every other assistance of £he kind ; in the course of which, as well in my own person as through others, I could not fail to come to the knowledge of many afflicting and humiliating facts. To relieve myself I designed several plays, and wrote the arguments * of most of them. But since the intrigues were always obliged to be painful, and almost all these pieces threatened a tragical con- clusion, I let them drop one after another. Die Mitschuldigen (The Fellow-sinners) is the only one that was finished, the cheerful and burlesque tone of which upon the gloomy family- ground appears as if accompanied by somewhat of apprehen- sion, so that on the whole it is painful in representation, although it pleases in detached passages. The illegal deeds, harshly expressed, wound the aesthetic and moral feeling, and the piece could therefore find no favour on the German stage, although the imitations of it, which steered clear of those rocks, were received with applause. Both the above-mentioned pieces were however written from a more elevated point of view, without my having been aware of it. They direct us to a considerate forbearance in casting moral imputations, and in somewhat harsh and coarse touches sportively express that most Christian maxim : Let him, who is without sin among you, cast the first stone. Through this earnestness, which cast a gloom over my first * "Exposition," in a dramatic sense, properly means a statement oi the events which take place hefore the action of the play commences.- - Trans. ■YOUTHFUL PEAKK8. 243 pieces, I committed the fault of neglecting very favourable materials which lay quite decidedly in my natural disposition. In the midst of these serious, and for a young man, fearful experiences, was developed in me a reckless humour, which feels itself superior to the moment, and not only fears no danger, but rather wantonly courts it. The ground of this lay in the exuberance of spirits in which the vigorous time of life so much delights, and which, if it manifests itself in a frolicsome way, causes much pleasure, both at the moment and in remembrance. These things are so usual that in the vocabulary of our young university friends they are called Suites, and on account of the close similarity of signification, to say "play suites," means just the same as to "play pranks."* Such humorous acts of daring, brought on the theatre with wit and sense, are of the greatest effect. They are distinguished from intrigue, inasmuch as they are momentary, and that their aim, whenever they are to have one, must not be remote. Beaumarchais has seized their full value, and the effects of his Figaro spring pre-eminently from this. If now such good-humoured roguish and half-knavish pranks are practised with personal risk for noble ends, the situations which arise from them are aesthetically and morally con- sidered of the greatest value for the theatre ; as for instance the opera of the Water- Carrier treats perhaps the happiest subject which we have ever yet seen upon the stage. To enliven the endless tedium of daily life, I played off numberless tricks of the sort, partly without any aim at all, partly in the service of my friends whom I liked to please. For myself, I could not say that I had once acted in this designedly, nor did I ever happen to consider a feat of the kind as a subject for art. Had I, however, seized upon and elaborated such materials, which were so close at hand, my earliest labours would have been more cheerful and available. Some incidents of this kind occur indeed later, but isolated and without design. For since the heart always lies nearer to us than the head, and gives us trouble when the latter knows well how to help itself,- so the affairs of the heart had * The real meaning of the passage is that the idiom " Possen reissen," is used also with the university word " Suite," so that one can say " Suitoii reissen." — Tram. k2 244 TETJIH AND POETHY ; FH0J1 MX OWN T.TFZ. always appeared to me as the most important. I was never weary of reflecting upon the transient nature of attachments, the mutability of human character, moral sensuality, and all the heights and depths, the combination of which in our nature may be considered as the riddle of human life. Here, too, I sought to get rid of that which troubled me, in a song, an epigram, in some kind of rhyme, which, since they referred to the most private feelings and the most peculiar circumstances, could scarcely interest any one but myself. In the meanwhile, my external position had very much changed after the lapse of a short time. Madame Bohme, after a long and melancholy illness, had at last died ; she had latterly ceased to admit me to . bier presence. Her husband could not be particularly satisfied with me ; I seemed to him .not sufficiently industrious, and too frivolous. He especially took it very ill of me, when it was told him that, at the lectures on German Public Law, instead of taking proper notes, I had been drawing on the margin of my note-book the personages presented to our notice in them, such as the President of the Chamber, the Moderators and Assessors, in strange wigs ; and by this drollery had disturbed my atten- tive neighbours and set them laughing. After the loss of his wife he lived still more retired tl»an before, and at last I ehunned him in order to avoid his reproaches. But it was peculiarly unfortunate that Gellert would not use the power which he might have exercised over us. Indeed he had not time to play the father-confessor, and to inquire after the cha- racter and faults of everybody ; he therefore took the matter very much in the lump, and thought to curb us by means of the church forms. For this reason, commonly, when he once admitted us to his presence, he used to lower his little head, and, in his weeping, winning voice, to ask us whether we went regularly to church, who was our confessor, and whether we took the holy communion? If now we came off badly at this examination we were dismissed with lamentations ; we were more vexed than edified, yet could not help loving the man heartily. On this occasion, I cannot forbear recalling somewhat of my earlier youth, in order to make it obvious that the great affairs of the ecclesiastical religion must be earned on with order and coherence, if they are to prove as fruitful as is SACRAMENTS OF THE CHURCH. 245 expected. The Protestant service has too little fulness and consistency to be able to hold the congregation together; hence, it easily happens that members secede from it, and either form little congregations of their own, or, 'without ecclesiastical connexion, quietly carry on their citizen-life side by side. Thus for a considerable time complaints were made that the church-goers were diminishing from year to year, and, just in the same ratio, the persons who partook of the Lord's Supper. With respect to both, but especially the latter, the cause lies close at hand ; but who dares to speak it out ? "We will make the attempt. In moral and religious, as well as in physical and civil matters, man does not like to do anything on the spur of the moment; he needs a sequence from which results habit; what he is to love and to perform, he cannot represent to himself as single or isolated, and if he is to repeat anything willingly, it must not have become strange to him. If the Protestant worship lacks fulness in general, so let it be in- vestigated in detail, and it will be found that the Protestant has too few sacraments, nay, indeed he has only one in which he is himself an actor, — the Lord's*Supper : for baptism he sees only when it is performed on others, and is not greatly edified by it. The sacraments are the highest part of religion, the symbols to our senses of an extraordinary divine favour and grace. In the Lord's Supper earthly lips are to receive a divine Being embodied, and partake of an heavenly under the form of an earthly nourishment. This sense is just the same in all Christian churches; whether the Sacrament is taken with more or less submission to the mystery, with more or less accommodation as to that which is intelligible; it always remains a great holy thing, which in reality takes the place of the possible or the impossible, the place of that which man can neither attain nor do without. But such a sacrament should not stand alone; no Christian can partake of it with the true joy for which it is given, if the symbolical or sacra- mental sense is not fostered within him. He must be accus- tomed to regard the inner religion of the heart and that of the external church as perfectly one, as the great universal sacra- ment, which again divides itself into so many others, and communicates to these parts its holiness, indestructibleness* and eternity. 246 TBTJTH AND POETKY ; JFEOM MY OWN -LIFE. Here a youthful pair give their hands to one another, not for a passing salutation or for the dance; the_ pries c pro- nounces his blessing upon them, and the bond is indissoluble. It is not long before this wedded pair bring a likeness to the threshold of the altar; it is purified with holy water, and so incorporated into the church, that it cannot forfeit this benefit but through the most monstrous apostacy. The child in the course of life practises himself in earthly things of his own accord, in heavenly things he must be instructed. Does it prove on examination that this has been fully done, he is now received into the bosom of the church as an actual citizen, as a true and voluntary professor, not without outward tokens of the weightiness of this act. Now is he first decidedly a Christian, now for the first time he knows his advantages, and also his duties. But, in the meanwhile, much that is strange has happened to him as a man; through instruction and affliction he has come to know how critical appears the state of his inner self, and there will constantly be a question of doctrines and of transgressions ; but punishment shall no longer take place. For here, in the infinite confusion in which he must entangle himself, amid the conflict of natural and religious claims, an admirable expedient is given him, in confiding his deeds and misdeeds, his infirmities and doubts, to a worthy man, appointed expressly for that purpose, who knows how to calm, to warn, to strengthen him, to chasten him likewise by symbolical punishments, and at last by a com- plete washing away of his guilt, to render him happy and to give him back, pure and cleansed, the tablet of his manhood. Thus prepared, and purely calmed to rest by several sacra- mental acts, which, on closer examination, branch forth again into minuter sacramental traits, he kneels down to receive the host; and that the mystery of this high act may be still enhanced, he sees the chalice only in the distance ; it is no common eating and drinking that satisfies, it is a heavenly feast, which makes him thirst after heavenly drink. Yet let not the youth believe that this is all he has to do ; let not even the man believe it. In earthly relations we are at last accustomed to depend on ourselves, and, even there, knowledge, understanding, and character, will not always suffice ; in heavenly things, on the contrary, we have never finished learning. The higher feeling within us. which often CATHOLIC SACKAMENTS. 247 finds itself not even truly at home, is, besides, oppressed by so much, from without, that our own power hardly administers all that is necessary for counsel, consolation, and help. But, to this end, that remedy is instituted for our whole life, and an intelligent, pious man is continually waiting to show the right way to the wanderers, and to relieve the distressed. And what has been so well tried through the whole life, is now to show forth all its healing power with tenfold activity at the gate of Death. According to a trustful cus- tom, inculcated from youth upwards, the dying man receives with fervour those symbolical, significant assurances, and there, where every earthly warranty fails, he is assured, by a heavenly one, of a blessed existence for ail eternity. He feels himself perfectly convinced that neither a hostile element nor a malignant spirit can hinder him from clothing himself with a glorified body, so that, in immediate relation with the Godhead, he may partake of the boundless happiness which flows forth from Him. Then in conclusion, that the whole may be made holy, the feet also are anointed and blessed. They are to feel, even in the event of possible recovery, a repugnance to touching this earthly, hard, impenetrable soil. A wonderful nimbleness is to be imparted to them, by which they spurn from under them the clod of earth which hitherto attracted them. And so, through a brilliant circle of equally holy acts, the beauty of which we have only briefly hinted, at, the cradle and the grave, however far asunder they may chance to be, are bound in one continuous circle. But all these spiritual wonders spring not, like other fruits, from the natural soil, where they can neither be sown, nor planted, nor cherished. We must supplicate for them from another region, a thing which cannot be done by all persons, nor at all times. Here we meet the highest of these symbols, derived from pious tradition. We are told that one man can be more favoured, blessed, and sanctified from above than another. But that this may not appear as a natural gift, this great boon, bound up with a heavy duty, must be communi- cated to others by one authorized person to another ; and the greatest good that a man can attain, without his having to obtain it by his own wrestling or grasping, must be preserved and perpetuated on earth by spiritual heirship. In the very 24S TRUTH AND POETRY; MOK .MY OWN Lli-E, ordination of the priest, is comprehended all that is necessary for the effectual solemnizing of those holy acts, by which the multitude receive grace, without any other activity _ being needful on then- part, than that of faith and implicit con- fidence. And thus the priest steps forth in the line of his predecessors and successors, in the circle of those anointed with him, representing the highest source of blessings, so much the more gloriously, as it is not he, the priest, whom we reverence, but his office ; it is not his nod to which we bow the knee, but the blessing which he imparts, and which seems the more holy, and to come the more immediately from heaven, because the earthly instrument cannot at all weaken or invalidate it by its own sinful, nay, wicked nature. How is this truly spiritual connexion shattered to pieces in Protestantism, by part of the above-mentioned symbols being declared apocryphal, and only a few canonical; — and how, by their indifference to one of these, will they prepare us for the high dignity of the others ? In my time I had been confided to the religious instruction of a good old infirm clergyman, who had been confessor of the family for many years. The Catechism, a Paraphrase of it, and the Scheme of Salvation, I had at my fingers' ends, I lacked not one of the strongly proving biblical texts, but from all this I reaped no fruit ; for as they assured me that the honest old man arranged his chief examination according to an old set form, I lost all pleasure and inclination for the business, spent the last week in all sorts of diversions, laid in my hat the loose leaves borrowed from an older friend, who had gotten them from the clergyman, and unfeelingly and senselessly read aloud all that I should have known how to utter with feeling and conviction. But I found my good-will and my aspirations in this im- portant matter still more paralyzed by a dry, spiritless routine, when I was now to approach the confessional. I was indeed conscious to myself of many failings, but of no great faults ; and that very consciousness diminished them, since it directed me to the moral strength which lay within me, and which, with resolution and perseverance, was at last to become master over the old Adam. We were taught that we were much better than the catholics for this very reason : that we were not obliged to acknowledge anything in particular in the ■RELIGIOUS ArPHEHEIs-SIOXS. 249 confessional, nay, that this would not be at all proper, even if ■wo wished to do it. This last did not seem right to me ; for I had the strangest religious doubts, which I would readily have had cleared up on such an occasion. Now as this was not to be done, I composed a confession for myself, which, while it well expressed my state of mind, was to confess to an intelligent man, in general terms, that which I was for- bidden to tell him in detail. But when I entered the old choir of the Barefoot Friars, when I approached the strange latticed closets in which the reverend gentlemen used to be found for that purpose, when the sexton opened the door for me, when I now saw myself shut up in the narrow place face to face with my spiritual grandsire, and he bade me welcome with his weak nasal voice, all the light of my mind and heart was extinguished at once, the well-conned confession-speech would not cross my lips ; I opeaed, in my embarrassment, the book which I had in hand, and read from it the first short form I saw, which was so general, that anybody might have spoken it with quite a safe conscience. I received absolution, and withdrew neither warm nor cold ; went the next day with my parents to the Table of the Lord, and, for a few days, behaved myself as was becoming after so holy an act. In the sequel, however, there came over me that evil, which from the fact of our religion being complicated by various dogmas, and founded on texts of scripture which admit of several interpretations, attacks scrupulous men in such a man- ner, that it brings on a hypochondriacal condition, and raises this to its highest point, to fixed ideas. I have known several men who, though their manner of thinking and living was perfectly rational, could not free themselves from thinking about the sin against the Holy Ghost, and from the fear that they had committed it. A similar trouble threatened me on the subject of the communion, for the text that one who unworthily partakes of the Sacrament eateth and drinkeih damnation to himself, had, very early, already made a monstrous impression upon me. Every fearful thing that I had read in the histories of the middle ages, of the judgments of God, of those most strange ordeals, by red-hot iron, flaming fire, swelling water, and even what the Bible tells us of the draught which agrees well with the innocent, but puffs up and bursts the guilty, — :ell this pictured itself to my imagination ; and formed itself 250 TETJTH AND FOETHY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE. into the most frightful combinations, since false vows, hy- pocrisy, perjury, blasphemy, all seemed to weigh down the unworthy person at this most holy act, which was so much the more horrible, as no one could dare to pronounce himself worthy, and the forgiveness of sins, by which everything was to be at last done away, was found limited by so many con- ditions, that one could not with certainty dare appropriate it to oneself. This gloomy scruple troubled me to such a degree, and the expedient which they would represent to me as sufficient, seemed so bald and feeble, that it gave the bugbear only a more fearful aspect, and, as soon as I had reached Leipzig, I tried to free myself altogether from my connexion, with the church. How oppressive then must have been to me the ex- hortations of Gellert, whom, considering the generally laconic- style with which he was obliged to repel our obtrusiveness, I was unwilling to trouble with such singular questions, and the less so as in my more cheerful hours I was myself ashamed of them; and at last left completely behind me this strange anguish of conscience, together with church and altar. Gellert, in accordance with his pious feelings, had composed for himself a course of ethics, which from time to time he publicly read, and thus in an honourable manner acquitted himself of his duty to the public. Gellert's writings had already, for a long time, been the foundation of German moral culture, and every one anxiously wished to see that work printed ; but as this was not to be done till after the good man's death, people thought themselves very fortunate to hear him deliver it himself in his lifetime. The philosophi- cal auditorium* was at such times crowded, and the beautiful soul, the pure will, and the interest of the noble man in our welfare, his exhortations, warnings, and entreaties, uttered in a somewhat hollow and sorrowful tone, made indeed an im- pression for the moment, but this did not last long, the less so, as there were many scoffers, who contrived to make us suspicious of this tender, and, as they thought, enervating manner. I remember a Frenchman travelling through the town, who inquired after the maxims and opinions of the- man who attracted such an immense concourse. When we- * The lecture-room. The word is also used in university language tp denote a professor's audience. DECLINE OF GELLEKl'S AUTHORITY* 251 had given him the necessary information, he shook his head and said, smiling, Laissez lefaire, il nous forme des dupes. And thus also did good society, which cannot easily endure anything estimable in its neighbourhood, know how to spoil on occasion the moral influence which Gellert might have had upon us. Now it was taken ill of him that he instructed the Danes of distinction and wealth, who were particularly recom- mended to him, better than the other students, and had a marked solicitude for them; now he was charged with selfish- ness and nepotism for causing a table d'hote to be established for these young men at his brother's house. This brother, a tall, good-looking, blunt, unceremonious and somewhat rude man, had, it was said, been a fencing-master, and notwith- standing the too great lenity of his brother, the noble boarders were often treated harshly and roughly; hence the people thought they must again take the part of these young folks, and pulled about the good reputation of the excellent Gellert to such a degree, that, in order not to be mistaken about him, we- became indifferent towards him, and visited him no more; yet we always saluted him in our best manner when he came riding along on his tame grey horse. This horse the Elector had sent him, to oblige him to take an exercise so necessary for his health ; — a distinction which was not easily forgiven him. And thus, by degrees, the epoch approached when all. authority was to vanish from before me, and I was to become suspicious, nay, to despair, even of the greatest and best indi- viduals whom I had known or imagined. Frederick the Second still stood at the head of all the distinguished men of the century, in my thoughts, and it must therefore have appeared very surprising to me. that I could praise him as little before the inhabitants of Leipzig- as formerly in my grandfather's house. They had felt the hand of war heavily, it is true, and therefore they were not to blame for not thinking the best of T-iim who had begun and continued it. They therefore were willing to let him pass- as a distinguished, but by no means as a great man. " There- was no art," they said, "in performing something with great means; and if one spares neither lands, nor money, nor blood, one may well accomplish one's purpose at last. Frede- rick had shown himself great in none of his plans, and in 2iJ2 THUIII and poetry; tkoji my own LIFE. nothing that he had, properly speaking, undertaken. So long as it depended on himself, he had. only gone on making blunders, and what was extraordinary in him, had only come to light when he was compelled to make these blunders good again. It was purely from this that he had obtained his great reputation, since every man wishes for himself that same talent of making good, in a clever way, the blunders which he frequently com mits. If one goes through the Seven Years' War, step by step, it will be found that the king quite uselessly sacrificed his fine army, and that it was his own fault that this ruinous feud had been protracted to so great a length. A truly great man and general would have got the better of his enemies much sooner." In support of these opinions they could cite infinite details, which I did not know how to deny ; and I felt the unbounded reverence which I had devoted to this remarkable prince, from my youth upwards, gradually cooling away. As the inhabitants of Leipzig had now destroyed for me the pleasant feeling of revering a great man, so did a new friend whom I gained at the time very much diminish the respect which I entertained for my present fellow-citizens. This friend was one of the strangest fellows in the world. He was named Behrisch, and was tutor to the young Count Lindenau. Even his exterior was singular enough. Lean and well-built, far advanced in the thirties, a very large nose, and altogether marked features ; he wore from morning till night a scratch which might well have been called a peruke, but dressed him- self very neatly, and never went out but with his sword by his side, and his hat under his arm. He was one of those men who have quite a peculiar gift of killing time, or rather, who know how to make something out of nothing, in order to pass time away. Everything that he did must be done with slowness, and a certain deportment which might have been called affected, if Behrisch Lad not even by nature had some- thing affected in his manner. He resembled an old French- man, and also spoke and wrote French very well and easily. His greatest delight was to busy himself seriously about drol- leries, and to follow up without end any silly notion. Thus he was constantly dressed in grey, and as the different parts of his attire were of different stuffs, and also of different shades, he could reflect for whole days as to how he should procure one grey more for his body, and was happy when he had succeeded EEHKISCH. 258 in this, and could put to shame us who had doubted it, or had pronounced it impossible. He then gave us long severe lectures, about our lack of inventive power, and our want of faith in his talents. For the rest, he had studied well, was particularly versed in the modern languages and their literature, and wrote an excellent hand. He was very well disposed, to me, and I, having been always accustomed and inclined to the society of older persons, soon attached myself io him. My intercourse,, too, served him for a special amusement, since he took plea- sure in taming my restlessness and impatience, with -which, on the other hand, I gave him enough to do. In the art of poetry he had what is called taste, a certain general opinion about the good and bad, the mediocre and tolerable ; but his judgment was rather censorious, and he destroyed even the little faith in contemporary writers which I cherished within me, by unfeeling remarks, which he knew how to advance with wit and humour, about the writings and poems of this man and that. He received my own affairs with indulgence, and let me have my way, but only on the condition that I should have nothing printed. He proHiised me, on the other hand, that he himself would copy those pieces which he thought good, and would present me with them in a hand- some volume. This undertaking now afforded an opportunity for the greatest possible waste of time. For before he could find the right paper, before he could make up his mind as to the size, before he had settled the breadth of the margin, and the form of handwriting, before the crow-quills were pro- vided and cut into pens, and Indian ink was rubbed, whole weeks passed, without the least bit having been done. With just as much ado he always set about his writing, and really, by degrees, put together a most charming manuscript. The title of the poems was in German text, the verses themselves in a perpendicular Saxon hand, and at the end of every poem was an analogous vignette, which he had either selected some- where or other, or had invented himself, and in which he contrived to imitate very neatly the hatching of the wood-cuts and tail-pieces which are used for such purposes. To show me these things as he went on, to celebrate beforehand in a comico-pathetical manner my good fortune in seeing myself immortalized in such exquisite handwriting, and that in a 254 TRUTH AMD POETEY ; TEOM MY OWN LIFE. style which 110 printing-press could attain, gave another occasion for passing the most agreeable hours. In the mean- time, his intercourse was always secretly instructive, by reason of his liberal acquirements, and, as he knew how to subdue my restless impetuous disposition, was also quite wholesome for me in a moral sense.' He had, too, quite a peculiar abhorrence of roughness, and his jests were always quaint, without ever falling into the coarse or the trivial. He in- dulged himself in a distorted aversion from nis countrymen, and described with ludicrous touches even what they were able to undertake. He was particularly inexhaustible in a comical representation of individual persons, as he found some- thing to find fault with in the exterior of every one. Thus, when we lay together at the window, he could occupy him- self for hours criticising the passers-by, and when he had censured them long enough, in showing exactly and circum- stantially how they ought to have dressed themselves, ought to have walked, and ought to have behaved to look like orderly people. Such attempts, for the most part, ended in something improper and absurd, so that we did not so much laugh at how the man looked, but at how, perchance, he might have looked, had he been mad enough to caricature himself. In aH-sueh matters, Behrisch went quite unmercifully to work, withouj being in the slightest degree malicious. On the other han^f we knew how to teaze him, on our side, by assurin g bjjMrtlnat. to judge from his exterior, he must be -taken, /irnot for a French dancing-master, at least for the academical teacher of the language. This reproval was usually the signal for dis. sertations an hour long, in which he used to set forth the difference, wide as the heavens, which there was between him and an old Frenchman. At the same time he commonly imputed to us all sorts of awkward attempts, that we might possibly have made for the alteration and modification of his wardrobe. The direction of my poetizing, which I only carried on the more zealously as the transcript went on becoming more beau- tiful and more careful, now inclined altogether to the natural and the true ; and if the subjects could not always be impor- tant, I nevertheless always endeavoured to express them clearly and pointedly, the more so as my friend often gave me to un- derstand, what a great thing it was to write down a verse on MOTESSOR CLODIUS. 255 Dutch paper, with the crow-quill and Indian ink; what time, talent, and exertion it required, which ought not to be squan- dered on anything empty and superfluous. At the same time, he commonly used to open a finished parcel and circum- stantially to explain what ought not to stand in this or that place, or congratulate us that it actually did not stand there, He then spoke, with great contempt, of the art of printing, mimicked the compositor, ridiculed his gestures and his hur- ried picking out of letters here and there, and derived from this manoeuvre all the calamities of literature. On the other hand, he extolled the grace and the noble posture of a writer, and immediately sat down himself to exhibit it to us, while he rated US' at the same time for not demeaning ourselves at the writing-table precisely after his example and model. He now returned to the contrast with the compositor, turned a begun letter upside down, and showed how unseemly it would be to write anything" from the bottom to the top, or from the right to the left, with other things of like kind with which whole volumes might have been filled. With such harmless fooleries we lavished away our precious time, while it could have occurred to none of us, that anything would chance to proceed out of our circle, which would awaken a general sensation and bring us into not the best repute. Gellert may have taken little pleasure in his Practicum, and if, perhaps, he took pleasure in giving some direc- tions as to prose and poetical style, he did it most privately only to a few, among whom we could not number ourselves. Professor Clodius thought to fill the gap which thus arose in the public instruction. He had gained some renown in litera- ture, criticism, and poetry, and as a young, lively, obliging man, found many friends both in the university and in the city. Gellert himself referred us to the lectures now com- menced by him, and, as far as the principal matter was con- cerned, we remarked little difference. He, too, only criticised details, corrected likewise with red ink, and one found oneself in company with mere blunders, without a prospect as to where the right was to be sought. I had brought to him some of my little labours, which he did not treat harshly. But just at this time they wrote to me from home, that I must without fail furnish a poem for my uncle's wedding. I felt myself far 256 TRUTH AND POETRY J FHOM MY OWN LIFE. from that light and frivolous period in which a similar thing- would have given me pleasure, and since I could get nothing out of the actual circumstance itself, I determined to trick out my work in the best manner, with extraneous ornament. I therefore convened all Olympus to consult about the marriage of a Frankfort lawyer ; and seriously enough, to be sure, as well became the festival of such an honourable man. Venus and Themis had quarrelled for his sake ; but a roguish prank which Amor played the latter, gained the suit for the former, and the gods decided in favour of the marriage. My work by no means displeased me. I received from home a handsome letter in its praise, took the trouble to have another fair copy, and hoped to extort some applause from my professor also. But here I had missed my aim. He took the matter severely, and as he did not notice the tone of parody, which nevertheless lay in the notion, he declared the great expenditure of divine means for such an insignificant human end, in the highest degree reprehensible; inveighed against the use and abuse of such mythological figures, as a false habit originating in pedantic times ; found the expression now too high, now too low, and in divers particulars had indeed not spared the red ink, though he asserted that he had yet done too little. Such pieces were read out and criticised anonymously, it is true ; but we used to watch each other, and it remained no secret that this unfortunate assembly of the gods was my work. Yet since his critique, when I took his point of view, seemed to be perfectly just, and those divinities more nearly inspected were in fact only hollow shadow-forms ; I cursed all Olympus, flung the whole mythic Pantheon away, and from that time Amor and Luna have been the only divinities which at all appear in my little poems. Among the persons whom Behrisch had chosen as the butts of Ms wit, Clodius stood just at the head ; nor was it hard to find a .comical side in him. As a little, rather stout, thick-set figure, he was violent in his motions, somewhat impetuous in his utterances, and restless in his demeanour. In all this he differed from his fellow-citizens, who, nevertheless, willingly put up with him on account of his good qualities and the fine promise which he gave. He was usually commissioned with the poems which had B1DICULE OF ClODITJS. 2f>7 become necessary on festal occasions. In the so-called Ode, he followed the m ann er used by Ramler, whom, however, it alone suited. But Clodius, as an imitator, had especially marked the foreign words by means of which the poems of Ram- ler come forth with a majestic pomp, which, because it is con- formable to the greatness of his subject and the rest of his poetic treatment, produces a very good effect on the ear, feelings, and imagination. In Clodius, on the contrary, these expressions had a heterogeneous air, since his poetry was in other respects not calculated to elevate the mind in any manner. Now we had often been obliged to see such poems printed and highly lauded in oiir presence, and we found it highly offensive, that he who had sequestered the heathen gods from us, now wished to hammer together another ladder to Parnassus out of Greek and Roman word-rungs. These oft-recurring expressions stamped themselves firmly on our memory, and in a merry hour, when we were eating some most excellent cakes in the Kitchen-gardens (Kohlgarten), it all at once struck me to put together these words of might and power, in a poem on the cake-baker Hendel. No sooner thought than done! And let it stand here, too, as it was written on the wall of the house with a lead-pencil. " O Hendel, dessen Ruhm vom Slid zum Norden reicht, Vernimm den P'dan der zu deinen Ohren steigt Du biickst was Gallien und Britten emsig suchen,' Mit schbpfri8chen Genie, originelle Kuchen. Des Kaffee's Ocean, der sioh vor dir ergiesst, 1st siisser als der Saft der vom Hymettus fliesst. Dein Haus ein Monument, wie wir den Ktinsten lohncn Umhangen mit Troph'dn, erzahlt den Natixmen : Auch ohne Diadem fand Hendel hier sein Gliick Und raubte dem Cothurn gur manch Achtgroschenstiick. Ulanzt deine Urn dereinst in majestats'chen Pompe, Dann weint der Patriot un deinem Katacombe. Doch leb ! dein Torus sey von edler Brut ein Nest, Steh'hoch wie der Olymp, wie der Parnassus fest ! Kein Phalanx Griechenland mit Rbmischen Ballisten Vermog Germanien und Hendel zu verwiisten. Dein Wohl is unser Stolz, dein Leiden unser Schmerz Und Hendel's Tempel ist der MusembAne Herz.*" * T5i3 humour of the above consists, not in the thoughts, but in the particular words employed. These have no remarkable effect in English, 258 TKUTH AND POEIHT ; FROM MY OWN T.TVE. This poem stood a long time among many others which disfigured the walls of that room, without being noticed, and we, who had sufficiently amused ourselves with it, forgot it altogether amongst other things. A long time afterwards, Clodius came out with his Medon, whose wisdom, magnani- mity and virtue we found infinitely ridiculous, much as the first representation of the piece was applauded. That evening, when we met together in the wine-house, I made a prologue in doggerel verse, in which Harlequin steps out with two great sacks, places them on each side of the proscenium, and after various preliminary jokes, tells the spectators in confidence, that in the two sacks moral -sesthetic dust is to be found, which the actors will veiy frequently throw into their eyes. One, to wit, was filled with good deeds, that cost nothing, and the other with splendidly expressed opinions, that had no mean- ing behind them. He reluctantly withdrew, and sometimes came back, earnestly exhorted the spectators to attend to his warning and shut their eyes, reminded them that he had always been their friend, and meant well with them, with many more things of the kind. This prologue was acted in the room, on the spot, by friend Horn, but the jest remained quite among ourselves, not even a copy had been taken, and the paper was soon lost. However, Horn, who had per? as to us the words of Latin origin are often as familiar as those which have Teutonic roots, and these form the chief peculiarity of the style. We have therefore given the poem in the original language, with the peculiar words (as indicated by Gothe) in italics, and subjoin a literal translation. It will be observed that we have said that the peculiarity consists chiefly, not solely, in the use of the foreign words, for there are two or three in- stances of unquestionably German words, which are italicised on account of their high-sounding pomp. " Oh Hendel, whose fame extends from south to north, hear the Pman which ascends to thine ears. Thou bakest that which Gauls and Britons industriously seek, (thou bakest) with creative genius original cakes. The ocean of coffee which pours itself out before thee, is sweeter than the juice which flows from Hymettus. Thy house, a monument, how we reward the arts, hung round with trophies, tells the nations : ' Even without a diadem, Hendel formed his fortune here, and robbed the Cothurnus of many an eight-groschen-piece.' When thine urn shines hereafter in majestic pomp, then wUl the patriot weep at thy catacomb. But live 1 let thy bed (torus) be the nest of a noble brood, stand high as Olympus, and firm as Parnassus. May no phalanx of Greece with Roman ballista be able to destroy Germania and Hendel. Thy weal is our pride, thy suffering our pain, and Hendel's temple is the heart of the sons of the Muses." — Trans-. ECCENTRICITIES OP BEHEISCH. 259 formed the Harlequin very prettily, took it into his head to enlarge my poem to Hendel by several verses, and then to make it refer to Medon. He read it aloud to us, and we could not take any pleasure in it, for we did not find the additions even ingenious, while the first poem, being written for quite a different purpose, seemed to us disfigured. Our friend, out of humour at our indifference, or rather cen- sure, may have shown it to others, who found it new and amusing. Copies were now made of it, to which the reputa- tion of Clodius's Medon gave at once a rapid publicity. Uni- versal disapproval was the consequence, and the originators (it was soon found out that the poem had proceeded from our clique) were severely censured : for nothing of the sort had been seen since Cronegk's and Host's attacks upon Gottsched. We had besides already secluded ourselves, and now found ourselves quite in the case of the owl with respect to the other birds. In Dresden, too, they did not like the affair, and it had for us serious, if not unpleasant consequences. For some time, already,' Count Lindenau had not been quite satisfied with his son's tutor. For, although the young man was by no means neglected, and Behrlsch kept himself either in the chamber of the young Count, or at least close to it, when the instructors gave their daily lessons, regularly frequented the lectures with him, never went out in the day-time without him, and accompanied him in all his walks ; yet the rest of us were always to be found in Apel's house, and joined them whenever they went on a pleasure ramble; this already excited some attention. Behrisch, too, accustomed himself to our society, and at last, towards nine o'clock in the even- ings, generally transferred his pupil into the hands of the valet de chanibre, and went in quest of us to the wine-house, whither, however, he never used to eome but in shoes and stockings, with his sword by his side, and commonly his hat under his arm. The jokes and fooleries, which he generally started, went on ad infinitum. Thus, for instance, one of our friends had a habit of going away precisely at ten, because he had a connexion with a pretty girl, with whom he could con- verse only at that hour. We did not like to lose him ; and one evening, when we sat very happily together, Behrisch secretly determined that he would not let him off this time. At. the stroke of ten, the other arose and took leave. Behriscb sS 260 TKUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN I.IFE. called after him and begged him to wait a moment, as he was just going with. him. He now began, in the most amusing manner, first to look after his sword, which stood just before his eyes, and in buckling it on behaved awk- wardly, so that he could never accomplish it. He did this, too, so naturally, that no one took offence at it. But when, to vary the theme, he at last went further, so that the sword came now on the right side, now between his legs, an univer- sal laughter arose, in which the man in a hurry, who was likewise a merry fellow, chimed in, and let Behrisch have his own way till the happy hour was past, when, for the first time, there followed general pleasure and agreeable conversa- tion till deep into the night. Unfortunately Behriseh, and we through him, had a certain other propensity for some girls who were better than their reputation ; by which our own reputation could not be im- proved. We had often been seen in their garden, and we directed our walks thither, even when the young Count was with us. All this may have been treasured up, and at last communicated to his father ; enough, he sought, in a gentle- manly manner, to get rid of the tutor, to whom the event proved fortunate. His good exterior, his knowledge and talents, his integrity, which no one could call in question, had won him the affection and esteem of distinguished persons, on whose recommendation he was appointed tutor to the heredi- tary prince of Dessau ; and at the court of a prince, excellent in every respect, found a solid happiness. The loss of a friend like Behriseh was of the greatest conse- quence to me. He had spoiled, while he cultivated me, and Ms presence was necessary, if the pains he had thought good to spend upon me were in any degree to bring forth fruit for society. He knew how to engage me in all kinds of pretty and agreeable things, in whatever was just appropriate, and to bring out my social talents. But as I had gained no self- dependence in such things, so when I was alone again, I im- mediately relapsed into my confused and crabbed disposition, which always increased, the more discontented I was with those about me, since I fancied that they were not contented with me. With the most arbitrary caprice, I took offence at what I might have reckoned as an advantage to me; thus alienated many with whom I had hitherto stood on a tolerable WHAT IS EXPERIENCE ? 261 footing : and, on account of the many disagreeable conse- quences which I had drawn on myself and others, whether by doing or leaving undone, by doing too much or too little, was obliged to hear the remark from my well-wishers, that I lacked experience. The same thing was told me by every person of sound sense who saw my productions, especially when these referred to the external world. I observed this as well as I could, but found in it little that was edifying, and was still forced to add enough of my own to make it only tolerable. I had often pressed my friend Behrisch, too, that he would make plain to me what experience might be ? But, because he was full of nonsense, he put me off with fair words from one day to another, and at last, after great pre- parations, disclosed, to me, that true experience was properly when one experiences how an experienced man must expe- rience in experiencing his experience. Now when we scolded him outrageously, and called him to account for this, he assured us that a great mystery lay hidden behind these words, which we could not comprehend until we had expe- rienced . . . and so on without end ; — for it cost him nothing to talk on in that way by the quarter of an hour ; — since the experience would always become more experienced and at last come to true experience. When we were falling into despair at such fooleries, he protested that he had learned this way of making himself intelligible and impressive from the latest and greatest authors, who had made us observe how one can rest a restful rest, and how silence, in being silent, can constantly become more silent. By chance an officer, who came among us on furlough, was praised in good company as a remarkable sound-minded and experienced man, who had fought through the Seven Years' War, and had gained universal confidence. It was not diffi- cult for me to approach him, and we often went walking with each other. The idea of experience had almost become fixed m my brain, and the craving to make it clear to me pas- sionate. Open-hearted as I was, I disclosed to him the uneasiness in which I found myself. He smiled, and was kind enough to tell me, as an answer to my question, some- thing of his own life, and generally of the world immediately about us ; from which, indeed, little better was to be gathered than that experience convinces us that our best thoughts. 262 TETTTH AND POETRY ; PBOM MY OWN 1IFE. wishes and designs are unattainable, and that he who fosters such vagaries and advances them with eagerness, is especially held to be an inexperienced man. Yet, as he was a gallant, good fellow, he assured me that , he had himself not quite given up these vagaries, and felt himself tolerably well off with the little faith, love, and hope which remained. He then felt obliged to tell me a great deal about war, about the sort of life in the field, about skir- mishes and battles, especially so far as he had taken part in them ; when these vast events, by being considered in relation to a single individual, gained a very marvellous aspect. I then led him on to an open narration of the late situation of the court, which seemed to me quite like a tale. I heard- of the bodily strength of Augustus the Second, of his many children and his vast, expenses, then of his successor's love of art and of making collections, of Count Briihl and his bound- less love of magnificence, which in detail appeared almost absurd, of his numerous banquets and gorgeous amusements, which were all cut off by Frederick's invasion of Saxony. The royal castles now lay in ruins, Briihl's splendours were annihilated, and, of the whole, a glorious land, much injured alone remained. When he saw me astonished at that mad enjoyment of fortune, and then grieved by the calamity that followed, and informed me that one expects from an experienced man exactly this, that he shall be astonished at neither the one nor the other, nor take too lively an interest in them, I felt a great desire still to remain awhile in the same inexperience as hitherto ; in which desire he strengthened me, and very urgently entreated me, for the present at least, always to chng to agreeable experiences, and to try to avoid those that were disagreeable as much as possible, if they should intrude themselves upon me. But once, when the discussion wap again about experience in general, and I related to him those ludicrous phrases of my friend Behrisch, he shook his head, smiling, and said, " There, one sees how it is with words which are only once uttered ! These sound so comical, nay, 60 silly, that it would seem almost impossible to put a rational meaning into them ; and yet, perhaps, the attempt might be made." And when I pressed him, he replied in his intelligent, WHAT IS EXPERIENCE? 268 cheerful manner, " If you will allow me, while commenting on and completing your friend, to go on after his fashion, I think he meant to say, that experience is nothing else than that one experiences what one does not wish to experience ; which is what it amounts to for the most part, at least in this world." EIGHTH BOOK. Anotheb man, although infinitely different from Behrisch in every respect, might yet be compared with him in a certain sense ; I mean Oesek, who was also one of those men who dream away their lives in a comfortable state of being busy. His friends themselves secretly acknowledged that, with very fine natural powers, he had not spent his younger years in sufficient activity ; for which reason, he never went so far as to practise his art with perfect technicality. Yet a certain diligence appeared to be reserved for his old age, and, during the many years which I knew him, he never lacked invention, or laboriousness. From the very first moment he had much attracted me ; even his residence, strange and portentous, was highly charming to me. In the old castle Pleissenburg; at the right-hand corner, one ascended a repaired, cheerful, wind- ing staircase. The saloons of the Academy of Design, of which he was director, were found to the left, and were light and roomy ; but he himself could only be reached through a nar- row, dark passage, at the end of which one first sought the entrance into his apartments, having just passed between the whole suite of them and an extensive granary. The first apartment was adorned with pictures from the later Italian school, by masters whose grace he used highly to commend. As I, with some noblemen, had taken private lessons of him, we were permitted to draw here, and we often penetrated into his adjoining private cabinet, which contained at the samp time his few books, collections of art and natural curiosities, and whatever else might have most interested him. Every- , thing was arranged with taste, simply, and in such a manner that the little space held a great deal. The furniture, presses, and portfolios were elegant, without affectation or superfluity. Thus also the first thing which he recommended to us, and to which he always recurred, was simplicity in everything that art and manual labour united are called upon to pro- duce. As a sworn foe of the scroll-and-shell style, and of the whole taste for quaintness, he showed us in copper* oesxe. 265 plates and drawings old patterns of the sort, contrasted with, better decorations and simpler forms of furniture, as well as with other appurtenances of a room; and, because everything about him corresponded with these maxims, his words and instructions made a good and lasting impression on us. Besides this, he had an opportunity to let us see his opinions in practice, since he stood in good consideration both with private and with official persons, and was asked for advice when there were new buildings and alterations. He seemed in general to be more fond of preparing anything on occasion, for a certain end and use, than of undertaking and completing things which exist for themselves and require a greater perfection ; he was therefore always ready and at hand when the publishers needed larger and smaller copper-plates for any work ; thus the vignettes to "Winckelmann's first writ- ings were etched by him. But he often made only very sketchy drawings, to which Geyser knew very well how to adapt him- self. His figures had throughout something general, not to say ideal. .His women were pleasing and agreeable, his chil- dren naive enough ; only he could not succeed with the men, who, in his spirited but always cloudy and at the same time foreshortening manner, had for the most part the look of Laz- zaroni. Since he designed his composition less with regard to form than to light, shade, and masses, the general effect was good ; as indeed all that he did and produced was attended by a peculiar grace. As he at the same time neither could nor would control a deep-rooted propensity to the significant and the allegorical — to that which excites a secondary thought, so his works always furnished something to reflect upon, and were complete through a conception, even where they could not be so from art and execution. This bias, which is always dangerous, frequently led him to the very bounds of good taste, if not beyond them. He often sought to attain his views by the oddest notions, and by whimsical jests.; nay, his best works always have a touch of humour. If the public were not always satisfied with such things, he revenged himself by a new and even stranger drollery. Thus he afterwards exhibited in the ante-room of the great concert-hall, an ideal female figure, in his own style, who was raising a pair of snuffers to a taper, and he was extraordinarily delighted when he was able to cause a dispute on the question : whether this 266 TB.UTH AND POETRY ; TKOM JIY OWN LIFE. singular muse meant to snuff the light or to extinguish it ? when he roguishly allowed all sorts of bantering by-thoughts to peep forth. But the building of the new theatre, in my time, made the greatest noise ; in which his curtain, when it was still quite new, had certainly an uncommonly charming effect. Oeser had taken the Muses out of the clouds, upon which they usually hover on such occasions, and set them upon the earth. The statues of Sophocles and Aristophanes, around whom all the modern dramatic writers were assembled, adorned a vestibule to the Temple of Fame, Here, too, the goddesses of the arts were likewise present, and all was dignified and beautiful. But now comes the oddity! Through the open centre was seen the portal of the distant temple, and a man in a light jerkin was passing between the two above-men- tioned groups, and without troubling himself about' them, directly up to the temple ; he was seen from behind, and was not particularly distinguished. Now this man was to repre- sent Shakspeare, who, without predecessors or followers, with- out concerning himself about models, went to meet immortality in his own way. This work was executed on the great floor over the new theatre. We often assembled round him there, and in that place I read aloud to him the proof-sheets of Musarion. As to myself, I by no means advanced in the practice of the art. His instructions worked upon our mind and our taste ; but his own drawing was too undefined to guide me, who had only glimmered along by the objects of art and of nature, to a severe and decided practice. Of the faces and bodies he gave us rather the aspect than the forms, rather the postures than the proportions. He gave us the conceptions of the figures, and desired that we should impress them vividly upon our minds. That might have been beautifully and properly done, if he had not had mere beginners before him. If, on this account, a pre-eminent talent for instruction may be well denied him, it must, on the other hand, be acknowledged that he was very discreet and politic, and that a happy adroitness of mind quali- fied him very peculiarly for a teacher in a higher sense. The deficiencies under which each one laboured he clearly saw ; but he disdained to reprove them directly, and rather hinted bis praise and censure indirectly and very laconically. One INFLUENCE OF OESER. 267 was now compelled to think over the matter, and soon came to a far deeper insight. Thus, for instance, I had very care- fully executed, after a pattern, a nosegay on blue paper, with white and black crayon, and partly with the stump, partly by hatching it up, had tried to give effect to the little picture. After I had been long labouring in this way, he once came behind me and said : " More paper ! " upon which he imme- diately withdrew. My neighbour and I puzzled our heads as to what this could mean : for my bouquet, on a large half-sheet; had plenty of space around it. After we had reflected a long while, we thought, at last, that we had hit his meaning, when we remarked that, by working together the black and the white, I had quite covered up the blue ground, had destroyed the middle tint, and, in fact, with great industry, had pro- duced a disagreeable drawing. As to the rest, he did not fail to instruct us in perspective, and in light and shade, sufficiently indeed, but always so that we had to exert and torment our- selves to find the application of the principles communicated. Probably his view with regard to us who did not intend to become artists, was only to form the judgment and taste, and to make us acquainted with the requisites of a work of art, ■without precisely requiring that we should produce one. Since, moreover, patient industry was not my talent, for nothing gave me pleasure except what came to me at once, so by degrees I became discouraged, if not lazy, and as knowledge is more comfortable than doing, I was quite content to follow wherever he chose, after his own fashion, to lead us. At this time the Lives of the Painters, by D' Argenville, was translated into German ; I obtained it quite fresh, and studied it assiduously enough. This seemed to please Oeser, and he procured us an opportunity of seeing many a portfolio out of the great Leipzig collections, and thus introduced us to the history of the art. But even these exercises produced in me an effect different from that which he probably had in mind. The manifold subjects which I saw treated by artists awakened the poetic talent in me, and as one easily makes an en- graving for a poem, so did I now make poems to the engrav- , ings and drawings, by contriving to present to myself the personages introduced in them, in their previous and subse- quent condition, and sometimes to compose a little song which might have suited them ; and thus accustomed myself to con- 268 TETJTH AND POETRY ; PEOM MT OWN LIFE. sider the arts in connexion with each other. Even the mistakes which I made, so that my poems were often descriptive, were useful to me in the sequel, when I came to more reflection, by , making me attentive to the differences between the arts. Of such little things many were in the collection which Behrisch jiad arranged ; but there is nothing left of them now. The atmosphere of art and taste in which Oeser lived, and into which one was drawn, provided one visited him fre- quently, was the more and more worthy and delightful, because he was fond of remembering departed or absent persons, with whom he had been, or still continued to be, on good terms ; for if he had once given any one his esteem, he remained un- alterable in his conduct towards him, and always showed himself equally friendly. After we had heard Cayxtjs pre-eminently extolled .among the French, _he made us also acquainted with Germans of activity in this department. Thus we learned that Professor Cheist, as an amateur, a collector, a connoisseur, a fellow- labourer, had done good service for art ; and had applied his learning to its true improvement. Hefnecken, on the con- trary, could not be honourably mentioned, partly because he devoted himself too assiduously to the ever-childish beginnings of German art, which Oeser little valued, partly because he had once treated Winckelmann shabbily, which could never be forgiven him . Our attention, however, was strongly drawn to the labours of Lippeet, since our instructor knew how to set forth his merits sufficiently. " For," he said, " although single statues and larger groups of sculpture remain the foun- dation and the summit of all knowledge of art, yet either as originals or as casts they are seldom to be seen ; on the con- trary, by Lippert, a little world of gems is made known, in which the more comprehensible merit of the ancients, their happy invention, judicious composition, tasteful treatment, are made more striking and intelligible, while, from the great number of them, comparison is much more possible." While now we were busying ourselves with these as much as was allowed, Winckelmann's lofty life of art in Italy was pointed out, and we took his first writings in hand with devotion: for Oeser had a passionate reverence for him, which he was able easily to instil into us. The problematical part of those little treatises, which are, besides, confused even from their iroay. FEELING FOB AKT 1ST J/EIFZIG. 269 and ftom their referring to opinions and events altogether peculiar, we were, indeed, unable to decipher ; but as Oeser had great influence over us, and incessantly gave them out to us as the gospel of the beautiful, and still more of the tasteful and the pleasing, we found out the general sense, and fancied that with such interpretations we should go on the more securely, as we regarded it. no small happiness to draw from the same fountain from which "Wimckelmann had allayed his earliest thirst. No greater good fortune can befall a city, than when several educated men, like-minded in what is good and right, live together in it. Leipzig had this advantage, and enjoyed it the more peacefully, as so many differences of judgment had not yet manifested themselves. Htjbeb, a print collector, and a well-experienced connoisseur, had furthermore the gratefully acknowledged merit of having determined to make the worth of German literature known to the French ; Kkbttchatjf, an amateur with a practised eye, who, as the friend of the whole society of art, might regard all collections as his own ; Wiitk- xeb, who much loved to share with others the intelligent de- light which he cherished for his treasures ; many more who were added to the list, all lived and laboured with one feeling, and often as I was permitted to be present when they exa- mined works of art, I do not remember that a dispute ever arose : the school from which the artist had proceeded, the time in which he lived, the peculiar talent which nature had bestowed on him, and the degree of excellence to which he had brought it in his performances, were always fairly considered. There was no prejudice for spiritual or terrestrial subjects, for landscape or for city views, for animate or inanimate ; the question was always about the accordance with art. Now although from their situation, mode of thought, abili- ties, and opportunities, these amateurs and collectors inclined more to the Dutch school, yet, while the eye was practised on the endless merits of the north-western artist, a look of reve- rential longing was always turned towards the south-east. And so the university, where I neglected the ends both of my family and myself, was to ground me in that in which I afterwards found the greatest satisfaction of my life ; the im- pression of those localities, too, in which I received such important incitements, has always remained to me most dear 270 TRUTH AND POETRY; PBOM MY OWN LIFE. and precious. The old Pleissenburg, the rooms of the Aca- demy, but, above all, the abode of Oeser, and no less the col- lections of Winkler and Richter, I have always vividly present before me. But a young man who, while older persons are conversing with each other on subjects already familiar to them, is in- structed only incidentally, and for whom the most difficult part of the business, that of rightly arranging all, yet remains, must find himself in a very painful situation. I therefore, as well as others, looked about with longing for some new light, which was indeed to come to us from a man to whom we owed so much already. The mind can be highly delighted in two ways, by percep- tion and conception. But the former demands a worthy object, which is not always at hand, and a proportionate culture, which one does not immediately attain. Conception, on the other hand, requires only susceptibility ; it brings its subject- jiatter with it, and is itself the instrument of culture. Hence that beam of light was most welcome to us which that most excellent thinker brought down to us through dark clouds. One must be a young man to render present to oneself the effect which Lessing's Laocoon produced upon us, by trans- porting us out of the region of scanty perceptions into the open fields of thought. The so long misunderstood utpictura poesis was at once laid aside, the difference between plastic and speaking art* was made clear, the summits of the two now appeared sundered, however near their bases might border on each other. The plastic artist was to keep himself within the bounds of the beautiful, if the artist of language, who cannot dispense with the significant in any kind, is permitted to ramble abroad beyond them. The former labours for the outer sense, which is satisfied only by the beautiful ; the latter for the imagination, which may even reconcile itself to the ugly. All the consequences of this splendid thought were illumined to us as by a lightning flash ; all the criticism which had hitherto guided and judged was thrown away like a worn-out coat ; we considered ourselves fre>d from all evil, and fancied we might venture to look down with some compassion upon the other- * " Bildende und Redende Kuust." The expression " speaking art " is used to produce a corresponding antithesis, though " belles lettre* " would* be the ordinary rendering. — Tram. liESSING'S LAOCOON. 271 wise so splendid sixteenth century, when, in German sculptures and poems, they knew how to represent life only under the form of a fool hung with bells, death under the misformed shape of a rattling skeleton, and the necessary and accidental evils of the world under the image of the caricatured devil. We were the most enchanted with the beauty of that thought, that the ancients had recognised death as the brother of sleep, and had represented them similar even to confusion, as becomes Menaechmi. Here we could first do high honour to the triumph of the beautiful, and banish the "ugly of every kind into the low sphere of the ridiculous in the kingdom of art, since it could not be utterly driven out of the world. The splendour of such leading and fundamental concep- tions appears only to the mind upon which they exercise their infinite activity — appears only to the age in which, after being longed for, they come forth at the right moment. Then do those at whose disposal such nourishment is placed, fondly occupy whole periods of their lives with it, and rejoice in a superabundant growth ; while men are not wanting, mean- while, who resist such an effect on the spot, nor others who afterwards haggle and cavil at its high meaning. But as conception and perception mutually require each other, I could not long work up these new thoughts, without an infinite desire arising within me to see important works of art, once and away, in great number. I therefore determined to visit Dresden without delay. I was not in want of the necessary cash ; but there were other difficulties to overcome, which I needlessly increased still further, through my whim- sical disposition ; for I kept my purpose a secret from every one, because I wished to contemplate the treasures of art there quite after my own way, and, as I thought, to allow n® one to perplex me. Besides this, so simple a matter became more complicated by still another eccentricity. We have weaknesses, both by birth and by education, and it may be questioned which of the two gives us the most trouble. Willingly as I made myself familiar with all sorts of condi. tions, and many as had been my inducements to do so, an ex- cessive aversion from all inns had nevertheless been instilled into me by my father. This feeling had rooted itself firmly in him on his travels through Italy, France, and Germany. Although he seldom spoke in images, and only called them to 272 TRUTH AND POETKY ; THOM MY OWN LIFE, ms aid -when lie was very cheerful, yet he used often to repeat that he always fancied he saw a great cobweb spun across the gate of an inn, so ingeniously that the insects could indeed, fly in, but that even the privileged wasps could not fly out again unplucked. It seemed to him something horrible, that one should be obliged to pay immoderately for renouncing one's habits and all that was dear to one in life, and living after the manner of publicans and waiters. He praised the hospitality of the olden time, and reluctantly as he otherwise endured even anything unusual in the house, he yet practised hospitality, especially towards artists and virtuosi ; thus gossip Seekatz always had his quarters with us, and Abel, the last musician who handled the viol di ffamba with success and applause, was well received and entertained. With such youthful impres- sions, which nothing had as yet rubbed off, how could I have resolved to set foot in an inn in a strange city ? Nothing would have been easier than to find quarters with good friends. Hofrath Krebel, Assessor Hermann, and others had often spoken to me about it already ; but even to these my trip was to remain a secret, and I hit upon a most singular notion. My next-room neighbour, the industrious theologian, whose eyes unfortunately constantly grew weaker and weaker, had a relation in Dresden, a shoemaker, with whom from time to time he corresponded. For a long while already this man had been highly remarkable to me on account of his ex- pressions, and the arrival of one of his letters was always celebrated by us as a holiday. The mode in which he replied to the complaints of his cousin, who feared blindness, was quite peculiar ; for he did not trouble himself about grounds of consolation, which are always hard to find ; but the cheerful way in which he looked upon his own narrow, poor, toilsome life, the merriment which he drew even from evils and inconveniences, the indestructible conviction that life is in itself and on its own account a blessing, communicated itself to him who read the letter, and, for the moment at least, trans- posed hWinto a like mood. Enthusiastic as I was, I had often sent my compliments to this man, extolled his happy natural gift, and expressed the wish to become acquainted with him. AH this being premised, nothing seemed to me more natural than to seek him out, to converse with him, nay, to lodge with him, and to learn to know him intimately. My good THE DHESDEN SHOEMAKER. 273 candidate, after some opposition, gave me a letter, written ■with difficulty, to cany -with me, and, full of longing, I went to Dresden in the yellow coach, with my matriculation in my pocket. i looked for my shoemaker, and soon found him in the suburb {Vorstadt). He received me in a friendly manner, sitting upon his stool, and said smiling, after he had read the letter, " I see from this, young Sir, that you are a whimsical Christian." "How so, master?" replied I. "No offence meant by 'whimsical,' " he continued ; " one calls every one so who is not consistent with himself; and I call you a whimsical Christian because you acknowledge yourself a follower of our Lord in one thing, but not in another." On my requesting him to enlighten me, he said further : " It seems that your view is to announce glad tidings to the poor and lowly ; that is good, and this imitation of the Lord is praiseworthy ; but you should reflect besides, that he rather sat down to table with, prosperous rich folks, where there was good fare, and that he himself did not despise the sweet scent of the oint- ment, of which you will find the opposite in my house." This pleasant beginning put me at once in good-humour, and we rallied each other for some time. His wife stood doubting how she should board and lodge such a guest. On this point, too, he had notions which referred not only to the Bible, but also to Gottfried's Chronicle, and when, we were agreed that I was to stay, I gave my purse, such as it was, into the charge of my hostess, and requested her to fur- nish herself from it, if anything should be necessary. When he would have declined it, and somewhat waggishly gave me to understand that he was not so burnt out as he might appear, I disarmed him by saying, "Even if it were only to change water into wine, such a well-tried domestic re- source would not be out of place, since there are no more miracles now-a-days." The hostess seemed to find my con- duct less and less strange ; we had soon accommodated our- selves to each other, and spent a very merry evening. He remained always the same, because all flowed from one source. His peculiarity was an apt common-sense, which rested upon a cheerful disposition, and took delight in uniform habitual activity. That he should labour incessantly was his first and most necessary care; that he regarded everything else as 274 TRUTH AND POETKT , FROM Ml OWN HIVE. secondary,— this kept up his comfortable state of mind ; and I must reckon him before many others in the class of those who are called practical unconscious philosophers.* The hour when the gallery was to open, after being expected with impatience, appeared. I entered into this sanctuary, and my astonishment surpassed every conception which I had formed. This saloon, returning into itself, in which splendour and neatness reigned, together with the deepest stillness, the dazzling frames, all nearer to the time in which they had been gilded, the floor polished with bees'-wax, the spaces more trodden by spectators than used by copyists, imparted a feeling of solemnity, unique of its kind, which so much the more resembled the sensation with which one treads a church, as the adornments of so many a temple, the objects of so much adoration, seemed here again set up only for the sacred pur- poses of art. I readily put up with the cursory description of my conductor ; only I requested that I might be allowed to remain in the outer gallery. Here, to my comfort, I found myself really at home. I had already seen the works of seve- ral artists, others I knew from engravings, others by name. I did not conceal this, and I thus inspired my conductor with some confidence ; nay, the rapture which I expressed at pieces where the pencil had gained the victory over nature, delighted him; for such were the things which principally attracted me, where the comparison with known nature must necessa- rily enhance the value of art. When I again entered my shoemaker's house to dinner, I scarcely believed my eyes ; for I fancied I saw before me a picture by Ostade, so perfect that one could only hang it up in the gallery. The position of the objects, the light, the shadow, the brownish tint of the whole, the magical harmony, everything that one admires in those pictures, I here saw in reality. It was the first time that I perceived, in so high a degree, the faculty which I afterwards exercised with more consciousness, namely, that of seeing nature with the eyes of this or that artist, to whose works I had devoted a particular attention. This faculty has afforded me much enjoyment, * " Pratische Philosophen, bewusstloseWeltweisen." It is impossible to give two substantives, as in the original, since this is effected by using first the word of Greek, then the word of German origin, whereas we have but one. — Tram. COUNSELIOE KIEDEL. 275 tout has also increased the desire zealously to abandon myself, from time to time, to the exercise of a talent which nature seemed to have denied me. I visited the gallery at all permitted hours, and continued to express too loudly my ecstasy at many precious works. I thus frustrated my laudable purpose of remaining unknown and unnoticed ; and whereas only one of the under-keepers had hitherto had intercourse with me, the gallery-inspector, Counsellor Riedel, now also took notice of me, and made me attentive to many things which seemed chiefly to lie within my sphere. I found this excellent man just as active and obliging then, as when I afterwards saw him during many years, and as he shows himself to this day. His image has, for me, interwoven itself so closely with those treasures of art, that I can never regard the two apart ; the remembrance of him has even accompanied me to Italy, where, in many large and rich collections, his presence would have been very desirable. Since, even with strangers and unknown persons, one cannot gaze on such works silently and without mutual sympathy, nay, since the first sight of them is rather adapted, in the highest degree, to open hearts towards each other, I fell there into conversation with a young man who seemed to be residing at Dresden, and to belong to some embassy. He invited me to come in the evening to an inn where a lively company met, and where, by each one's paying a moderate reckoning, one could pass some very pleasant hours. I repaired thither, but did not find the company ; and the waiter somewhat surprised me when he delivered the compli- ments of the gentleman who made the appointment with me, by which the latter sent an excuse for coming somewhat later, with the addition that I must not take offence at anything that might occur ; also, that I should have nothing to pay beyond my own score. I knew not what to make of these words ; my father's cobwebs came into my head, and I com- posed myself to await whatever might befall. The company assembled, my acquaintance introduced me, and I could not be attentive long, without discovering that they were aiming at the mystification of a young man, who showed himself a novice by an obstreperous, assuming deportment ; I there- fore kept very much on my guard, so that they might not x 2 276 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FBCM M OWN IiITE. find delight in selecting me as his fellow. At table this intention became more apparent to everybody, except to himself. They drank deeper and deeper, and when a vivat in honour of sweethearts was started, every one solemnly swore that there should never be another out of those glasses ; they flung them behind them ; and this was the signal for far greater follies. At last I withdrew, very quietly, and the waiter, while demanding quite a moderate reckoning, re- quested me to come again, as they did not go on so wildly every evening. I was far from my lodgings, and it was near midnight when I reached them. I found file doors unlocked, everybody was in bed, and one lamp illuminated the narrow domestic household, where my eye, more and more practised, immediately perceived the finest picture by Schalken, from which I could not tear myself away, so that it banished from me all sleep. The few days of my residence in Dresden were solely de- voted to the picture-gallery. The antiquities still stood in the pavilion of the great garden, but I declined seeing them, as well as all the other precious things which Dresden con- tained ; being but too full of the conviction that, even in and about the collection of paintings much must yet remain hid- den from me. Thus I took the excellence of the Italian mas- ters more on trust and in faith, than by pretending to any insight into them. "What I could not look upon as nature, put in the place of nature, and compare with a known object, was without effect upon me. It is the material impression which makes the beginning even to every more elevated amateurship. With my shoemaker I lived on very good terms. He was- witty and varied enough, and we often outvied each other in merry conceits ; nevertheless, a man who thinks himself happy, and desires others to do the same, makes us discontented; indeed, the repetition of such sentiments produces weariness. I found myself well occupied, entertained, excited, but by no means happy ; and the shoes from his last would not fit me. We parted, however, as the best friends ; and even my hostess, on my departure, was not dissatisfied with me. Shortly before my departure, something else very plea- sant was to happen. By the mediation of that young man, who wished to restore himself to some credit with me, I was STATE OP DEESDEK-. 277 introduced to the Director Von Hagedorn, who with great kindness showed me his collection, and was highly delighted with the enthusiasm of the young lover of art. He himself, as becomes a connoisseur, was quite peculiarly in love with the pictures which he possessed, and therefore seldom found in others an interest such as he wished. It gave him parti- cular satisfaction that I was beyond measure pleased with a picture by Schwanefeld, and that I was not tired of praising and extolling it in every single part ; for landscapes, which again reminded me of the beautiful clear sky under which I had grown up— of the vegetable luxuriance of those spots— and of whatever other favours a warmer climate offers to man, were just the things that most affected me in the imitation, while they awakened in me a longing remembrance. These precious experiences, preparing both mind and sense for true art, were nevertheless interrupted and damped by one of the most melancholy sights, by the destroyed and desolate condition of so many of the streets of Dresden through which I took my way. The Mohrenstrasse in ruins, and the Church (Kreuzkirche) of the Cross, with its shattered tower, impressed themselves deeply upon me, and still stand like a gloomy spot in my imagination. From the cupola of the Lady Church (FrauenMrche') I saw these pitiable ruins scattered about amid the beautiful order of the city. Here the clerk commended to me the art of the architect, who had already fitted up church and cupola for so undesirable an event, and had built them bomb-proof. The good sacristan then pointed out to me the ruins on all sides, and said doubtfully and laconically, " The enemy hath done this .'" Now then, at last, though unwillingly, I returned back to Leipzig, and found my friends, who were not used to such digressions in me, in great astonishment, busied with all sorts of conjectures as to what might be the import of my mysterious journey. "When upon this I told them my story quite in order, they declared it was only a made-up tale, and saga- ciously tried to get at the bottom of the riddle which I had been waggish enough to conceal under my shoemaker- lodgings. But could they have looked into my heart, they would have discovered no waggery there ; for the truth of that old pro- verb, " He that increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow," had 278 TKTTTH AND PvOKTRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. struck me -with all its force; and the more I struggled to arrange and appropriate to myself what I had seen, the less- I succeeded. I had at last to content myself with a silent, after-operation. Ordinary life carried me away again, and I at last felt myself quite comfortable when a friendly inter- course, improvement in branches of knowledge which were suitable for me, and a certain practice of the hand, engaged me in. a manner less important, but more in accordance with my strength. Very pleasant and wholesome for me was the connexion, which I formed with the Breitkopf family. BeenhaeB' Chkistoph Bkeitkopf, the proper founder of the family, who had come to Leipzig as a poor journeyman printer, was yet living, and occupied the Golden Bear, a respectable house in the new Newmarket, with Gottsched as an inmate. The son, Johann Gottlob Immanuel, had already been long mar- ried, and was the father of many children. They thought they could not spend a part of their considerable wealth better than in putting up, opposite the first house, a large new one, the Silver Bear, which they built higher and more extensive than the original house itself. Just at the time of the build- ing I became acquainted with the family. The eldest son might have been some years older than I was, a well-formed young man, devoted to music, and practised to play skilfully on both the piano and the violin. The second, a true, good soul,, likewise musical, enlivened the concerts which were often got up, no less than his elder brother. They were both kindly dis- posed towards me, as well as their parents and sisters. I lent them a helping-hand during the building up and the finishing, the furnishing and the moving in, and thus formed a concep- tion of much that belongs to such an affair ; I also had an opportunity of seeing Oeser's instructions put in practice. In the new house, which I had thus seen erected, I was often a visitor. "We had many pursuits in common, and the eldest son set some of my songs to music, which, when printed, bore his name, but not mine, and have been little known. I have selected the best, and inserted them among my other little poems. The father had invented or perfected musical type. He permitted me the use of a fine library, which related principally to the origin and progress of printing, and thus I gained some knowledge in that department. I found there. TASTE FOB ETCHING. 279 moreover, good copper-plates, which exhibited antiquity, and advanced on this side also my studies, which were still further promoted by the circumstance that a considerable collection of casts had fallen into disorder in moving. I set them right again as well as I could, and in doing so was compelled to search Lippert and other authorities. A physician, Doctor Beichel, likewise an inmate of the house, I consulted from time to time when I felt, if not sick, yet unwell, and thus we led together a quiet, pleasant life. I was now to enter into another sort of connexion in this house ; for the copper-plate engraver, Stock, had moved into the attic. He was a native of Nuremberg, a very industrious man, and, in his labours, precise and methodical. He also, like Geyser, engraved, after Oeser's designs, larger and smaller plates, which came more and more into vogue for novels and poems. He etched very neatly, so that his work came out of the aquafortis almost finished, and but little touching-up remained to be done with the graver, which he handled very well. He made an exact calculation how long a plate would occupy him, and nothing could call him off from his work if he had not complete^ the daily task he had set himself. Thus he sat at a broad work-table, by the great gable-window, in a very neat and orderly chamber, where his wife and two daughters afforded him a domestic society. Of these last, one is happily married, and the other is an excel- lent artist ; they have continued my frieads all my life long. I now divided my time between the upper and lower stories, and attached myself much to the man, who, together with his persevering industry, possessed an excellent humour, and was good-nature itself. The technical neatness of this branch of art charmed me, and I associated myself with him to execute something of the kind. My predilection was again directed towards landscape, which, while it amused me in my solitary walks, seemed in itself more attainable and more comprehensible for works of art than the human figure, which discouraged me. Under his directions, therefore, I etched, after Thiele and others, various landscapes, which, although executed by an unprac- tised hand, produced some effect, and were well received. The grounding (varnishing) of the plates, the putting in the high lights, the etching, and at last the biting with aquafortis, 280 THUTH and poetky; t?b.om my own life. gave me variety of occupation, and I soon got so far that 1 could assist my master in many things. I did not lack the attention necessary for the biting, and I seldom failed in any- thing ; but I had not care enough in guarding against the deleterious vapours which are generated on such occasions, and these may have contributed to the maladies "which after- wards troubled me for a long time. Amidst such labours, that everything might be tried, I often made wood-cuts also. I prepared various little printing-blocks after French patterns, and many of them were found fit for use. Let me here make mention of some other men who resided in Leipzig, or tarried there for a short time. Weisse, the custom-house collector of the district, in his best years, cheer- ful, friendly, and obliging, was loved and esteemed by us. We would not, indeed, allow his theatrical pieces to be models throughout, but we suffered ourselves to be carried away by them, and his operas, set to music by Hiller in an easy style, gave us much pleasure. Schiebler, of Hamburgh, pursued the same track ; and his IAsuard and Dariolette was likewise favoured by us. Eschenbttrg, a handsome young man, but little older than we were, distinguished himself advantageously among the students. Zachaki^; was pleased to spend some weeks with us, and being introduced by his brother, dined every day with us at the same table. We rightly deemed it an honour to gratify our guest in return, by a few extra dishes, a richer dessert, and choicer wine ; for, as a tall, well- formed, comfortable man, he did not conceal his love of good eating. Lessing came at a time when we had I know not what in our heads ; it was our good pleasure to go nowhere on his account, nay, even to avoid the places to which he came, probably because we thought ourselves too good to stand at a distance, and could make no pretension to obtain a closer intimacy with him. This momentary absurdity, which, however, is nothing rare in presuming and freakish youth, proved, indeed, its own punishment in the sequel ; for I have never set eyes on that eminent man, who was most highly esteemed by me. Notwithstanding all our efforts relative to art and anti- quity, we each of us always had Winckelmann. before our eyes, whose ability was acknowledged in his fatherland with enthusiasm. We read his writings diligently, and tried to DEATH OF ■WINCKELMANN. 281 make ourselves acquainted with the circumstances under which he had written the first of them. "We found in them many views which seemed to have originated with Oeser, even jests and whims after his fashion, and we did not rest until we had formed some general conception of the occasion on which these remarkable and sometimes so enigmatical writings had arisen, though we were not very accurate ; for youth likes better to be excited than instructed, and it was not the last time that I was to be indebted to Sibylline leaves for an important step in cultivation. It was then a fine period in literature, when eminent men were yet treated with respect, although the disputes of Klotz and Lessing's controversies, already indicated that this epoch would soon close. Winckehnann enjoyed an universal, unas- sailed reverence, and it is known how sensitive he was with regard to anything public which did not seem commensurate with his deeply felt dignity. All the periodical publications joined in his praise, the better class of tourists came back from him instructed and enraptured, and the new views which he gave extended themselves over science and life. The Prince oi Dessau had raised himself up to a sunilar degree of respect. Young, well and nobly minded, he had on his travels and at other times shown himself truly desirable. Winckehnann was in the highest degree delighted with him, and, whenever he mentioned him, loaded him with the handsomest epithets. The laying out of a park, then unique, the taste for architec- ture, which Von Erdmannsdorf supported by his activity, every- thing spoke in favour of a prince, who, while he was a shining example for the rest, gave promise of a golden age for his servants and subjects. We young people now learned with rejoicings that Winckehnann would return back from Italy, visit his princely friend, call on Oeser by the way, and so come within our sphere of vision. We made no pretensions to speak- ing with him, but we hoped to see him ; and as at that time of life one willingly changes every occasion into a party of pleasure, we had already agreed upon a journey to Dessau, where, in a beautiful spot, made glorious by art, in a land well governed, and at the same time externally adorned, we thought to he in wait now here, now there, in order to see with our Own eyes these men so highly exalted above us walking about. ■Oeser himself was quite elated if he only thought of it, and ■the news of Winckehnann's death fell down into the midst 282 TRUTH and poetby; trom my own Llli, of us like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. I still remember the place where I first heard it ; it was in the court of the Pleissenburg, not far from the little gate through which one used to go up to Oeser's residence. One of my fellow-pupils met me and told me that Oeser was not to be seen, with the reason why. This monstrous event * produced a monstrous effect ; there was an universal mourning and lamentation, and Winckelmann's untimely death sharpened the attention paid to> the value of his life. Perhaps, indeed, the effect of his activity,. if he had continued it to a more advanced age, would probably not have been so great as it now necessarily became, when, like many other extraordinary men, he was distinguished by fat© through a strange and calamitous end. Now, while I was infinitely lamenting the death of Winckel- mann, I did not think that I should soon find myself in the case of being apprehensive about my own life : since, during all these events, my bodily condition had not taken the most, favourable turn. I had already brought with me from home a certain touch of hypochondria, which, in this new sedentary and lounging life, was rather strengthened than diminished. The pain in the breast, which I had felt from time to time ever since the accident at Auerstadt, and which after a fall from horseback had perceptibly increased, made me dejected^ By an unfortunate diet, I destroyed my powers of digestion ; the heavy Merseburg beer clouded, my brain ; the coffee, which gave me a peculiarly melancholy tone, especially when taken with milk after dinner, paralysed my bowels, and seemed com- pletely to suspend their functions, so that I experienced great uneasiness on this account, yet without being able to embrace a resolution for a more rational mode of life. My natural dis- position, supported by the sufficient strength of youth, fluctu- ated between the extremes of unrestrained gaiety and melan- choly discomfort. Besides this, the epoch of the cold water bath, which was unconditionally recommended, had then begun. One was to sleep on a hard bed, only slightly covered, by which all the usual perspiration was suppressed. These and other follies, in consequence of some misunderstood suggestions of Bousseau, would, it was promised, bring us nearer to nature, and deliver us from the corruption of morals. Now, all the above, without discrimination, applied with injudicious alter- nation, were felt' by many most injuriously, and I irritated my * Winckelmann was assassinated. — Trans. DR. HEBMAKN. 283 happy organization to such a degree, that the particular sys- tems contained within it necessarily broke out at last into a< conspiracy and revolution, in order to save the -whole. One night I awoke with a violent haemorrhage, and had just 1 strength and presence of mind enough to waken my next roomt neighbour. Dr. Reichel was called in, who assisted me in the- most friendly manner, and thus for many days I wavered betwixt life and death; and even the joy of a subsequent improvement was embittered by the circumstance that, during that eruption, a tumour had formed on the left side of the neck, which, after the danger was past, they now first found, time to notice. Recovery is, however, always pleasing and delightful, even though it takes place slowly and painfully ; and since nature had helped herself with me, I appeared now to have become another man : for I had gained a greater cheerfulness of mind than I had known for a long time, and I was rejoiced to feel my inner self at liberty, although externally a wearisome affliction threatened me. But what particularly set me up at this time was, to see how many eminent men had, undeservedly, given me their affection. Undeservedly, I say : for there was not one among them to whom I had not been troublesome through contradic- tory humours, not one whom I had not more than once wounded by morbid absurdity, nay, whom I had not stubbornly avoided for a long time, from a feeling of my own injustice. All this was forgotten ; they treated me in the most affectionate man- ner, and sought, partly in my chamber, partly as soon as I could leave it, to amuse and divert me. They drove out with me, entertained me at their country-houses, and I seemed soon to recover. Among these friends I name first of all Doctor Hermann,. then senator, afterwards burgomaster of Leipzig. He was- among those boarders with whom I had become acquainted through Schlosser, the one with whom an always equable and enduring connexion was maintained. One might well reckon him the most industrious of his' academical fellow-citizens. He attended his lectures with the greatest regularity, and his private industry remained always the same. Step by step, without the slightest deviation, I saw him attain his Doctor's degree, and then raise himself to the assessorship, without any- thing of all this appearing arduous to him, or his having in the- least hurried or been too late with anything. The gentleness 284 TKTJTH AND POETKY ; FBOM MY OWN IIFE. of his character attracted me, his instructive conversation held me fast; indeed I really believe that I took delight in his methodical industry especially for this reason, because I thought, by acknowledgments and high esteem, to appropriate to myself at least a part of a merit of which I could by no means boast. He was just as regular in the exercise of his talents and the enjoyment of his pleasures as in his business. He played the harpsichord with great skill, drew from nature with feeling, and stimulated me to do the same ; when, in his manner, on grey paper and with black and white chalk, I used to copy many a willow-plot on the Pleisse, and many a lovely nook of "those still waters, and at the same time longingly to indulge in my fancies. He knew how to meet my sometimes comical disposition with merry jests, and I remember many pleasant hours which we spent together when he invited me, with mock solemnity, to a tite-d-tSte supper, where, with some dignity, by the light of waxen candles, we ate what they call a council- hare, which had run into his kitchen as a perquisite of his place, and with many jokes in the manner of Behrisch, were pleased to season the meat and heighten the spirit of the wine. That this excellent man, who is still constantly labouring in his respectable office, rendered me the most faithful assistance during a disease, of which there was indeed a foreboding, but which had not been foreseen in its full extent, that he bestowed «very leisure hour upon me, and by remembrances of former happy times, contrived to brighten the gloomy moment, I still acknowledge with the sincerest thanks, and rejoice that after so long a time I can give them publicly. Besides this worthy friend,. Gkoentn g of Bremen particu- larly interested himself in me. I had made his acquaintance only a short time before, and first discovered his good feeling towards me during my misfortune ; I felt the value of this favom - the more warmly, as no one is apt to seek a closer con- nexion with invalids. He spared nothing to give me pleasure, to draw me away from musing on my situation, to hold up to my view and promise me recovery and a wholesome activity in the nearest future. How often have I been delighted, in the progress of life, to hear how this excellent man has in the ■weightiest aflairs shown himself useful, and indeed a blessing to bis native city. , Here, too, it was that friend Hobn uninterruptedly brought SANGER. 285 into action Ms love and attention. The whole Breitkopf house- hold, the Stock family, and many others, treated me like a near relative ; and thus, through the good-will of so many friendly persons, the feeling of my situation was soothed in the tenderest manner. I must here, however, make particular mention of a man, with whom I first became acquainted at this time, and whose instructive conversation so far blinded me to the miserable state in which I was, that I actually forgot it. This was Lan- gek, afterwards librarian at Wolfenbiittel. Eminently learned and instructed, he was delighted at my voracious hunger after knowledge, which, with the irritability of sickness, now broke out into a perfect fever. He tried to calm me by perspicuous- summaries, and I have been very much indebted to his acquaint- ance, short as it was, since he understood how to guide me in- various ways, and made me attentive whither I had to direct myself at the present moment. I found myself the more obliged to this important man, as my intercourse exposed him, to some danger : for when, after Behrisch, he got the situation of tutor to the young Count Lindenau, the father made it an express condition with the new Mentor that he should have no intercourse with me. Curious to "become acquainted with such a dangerous subject, he frequently found means of meeting me indirectly. I soon gained his affection, and he, more prudent than Behrisch, called for me by night ; we went walking together, conversed on interesting things, and at last I accompanied him to the very door of his mistress ; for even this externally severe, earnest, scientific man had not kept free from the toils of a very amiable lady. German literature, and with it my own poetical undertak- ings, had already for some time become strange to me, and as is usually the result in such an auto-didactic circular course, I turned back towards the beloved ancients who still constantly,, like distant blue mountains, distinct in their outlines and masses, but indiscernible in their parts and internal relations, bounded the horizon of my intellectual wishes. I made an exchange with Langer, in which I at last played the part of Glaucus and Diomedes ; I gave up to him whole baskets of German poets and critics, and received in return a number of Greek authors, the reading of whom was to give me recreation, even during the most tedious convalescence. 286 TROTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN IIPI. The confidence which new friends repose in each other usually developes itself by degrees. Common occupation and tastes are the first things in which a mutual harmony shows itself; then the mutual communication generally extends over past and present passions, especially over love affairs ; but it is a lower depth which opens itself, if the connexion is to be perfected ; the religious sentiments, the affairs of the heart which relate to the imperishable, are the things which both establish the foundation and adorn the summit of a friendship. The Christian religion was wavering between its own histo- rically positive base and a pure deism, which, grounded on morality, was in its turn to lay the foundation of ethics. The diversity of characters and modes of thought here showed itself in infinite gradations, especially when a leading difference was brought into play by the question arising as to how great a share the reason, and how great a share the feelings could and should bear a part in such convictions. The most lively and inge- nious men showed themselves, in this instance, like butterflies, who, quite regardless of their caterpillar state, throw away the chrysalis veil in which they have grown up to their organic perfection. Others, more honestly and modestly minded, might be compared to the flowers, which, although they unfold them- selves to the most beautiful bloom, yet do not tear themselves from the root, from the mother stalk, nay, rather through this family connexion first bring the desired fruit to maturity. Of this totter class was Langer ; for, although a learned man, and eminently versed in books, he would yet give the Bible a pecu- liar pre-eminence over the other writings which have come down to us, and regard it as a document from which alone we could prove our moral and spiritual pedigree. He belonged to those who cannot conceive an immediate connexion with the great God of the universe ; a mediation, therefore, was necessary for him, an analogy to which he thought he could find everywhere, in earthly and heavenly things. His discourse, which was pleasing and consistent, easily found a hearing with a young man who, separated from worldly things by an annoy- ing illness, found it highly desirable to turn the activity of his mind towards the heavenly. Grounded as I was in the Bible, all that was wanted was merely the faith to explain as divine that which I had hitherto esteemed in human fashion, — a be- lief, the easier for me, since I had made my first acquaintance riot at XEiPzre. 287 with that book as a divine one. To a sufferer, to one who felt himself delicate, nay, weak, the gospel was therefore welcome, and even though Langer, with all his faith, was at the same time a very sensible man, and firmly maintained that one should not let the feelings prevail, should not let oneself be led astray into mysticism, I could not have managed to occupy myself with the NewTestament without feeling and enthusiasm. In such conversations we spent much time, and he grew so fond of me as an honest and well-prepared proselyte, that he did not scruple to sacrifice to me many of the hours destined for his fair one, and even to run the risk of being betrayed and looked upon unfavourably by his patron, like Behrisch. I re- turned his affection in the most grateful manner ; and if what he did for me would have been of value at any time, I could not but regard it, in my present condition, as worthy of the highest honour. But as when the concert of our souls is most spiritually attuned, the rude shrieking tones of the world usually break in most violently and boisterously, and the contrast which has gone on exeroising a secret control affects us so much the more sensibly when it comes forward all at once ; thus was I not to be dismissed from the peripatetic school' of my Langer without having first witnessed an event, strange at least for Leipzig, namely, a tumult which the students excited, and that on the following pretence. Some young people had quarrelled with the city soldiers, and the affair had not gone off without vio- lence. Many of the students combined together to revenge the injuries inflicted. The soldiers resisted stubbornly, and the advantage was not on the side of the very discontented academical citizens. It was now said that respectable persons had commended and rewarded the conquerors for their valiant resistance, and by this, the youthful feeling of honour and re- venge was mightily excited. , It was publicly said that on the next evening windows would be broken in, and some friends who brought me word that this was actually taking place, were obliged to carry me there, for youth and the multitude are always attracted by danger and tumult. There realjy began a strange spectacle. The otherwise open street was lined on one side with men who, quite quiet, without noise or move- ment, were waiting to see what would happen. About a dozen young fellows were walking singly up and down the empty 288 TKTJTH AND POEIKT ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE. side-walk, with the greatest apparent composure, but as soon as they came opposite the marked house, they threw stones at the windows as they passed by, and this repeatedly as they re- turned backwards and forwards, as long as the panes would rattle. Just as quietly as this was done, all at last dispersed, and the affair had no further consequences. With such a ringing echo of university exploits, I left Leip- zig in the September of 1768, in a comfortable hired coach, and in the company of some respectable persons of my acquaint- ance. In the neighbourhood of Auerstadt I thought of that previous accident ; but I could not forebode that which many years afterwards would threaten me from thence with still greater danger ; just as little as in Gotha, where we had the castle shown to us, I could think in the great hall adorned with stucco figures, that so much favour and affection would befall me on that very spot. The nearer I approached my native city, the more I recalled to myself doubtingly the circumstances, prospects, and hopes with which I had left home, and it was a very disheartening feeling that I now returned, as it were, like one shipwrecked. Yet since I had not very much with which to reproach myself, I contrived to compose myself tolerably well ; however, the welcome was not without emotion. The great vivacity of my nature, excited and heightened by sickness, caused an impas- sioned scene. I might have looked worse than I myself knew, since for a long time I had not consulted a looking-glass ; and who does not become used to himself? Enough, they silently resolved to communicate many things to me only by degrees, and before all things to let me have some repose both bodily and mental. My sister immediately associated herself with me, and as previously, from her letters, so I could now more in detail and accurately understand the circumstances and situation of the family. My father had, after my departure, concentrated all his didactic taste upon my sister, and in a house completely shut up, rendered secure by peace, and even cleared of lodgers, he had cut off from her almost every means of looking about and recreating herself abroad. She had by turns to pursue and work at French, Italian, and English, besides which he compelled her to practise a great part of the day on the harp- sichord. Her writing also could not be neglected, and I had STATE OF GOETHE'S FAMILY. , 289 already remarked that he had directed her correspondence -with me, and had let his doctrines come to me through her pen. My sister was and still continued to be an undefinable being, the most singular mixture of strength and weakness, of stub- bornness and pliability, which qualities operated now united, now isolated by will and inclination. Thus she had, in a man- ner which seemed to me fearful, turned the hardness of her character against her father, whom she did not forgive for hav- ing hindered or embittered to her so many innoeent joys for these three years, and of his good and excellent qualities she would not acknowledge even one. She did all that he com- manded and arranged, but in the most unamiable manner in the world. She did it in the established routine, but nothing more and nothing less. From love or a desire to please she accommodated herself to nothing, so that this was one of the first things ahout which my mother complained in a private conversation with me. But since love was as essential to my sister as to any human being, she turned her affection wholly on me. Her care in nursing and entertaining me absorbed all her time ; her female companions, who were swayed by her without her intending it, had likewise»to contrive all sorts of things to be pleasing and consolatory to me. She was inven- tive in cheering me up, and even developed some germs of comical humour which I had never known in her, and which became her very well. There soon arose between us a coterie- language, by which we could converse before all people without their understanding us, and she often used this gibberish with great pertness in the presence of our parents. My father was personally in tolerable comfort. He was in good health, spent a great part of the day in the instruction of my sister, wrote at the description of his travels, and was longer in tuning his lute than in playing on it. He concealed, at the same time, as well as he could, his vexation at finding instead of a stout active son, who ought now to take his degree and run through the prescribed course of life, an invalid who seemed to suffer still more in soul' than in body. He did not conceal his wish that they would be expeditious with my. cure ; but one was forced to be specially on one's guard in his presence against hypochondriacal expressions, because he could then be- come passionate and bitter. My mother, by nature very lively and cheerful, spent under 290 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. these circumstances very tedious days. Her little housekeep- ing was soon provided for. The mind of the good lady, inter- nally never unoccupied, wished to find an interest in something, and that which was nearest at hand was religion, which she embraced the more fondly as her most eminent female friends were cultivated and hearty worshippers of God. At the head of these stood Fraulein von Klettenberg. She is the same person from whose conversations and letters arose the " Con- fessions of a Beautiful Soul," which are found inserted in " Wilhehn Meister," She was slenderly formed, of the middle size ; a hearty natural demeanour had been made still more pleasing by the manners of the world and the court. Her very neat attire reminded of the dress of the Hernhutt ladies. Her serenity and peace of mind never left her. She looked upon her sickness as a necessaiy element of her transient earthly existence ; she suffered with the greatest patience, and, in painless intervals, was lively and talkative. Her favourite, nay, indeed, perhaps her only conversation, was on the moral experiences which a man who observes himself can form in himself; to which was added the religious views which, in a very graceful manner, nay, with genius, came under her con- sideration as natural and supernatural. It scarcely needs more to recall back to the friends of such representations, that com- plete delineation composed from the very depths of her soul. Owing to the very peculiar course which she had taken from her youth upwards, the distinguished rank in which she had been born and educated, and the liveliness and originality of her mind, she did not agree very well with the other ladies who had set out on the same road to salvation. Frau Griesbach, the chief of them, seemed too severe, too dry, too learned ; she knew, thought, comprehended more than the others, who contented themselves with the development of their feelings, and she was therefore burdensome to them, because every one neither could nor would carry with her so great an apparatus on the road to bliss. But for this reason the most of them were indeed some- what monotonous, since they confined themselves to a certain terminology which might well have been compared to that of the later sentimentalists. Fraulein von Klettenberg led her way. between both extremes, and seemed, with some self-com- placency, to see her own reflection in the image of Count Zhv Mndorf, whose opinions and actions bore witness to a higher PEAEUL3IN VON KXETTENKERG. 29*. birth and more distinguished rank. Now she found in me what she needed, a lively young creature, striving after an unknown happiness, who, although he could not think himself an extra- ordinary sinner, yet found himself in no comfortable condition, and was perfectly healthy neither in body nor soul. She was delighted with what nature had given me, as well as with much which I had gained for myself. And if she conceded to me many advantages, this was by no means humiliating to her: for, in the first place, she never thought of emulating one of the male sex, and secondly, she believed that in regard to reli- gious culture she was very much in advance of me. My dis- quiet, my impatience, my striving, my seeking, investigating, musing, and wavering, she interpreted in her own way, and did not conceal from me her conviction, but assured me in plain terms that all this proceeded from my having no reconciled God. Now I had believed from my youth upwards that I stood on very good terms with my God, nay, I even fancied to myself, according to various experiences, that He might even be in arrears to me ; and I was daring enough to think that I had something to forgive Him. This presunjption was grounded on my infinite good- will, to which, as it seemed to me, He should have given better assistance. It may be imagined how often I and my female friend fell into disputes on this subject, which, however, always terminated in the friendliest way, and often, like my conversations with the old rector, with the remark : " that I was a foolish fellow, for whom many allowances must be made." I was much troubled with the tumour in my neck, as the physician and surgeon wished first to disperse this excrescence, afterwards, as they said, to draw it to a head, and at last thought good to open it ; so for a long time I had to suffer more from inconvenience than pain, although towards the end of the cure, the continual touching with lunar caustic and other corrosive substances could not but give me very disagreeable prospects for every fresh day. The physician and surgeon both belonged to the Pious Separatists, although both were of highly different natural characters. The surgeon, a slender, well-built man, of easy and skilful hand, was unfortunately somewhat hectic, but endured his condition with truly Chris- tian patience, and did not suffer his disease to perplex him in bis profession. The physician was an inexplicable, B*y-look- u 2 292 TBUTH AND POETKZ ; FROJi MT OWN IIJB. ing, friendly-speaking, and, moreover, abstruse man, who had gained himself quite a peculiar confidence in the pious circle. Active and attentive, he was consoling to the sick ; but, more than by all this, he extended his practice by the gift of show^ ing in the background some mysterious medicines prepared by himself, of which no one could speak, since, with us, the phy- sicians were strictly prohibited from making up their own pre- scriptions. With certain powders, which may have been some kind of digestive, he was not so reserved ; but that powerful salt, which could only be applied in the greatest danger, was only mentioned among believers, although no one had yet seen it or traced its effects. To excite and strengthen our faith in the possibility of such an universal remedy, the physician, wherever he found any susceptibility, had recommended cer- tain chemico-alchemical books to his patients, and given them to understand that by one's own study of them, one could well attain this treasure for oneself; which was the more neces- sary, as the mode of its preparation, both for physical and especially for moral reasons, could not be well communicated ; nay, that in order to comprehend, produce and use this great work, one must know the secrets of nature in connexion, since it was not a particular but an universal remedy, and could indeed be produced under different forms and shapes. My friend had listened to these enticing words. The health of the body was too nearly allied to the health of the soul ; and could a greater benefit, a greater mercy be shown towards others, than by appro- priating to oneself a remedy by which so many sufferings could te assuaged, so many a danger averted ? She had already secretly studied Welling' s Opus mago-eabalisticum, for which, however, as the author himself immediately darkens and removes the light he imparts, she was looking about for a friend who, in this alternation of glare and gloom, might bear her cdmpany. It needed small incitement to inoculate me also with this disease. I procured the work, which, like all writings of this kind, could trace its pedigree in a direct line up to the Neo-Platonic school. My chief labour in this book was most accurately to notice the dark hints by which the author refers from one pas- sage to another, and thus promises to reveal what he conceals; and to mark down on the margin the number of the page where such passages as should explain each other were to be found- But even thus the book still remained dark and unintelligible ALCHEMICAL TUKN. ">» 293 enough ; except that one at last studied oneself into a cer- tain terminology, and, by using it according to one's own fancy, believed that one was at any rate saying, if not understanding, something. The before-mentioned work makes very honourable mention of its predecessors, and Ave were incited to investigate those original sources themselves. We turned to the works of Theophrastus, Paracelsus and Basilius Valentinus ; as well as to those of Helmont, Starkey, and others whose doctrines and directions, resting more or less on nature and imagination, we endeavoured to see into and follow out. I was particularly pleased with the Aurea Catena Homeri, in winch nature, though perhaps in fantastical fashion, is represented in a beau- tiful combination ; and thus sometimes by purselves, sometimes together, we employed much time on these singularities, and spent the evenings of a long winter, during which I was com- pelled to keep my chamber, very agreeably, since we three, my mother being included, were more delighted with these secrets than we could have been at their elucidation. In the meantime a very severe trial was preparing for me ; for a disturbed, and one might even say, for certain moments, destroyed digestion, excited such symptoms that, in great tri- bulation, I thought I should lose my life, and none of the remedies applied would produce any further effect. In this last extremity, my distressed mother constrained the embar- rassed physician with the greatest vehemence to come out with his universal medicine ; after a long refusal, he hastened home at the dead of night, and returned with a little glass of crystallized dry salt, which was dissolved in water, and swal- lowed by the patient. It had a decidedly alkaline taste. The salt was scarcely taken than my situation appeared relieved, and from that moment the disease took a turn which, by degrees, led to my recovery. I cannot say how far this strengthened and enhanced our faith in our physician, and our industry to make ourselves partakers of such a treasure. My friend, who, without parents or brothers and sisters, lived in a large, well-situated house, had already before this begun to purchase herself a little air-furnace, alembics and retorts of moderate size ; and, in accordance with the hints of Welling, and the significant signs of our physician and master, ope- rated principally on iron, in which the most healing powers were said to be concealed, if one only knew how to open it. 294 TRUTH A«.» FOETBY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFB. And as the volatile salt which must be produced made a great figure in all the writings with which we were acquainted, so, for these operations, alkalies also were required, which, while they flowed away into the air, were to unite with these super- terrestrial things, and at last produce per se, a mysterious and excellent neutral salt. Scarcely was I in some measure recovered, and, favoured by the change in the season, able once more to occupy my old gable-chamber, than I' also began to provide myself with a Tittle apparatus. A small air-furnace with a sand-bath was prepared, and I very soon learned to change the glass alem- bics, with a piece of burning match-cord, into vessels in which the different mixtures were to be evaporated. Now were the strange ingredients of the macrocosm and microcosm handled m an odd, mysterious manner, and before all I at- tempted to produce neutral salts in an unheard-of way. But what busied me most, for a long time, was the so-called Liquor Silicum (flint-juice), which is made by melting down pure quartz-flint with a proper proportion of alkali, whence results a transparent glass,, which melts away on exposure te the air, and exhibits a beautiful clear fluidity. "Whoever has once prepared this himself, and seen it with his own eyes^ will not blame those who believe in a maiden earth, and in the possibility of producing further effects upon it by means of it. I had acquired a peculiar dexterity in preparing this Liquor Silicum ; the fine white flints which are found in the Maine furnished a perfect material for it ; and I was not want- ing in the other requisites, nor in diligence. But I became weary at last, because I could not but remark that the flinty substance was by no means so closely combined with the salt as I had philosophically imagined ; for it very easily separated itself again, and this most beautiful mineral fluidity, which, to my greatest astonishment, had sometimes appeared in the form of an animal jelly, always deposited a powder, which I was forced to pronounce the finest flint dust, but which gave not the least sign of anything productive in its nature, from which one could have hoped to see this maiden earth pass into the maternal state. ' Strange and unconnected as these operations were, I yet learned many things from them. I paid strict attention to ell the crystallizations that might occur, and became acquainted OHA.RACIEE OF THJS LETTEBS yKOM LEIPZIG. 295 with the external forms of many natural things, and inasmuch as I well knew that in modern times chemical subjects were treated more methodically, I wished to get a general con- ception of them, although, as a half-adept, I had very little respect for the apothecaries and all those who operated with common fire. However, the chemical Compendium of Boerhaave attracted me powerfully, and led me on to read several of his writings, in which (since, moreover, my tedious illness had inclined me towards medical subjects,) I found an inducement to study also the Aphorisms of this excellent man, which' I was glad to stamp upon my mind and in my inemdry. Another employment, somewhat more human, and by far more useful for my cultivation at the moment, was reading through the letters which I had written home from Leipzig. ' Nothing reveals more with respect to ourselves, than when we again see before us that which has proceeded from us years before, so that we can now consider ourselves as an object of contemplation. Only, in truth, I was then too young, and the epoch which was represented by those papers was still too near. As in our younger years we do not in general easily cast off a certain self-complacent conceit, this especially shows itself in despising what we have been but a little tim^ before ; for while, indeed, we perceive, as we advance from step to step, that those things which we regard as good and excellent in ourselves and others do not stand their ground, we think we can best extricate ourselves from this dilemma by ourselves throwing away what we cannot preserve. So it was with me also. For as in Leipzig I had gradually learned to set little value on my childish labours, so now my academical. course seemed to me likewise of small account, and I did not understand that for this very reason it must be of great value to me, as it elevated me to a higher degree of observation and insight. My father had carefully collected and sewed together my letters to him, as well as those to my sister ; nay, he had even corrected them with attention, t and improved the mistakes-both in writing and in grammar. What first struck me in these letters was their exterior ; I was shocked at an incredible carelessness in the handwriting, which extended from October, 1765, to the middle of the fol- lowing January. But, in the middle of March, there appeared 296 TBTTTH AJTB POETRY ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE. all at once a quite compressed, orderly hand, such as I useil formerly to employ in writing for a prize. My astonishment at this resolved itself into gratitude towards the good Gellert, who, as I now well remembered, whenever we handed in our essays to him, represented to us, in his hearty tone of voice, that it was our sacred duty to practise our hand as much, nay, more than our style. He repeated this as often as any scrawled, careless writing came into his sight ; on which occa- sion he often said that he would much like to make a good hand of his pupils the prinpipal end in his instructions ; the more so as he had often remarked that a good hand led the way to a good style. I could further notice that the French and English passages in my letters, although not free from blunders, were never- theless written with facility and freedom. These languages I had likewise continued to practise in my correspondence with George Schlosser, who was still at Treptow, and I had remained in constant communication with him, by which I was instructed in many secular affairs (for things did not always turn out with him quite as he had hoped), and acquired an ever increasing confidence in his earnest, noble way of thinking. Another consideration which could not escape me in read- ing through these letters, was that my good father, with the best intentions, had done me a special mischief, and had led me into that odd way of life into which I had fallen at last. He bad, namely, repeatedly warned me against card-playing ; but Frau Hofrath Bohme, as long as she lived, contrived to persuade me, after her own fashion, by declaring that my father's warnings were only against the abuse. Now as I likewise saw the advantages of it in society, I easily suffered myself to be led by her. I had indeed the sense of play, but not the spirit of play ; I learned all games easily and rapidly, but I could never keep up the proper attention for a whole evening. Therefore, when I began very well, I invariably failed at the end, and made myself and others lose ; through which I went off, always out of humour, either to the supper- table or out of the company. Scarcely was Madame Bohme dead, who, moreover, had no longer kept me in practice during her tedious illness, than my father's doctrine gained force ; 1 at first excused myself from the card-tables, and as TASTE FOB DRAWING BEVlVEb. 297 they now did not know what else to do with me, I became even more of a burden to myself than to others, and declined the invitations, which then became more rare, and at last ceased altogether. Play, which is much to be recommended to young people, especially to those who have a practical sense, and wish to look about in the world for themselves, could never, indeed, become a passion with me ; for I never got further, though I might play as long as I would. Had any one given me a general view of the subject, and made me observe how here certain signs and more or less of chance form a kind of material on which judgment and activity can exercise themselves — had any one made me see several games at once, I might sooner have become reconciled. With all this, at the time of which I am now speaking, I had come to the conviction, from the above considerations, that one should not avoid social games, but should rather strive after a certain dexterity in them. Time is infinitely long, and each day is a vessel into which a great deal may be poured, if one will actually fill it up. Thus variously was I occupied in my solitude ; the more so, as the departed spirits of the different tastes to which I had from time to time devoted myself, had an opportunity to reappear. I thus went again to drawing ; and as I always wished to labour directly from nature, or rather from reality. I made a picture of my chamber, with its furniture, and the persons who were in it ; and when this no more amused me, I represented all sorts of town-fades, which were told at the time, and in which interest was taken. All this was not without character and a certain taste, but unfortunately the figures lacked proportion and the proper vigour, besides whiah the execution was extremely misty. My father, who continued to take pleasure in these things, wished to have them more distinct ; everything must be finished and properly completed. He therefore had them mounted and surrounded with ruled lines ; nay, the painter Morgenstern, his domestic artist — the same who afterwards made himself known, and indeed famous, by his church-views — had to insert the perspective lines of the rooms and chambers, which then, indeed, stood in pretty harsh contrast with those cloudy-looking figures. In this manner he thought constantly to compel me to greater accuracy, and, to please him, I drew various objects of still life, in whiah, 298 tkuth and roEiBY; i-hom my own hiva. since the originals stood as patterns before me, I could work with. more distinctness and precision. At last I took it into my head to etch once more. I had composed a tolerably interesting landscape, and felt myself very happy when I could look out for the old receipts given me by Stock, and could, at my work, call to mind those pleasant times. I soon bit the plate and had a proof taken. Unluckily the composition was without light and shade, and I now tormented myself tp bring in both ; but as it was not quite clear to me what was really the essential point, I could not finish. Up to this time I had been quite well, after my own fashion; but now a disease attacked me which had never troubled me before. My throat, namely, had become completely sore, and particu- larly what is called the uvula very much inflamed; I could only swallow with great pain, and the physicians did not know what to make of it. They tormented me with gargles and hair- pencils, but could not free me from my misery. At last it struck me that I had not been careful enough in the biting of Jny plates, and that by often and passionately repeating it, I had contracted this disease, and had always revived and in- creased it. To the physicians this cause was plausible and very soon certain on my leaving my etching and biting, and that so much the more readily as the attempt had by no means turned out well, and I had more reason to conceal than to exhibit my labours ; for which I consoled myself the more easily, as I very soon saw myself free from the troublesome disease. Upon this I could not refrain from the reflection that my simi- lar occupations at Leipzig might have greatly contributed to those diseases from which I had suffered so much. It is, in- deed, a tedious, and withal a melancholy business to take too much care of ourselves, and of what injures and benefits us ; but there is no question but that with the wonderful idiosyn- crasy of human nature on the one side, and the infinite variety in the mode of life and pleasure on the other, it is a wonder that the human race has not worn itself out long ago. Human nature appears to possess a peculiar kind of toughness and many- sidedness, since it subdues everything which approaches it, or which it takes into itself, and if it cannot assimilate, at least makes it indifferent. In case of any great excess, indeed, it must yield to the elements in spite of all resistance, as the many endemic diseases and the effects of brandy convince SURVEY OF WORKS WRITTEN AT LEIPZIG. 299 as. Could we, without being morbidly anxious, keep watch over ourselves as to what operates favourably or unfavourably upon us in our complicated civil and social life, and would we leave off what is actually pleasant to us as an enjoyment, for the sake of the evil consequences, we should thus know how to remove with ease many an inconvenience which, with a constitution otherwise sound, often troubles us more than even a disease. Unfortunately, it is in dietetics as in morals ; we cannot see into a fault till we have got rid of it; by which nothing is gained, for the next fault is not like the preceding one, and therefore cannot be recognised under the same form. In reading through those letters which had been written from Leipzig to my sister, this remark, among others, could not escape me, — that from the very beginning of my academical course, I had esteemed myself very clever and wise, since, as soon as I had learned anything, I put myself in the place of the professor, and so became didactic on the spot. I was amused to see how I had immediately applied to my sister whatever Gellert had imparted or advised in his lectures, without seeing that both in life and in books, a thing inay be proper for a young man without being suitable for a young lady ; and we both together made merry over these mimicries. The poems also which I had composed in Leipzig were already too poor for me ; and they seemed to me cold, dry, and in respect to that which was meant to express the state of the human heart or mind, too superficial. This induced me, now that I was to leave my father's house once more, and go to a second univer- sity, again to decree a great high auto-da-fe against my labours. Several commenced plays, some of which had reached the third or the fourth act, while others had only the plot fully made out, together with many other poems, letters, and papers, were given over to the fire, and scarcely anything was spared except the manuscript by Behrisch, Die Laune des Verliebten and Die Mit&chuldigen, which last I constantly went on improving with peculiar affection, and, as the piece was already complete, I again worked over the plot, to make it more bustling and intelligible. Lessing, in the first two acts of his Minna, had. set up an unattainable model of the way in which a drama should be developed, and nothing was to. me of greater concern than to enter thoroughly into his mind and his views. 800 T3T7TH AND FOETBY ; FBOM MY OWS LIPK. The recital of whatever moved, excited, and occupied ma at this time, is already circumstantial enough; but I must nevertheless again recur to that interest with which super- sensuous things had inspired me, of which I, once for all, so far as might be possible, undertook to form some notion. I experienced a great influence from an important work that fell into my hands ; it was Arnold's History of the Church and of Heretics. This man is not merely a reflective histo- rian, but at the same time pious and feeling. His sentiments chimed in very well with mine, and what particularly de- lighted me in his work was, that I received a more favourable notion of many heretics, who had been hitherto represented to me as mad or impious. The spirit of contradiction and the love of paradoxes stick fast in us all. I diligently studied the differ- ent opinions, and as I had often enough heard it said that every man has his own religion at last, so nothing seemed more natural to me than that I should form mine too, and this I did with much satisfaction. The Neo-Platonism lay at the foundation ; the hermetical, the mystical, the cabalistic, also contributed their share, and thus I built for myself a world that looked strange enough. I could well represent to myself a Godhead which has gone on producing itself from all eternity ; but as production can- not be conceived without multiplicity, so it must of neces- sity have immediately appeared to itself as a Second, which we recognise under the name of the Son ; now these two must continue the act of producing, and again appear to themselves in a Third, which was just as substantial, living, and eternal as the Whole. With these, however, the circle of the Godhead was complete, and it would not have been possible for them to pro- duce another perfectly equal to them. But since, however, the work of production always proceeded, they created a fourth, which already fostered in himself a contradiction, inasmuch as it was, like them, unlimited, and yet at the same time was to be contained in them and bounded by them. Now this was Lucifer, to whom the whole power of creation was committed from this time, and from whom all other beings were to pro- ceed. He immediately displayed his infinite activity by creat- ing the whole body of angels ; all, again, after his own likeness, .unlimited, but contained in him and bounded by him. Sur- rounded by such a glory, he forgot his higher origin, aad CO'COCTION OF A SYSTEM OF THE010GY. 301 bolieved that he could find himself in himself, and from this first ingratitude sprang all that does not seem to us in accord- ance with the will and purposes of the Godhead. Now the more he concentrated himself within himself, the more painful must it have become to him, as well as to all the spirits whose sweet uprising to their origin he had embittered. And so that happened which is intimated to us under the form of the Fall of the Angels. One part of them concentrated itself with Lu- cifer, the other turned itself again to its origin. From this concentration of the whole creation, for it had proceeded out of Lucifer, and was forced to follow him, sprang all that we perceive under the form of matter, which we figure to ourselves as heavy, solid, and dark, but which, since it is descended, if cot even immediately, yet by filiation, from the Divine Being, is just as unlimited, powerful, and eternal as its sire and grand- sire. Since now the whole mischief, if we may call it so, merely arose through the one-sided direction of Lucifer, the better half was indeed wanting to this creation ; for it pos- sessed all that is gained by concentration, while it lacked all that can be effected by expansion alone ; and so the whole creation could have destroyed itself by everlasting concentra- tion, could have annihilated itself with its father Lucifer, and have lost all its claims to an equal eternity with the Godhead. This condition the Elohim contemplated for a time, and they had their choice, to wait for those .SSons, in which the field would again have become clear, and space would be left them for a new creation ; or, if they would, to seize upon that which existed already, and supply the want, according to their own eternity. Now they chose the latter, and by their mere will supplied in an instant the whole want which the consequence of Lucifer's undertaking drew after it. They gave to the Eternal Being the faculty of expanding itself, of moving itself towards them ; the peculiar pulse of life was again restored, and Lucifer himself could not avoid its effects. This is the epoch when that appeared which we know as light, and when that began which we are accustomed to designate by the word creation. Greatly now as this multiplied itself by progressive degrees, through the continually working vital power of the Elohim, still a being was wanting who might be able to restore the original connexion with the Godhead ; and thus man was produced, who in all things was to be similar, yea, equal to 302 TRUTH AND TOETKY ; I'KOM M.Y OWN LIFE. the Godhead ; but thereby, in effect, found himself once more in the situation of Lucifer, that of being at once unlimited and bounded ; and, since this contradiction was to manifest itself in him through all the categories of existence, and a perfect con- sciousness, as well as a decided will, was to accompany his various conditions, it was to be foreseen that he must be at the same time the most perfect and the most imperfect, the most happy and the most unhappy creature. It was not long before he, too, completely played the part of Lucifer. True ingratitude is the separation from the benefactor, and thus that fall was manifest for the second time, although the whole creation is nothing and was nothing but a falling from and returning to the original. One easily sees how the Eedemption is not only decreed from eternity, but is considered as eternally necessary, nay, that it must ever renew itself through the whole time of gene- ration* and existence. In this view of the subject, nothing is nore natural than for the Divinity himself to take the form of man, which had already prepared itself as a veil, and to share his fate for a short time, in order, by this assimilation, to enhance his joys and alleviate his sorrows. The history of all religions and philosophies teaches us that this great truth, indis- pensable for man; has been handed down by different nations, in different times, in various ways, and even in strange fables and images, in accordance with their limited knowledge ; enough, rf it only be acknowledged that we find ourselves in a condition which, even if it seems to drag us down and oppress us, yet gives us opportunity, nay, even makes it our duty, to raise ourselves up, and to fulfil the purposes of the Godhead in this manner, that while we are compelled on the one hand to concentrate ourselves (uns zu verselbsten), we, on the other hand, do not omit to expand ourselves (uns zu entselbstigen) in regular pulsation.f * " Das 'Werden," the state of becoming, as distinguished from that of being. The word, which is most useful to the Germans, can never be ren- dered properly in English. — Trans. t If we could make use of some such verbs as " inself " and " uaself," we should more accurately render this passage. — Tram. NINTH BOOK. "* The heart is often affected, moreover, to the advantage o2 different, but especially of social and refined virtues, and the more tender sentiments are excited and unfolded in it. Many touches, in particular, will impress themselves, which give the young reader an insight into the more hidden corner of the human heart and its passions — a knowledge which is more worth than all Latin and Greek, and of which Ovid was a very excellent master. But yet it is not on this account that the classic poets, and therefore Ovid, are placed in the hands of youth. We have from the kind Creator a variety of mental powers, to which we must not neglect giving their proper culture in our earliest years, and. which cannot he cultivated either by logic or metaphysics, Latin or Greek. We have an imagination, before whiah, since it should not seize upon the very first conceptions that chance to present themselves, we ought to place the fittest and most beautiful images, and thus accustom and practise the mind to recognise and love the beautiful everywhere, and in nature itself, under its determined, true, and also in its finer features. A great quantity of cpnceptions and general knowledge is necessary to us, as well for the sciences as for daily life, which can be learned out of no compendium. Our feelings, affections, and passions should be advantageously developed and purified." This significant passage, which is found in the Universal German Library, was not the only one of its kind. S imil ar principles and similar views manifested themselves in many iirections. They made upon us lively youths a very great impression, which had the more decided effect, as it was strengthened besides by Wieland's example ; for the works of his second brilliant period clearly showed that he had formed himself according to such maxims. And what more could we desire? Philosophy, with its abstruse questions, was set aside — the classic languages, the acquisition of which is accompanied by so much drudgery, one saw thrust into the S04 TRUTH AND POETET ; FEOM MY OWN LIFE. background— -the compendiums, about the sufficiency of which Hamlet had already whispered a doubtful word into the ear, came more and more into suspicion. We were directed to the contemplation of an active life, which we were so fond of leading, and to the knowledge of the passions which we partly felt, partly anticipated, in our own bosoms, and which, if though they had been rebuked formerly, now appeared to us as something important and dignified, because they were to be the chief object of our studies, and the knowledge of them was ex- tolled as the most excellent means of cultivating our mental powers. Besides this, such a mode of thought was quite in accordance with, my own conviction, nay, with my poetical mode of treatment. I therefore, without opposition, after I had thwarted so many good designs, and seen so many fair hopes vanish, reconciled myself to my father's intention of sending me to Strasburg, where I was promised a cheerful, gay life, while I should prosecute my studies, and at last take my degree. In spring I felt my health, but still more my youthful spirits, again restored, and once more longed to be out of my father's house, though with reasons far different from those on the first time. The pretty chambers and spots where I had suffered so much had become disagreeable to me, and with my father himself there could be no pleasant relation. I could not quite pardon him for having manifested more impa- tience than was reasonable at the relapse of my disease, and at my tedious recovery ; nay, for having, instead of comfort- ing me by forbearance, frequently expressed himself in a cruel manner, about that which lay in no man's hand, as if it de- pended only on the will. And he, too, was in various ways hurt and offended by me. For young people bring back from the university general ideas, which, indeed, is quite right and good; but because they fancy themselves very wise in this, they apply them as a standard to the objects that occur, which must^then, for the most part, lose by the comparison. Thus I had gained a general notion of architecture, and of the arrangement and decoration of houses, and imprudently, in conversation, had applied this to our own house. My father had designed the whole arrange- ment of it, and carried through the building with great per- severance, and, considering that it was to be exclusively a AKBIVAL AT STBASBirilG. 305 residence for himself and his family, nothing coidd be objected to it ; in this taste, also, very many of the houses in Frank- fort were built. An open staircase ran up through the house, and touched upon large ante-rooms, which might very well have been chambers themselves, as, indeed, we always passed the fine season in them. But this pleasant, cheerful existence for a single family — this communication from above to below — became the greatest inconvenience as soon as several parties occupied the house, as we had but too well experienced on the occasion of the French quartering. For that painful scene with the king's lieutenant would not have happened, nay, my father would even have felt all those disagreeable matters less, if, after the Leipzig fashion, our staircase had run close along the side of the house, and a separate door had been given to each story. This style ofHouilding I once praised highly for its advantages, and showed my father the possibility of altering his staircase also; whereupon he fell into an incredible passion, which was the more violent as, a short time before, I had found fault with some scrolled look- ing-glass frames, and rejected certain Chinese hangings. A scene ensued, which, indeed, was again hushed up and smothered, but it hastened my journey to the beautiful Alsace, which I accomplished in the newly-contrived comfortable diligence, without delay, and in a short time. I alighted at the Ghost (Geist) tavern, and hastened at once to satisfy my most earnest desire and to approach the minster, which had long since been pointed out to me by fellow-travellers, and had been before my eyes for a great distance. When I first perceived this Colossus through the narrow lanes, and then stood too near before it, in the truly confined little square, it made upon me an impression quite of its own kind, which I, being unable to analyse it on the spot, carried with me only indistinctly for this time, as I hastily ascended the building, so as not to neglect the beautiful mo- ment of a high and cheerful sun, which was to disclose to me at once the broad, rich land. And now, from the platform, I saw before me the beautiful region in which I should for a long time live and reside : the handsome city, the wide-spreading meadows around it, thickly set and interwoven with magnificent trees, that striking richness of vegetation which follows in the windings of the 30(5 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. Rhine, marks its banks, islands, and aits. Nor is the level ground., stretching down from the south, and watered by the Iller, less adorned with yaried green. Even westward, towards the mountains, there are many low grounds which afford quite as charming a view of wood and meadow-growth, just as the northern and more hilly part is intersected by in- numerable little brooks, which promote a rapid vegetation everywhere. If one imagines, between these luxuriant out- stretched meads, between these joyously scattered groves, all land adapted for tillage, excellently prepared, verdant, and ripening, and the best and richest spots marked by hamlets and farm-houses, and this great and immeasurable plain, pre- pared for roan, like a new paradise, bounded far and near by mountains partly cultivated, partly overgrown with woods; one will then conceive the rapture with which I blessed my fate, that it had destined me, for some time, so beautiful a dwelling-place. Such a fresh glance into a new land in which we are to abide for a time, has still the peculiarity, both pleasant and fore- boding, that the whole lies before us like an unwritten tablet. As yet no sorrows and joys which relate to ourselves are re- corded upon it ; this cheerful, varied, animated plain is still mute for us ; the eye is only fixed on the objects so far as they are intrinsically important, and neither affection nor pas- sion have especially to render prominent this or that spot. But a presentiment of the future already disquiets the young heart, and an unsatisfied craving secretly demands that which is to come and may come, and which, at all events, whether for good or ill, will imperceptibly assume the character of the spot in which we find ourselves. Descended from the height, I still tarried awhile before the face of the venerable pile ; but what I could not quite clearly make out, either the first or the following time, was that I regarded this miracle as a monster, which must have terrified me, if it had not, at the same time, appeared to me compre- hensible by its regularity, and even pleasing in its finish. Yet I by no means busied myself with meditating on this con- tradiction, but suffered a monument so astonishing quietly to work upon me by its presence. I took small, but well-situated and pleasant lodgings, on the summer side of the Fish- market, a fine long street, where MEYEK. 307 the everlasting motion came to the assistance of every unoc- cupied moment, I then delivered my letters of introduction, and found among my patrons a merchant who, with his family, was devoted to those pious opinions sufficiently known to me, although, as far as regarded external worship, he had not separated from the Church. He was a man of intelligence withal, and by no means hypocritical in his actions. The company of boarders which was recommended to me, and, indeed, I to it, was very agreeable and entertaining. A couple of old maids had long kept up this boarding-house with regu- larity and good success; there might have been about ten persons, older and younger. Of these latter, one named Metier, a native of Lindau, is most vividly present to me. From his form and face he might have been considered one of the handsomest of men, if, at the same time, he had not had something of the sloven in his whole appearance. In like manner his splendid natural talents were deformed by an in- credible levity, and his excellent temper by an unbounded dissoluteness. He had an open, joyous face, more round than oval ; the organs of the senses, the eyes, nose, mouth, and ears, could be called rich ; they showed, a decided fulness, without being too large. The mouth was particularly charm- ing, from the curling lips, and his whole physiognomy had the peculiar expression of a rake, from the circumstance that his eyebrows met across his nose, which, in a handsome face, always produces a pleasant expression of sensuality. By his jovialness, sincerity, and good-nature, he made himself be- loved by all. His memory was incredible ; attention at the lectures cost him nothing ; he retained all that he heard, and was intellectual enough to take some interest in everything, and this the more easily, as he was studying medicine. All impressions remained lively with him, and his waggery in repeating the lectures and mimicking the professors often went so far, that when he had heard three different lectures in one morning, he would, at the dinner-table, interchange the professors with each other, paragraphwise, and often even more abruptly, which parti-coloured lecture frequently enter- tained us, but often, too, became troublesome. The rest were more or less polite, steady, serious people. A pensioned knight of the order of St. Louis was one of these ; but the majority were students, all really good and x2 303 TBTTTH AND POETBY ; FftOM MY OWN LIFE. well-disposed, only they were not allowed to go beyond their usual allowance of wine. That this should not be easily done was, the care of our president, one Doctor Salzmann. Already in the sixties and unmarried, he had attended this dinner- table for many years, and maintained its good order and respectability. He possessed a handsome property, kept him- self close and neat in his exterior, even belonging to those who always go in shoes and stockings, and with, their hat under their arm. To put on the hat, was with him an extra- ordinary action. He commonly carried an umbrella, wisely reflecting that the finest summer-days often bring thunder- storms and passing showers over the country. With this man I talked over my design of continuing to study jurisprudence at Strasburg, so as to be able to take my degree as soon as possible. Since he was exactly informed of everything, I asked him about the lectures I should have to hear, and what he generally thought of the matter. To this he replied, that it was not in Strasburg as in the German uni- versities, where they try to educate jurists in the large and 'earned sense of the term. Here, in conformity with the •relation towards France, all was really directed to the practical, and managed in accordance with the opinions of the French, who readily stop at what is given. They tried to impart to every one certain general principles and preliminary know- ledge, they compressed as much as possible, and communi- cated only what was most necessary. Hereupon he made me acquainted with a man, in whom, as a Repetent,* great con- fidence was entertained ; which he very soon managed to gain from me also. By way of introduction, I began to speak with him on subjects of jurisprudence, and he wondered not a little at my swaggering ; for during my residence at Leipzig, I had gained more of an insight into the requisites for the law than I have hitherto taken occasion to state in my narra- tive, though all I had acquired could only be reckoned as a • A Repetent is one of a class of persons to be found in the German universities, and who assist students in their studies. They are some- what analogous to the English Tutors, but not precisely ; for the lattei render their aid before the recitation, while the Repetent repeats with the student, in private, the lectures he has previously heard from the pro- fessor. Hence his name, which might be rendered Repeater, had we any corresponding class of men in England or America, which would justify a.i English word. — American Natt>. TASTE FOK MEDICAL STUDIES. 303 general encyclopedical survey, and not as proper definite knowledge. University life, even if in the course of it we may not have to boast of our own proper industry, nevertheless affords endless advantages in every kind of cultivation, be- cause we are always surrounded by men who either possess or are seeking science, so that, even if unconsciously, we are constantly drawing some nourishment from such an atmo- sphere. My repetent, after he had had patience with my rambling discourse for some time, gave me at last to understand that 1 must first of all keep my immediate object in view, which was, to be examined, to take my degree, and then, perchance, to commence practice. " In order to stand the first," said he, " the subject is by no means investigated at large. It is in- quired how and when a law arose, and what gave the internal or external occasion for it ; there is no inquiry as to how it has been altered by time and custom, or how far it has perhaps been perverted by false interpretation or the perverted usage of the courts. It is in such investigations that learned men quite peculiarly spend their lives ; but we inquire after that which exists at present, this we stamp firmly on our memory, that it may always be ready when we wish to employ it for the use and defence of our clients. Thus we qualify our young people for their future life, and the rest follows in proportion to their talents and activity." Hereupon he handed me his pamphlets, which were written in question and answer, and in which I could have stood a pretty good examination at once, for Hopp's smaller law-catechism was yet perfectly in my memory ; the rest I supplied with some diligence, and, against my will, qualified myself in the easiest manner as a candidate. But since in this way all my own activity in the study was cut off, — for I had no sense for anything positive, but wished to have everything explained historically, if not intelligibly— I found for my powers a wider field, which I employed in the most singular manner by devoting myself to a matter of interest which was accidently presented to me from without. Most of my fellow-boarders were medical students. These, as is well known, are the only students who zealously converse about their science and profession even out of the hours of study. This lies in the nature of the case. The objects of their endeavours are the most obvious to the senses, and at the same 310 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN I.IFE. time the highest, the most simple and the most_ complicated. Medicine employs the whole man, for it occupies itself with the whole man. All that the young man learns refers directly to an important, dangerous indeed, but yet in many respects lucrative practice. He therefore devotes himself passionately to what- ever is to he known and to be done, partly because it is inter- esting in itself, partly because it opens to him the joyous prospect of independence and wealth. At table then I heard nothing but medical conversations, just as formerly in the boarding-house of Hofrath Ludwig. In our walks and in our pleasure-parties likewise not much else was talked about ; for my fellow-boarders, like good fellows, had also become my companions at other times, and they were always joined on all sides by persons of like minds and like studies. The medical faculty in general shone above the others, with respect both to the celebrity of the professors and the number of the students, and I was the more easily borne along by the stream, as I had just so much knowlege of all these things that my desire for science could soon be increased and inflamed. At the commencement -of the second half-year, therefore, I attended a course on chemistry by Spielmann, an- other on anatomy by Lobstein, and proposed to be right indus- trious, because by my singular preliminary or rather extra knowledge, I had already gained some respect and confidence in our society. Yet this dissipation and dismemberment of my studies was not enough, they were to be once more seriously disturbed ; for a remarkable political event set everything in motion, and procured us a tolerable succession of holidays. Marie An- toinette, Archduchess of Austria and Queen of France, was to pass through Strasburg on her road to Paris. The solemnities by which the people are made to take notice that there is great- ness in the world, were busily and abundantly prepared, and especially remarkable to me was the building which stood on an island in the Rhine between the two bridges, erected for her reception and for surrendering her into the hands of hex husband's ambassadors. It was but slightly elevated above the ground, had in the centre a grand saloon, on each side smaller ones ; then followed other chambers, which extended some- what backwards. Enough, had it been more durably built, ij might have answered very well as a pleasure-house for persons PBEPABATIONS FOB BECEPTION OP MABIE ANTOINETTE. SI1 of rank. But that which particularly interested me, and tor which I did not grudge many a biisel (a little silver coin then current) in order to procure a repeated entrance from the porter, was the embroidered tapestry with which they had lined the whole interior. Here, for the first time, I saw a specimen of those tapestries worked after Raffaelle's cartoons, and this sight was for me of very decided influence, as I be- came acquainted with the true and. the perfect on a large scale, though only in copies. I went and came, and came and went, and could not satiate myself with looking ; nay, a vain endea- vour troubled me, because I would willingly have compre- hended what interested me in so extraordinary a manner. I found these side-chambers highly delightful and refreshing, but the chief saloon so much the more shocking. This had been hung with many larger, more brilliant and richer hang ings, which were surrounded with crowded ornaments, worked after pictures by. the modern French. Now I might perhaps have reconciled myself to this style also, as my feelings, like my judgment, did not readily reject anything entirely ; but the subject was excessively revolting to me. These pictures contained the hjstory of Jason, Medea, and Creusa, and therefore an example of the most unhappy marriage. To the left of the throne was seen the bride strug- gling with the most horrible death, surrounded by persons full of sympathizing woe ; to the right was the father, horrified at the murdered babes before his feet ; whilst the Fury, in her dragon-car, drove along into the air. And that the horrible and atrocious should not lack something absurd, the white tail of that magic bull flourished out on the right-hand from be- hind the red velvet of the gpld-embroidered back of the throne, while the fire-spitting beast himself, and the Jason who was fighting with him, were completely covered by the sumptuous drapery. Here all the maxims which I had made my own in Oeser's school were stirring within my bosom. It was without proper selection and judgment, to begin with, that Christ and the apostles were brought into the side-halls of a nuptial building, and doubtless the size of the chambers had guided the royal tapestry-keeper. This, however, I willingly forgave, because it had turned out so much to my advantage ; but a blunder like that in the grand saloon put me altogether out of my self-posses- 312 THUTH AND POBTBT; I'SOM MY OWN HFB. sion, and with, animation and vehemence I called on my com- rades to witness such a crime against taste and feeling. "What!" cried I, without regarding the bystanders, " isit permitted so thoughtlessly to place before the eyes of a young queen, at her first setting foot in her dominions, the represen- tation of the most horrible marriage that perhaps was ever consummated ! Is there then among the French architects, decorators, upholsterers, not a single man who understands that pictures represent something, that pictures work upon the mind and feelings, that they make impressions, that they excite forebodings ! It is just the same as if they had sent the most ghastly spectre to meet this beauteous and pleasure-lov- ing lady at the very frontiers !" I know not what I said besides ; enough, my comrades tried to quiet me and to remove me out of the house, that there might be no offence. They then assured me that it was not everybody's concern to look for significance in pictures ; that to themselves, at least, nothing of the sort would have occurred, while the whole population of Strasburg and the vicinity which was to throng thither, would no more take such crotchets into their heads than the queen herself and her court. I yet remember well the beauteous and lofty mien, as cheer- ful as it was imposing, of this youthful lady. Perfectly visible to us all in her glass carriage, she seemed to be jesting with her female attendants, in familiar conversation, about the throng that poured forth to meet her train. In the evening we roamed through the streets to look at the various illumi- nated buildings, but especially the glowing spire of the minster, with which, both near and in the distance, we could not suffi- ciently feast our eyes. The queen pursued her way; the country people dispersed, and the city was soon quiet as ever. Before the queen's arrival, the very rational regulation had been made, that no deformed persons, no cripples nor disgusting invalids, should show themselves on her route. People joked about this, and I made a little French poem in which I compared, the advent of Christ, who seemed to wander upon the world particularly on account of the sick and the lame, with the arrival of the queen, who scared these unfortunates away. My friends let it pass ; a Frenchman, on the contrary, who lived with us, criticised the language and metre very unmercifully, although. DREADFUl ACCIDENT AT PARIS. 313 as it seemed, with too much foundation, and I do not remem- ber that I ever made a French poem afterwards. Scarcely had the news of the queen's happy arrival rung from the capital, than it was followed by the horrible intelli- gence that, owing to an oversight of the police during the festal fireworks, an infinite number of persons, with horses and carriages, had been destroyed in a street obstructed by build- ing materials, and that the city, in the midst of the nuptial solemnities, had been plunged into mourning and sorrow. They attempted to conceal the extent of the misfortune, both from the young royal pair and from the world, by burying the dead in secret, so that many families were convinced only by the ceaseless absence of their members that they, too, had been swept off by this awful event. That, on this occasion, those ghastly figures in the grand saloon again came vividly before my mind, I need scarcely mention ; for every one knows how powerful certain moral impressions are, when they embody themselves, as it were, in those of the senses. This occurrence was, however, destined moreover to place my friends in anxiety and trouble by means of a prank in which I indulged. Among us young people who had been at Leip- zig, there had been maintained ever afterwards a certain itch for imposing on and in some way mystifying one another. With this wanton love of mischief I wrote to a friend in Frankfort (he was the one who had amplified my poem on the cake-baker Hendel, applied it to Medon, and caused its general circulation), a letter dated from Versailles, in which I informed him of my happy arrival there, my participation in the solemnities, and other things of the kind, but at the same time enjoined the strictest secrecy. I must here remark that, from the time of that trick which had caused us so much annoy- ance, our little Leipzig society had accustomed itself to perse- cute him from time to time with mystifications, and this espe- cially as he was the drollest man in the world, and was never more amiable than when he was discovering the cheat into which he had deliberately been led. Shortly after I had written this letter, I went on a little journey and remained absent about a fortnight. Meanwhile the news of that disaster had reached Frankfort ; my friend believed me in Paris, and his affection led him to apprehend that I might have been involved in the calamity. Ke inquired of my parents and other persons to 814 TBUTH AND POEIKY J FROM Mlf OWN LIFE. whom I was accustomed to write, whether any letters had ar- rived, and as it was just at the time when my journey kept me from sending any, they were altogether wanting. He went about in the greatest uneasiness, and at last told the matter in confidence to our nearest friends, who were now in equal anxiety. Fortunately this conjecture did not reach my parents until a letter had arrived, announcing my return to Strasburg. , My young friends wore satisfied to learn that I was alive, but re- mained firmly convinced that I had been at Paris in the interim. The affectionate intelligence of the solicitude they had felt on ' my account affected me so much that I vowed to leave off such tricks for ever, but, unfortunately, I have often since allowed myself to be guilty of something similar. Real life frequently loses its brilliancy to such a degree, that one is many a time forced to polish it up again with the varnish of fiction. This mighty stream of courtly magnificence had now flowed by, and had left in me no other longing than after those tapestries of Raffaelle, which I would willingly have gazed at, revered, nay, adored, every day and every hour. Fortunately, my passionate endeavours succeeded in interesting several per- sons of consequence in them, so that they were taken down and packed up as late as possible. We now gave ourselves up again to our quiet, easy routine of the university and society, and in the latter the Actuary Salzmann, president of our table, continued to be the general pedagogue. Bis intelligence, complaisance, and dignity, which he always contrived to main» tain amid all the jests, and often even in the little extravagances which he allowed us, made him beloved and respected by the whole company, and I could mention but few instances where he showed his serious displeasure, or interposed with authority in little quarrels and disputes. Yet among them all I was the one who most attached myself to him, and he was not less inclined to converse with me, as he found me more variously accomplished than the others, and not so one-sided in judg- ment. I also followed his directions in external matters, so that he could, without hesitation, publicly acknowledge me as his companion and comrade : for although he only filled an office which seems to be of little influence, he administered it in a manner which redounded to his highest honour. He was actuary to the Court of Wards (Pupillen-Collegium), and there, indeed, like the perpetual secretary of an university, he had, STKASBUKG MANNERS. 315 properly speaking, the management of affairs in his own hands. Now as he had conducted this business with the greatest exact- ness for many years, there was no family, from the first to the last, which did not owe him its gratitude ; as indeed scarcely any one in the whole administration of government can earn, more blessings or more curses than one who takes charge of the orphans, or, on the contrary, squanders or suffers to be squandered their property and goods. The Strasburgers are passionate walkers, and they have a good right to be so. Let one turn one's steps as one will, one finds pleasure-grounds, partly natural, partly adorned by art in ancient and modern times, all of them visited and enjoyed by a cheerful, merry little people. But what made the sight of a great number of pedestrians still more agreeable here than, in other places, was the various costume of the fair sex. Thet middle class of city girls yet retained the hair twisted up and secured by a large pin ; as well as a certain close style of dress,, in which anything like a train would have been unbecoming ; and the pleasant part of it was, that this costume did not differ violently according to the rank of the wearer ; for there were still some families of opulence and distinction, who would not permit their daughters to deviate from this costume. The rest followed the IVench fashion, and this party made some prose- lytes every year. Salzmann had many acquaintances and an entrance everywhere; a very pleasant circumstance for his- companion, especially in summer, for good company and re- freshment were found in all the public gardens far and near, and more than one invitation for this or that pleasant day was received. On one such occasion I found an opportunity to- recommend myself very rapidly to a family which I was visit- ing for only the second time. We were invited, and arrived at the appointed hour. The company was not large ; some clayed and some walked as usual. Afterwards, when they were to go to supper, I saw our hostess and her sister speaking to each other with animation, and as if in a peculiar embar- rassment. I accosted them and said : " I have indeed no right, ladies, to force myself into your secrets ; but perhaps I may be able to give you good council, or even to serve you." Upon this they disclosed to me their painful dilemma : namely, that they had. invited twelve persons to table, and that just at that moment a relation had returned from a journey, who now, as tha 316 TRUTH AND FOETKY ; FKOM MY OWN 1IFB. thirteenth, would be a fatal memento mori, if not for himself, yet certainly for some of the guests. " The case is veiy easily mended," replied I ; " permit me to take my leave, and stipu- late for indemnification." As they were persons of consequence and good-breeding, they would by no means allow this, but sent about in the neighbourhood to find a fourteenth. I suffered them to do so, yet when I saw the servant coming in at the garden-gate without having effected his errand, I stole away and spent my evening pleasantly under the old linden- trees of the Wanzenau. That this self-denial was richly repaid me was a very natural consequence. A certain kind of general society is not to be thought ot without card-playing. Salzmann renewed the good instruc- tions of Madame Bohme, and I was the more docile as I had really seen that by this little sacrifice, if it be one, one may procure oneself much pleasure, and even a greater freedom in society than one would otherwise enjoy. The old piquet; which had gone to sleep, was again looked out; I learned whist ; I made myself, according to the directions of my Mentor, a card-purse, which was to remain untouched under all cir- cumstances ; and I now found opportunity to spend most of my evenings with my friend in the best circles, where, for the most part, they wished me well, and pardoned many a little irregularity, to which, nevertheless, my friend, though kindly enough, used to call my attention. But that I might experience symbolically how much one, even in externals, has to adapt oneself to society, and direct oneself according to it, I was compelled to something which seemed to me the most disagreeable thing in the world. I had really very fine hair, but my Strasburg hair-dresser at once assured me that it was cut much too short behind, and that it would be impossible to make a frizure of it in which I could show myself, since nothing but a few short curls in front were decreed lawful, and all the rest, from the crown, must be tied up in a queue or a hair-bag. Nothing was left but to put up with false hair till the natural growth was again restored according to the demands of the time. He promised me that nobody should ever remark this innocent cheat (against which I objected at first very earnestly), if I could resolve upon it immediately. He kept his word, and I was always looked upon as the young man who had the best and the best-dressed head JUNG— STILLING. 317 of hair. But as I was obliged to remain thus propped up and powdered from early in the morning, and at the same time to take care not to betray my false ornament by heating myself or by violent motions, this restraint in fact contributed much to my behaving for a time more quietly and politely, and accus- tomed me to going with my hat under my arm, and conse- quently in shoes and stockings also; however I did not venture to neglect wearing understockings of fine leather, as a defence against the Rhine gnats, which, on the fine summer evenings, generally spread themselves over the meadows and gardens. If now, under these circumstances, a violent bodily motion was denied me, our social conversations certainly became more and more animated and impassioned ; indeed they were the most interesting in which I Lad hitherto ever borne part. "With my way of feeling and thinking, it cost me nothing to let every one pass for what he was, nay, for that which he wished to pass for, and thus the frankness of a fresh youthful heart, which manifested itself almost for the first time in its full bloom, made me many friends and adherents. Our com- pany of boarders increased to about twenty persons, and as Salzmann kept up his accustomed order, everything con- tinued in its old routine ; nay, the conversation was almost more decorous, as every one had to be on his guard before several. Among the new comers, was a man who particu- larly interested me ; his name was Jttjtg, the same who after- wards became known under the name of Stilling. In spite of an antiquated dress, his form had something delicate about it, with a certain sturdiness. A bag-wig did not disfigure his significant and pleasing countenance. His voice was mild, without being soft and weak ; it became even melodious and powerful as soon as his ardour was roused, which was very easily done. On learning to know him better, one found in him a sound common-sense, which rested on feeling, and therefore took its tone from the affections and passions, and from this very feeling sprang an enthusiasm for the good, the true, and the just, in the greatest possible purity. For the course of this man's life had been Tery simple, and yet crowded with events and with manifold activity. The element of his energy was an indestructible faith in God, and in an assistance flowing immediately from him, which evidently manifested itself in an uninterrupted providence, and in an 318 TKUTH AND POETRY; PKOM MY OWN LIFE. unfailing deliverance out of all troubles and from every evil, Jung had made many such, experiences in his life, and they had often, been repeated of late in Strasburg, so that, -with the greatest cheerfulness, he led a life frugal indeed, but free from care ; and devoted himself most earnestly to his studies, although he could not reckon upon any certain subsistence from one quarter to another. In his youth, when on a fair way to become a charcoal burner, he took up the trade of a tailor, and after he had instructed himself, at the same time, in higher matters, his knowledge-loving mind drove him to the occupa- tion of schoolmaster. This attempt failed, and he returned to his trade, from which, however, since every one felt for him confidence and affection, he was repeatedly called away, again to take a place as private tutor. But for his most in- ternal and peculiar training he had to thank that wide-spread class of men who sought out their salvation on their own re- sponsibilty, and who, while they strove to edify themselves by reading the Scriptures and good books, and by mutual exhorta- tion and confession, thereby attained a degree of cultivation which must excite surprise. For while the interest which always accompanied them and which maintained them in fellowship, rested on the simplest foundation of morality, well-wishing and well-doing, the deviations which could take place with men of such limited circumstances were of little importance, and hence their consciences, for the most part, remained clear, and their minds commonly cheerful ; so there arose no artifi- cial, but a truly natural culture, which yet had this advantage over others, that it was suitable to all ages and ranks, and was generally social by its nature. For this reason, too, these persons were, in their own circle, truly eloquent, and capable of expressing themselves appropriately and pleasingly on all the tenderest and best concerns of the heart. Now the good Jung was in this very case. Among a few persons, who, if not exactly like-minded with himself, did not declare themselves averse from his mode of thought, he was found not only talka- tive but eloquent; in particular, he related the history of his life in the most delightful manner, and knew how to make all the circumstances plainly and vividly present to his listeners. I persuaded him to write them down, and he promised he would do so. But because in his way of ex- pressing himself he was like a somnambulist, whom one daro LERSE. 319 pot call, lest he should fall from his elevation, or like a gentle stream, to 'which one dare oppose nothing, lest it should foam, he was often constrained to feel uncomfortable in a more numerous company. His faith tolerated no doubt, and his conviction no jest. And if in friendly communication he was inexhaustible, everything came to a standstill with him when he suffered contradiction. I usually helped him through on such occasions, for which he repaid me with honest affection. Since his mode of thought was nothing strange to me, but on the contrary I had already become accurately acquainted with it in my very best friends of both sexes, and since, moreover, it generally interested me with its naturalness and naiiveU, he found himself on the very best terms with me. The bent of his intellect was pleasing to me, and his faith in miracles, which was so useful to him, I left unmolested. Salzmann likewise behaved towards him with forbearance, — I say with forbearance, for Salzmann, in conformity with his character, his natural disposition, his age and circumstances, could not but stand and continue on the side of the rational, or rather the common-sense Christians, whose religion properly rested on the rectitude of their characters, and* a manly indepen- dence, and who therefore did not like to meddle or have any- thing to do with feelings which might easily have led them into gloom, or with mysticism, which might easily have led them into the dark. This class, too, was respectable and numerous ; ail men of honour and capacity understood each other, and were of the like persuasion, as well as of the same mode of life. Lekse, likewise our fellow-boarder, also belonged to this number ; a perfectly upright young man, and, with limited gifts of fortune, frugal and exact. His manner of life and housekeeping was the closest I ever knew among students. He dressed himself the neatest of us all, and yet always ap- peared in the same clothes ; but he managed his wardrobe with the greatest care, kept everything about him clean, and required all things in ordinary life to go according to his example. He never happened to lean anywhere, or to prop his elbow on the table ; he never forgot to mark his table- napkin, and it always went ill with the maid when the chairs were not found perfectly clean. "With all this, he had nothing Stiff in his exterior. He spoke cordially, with precise and S20 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. dry liveliness, in which a light ironical joke was very be* coming. In figure, he was well-built, slender, and of fair height, his face was pock-pitted and homely, his little blue eyes cheerful and penetrating. As he had cause to tutor us in so many respects, we let him be our fencing-master besides ; for he drew a very fine rapier, and it seemed to give him sport to play off upon us, on this occasion, all the pedantry of this profession. Moreover, we really profited by him, and had to thank him for many sociable hours, which he induced us to spend in good exercise and practice. By all these peculiarities, Lerse completely qualified himself for the office of arbitrator and umpire in all the small and great quarrels which happened, though but rarely, in our circle, and which Salzmann could not hush up in his fatherly way. Without the external forms, which do so much mischief in universities, we represented a society bound together by circumstances and good-feeling, which others might occasion- ally touch, but into wnich they could not intrude. Now, in his judgment of internal piques, Lerse always showed the greatest impartiality, and when the affair could no longer be settled by words and explanations, he knew how to con- duct the desired satisfaction, in an honourable way, to a harmless issue. In this no man was more clever than he ; indeed, he often used to say, that since heaven had destined him for a hero neither in war nor in love, he would be con- tent, both in romances and fighting, with the part of second. Since he remained the same throughout, and might be re- garded as a true model of a good and steady disposition, the conception of him stamped itself as deeply as amiably upon me ; and when I wrote Gotz von Berlichingen, I felt myself induced to set up a memorial of our friendship, and to give the gallant fellow, who knew how to subordinate himself in so dignified a manner, the name of Franz Lerse. "While now, by his constant humorous dryness, he con- tinued always to remind us of what one owed to oneself and to others, and how one ought to behave in order to live at peace with men as long as possible, and thus gain a certain position towards them, I had to fight, both inwardly and out- wardly, with quite different circumstances and adversaries, being at strife with myself, with the objects around me, and even with the elements. I found myself in a state of health whicb SUBJUGATION OF NATUBAL ANTIPATHIES. 321 furthered me sufficiently in all that I would and should under- take ; only there was a certain irritability left behind, which did not always let me be in equilibrium. A loud sound was dis- agreeable to me, diseased objects awakened in me loathing and horror. But I was especially troubled by a giddiness which came over me every time that I looked down from a height. All these infirmities I tried to remedy, and, indeed, as I wished to lose no time, in a somewhat violent way. In the evening, when they beat the tattoo, I went near the multitude of drums, the powerful rolling and beating of which might have made one's heart burst in one s bosom. All alone I ascended the highest pinnacle of the minster spire, and sat in what is called the neck, under the nob or crown, for a quarter of an hour, before I would venture to step out again into the open air, where, standing upon a platform scarce an ell square, without any particular holding, one sees the boundless prospect before, while the nearest objects and ornaments conceal the church, and everything upon and above which one stands. It is exactly as if one saw oneself carried up into the air in a balloon. Such troublesome and painful sensations I repeated until the im- pression became quite indifferent to me, and I have since then derived great advantage from this training, in mountain travels and geological studies, and on great buildings, where I have vied with the carpenters in running over the bare beams and the cornices of the edifice, and even in Borne, where one must run similar risks to obtain a nearer view of important works of art. Anatomy, also, was of double value to me, as it taught me to tolerate the most repulsive sights, while I satisfied my thirst for knowledge. And thus I attended, also, the clinical course of the elder Doctor Ehrmann, as well as the lectures of his son on obstetrics, with the double view of becoming acquainted with all conditions, and of freeing myself from all apprehension as to repulsive things. And I have actually succeeded so far, that nothing of this kind could ever put me out of my self-possession. But I sought to steel myself not only against these impressions on the senses, but also against the infections of the imagination. The awful and shuddering impressions of the darkness in churchyards, solitary places, churches and chapels by night, and whatever may be connected with them, I contrived to render likewise indifferent ; and in this, also, I went so far that day and night, and every Y <22 TRUTH AND P0JETRY ; FROM MT OWN LIFE. locality, were quite the same to me ; so that even when, in later times, a desire came over me once more to feel in such scenes the pleasing shudder of youth, I could scarcely force this, in any degree, by the strangest and most fearful images which I called up. In my efforts to free myself from the pressure of the too- gloomy and powerful, which continued to rule within me, and seemed to me sometimes as strength, sometimes as weak- ness, I was thoroughly assisted by that open, social, stirring manner of life, which attracted me more and more, to which I accustomed myself, and which I at last learned to enjoy with perfect freedom. It is not difficult to remark in the world, that man feels himself most freely and most perfectly rid of his own failings, when he represents to himself the faults of others, and expatiates upon them with complacent censoriousness. It is a tolerably pleasant sensation even to set ourselves above our equals by disapprobation and misre- presentation,, for which reason good society, whether it con- sists of few or many, is most delighted with it. But nothing equals the comfortable self-complacency, when we erect ourselves into judges of our superiors, and of those who are set over us, — of princes and statesmen, when we find public institutions unfit and injudicious, only consider the possible and actual obstacles, and recognise neither the greatness of the invention, nor the co-operation which is to be expected from time and circumstances in every undertaking. Whoever remembers the condition of the French kingdom, and is accurately and circumstantially acquainted with it from later writings, will easily figure to himself how, at that time, in the Alsatian semi-Prance, people used to talk about the king and his ministers, about the court and court-favourites. These were new subjects for my love of instructing myself, and very welcome ones to my pertness and youthful conceit. I observed everything accurately, noted it down industriously, and I now see, from the little that is left, that such accounts, although only put together on the moment, out of fables and uncertain general rumours, always have a certain value in after-times, because they serve to confront and compare the secret made known at last with what was then already dis- covered and public, and the judgments of contemporaries, true or false, with the convictions of posterity. EXPULSION OF Tins JESUITS. 328 Striking, and daily before the eyes of us street-loungers, was the project for beautifying the city ; the execution of which, according to draughts and plans, began in the strangest fashion to pass from sketches and plans into reality. Inten- dant Gayot had undertaken to new-model the angular and uneven lanes of Strasburg, and to lay the foundations of a respectable, handsome city, regulated by line and level. Upon this, Blondel, a Parisian architect, drew a plan, bv which an hundred and forty householders gained in room, eighty lost, and the rest remained in their former condition. This plan accepted, hut not to he put into execution at once, now, should in course of time have been approaching com- pletion, and, meanwhile, the city oddly enough wavered between form and formlessness. If, for instance, a crooked side of a street was to be straightened, the first man who felt disposed to build moved forward to the appointed line perhaps, too, his next neighbour ; but perhaps, also, the third or fourth resident from him, by which projections the most awkward recesses were left, like front court-yards, before the houses in the background. They would not use force, yet with- out compulsion they would never have got on; on which account no man, when his house was once condemned, ventured to improve or replace anything that related to the street. All these strange accidental inconveniences gave to us rambling idlers the most welcome opportunity of practising our ridi- cule, of making proposals, in the manner of Behrisch, for accelerating the completion, and of constantly doubting the possibility of it, although many a newly-erected handsome building should have brought us to other thoughts. How far that project was advanced by the length of time, I cannot say. Another subject on which the Protestant Strasburgers liked to converse was the expulsion of the Jesuits. These fathers, as soon as the city had fallen to the share of the French, had made their appearance and sought a domicilium. But they soon extended themselves and built a magnificent college, which bordered so closely on the minster that the back of 'the ehurch covered a third part of its front. It was to be a com- plete quadrangle, and have a garden in the middle; three sides of it were finished. It is of stone, and solid, like all the buildings of these fathers. That the Protestants were pushed Hi H24 TKUTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN tIFK. aara, if not oppressed by them, lay in the plan of the society which made it a duty to restore the old religion in its whole compass. Their fall, therefore, awakened the greatest satis- faction in the opposite party, and people saw, not without pleasure, how they sold their wines, carried away their books, and the building was assigned to another, perhaps less active order. How glad are men when they get rid of an opponent, or only of a guardian ; and the herd does not reflect that where there is no dog, it is exposed to wolves. Now, since every city must have its tragedy, at which children and children's children shudder, so in Strasburg fre- quent mention was made of the unfortunate Praetor Kling- ling, who, after he had mounted the highest step of earthly felicity, ruled city and country with almost absolute power, and enjoyed all that wealth, rank, and influence could afford, had at last lost the favour of the court, and was dragged up to answer for all in which he had been indulged hitherto ; nay, was even thrown into prison, where, more than seventy years old, he died an ambiguous death. This and other tales, that knight of St. Louis, our fellow- boarder, knew how to tell with passion and animation, for which reason I was fond of accompanying him in his walks, unlike the others, who avoided such invitations, and left me alone with him. As with new acquaintances I generally suffered myself to go on for a long time without thinking much about them or the effect which they were exercising upon me, so I only remarked gradually that his stories and opinions rather unsettled and confused, than instructed and enlightened me. I never knew what to make of him, al- though the riddle might easily have been solved. He be- longed to the many to whom life offers no results, and who therefore, from first to last, exert themselves on individual objects. Unfortunately he had, with this, a decided desire, nay, evtn passion for meditating, without having any capacity for thinking ; and in such men a particular notion easily fixes itself fast, which may be regarded as a mental disease. To such a fixed view he always came back again, and was thus in the long-run excessively tiresome. He used bitterly to complain of the decline of his memory, especially with regard to the latest events, and maintained by a logic of his own, that all virtue springs from a good memory, and all vice, on the THE KNIGHT OP ST. LOUIS. 325 contrary, from forgetfulness. This doctrine he contrived to carry out with much acuteness ; as, indeed, everything can be maintained when one permits oneself to use words altogether vaguely, and to employ and apply them in a sense now wider, now narrower, now closer, now more remote. At first it was amusing to hear him ; nay, his persuasive- ness even astonished us. We fancied we were standing before a rhetorical sophist, who for jest and practice knew how to give a fair appearance to the strangest things. Unfortunately this first impression blunted itself but too soon ; for at the end of every discourse, manage the thing as I would, the man came back again to the same theme. He was not to be held fast to older events, although they interested him, — -although he had them present to his mind with their minutest circum- stances. Indeed he was often, by a small circumstance, snatched out of the middle of a wild historical narrative, and thrust into his detestable favourite thought. One of our afternoon walks was particularly unfortunate in this respect; the account of it may stand here instead of similar cases, which might weary, if not vex the reader. On the way through the city we were met by an old female mendicant, who by her beggings and importunities disturbed him in his story. " Pack yourself off, old witch !" said he, and walked by. She shouted after him the well-known retort, only somewhat changed, since she saw well that the unfriendly man was old himself, — " If you did not wish to be old, you should have had yourself hanged in your youth ! " He turned round violently, and I feared a scene. " Hanged ! " cried he, " have myself hanged ! No, that could not have been ; I was too honest a fellow for that ; but hang myself— hang up my own self — that is true — that I should have done ; I should have turned a charge of powder against myself, that I might not live to see that I am not even worth that any more." The woman stood as if petrified; but he continued, " You have said a great truth, witch-mother ! and as they have neither drowned nor burned you yet, you shall be paid for your proverb." He handed her a busel, a coin not usually given to a beggar. We had crossed over the first Rhine-bridge, and were going to the inn where we meant to stop, and I was trying to lead him back to our previous conversation, when, unexpectedly, 326 TKTJTH AND POEmY ; FItOM MY OWN II^E. a very pretty girl met us on the pleasant foot-path, remained standing before us, bowed prettily and cried : ** Eh, eh ! eaptain, where are you going ?" and whatever else is usually .said on such an occasion. " Mademoiselle," replied he, some- what embarrassed, " I know not " " How ?" said she, with graceful astonishment, " do you forget your friends so soon?" The word " forget" fretted him; he shook his head and replied, peevishly enough, " Truly, mademoiselle, I did not know !" She now retorted with some humour, yet very temperately : " Take care, captain, I may mistake you another time ! " And so she hurried past, taking huge strides, without looking round. At once my fellow-traveller struck his forehead with both his fists : " O what an ass I am!" ex- claimed he, " what an old ass I am ! Now, you see whether I am right or not." And then, in a very violent manner, he went on with his usual sayings and opinions, in which this case still more confirmed him. I cannot and would not repeat what a philippic discourse he held against himself. At last he turned to me and said : " I call you to witness ! You remember that small- ware woman at the corner, who is neither young nor pretty ? I salute her every time we pass, and often exchange a couple of friendly words with her ; and yet it is thirty years ago since she was gracious to me. But now I swear it is not four weeks since this young lady showed herself more complai- sant to me than was reasonable, and yet I will not recognise her, but insult her in return for her favours ! Do I not always say that ingratitude is the greatest of vices, and no man would be ungrateful if he were not forgetful! " We went into the inn, and nothing tut the' tippling, swarm- ing crowd in the ante-rooms stopped the invectives which he rattled off against himself and his contemporaries. He was silent, and I hoped pacified, when we stepped into an upper chamber, where we found a young man pacing up and down alone, whom the captain saluted by name. I was pleased to become acquainted with him ; for the old fellow had said much good of him to me, and had told me that this young man, being employed in the war-bureau, had often disinterestedly done him very good service when the pensions were stopped. I was glad that the conversation took a general turu, and while we were carrying it on we drank a bottle of wine. But here, unluckily, another infirmity which my knight had in common THE KNIGHT OF ST. I.OU1S. 327 witn obstinate men, developed itself. For as, on the whole* he could not get rid of that fixed notion, so did he stick fast to a disagreeable impression of the moment, and suffer his feelings to run on without moderation. His last vexation about himself had not yet died away, and now was added something new, although of quite a different kind. He had not long cast his eyes here and there before he noticed on the table a double portion of coffee and two cups, and might be- sides, being a man of gallantry, have traced some other indi- cation that the young man had not been so solitary all the time. And scarcely had the conjecture arisen in his mind, and ripened into a probability, that the pretty girl had been paying a visit here, than the most outrageous jealousy added itself to that first vexation, so as completely to perplex him. Now before I could suspect anything, for I had hitherto been conversing quite harmlessly with the young man, the captain, in an unpleasant tone, which I well knew, began to be satirical about the pair of cups, and about this and that. The young man, surprised, tried to turn it off pleasantly and sensibly, as is the custom among men of good- breeding ; but the old fellow continued to be unmercifully rude, so that there was nothing left for the other to do but to seize his hat and cane, and at his departure to leave behind him a pretty unequivocal challenge. The fury of the captain now burst out the more vehemently, as he had in the interim drunk another bottle of wine almost by himself. He struck the table with his fist, and cried more than once : " I strike him dead !" It was not, however, meant quite so badly as it sounded, for he often used this phrase when any one opposed or otherwise displeased him. Just as unexpectedly the business grew worse on our return : for I had the want of foresight to represent to him his ingrati- tude towards the young man, and to remind him how strongly he had praised to me the ready obligingness of this official person. No ! such rage of a man against himself I never saw again ; it was the most passionate conclusion to that beginning to which the pretty girl had given occasion. Here I saw sorrow and repentance carried into caricature, and as all passion supplies the place of genius, to a point really genius-like. He then went over all the incidents of our afternoon ramble again, employed them rhetorically for his own self-reproach, brought up the old witch at last before him once more, and 328 TKUTH AND POETKY ; PROM MY OWN LIFE. perplexed himself to such a degree, that I could not help fearing he would throw himself into the Ehine. Could I have been sure of fishing him out 'again quickly, like Mentor his Telemachus, he might have made the leap, and I should have brought him home cooled down for this occasion. I immediately confided the affair to Lerse, and we went the next morning to the young man, whom my friend in his dry tvay set laughing. We agreed to bring about an accidental meeting, where a reconciliation should take place of itself. The drollest thing about it was, that this time the captain too had slept off his rudeness, and found himself ready to apologize to the young man, to whom petty quarrels were of some con- sequence. All was arranged in one morning, and, as the affair had not been kept quite secret, I did not escape the jokes of my friends, who might have foretold me, from their own expe- rience, how troublesome the friendship of the captain could become upon occasion. But now, while I am thinking what should be imparted next, there comes again into my thoughts, by a strange play of me- mory, that reverend minster-building, to which in those days I devoted particular attention, and which, in general, con- stantly presents itself to the eye both in the city and in the country. The more I considered the facade, the more was that first impression strengthened and developed, that here the sublime has entered into alliance with the pleasing. If the vast, when it appears as a mass before us, is not to terrify ; if it is not to confuse, when we seek to investigate its details, it must enter into an unnatural, apparently impossible connexion, it must associate to itself the pleasing. But now, since it will be im- possible for us to speak of the impression of the minster except by considering both these incompatible qualities as united, so do we already see, from this, in what high value we must hold this ancient monument, and we begin in earnest to describe how such contradictory elements could peaceably interpene- trate and unite themselves. First of all, without thinking of the towers, we devote our con- siderations to thefagade alone, which powerfully strikes the eye as an upright, oblong parallelogram. If we approach it at twilight, in the moonshine, on a starlight night, when the parts appear' more or less indistinct and at last disappear, we see only a colos- STRA.SBUKG MINSTJLK. 329 sal wall, the height of which bears an advantageous proportion to the breadth. If we gaze on it by day, and by the power of the mind abstract from the details, we recognise the front of a building which not only incloses the space within, but also covers much in its vicinity. The openings of this monstrous surface point to internal necessities, and according to these we can at once divide it into nine compartments. The great middle door, which opens into the nave of the church, first meets the eye. On both sides of it he two smaller ones, be- longing to the cross- ways. Over the chief door our glance falls upon the wheel-shaped window, which is to spread an awe- inspiring light within the church and its vaulted arches. At its sides appear two large, perpendicular, oblong openings, which form a striking contrast with the middle one, and indi- cate that they belong to the base of the rising towers. In the third story are three openings in a row, which are designed for belfries and other church necessities. Above them one sees the whole horizontally closed by the balustrade of the gallery, instead of a cornice. These nine spaces described, are sup- ported, enclosed, and separated into three great perpendicular divisions by four pillars rising up from the ground. Now as one cannot deny to the whole mass a fine proportion of height to breadth, so also in the details it maintains a some- what uniform lightness by means of these pillars and the nar- row Compartments between them. But if we keep to our abstraction, and imagine to ourselves this immense wall without ornaments, with firm buttresses, with the necessary openings in it, but only so far as necessity requires them, we even then must allow that these chief divi- sions are in good proportion : thus the whole will appear solemn and noble indeed, but always heavily unpleasant, and, being without ornament, unartistical. For a work of art, the whole of which is conceived in great, simple, harmonious parts, makes indeed a noble and dignified impression, but the peculiar en- joyment which the pleasing produces can only find place in the consonance of all developed details. And it is preciseiy here that the building which we are ex- amining satisfies us in the highest degree : for we see all the ornaments fully suited to every part which they adorn ; they are subordinate to it, they seem to have grown out of it. Such a m&rdfoldness always gives great pleasure, since it flows of its 330 IKUTH AND POEIKY ; FKOM MY OWN IIH. own accord from the suitable, and therefore at the same time awakens the feeling of unity. It is only in such cases that the execution is prized as the summit of art. By such means, now, was a solid piece of masonry, an im- penetrable wall, which had moreover to announce itself as the base of two heaven-high towers, made to appear to the eye as if resting on itself, consisting in itself, but at the same time light and adorned, and, though pierced through in a thousand places, to give the idea of indestructible firmness. .This riddle is solved in the happiest manner. The openings in the wall, its solid parts, the pillars, everything has its pecu- liar character, which proceeds from its particular destination ; this communicates itself by degrees to the subdivisions ; hence everything is adorned in proportionate taste, the great as well as the small is in the right place, and can be easily compre- hended, and thus the pleasing presents itself in the vast. I would refer only to the doors sinking in perspective into the thickness of the wall, and adorned without end in their columns and pointed arches ; to the window with its rose springing out of the round form, to the outline of its frame-work, as well as to the slender reedlike pillars of the perpendicular compart- ments. Let one represent to himself the pillars retreating step by step, accompanied by little, slender, light-pillared, pointed structures, likewise striving upwards, and furnished with canopies to shelter the images of the saints, and hew at last every rib, every boss, seems like a flower-head and row of leaves, or some other natural object transformed into stone. One may compare, if not the building itself, yet representations of the whole and of its parts, for the purpose of reviewing and giving life to what I have said. It may seem exaggerated to many, for I myself, though transported into love for this work at first sight, required a long time to make myself intimately sflquainted with its value. Having grown up among those who found fault with Gothic architecture, I cherished my aversion from the abundantly overloaded, complicated ornaments which, by their capricious- ness, made a religious, gloomy character highly adverse. I strengthened myself in this repugnance, since I had only met with spiritless works of this kind, in which one could perceive neither good proportions nor a pure consistency. But here I thought I saw a new revelation of it, since what was objec* STSASBTT.Ra MINSTIilt. 331 tLonable by no means appeared, but the contrary opinion rather forced itself upon my mind. But the longer. I looked and considered, I all the while thought I discovered yet greater merits beyond that which I have already mentioned. The right proportion of the larger divisions, the ornamental, as judicious as rich, even to the minutest, were found out ; but now I recognised the connexion of these manifold ornaments amongst each other, the transition from one leading part to another, the enclosing of details, homogeneous indeed, but yet greatly varying in form, from the saint to the monster, from the leaf to the dental. The more I investigated, the more I was astonished ; the more I amused and wearied myself with measuring and drawing, so much the more did my attachment increase, so that I spent much time, partly in studying what actually existed, partly in restoring, in my mind and. on paper, what was wanting and unfinished, especially in the towers. Since now I found that this building had been based on' old German ground, and grown thus far in genuine German times, and that the name of the master, on his modest grave- stone, was likewise of native sound and origin, I ventured, being incited by the worth of this work of art, to change the hitherto decried appellation of " Gothic architecture," and to claim it for our nation as " German architecture ;" nor did I fail to bring my patriotic views to light, first orally, and afterwards in a little treatise, dedicated to the memory of Ervinus a Steinbach. If my biographical narrative should come down to the epoch when the said sheet appeared in print, which Herder after- wards inserted in his pamphlet : Von Deutscher Art und Kunst, {Of German Manner and Art,) much more will be said on this weighty subject. But before I turn myself away from it this time, I will take the opportunity to vindicate the motto pre- fixed to the present volume, with those who may have enter- tained some doubt about it. I know indeed very well, that in opposition to this honest, hopeful old German saying : " What- ever one' wishes in youth, one has abundance in old age ! " many would quote contrary experience, and many trifling comments might be made ; but much also is to be said in its favour, and I will explain my own thoughts on the matter. Our wishes are presentiments of the capabilities which lie 332 TRTJIH AND POJLTBT ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. within us, and harbingers of that which we shall be in a con- dition to perform. Whatever we are able and would like to do, presents itself to our imagination, as without us and in the future ; we feel a longing after that which we already possess in secret. Thus a passionate anticipating grasp changes the truly possible into a dreamed reality. Now if such a bias lies decidedly in our nature, then, with every step of our develop- ment will a part of the first wish be fulfilled — under favourable circumstances in the direct way, under unfavourable in the circuitous way, from which we always come back again to the other. Thus we see men by perseverance attain to earthly wealth ; they surround themselves with riches, splendour, and external honour. Others strive yet more certainly after intel- lectual advantages, acquire for themselves a clear survey of things, a peacefulness of mind, and a certainty for the present and the future. But now there is a third direction, which is compounded of both, and the issue of which must be the most surely success- ful. When, namely, the youth of a man falls into a pregnant time, when production overweighs destruction, and a pre- sentiment is early awakened within him as to what such an epoch demands and promises, he will then, being forced by outward inducements into an active interest, take hold now here, now there, and the wish to be active on many sides will be lively within him. But so many accidental hindrances are associated with human limitation, that here a thing, once begun, remains unfinished, there that which is already grasped falls out of the hand, and one wish after another is dissipated. But had these wishes sprung out of a pure heart, and in con- formity with the necessities of the times, one might composedly let them lie and fall right and left, and be assured that these must not only be found out and picked up again, but that also many kindred things, which one has never touched and never even thought of, will come to light. If now, during our own lifetime, we see that performed by others, to which we our- selves felt an earlier call, but had been obliged to give it up, with much besides ; then the beautiful feeling enters the mind, that only mankind together is the true man, and that the indi- vidual can only be joyous and happy when he has the courage to feel himself in the whole. This contemplation is here in the right place : for when I STUDY OP UERMAIT ABCHITEOTTTBE. S3?. reflect on the affection which drew me to these antique edifices, when I reckon up the time which I devoted to the Strasburg minster alone, the attention with which I afterwards examined the cathedral at Cologne, and that at Freyburg, and more and more felt the value of these buildings, I could even blame myself for having afterwards lost sight of them altogether, nay, for having left them completely in the background, being attracted by a more developed art. But when I now, in the latest times, see attention again turned to those objects, when I see affection and even passion for them appearing and flou- rishing, when I see able young persons seized with this passion, recklessly devoting powers, time, care, and property, to these memorials of a past world, then am I reminded with pleasure that what I formerly would and wished had a value. With satisfaction I see that they not only know how to prize what was done by our forefathers, but that from existing unfinished beginnings they try to represent, in pictures at least, the original design, so as thus to make us acquainted with the thought, which is ever the beginning and end of all under- takings ; and that they strive with considerate zeal to clear up and vivify what seems to be a confused past. Here I especially applaud the gallant Sulpiz Boisseree, who is inde- fatigably employed in a magnificent series of copper-plates to exhibit the cathedral of Cologne as the model of those vast conceptions, the spirit of which, like that of Babel, strove up to heaven, and which were so out of proportion to earthly means, that they were necessarily stopped fast in their execution. If we have been hitherto astonished that such buildings proceeded only so far, we shall learn with the greatest wonder what was really designed to be done. May the literary-artistical undertakings of this kind be duly patronized by all who have power, wealth, and influence, that the great and gigantic views of our forefathers may be pre- sented to our contemplation, and that we may be able to form a conception of what they dared to desire. The insight result- ing from this will not remain fruitless, and the judgment will, for once at least, be in a condition to exercise itself ou these works with justice. Nay, this will be done most thoroughly, if our active young friend, besides the monograph devoted to the cathedral of Cologne, follows out in detail the history of our mediaeval architecture. When whatever is to be known 33i TaUTH ASD POETRY ; FROM MY &WII LIFJI, about the praetical exercise of this art is further brought to light, when the art is represented in all its fundamental features by a comparison with the Gxseco-Koman and the oriental Egyptian, little can remain to be done in this department. And I, when the results of such patriotic labours lie before the world, as they are now known in friendly private commu- nications, shall be able, with true content, to repeat that motto in its best sense : " Whatever one wishes in youth; in old age one has abundance." But if, in operations like these, which belong to centuries, one can trust oneself to time, and wait for opportunity, there are, on the contrary, other things which in youth must be enjoyed at once, fresh, like ripe fruits. Let me be permitted, with this sudden turn, to mention dancing, of which the ear is reminded, as the eye is of the minster, every day and every hour in Strasburg and all Alsace. From early youth my father himself had given my sister and me instruction in dancing, a task which must have comported strangely enough with so stern a man ; but he did not suffer his composure to be put out by it ; he drilled us in the positions and steps in a manner the most precise, and when he had brought us far enough to dance a minuet, he played for us something easily intelligible in three-four time, on a flute-douce, and we moved to it as well as we could. On the French theatre, likewise, I had seen from my youth upwards, if not ballets, yet pas seuls and pas de deux, and had noticed in them various strange motions of the feet, and all sorts of springs. When now we had enough of the minuet, I begged my father for other dancing music, of which our music-books, in their jigs and murkies,* offered us a rich supply ; and I immediately found out, of myself, the steps and other motions for them, the time being quite suitable to my limbs, and, as it were, born with them. This pleased my father to a certain degree ; indeed, he often, by way of joke for himself and us, let the " monkies " dance in this way. After my misfortune with Gretchen, and during the whole of my residence in Leipzig, I did not make my appearance again on the floor ; on the contrary, I still remem- ber that when, at a ball, they forced me into a minuet, both measure and motion seemed to have abandoned my limbs, and * A " murki " is defined as an old species of short composition for th&. harpsichord, with a lively murmuring accompaniment in the bass. — Trana. THE DANCING -MASTERS DAITGHTEES. 333 I could no more remember either the steps or the figures, S3 that I should have been put to disgrace and shame if the greater part of the spectators had not maintained that my awkward behaviour was pure obstinacy, assumed with the view of depriving the ladies of all desire to invite me and draw me into their circle against my will. During my residence in Frankfort, I was quite cut off from such pleasures ; but in Strasburg, with other enjoyments of life, there soon arose in my limbs the faculty of keeping time. On Sundays and week-days, one sauntered by no pleasure- ground without finding there a joyous crowd assembled for the dance, and for the most part revolving in the circle. Moreover, there were private balls in the country-houses, and people were already talking of the brilliant masquerades of the coining winter. Here, indeed, I should have been out of my place, and useless to the company ; when a friend, who waltzed very well, advised me to practise myself first in par- ties of a lower rank, so that afterwards I might be worth something in the highest. He took me to a dancing-master, who was well known for his skill; this man promised me that, when I had in some degree repeated the first elements, and made myself master of them, he would then lead me further. He was one of the dry, ready French characters, and received me in a friendly manner. I paid him a month in advance, and received twelve tickets, for which he agreed to give me certain hours' instruction. The man was strict and precise, but not pedantic ; and as I already had some previous practice, I soon gave him satisfaction and received his commendation. One circumstance, however, greatly facilitated the instruc- tion of this teacher ; he had two daughters, both pretty, and both yet under twenty. Having been instructed in this art from their youth upwards, they showed themselves very skil- ful, and might have been able, as partners, soon to help iven the most clumsy scholars into some cultivation. They were both very polite, spoke nothing but French, and I, on my part, did my best, that I might not appear awkward or ridiculous before them. I had the good fortune that they like- wise praised me, and were always willing to dance a minuet to their fathers little violin, and, what indeed was more dim' cult for them, to initiate me, by degrees, into waltzing and 33G TRUTH AND POETRY ; I'ROM MY OWN LIFE. whirling. Their father did not seem to have many customers, and they led a lonely life. For this reason they often asked me to remain with them after my hour, and to chat away the time a little ; which I the more willingly did, as the younger one pleased me well, and generally they both altogether be- haved very becomingly. I often read aloud something from a novel, and they did the same. The elder, who was as hand- some, perhaps even handsomer, than the second, but who did not correspond with my taste so well as the latter, always conducted herself towards me more obligingly, and more kindly in every respect. She was always at hand during the hour,' and often protracted it; hence I sometimes thought myself bound to offer back a couple of tickets to her father, which, however, he did not accept. The younger one, on the contrary, although she did nothing unfriendly towards me, was yet rather reserved, and waited till she was called by ■her lather before she relieved the elder. The cause of this became manifest to me one evening. For when, after the dance was done, I was about to go into the sitting-room with the elder, she held me back and said, " Let us remain here a little longer ; for I will confess to you that my sister has with her a woman who tells fortunes from cards, and who is to reveal to her how matters stand with an absent lover, on whom her whole heart hangs, and upon whom she has placed all her hope. Mine is free," she continued, " and I must accustom myself to see it despised." I thereupon said sundry pretty things to her, replying that she could at once convince herself on that point by consulting the wise woman likewise ; that I would do so myself, for I had long wished to learn something of the kind, but lacked faith. She blamed me for this, and assured me that nothing in the world was surer than the responses of this oracle, only it must be con- sulted, not out of sport and mischief, but solely in real affairs. However, I at last compelled her to go with me into that room, as soon as she had ascertained that the consultation was over. We found her sister in. a very cheerful humour, and even towards me she was kinder than usual, sportive, and almost witty ; for since she seemed to be secure of an absent friend, she may have thought it no treachery to be a little gracious with a present friend of her sister's, which she thought me to be. The old woman was now flattered, ami THE rOKTUWE-TELLEa. 33" good payment was promised her, if she -would tell the truth to the elder sister and to me. With the usual preparations and ceremonies she began her business, in order to tell the fair one's fortune first. She carefully considered the situation of the cards, but seemed to hesitate, and would not speak out what she had to say. " I see now," said the younger, who was already better acquainted with the interpretation of such a magic tablet, " you hesitate, and do not wish to disclose anything disagreeable to my sister ; but that is a cursed card ! ' ' The elder one turned pale, but composed herself, and said, "Only speak out; it will not cost one's head!" The old woman, after a deep sigh, showed her that she was in love, that she was not beloved, that another person stood in the way, and other things of like import. We saw the good girl's embarrassment. The old woman thought somewhat to improve the affair by giving hopes of letters and money. " Letters," said the lovely child, " I do not expect, and money I do not desire. If it is true, as you say, that I love, I de- serve a heart that loves me in return." " Let us see if it will not be better," replied the old woman, as she shuffled the cards and laid them out a second time ; Jaut before the eyes of all of us, it had only become still worse. The fair one stood not only more lonely, but surrounded with many sorrows ; her lover had moved somewhat farther, and the intervening figures nearer. The old woman wished to try it the third time, in hopes of a better prospect ; but the beautiful girl could restrain herself no longer, she broke out into uncontrollable weeping, her lovely bosom heaved violently, she turned round, and rushed out of the room. I knew not what I should do. In- clination kept me with the one present ; compassion drove me to the other ; my situation was painful enough. " Comfort Lucinda," said the younger; "go after her." I hesitated; how could I comfort her without at least assuring her of some sort of affection, and could I do that at such a moment in a cool, moderate manner? "Let us go together," said I to Emilia. " I know not whether my presence will do her good," replied she. Yet we went, but found the door bolted. Lu- cinda made no answer ; we might knock, shout, entreat, as we would. "We must let her have her own way," said Emilia ; " she will not have it otherwise now ! " And, in- deed, when I called to my mind her manner from our very z 338 X-RTJTH AND POEIKY ; EKOM MY OWN XIFE. first acquaintance, she always had something violent and un- equal about her, and chiefly showed her affection for me by not behaving to ^e with rudeness. What should I do? I paid the old woman richly for the mischief she had caused, and was about to go, when Emilia said, " I stipulate that the cards shall now be cut for you too." The old woman was ready. " Do not let me be present," cried I, and hastened down stairs. The next day I had not courage to go there. The third day, early in the morning, Emilia sent me word by a boy who had already brought me many a message from the sisters, and had carried back flowers and fruits to them in return, that I should not fail that day. I came at the usual hour, and found the father alone, who, in many respects, improved my paces and steps, my goings and comings, my bearing and behaviour, and, moreover, seemed to be satisfied with me. The younger daughter came in towards the end of the hour, and danced with me a very graceful minuet, in which her movements were extraordinarily pleasing, and her father de- clared that he had rarely seen a prettier and more nimble pair upon his floor. After the lesson, I went as usual into the sitting-room ; the father left us alone ; I missed Lucinda. " She is in bed," said Emilia, " and I am glad of it ; do not be concerned about it. Her mental illness is first alleviated when she fancies herself bodily sick ; she does not like to die, and therefore she then does what we wish. We have certain family medicines which she takes, and reposes ; and thus, by degrees, the swelling waves subside. She is, indeed, too good and amiable in such an imaginary sickness, and as she is in reality vey well, and is only attacked by passion, she ima- gines various kinds of romantic deaths, with which she frightens herself in a pleasant manner, like children when we tell them ghost-stories. Thus, yesterday evening, she an- nounced to me with great vehemence, that this time she should certainly die, and that only when she was really near death, they should bring again before her the ungrateful false friend, who had at first acted so handsomely to her, and now treated her so ill ; she would reproach him bitterly, and then give up the ghost." " I know not that I ani guilty," exclaimed I, " of having expressed any sort of affection for her. I know some- body who can best bear me witness in this respect." Emilia SCENE WITH THE TWO SISTERS 339 milled and rejoined, " I understand you ; and if we are not, discreet and determined, we shall all find ourselves in a bad plight together. What will you say if I entreat you not to continue your lessons? You have, I believe, four tickets yet of the last month, and my father has already declared that he finds it inexcusable to take your money any longer, unless you wish to devote yourself to the art of dancing in a more serious manner ; what is required by a young man of the world you possess already." " And do you, Emilia, give me this advice, to avoid your house?" replied I. "Yes, I do," said she, " but not of myself. Only listen. When you hastened away, the day before yesterday, I had the cards cut for you, and the same response was repeated thrice, and each time more emphatically. You were surrounded by everything good and pleasing, by friends and great lords, and there was no lack of money. The ladies kept themselves at some dis- tance. My poor sister in particular stood always the farthest off; one other advanced constantly nearer to you, but never came up to your side, for a third person, of the male sex, always came between. I will confess to you that I thought that I myself was meant by the second ladjs, and after this confes- sion you will best comprehend my well-meant counsel. To an absent friend I have promised my heart and my hand, and, until now, I loved him above all ; yet it might be possible for your presence to become more important to me than hitherto, and what kind of a situation would you have between two sisters, one of whom you had made unhappy by your affec- tion, and the other by your coldness, and all this ado about nothing and only for a short time ? For if we had not known already who you are and what are your expectations, th& cards would have placed it before my eyes in the clearest manner. Fare you well!" said she, and gave me her haiid. I hesitated. " Now," said she, leading me towards the door, " that it may really be the last time that we shall speak to each other, take what I would otherwise have denied, you." She fell upon my neck, and kissed me most tenderly. I embraced her, and pressed her to my bosom. At this moment the side-door flew open, and her sister, in a light but becoming night-dress, sprang out and cried, " You shall not be the only one to take leave of him!" Emilia let me go, and Lucinda seized me, clasped herself fast to my z2 340. TKXTTH AND POETRY ; JFB.OM MY OWN LIFE. heart, pressed her black locks- upon my' cheeks, and remained in this position fqr some time. And thus I found myself in the dilemma between two sisters which Emilia had prophe- sied to me a moment before. Lucinda let me loose, and looked earnestly into my face. I would have taken her hand and said something friendly to her, but she turned herself away, walked with violent steps up and down the room for some time, and then threw herself into a corner of the sofa. Emilia went to her, but was immediately repulsed, and here began a scene which is yet painful to me in the recollection, and which, although really it had nothing theatrical about it, but was quite suitable to a lively young Frenchwoman, could only be properly repeated in the theatre by a good and feeling actress. Lucinda overwhelmed her sister with a thousand reproaches. " This is not the first heart," she cried, " that was inclining itself to me, and that you have turned away. Was it not just so with him who is absent, and who at last betrothed himself to you under my very eyes ? I was compelled to look on ; I en- dured it ; but I know how many thousand tears it has cost me. This one, too, you have now taken away from me, without letting the other go ; and how many do you not manage to keep at once ? I am frank and good-natured, and every one thinks he knows me soon, and may neglect me. You are secret and quiet, and people think wonders of what may be concealed behind, you. Yet there is nothing behind but a cold, selfish heart that can sacrifice everything to itself; this nobody learns so easily, because it lies deeply hidden in your breast ; and just as little do they know of my warm, true heart, which I carry about with me as open as my face." Emilia was silent, and had sat down by her sister, who became constantly more and more excited in her discourse, and let cer- tain private matters slip out, which it was not exactly proper for me to know. Emilia, on the other hand, who was trying to pacify her sister, made me a sign from behind that I should withdraw ; but as jealousy and suspicion see with a thousand eyes, Lucinda seemed to have noticed this also. She sprang ap and advanced to me, but not with vehemence. She stood before me, and seemed to be thinking of something. Then sho 6aid, " I know that I have lost you ; I make no further pre- tensions to you. But neitner shall you have him, sister I" liTTCINDA'S CUKSE. 341 With these words she grasped me very singularly by the 'head, thrusting both her hands into ray locks, pressing my face to hers, and kissed me repeatedly on the mouth. " Now," eried she, " fear my curse ! Woe upon -woe, for ever and ever, to her who kisses these lips for the first time after me ! Dare to have anything more to do with him ! I know heaven hears me this time. And you, Sir, hasten now, hasten away as fast as you can!" I flew down the stairs, with the firm determination aerar to cuter the house again. TENTH BOOK. The German poets, since they, as members of a corporation:, no longer stood as one man, did not enjoy the smallest advan- tages in the citizen-world. They had neither support, stand- ing, nor respectability, except in so far as their other position was favourable to them, and therefore it was a matter of mere chance whether talent was bom to honour or to disgrace. A poor son of earth, with a consciousness of mind and faculties, was forced to crawl along painfully through life, and, from the pressure of momentary necessities, to squander the gifts which perchance he had received from the Muses. Occasional poems, the first and most genuine of all kinds of poetry, had become despicable to such a degree, that the nation even now cannot attain a conception of their high value ; and a poet, if he did not strike altogether into Giinther's path, appeared in the world in the most melancholy state of subserviency, as a jester and* Earasite, so that both on the theatre and on the stage of life e represented a character which any one and every one could abuse at pleasure. If, on the contrary, the Muse associated herself with men of respectability, these received thereby a lustre which wa» reflected back to the donor. Noblemen well versed in life, like Hagedorn, dignified citizens, like Brookes, distinguished men of science, like Haller, appeared among the first in the nation, to be equal with the most eminent and the most prized. Those persons, too, were specially honoured, who, together with this pleasing talent, distinguished themselves as active, faithful men of business. In this way Uz, Rabener, and Weisse enjoyed a respect of quite a peculiar kind ; people had here to value, when combined, those most heterogeneous- qualities which are seldom found united. But now the time was to come when poetic genius should become aware of itself, should create for itself its own relations, and understand how to lay the foundation of an independent dignity. Everything necessary to found such an epoch wae KLOPSTOCK. 843 combined in Rlopstoce.. Considered both from, the sensual and moral side, he was a pure young man. Seriously and thoroughly educated, he places, from his youth upwards, a great value upon himself and upon whatever he does, and. while considerately measuring out beforehand the steps of his life, turns, with a presentiment of the whole strength of his interna* nature, towards the loftiest and most grateful theme. The Messiah, a name which betokens infinite attributes, was to be glorified afresh by him. The Redeemer was to be the here whom the poet thought to accompany through earthly lowli- ness and sorrows to the highest heavenly triumphs. Every- thing Godlike, angelic, and human that lay in the young soul was here called into requisition. Brought ud by the Bible and nourished by its strength, he now fives with patriarchs, prophets, and forerunners, as if they were present; yet all these are only evoked from ages to draw a bright halo round the One whose humiliation they behold with astonishment, and in whose exaltation they are gloriously to bear a part. For at last, after gloomy and horrible hours, the everlasting Judge will uneloud his face, again acknowledge his Son and fellow-God, who, on the other hand, will again lead to Him alienated men, nay, even a fallen spirit. The living heavens shout with a thousand angel voices round the throne, and a radiance of love gushes out over the universe, which shortly before had fastened its looks upon a fearful place of sacrifice. The heavenly peace which Klopstock felt in the conception and execution of this poem, communicates itself even now to every one who reads the first ten cantos, without allowing certain requisitions to be brought forward, which an advancing cultivation does not willingly abandon. The dignity of the subject elevated in the poet the feeling of his own personality. That he himself would enter here- after into those choirs, that the God-Man would distinguish him, nay, give him face to face the reward for his labours, which even here every feeling, pious heart had fondly paid in many a pure tear — these were such innocent, childlike thoughts and hopes, as only a well-constituted mind can conceive and cherish. Thus Klopstock gained the perfect right to regard himself as a consecrated person, and thus in his actions he studied the most scrupulous purity. Even in his old age it troubled V"'m exceedingly that he had given his earliest loyo 344 TRUTH AND POETRY J PBOM MY OWN LITE. to a lady who, by marrying another, left him in uncertainty whether she had really loved him or been worthy of him. The sentiments which bound him to Meta, their hearty, tranquil affection, their short sacred married life, the aversion of the surviving husband from a second union, all is of that kind which may well be remembered hereafter in the circle of the blessed. This honourable conduct towards himself was still further enhanced by his being favourably received for a long time in well-minded Denmark, in the house of a great, and, humanly speaking, excellent statesman. Here, in a higher circle, which was exclusive indeed, but, at the same time, devoted to external manners and attention towards the world, his tendency became still more decided. A composed demeanour, a measured speech, and a laconism even when he spoke openly and decidedly, gave him, through his whole life, a certain diplo- matic ministerial consequence, which seemed to be at variance with his tender natural feelings, although both sprang from one source. Of all this, his first works give a clear transcript and type, and they thus could not but gain an incredible influ- ence. That, however, he personally assisted others who were struggling in life and poetry, has scarcely been mentioned, as one of his most decided characteristics. But just such a furtherance of young people in literary action and pursuit, a hopeful pleasure in bringing forward men not favoured by fortune, and making the way easy to them, has rendered illustrious one German, who, in respect to the dignity which he gave himself, may be named as the second, but, in regard to hi3 living influence, as the first. It will escape no one that Gleim is here meant. In possession of an obscure, indeed, but lucrative office, residing in a pleasantly situated spot, not too large, and enlivened by military, civic, and literary activity, whence proceeded the revenues of a great and wealthy institution, not without a part of them remaining behind for the advantage of the place, he felt within himself also a lively productive impulse, which, however, with all its strength, was not quite enough for him, and therefore he gave himself up to another, perhaps stronger impulse, namely, that of making others produce something. Both these activities were intertwined incessantly during his whole long life. He could as easily have lived without taking breath, as without writing poetiy and making .presents, and by helping needy KLOPSTOCK AND GLEIM. 345 -talents of all kinds through earlier or later embarrassments, ■contributing to the honour of literature, he gained so many 'friends, debtors, and dependents, that they willingly allowed his diffuse verses to pass, since they could give nun nothing in return for his rich benefits but endurance of his poetry. Now, the high idea which these two men might well form of their own worth, and by which others were induced also to think themselves somebody, has produced very great and beautiful results, both in public and private. But this con- sciousness, honourable as it is, called a peculiar evil down for themselves, for those around them, and for their time. If, judging from their intellectual effects, both these men may without hesitation be called great, with respect to the world they remained but small, and considered in comparison with a more stirring life, their external position was nought. The -day is long, and so is the night ; one cannot be always writ- ing poetry, or doing, or giving ; their time could not be filled up like that of people of the world, and men of rank and wealth; they therefore set too high a value on their par- ticular limited situations, attached an importance to their daily affairs which they should only have allowed themselves amongst each other, and took more than reasonable delight in their own jokes, which, though they made the moment agree- able, could be of no consequence in the end. They received praise and honour from others, as they deserved ; they gave it back, with measure indeed, but always too profusely ; and because they felt that their friendship was worth much, they were pleased to express it repeatedly, and in this spared neither paper nor ink. Thus arose those correspondences, at the defi- ciency of which in solid contents the modern world wonders, nor can it be blamed, when it hardly sees the possibility of eminent men delighting themselves in such an interchange of nothing, or when it expresses the wish that such leaves might have remained unprinted. But we may suffer these few volumes ^always to stand along with so many others upon our book- shelves, if we have learned from them the fact that even the most eminent man lives only by the day, and enjoys but a sorry entertainment, when he throws himself too much back upon himself, and neglects to grasp into the fulness of the ^external world, where alone he can find nourishment for his growth, and at the same time a standard fci- its measurement. S46 TEUTH and poetkt; tkom my own LIFE. The activity of these men was in its finest bloom, when wc young folks began also to bestir ourselves in our own circle, and with my younger friends, if not with older persons too, I was. pretty much in the way of falling into this sort of mutual flattery, forbearance, raising and supporting. In my imme- diate sphere, whatever I produced could always be reckoned good. Ladies, friends, and patrons will not consider bad that which is undertaken and written out of affection for them. Prom' such obligations at last arises the expression of an empty satisfaction with each other", in the phrases of which a cha- racter is easily lost, if it is not from time to time steeled to higher excellence. And thus I had the happiness to say that, by means of an unexpected acquaintance, all the self-complacency, love of th& looking-glass, vanity, pride, and haughtiness that might have been resting or working within me, were exposed to a very severe trial, which was unique in its kind, by no means in accordance with the time, and therefore so much the more searching and more sorely felt. For the most important event, one that was to have the weightiest consequences for me, was my acquaintarce with Hbkdek, and the nearer connexion with him which sprung from it. He accompanied the travels of the Prince of Hol- stein-Eutin, who was in a melancholy state of mind, and had come with him to Strasburg. Our society, as soon as it knew of his arrival, was seized with a great longing to approach him, and this good fortune happened to me first, quite unex- pectedly and by chance. I had gone to the Ghost tavern to inquire after some distinguished stranger or other. Just at the bottom of the staircase I found a man who was on the point of ascending, and whom I might have taken for a clergyman. ■ His powdered hair was put up in a queue, his black clothes- likewise distinguished him, but still more a long black silk mantle, the skirts of which he had gathered up and stuck into his pocket. This somewhat striking, but yet, on the whole, polite and pleasing figure, of which I had already been told, left me not the least doubt that he was the celebrated new- comer, and my address was to convince Viim at once that I knew him. He asked my name, which could be of no conse- quence to him ; but my frankness seemed to please him, since lie returned it with great friendliness, and as we mounted the JIERDEB. 34'/. stairs, showed himself ready immediately for animated com- munication. I have forgotten whom we visited then ; it is sufficient to say, that at parting I begged permission to wait on him at his own residence, which he granted me kindly enough. I did not neglect to avail myself repeatedly of this- favour, and was more and more attracted by him. He had somewhat of softness in his manner, which was very suitable and becoming, without being exactly easy. A round face, an imposing forehead, a somewhat puggish nose, a mouth some- what prominent, but highly characteristic, pleasing, and ami- able ; a pair of coal-black eyes under black eye-brows, which did not fail of their effect, although one of them used to be red' and inflamed. By various questions he tried to make himself acquainted with me and my situation, and his power of attrac- tion operated on me with growing strength. I was, generally speaking, of a very confiding disposition, and with him espe- cially I had no secrets. It was not long, however, before the repelling pulse of his nature began to appear, and placed me- in no small uneasiness. I related to him many things of my youthful occupations and taste, and among others, of a collec- tion of seals, which I had principally gotten together through the assistance of our family friend, who had an extensive cor- respondence. I had arranged them according to the State Calendar, and by ibis means had become well acquainted with the whole of the potentates, the greater and lesser mightinesses and powers, even down to the nobility under them. These heraldic insignia had often, and in particular at the ceremonies of the coronation, been of use to my memory. I spoke of these things with some complacency ; but he was of another opinion, and not only stripped the subject of all interest, but also con- trived to make it ridiculous and nearly disgusting. Prom this his spirit of contradiction I had much to endure ; for he had resolved, partly because he wished to separate from the prince, partly on account of a complaint in his eye, to re- main in Strasburg. This complaint is one of the most incon- venient and unpleasant, and the more troublesome since it can be cured only by a painful, highly irritating and uncertain operation. The tear-bag is closed below, so that the moisture contained in it cannot flow off to the nose, and so much the less as the adjacent bone is deficient in the aperture by which this secretion should naturally take place. The bottom of the 348 TKT/TH and poetky; skom my own life. tear-bag must therefore be cut open, and the bone bored through, when a horse-hair is drawn through the lachrymal point, then down through the opened bag, and the new canal thus put into connexion with it, and this hair is moved back- wards and forwards every day, in order to restore the commu- nication between the two parts ; — all which cannot be done or attained, if an incision is not first made externally in that place. Herder was now separated from the prince, was moved into lodgings of his own, and resolved to have himself operated upon by Lobstein. Here those exercises by which I had sought to blunt my sensibility did me good service ; I was able to be present at the operation, and to be serviceable and helpful in many ways to so worthy a man. I found here every reason to admire his great firmness and endurance : for neither during the numerous surgical operations, nor at the oft-repeated painful dressings, did he show himself in any degree irritable, and of all of us he seemed to be the one who suffered least. But in the intervals, indeed, we had to endure the changes of bis temper in many ways. I say we, for besides myself, a pleasant Russian, named Peglow, was mostly with him. This man had been an early acquaintance of Herder's in Riga, and though no longer a youth, was trying to perfect himself in surgery under Lobstein's guidance. Herder could be charm- ingly prepossessing and brilliant, but he could just as easily turn an ill-humoured side foremost. All men, indeed, have this attraction and repulsion, according to their nature, some more, some less, some in longer, some in shorter pulsations ; few can really control their peculiarities in this respect, many in appearance. As for Herder, the preponderance of his con- tradictory, bitter, biting humour was certainly derived from his disease and the sufferings arising from it. This case often •occurs in life ; one does not sufficiently take into consideration the moral effect of sickly conditions, and one therefore judges many characters very unjustly, because it is assumed that all men are healthy, and required of them that they shall conduct themselves accordingly. During the whole time of this cure I visited Herder morn- ing and evening ; I even remained whole days with him, and in a short time accustomed myself so much the more to his chiding and fault-finding, as I daily learned to appreciate his HEHDEK. 343 beautiful and great qualities, his extensive knowledge, and his profound views. The influence of this good-natured blusterer was great and important. He was five years older than myself, which in younger days makes a great difference to begin with ; and as I acknowledged him for what he was, and tried to value that which he had already produced, he neces- sarily gained a great superiority over me. But the situa- tion was not comfortable; for older persons, with whom I had associated hitherto, had sought to form me with indul- gence, perhaps had even spoiled me by their lenity ; but from Herder, behave as one might, one could never expect ap- proval. As now, on the one side, my great affection and reverence for him, and on the other, the discontent which he excited in me, were continually at strife with each other, there arose within me an inward struggle, the first of its kind which I had experienced in my life. Since his conversations were at all times important, whether he asked, answered, or communicated his opinions in any other manner, he could not but advance me daily, nay hourly, to new views. At Leipzig, I had accustomed myself to a narrow and circumscribed exist- ence, and my general knowledge of German literature could not be extended by my situation in Frankfort ; nay, those mystico-religio- chemical occupations had led me into obscure regions, and what had been passing for some years back. in the wide literary world, had for the most part remained un- known to me. Now I was at once made acquainted by Her- der with all the new aspiration, and all the tendencies which it seemed to be taking. He had already made himself suffi- ciently known, and by his Fragments, his Kritische Walder {Critical Woods), and other works, had immediately -placed himself by the side of the most eminent men who had for a long time drawn towards them the eyes of their country. What an agitation there must have been in such a mind— what a fermentation there must have been in such a nature- can neither be conceived nor described. But great was cer- tainly the concealed effort, as will be easily admitted, when one- reflects for how many years afterwards and how much he has done and produced. We had. not lived together long in this manner when he uonfided to me that he meant to be a competitor for the priza S60 TKTTTH AND FOETKY ; FKOM MY OWN IIM. which was offered, at Berlin, ,for the best treatise en the origin of language. His work was already nearly aom- pleted, and, as he wrote a very neat hand, he could soon com- municate to me, in parts, a legible manuscript. I had never reflected on such subjects, for I was yet too deeply involved in the midst of things to have thought about their beginning and end. . The question, too, seemed to me in some measure an idle one ; for if God had created man as man, language was just as innate in him as walking erect ; he must have just as well perceived that he could sing with his throat, and modify the tones in various ways with tongue, palate, and lips, as he must have remarked that he could walk and take hold of things. If man was of divine origin, so was also lan- guage itself; and if man, considered in the circle of nature, was a natural being, language was likewise natural. These two things, like soul and body, I could never separate. Siissmilch, with a realism crude yet somewhat fantastically devised, had declared himself for the divine origin, that is, that God had played the schoolmaster to the first men. Her- der's treatise went to show that man as man could and must have attained to language by his own powers. I read the treatise with much pleasure, and it was of special aid in strengthening my mind ; only I did not stand high enough either in knowledge or thought to form a solid judgment upon it. I therefore gave the author my applause, adding only a few remarks which flowed from my way of viewing the sub- ject. But one was received just like the other ; there was scolding and blaming, whether one agreed with him condi- tionally or unconditionally. The fat surgeon had less patience than I ; he humorously declined the communication of this prize'essay, and affirmed that he was not prepared to medi- tate on such abstract topics. He urged us in preference to a game of ombre, which we commonly played together in the evening. During so troublesome and painful a cure, Herder lost nothing of his vivacity ; but it became less and less amiable. He could not write a note to ask for anything, that would not be spiced with some scoff or other Once, for instance, ho wrote to me thus :— herder's sarcasms. Sol 14 If, those letters of Brutus thou hast in thy Cicero's letters, Thou, whom consolers of schools, deck'd out in magnificent bindings, Soothe from their well plan'd shelves— yet more by the outside than inside, Thou, who from gods art descended, or Goths, or from origin filthy,* Gothe, send them to me." It was not polite, indeed, that he should allow himself this jest on my name ; for a man's name is not like a mantle, which merely hangs about him, and which, perchance, may be safely twitched and pulled ; but is a perfectly fitting gar- ment, which has grown over and over him like his very skin, at which one cannot scratch and scrape without wounding the man himself. The first reproach, on the contrary, was better founded. I had brought with me to Strasburg the authors I had ob- tained, by exchange, from Langer, with various fine editions from my father's collection besides, and had set them up on a neat book-case, with the best intentions of using them. But how should my time, which I split up into an hundred different activities, suffice for that ? Herder, who was most attentive to books, since he had need of them every moment, perceived my fine collection at his first visit, but soon saw, too, that I made no use of them. He, therefore, as the greatest enemy to all false appearances and ostentation, was accustomed, on occasion, to rally me upon the subject. Another sarcastic poem occurs to me, which he sent me one evening, when I had been telling him a great deal about the Dresden gallery. I had, indeed, not penetrated into the higher meaning of the Italian school ; but Dominico Feti, an excellent artist, although a humorist, and therefore not of the first rank, had interested me much. Scripture subjects had to be painted. He confined himself to the New Testa- ment parables, and was fond of representing them with much originality, taste, and good-humour. He brought them alto- gether into every-day life, and the spirited and naive details of his compositions, recommended by a free pencil, had made a vivid impression upon me. At this, my childish enthusiasm for art, Herder sneered in the following fashion : — * The German word is " Koth," and the whole object of the line is to Introduce a play on the words " Gothe," " GHtter," " Gothen," and *• Koth."— Trans. 352 TBITTH AND POETRY; FROM MX OWN ttFl " From sympathy, The master I like best of all Dominico Feti they call. A parable from Scripture he is able Neatly to turn into a crazy fable From sympathy : — thou crazy parable ! " I could mention many jokes of the kind, more or less clear w abstruse, cheerful or bitter. They did not vex me, but made me feel uncomfortable. Yet since I knew how to value highly everything that contributed to my own cultivation, and as I had often given up former opinions and inclinations, I soon accommodated myself, and only sought, as far as it was possible for me from my point of view, to distinguish just blame from unjust invectives. And thus no day passed over that had not been, in the most fruitful manner, instructive to me. I was made acquainted by him with poetry from quite a different side, in another light than heretofore, and one, too, which suited me well. The poetic art of the Hebrews, which he treated ingeniously after his predecessor Lowth — popular poetry, the traditions of which in Alsace he urged us to search after ; and the oldest records existing as poetry — all bore witness that poetry in general was a gift to the world and to nations, and not the private inheritance of a few re- fined, cultivated men. I swallowed all this, and the more eager I was in receiving, the more liberal was he in giving, so that we spent the most interesting hours together. The other natural studies which I had begun, I endeavoured to continue, and as one always has time enough, if one will apply it well, so amongst them all I succeeded in doing twice or thrice as much as usual. As to the fulness of those few weeks during which we lived together, I can well say that all which Herder has gradually produced since, was then, announced in the germ, and that I thereby fell into the fortunate condition that I could completely attach to something higher, and expand all that I had hitherto thought, learned, and made my own. Had Herder been methodical, I should have found the most precious guide for giving a durable tendency to my cultiva- tion ; but he was more inclined to examine and stimulate, than to lead and conduct. Thus he at first made me acquainted •with Hamann's writings, unon which he set a very great value. HEKDER S JffiPABTITEE. 353 But instead of instructing me as to these, and making the bias and drift of his extraordinary mind intelligible to me, it generally only served him for amusement when I behaved strangely enough, in trying to get at the meaning of such sibyl- line leaves. However, I could well feel that something in Hamann's writings appealed to me ; and to this I gave myself up, without knowing whence it came or whither it was leading me. After the cure had lasted longer than was reasonable, Lob- stein had begun to hesitate, and to repeat himself in his treat- ment, so that the affair would not come to an end; and Peglow, too, had confided to me in private that a favourable issue was hardly to be expected ; the whole position became gloomy; Herder became impatient and out of temper, he could not succeed in continuing his activity as heretofore, and was obliged to restrain himself the more, as they began to lay the blame of the surgical failure upon his too great mental exertion, and his uninterrupted, animated, nay, merry intercourse with us. It is sufficient to say, that after so much trouble and suffering, the artificial tear-channel would not form itself, and the communication intended would not take place. It was necessary to let the wWind heal over in order that the disease should not become worse. If, now, during the operation, one could but admire Herder's firmness under such pains, his melancholy and even fierce resignation to the idea that he must bear such a blot about him all his life, had about it something truly sublime, by which he gained for ■ever the reverence of those who saw and loved him. This •disease, which disfigured so expressive a countenance, must have been so much the more afflicting to him, as he had become acquainted with an excellent lady in Darmstadt, and had gained her affections. It may have been for this cause prin- cipally that he submitted to the cure, in order, on his return, to appear more free, more cheerful, and more handsome, in the «yes of his half-betrothed, and to unite himself more certainly and indissolubly with her. However, he hastened away from Strasburg as soon as possible, and since his stay had hitherto been as expensive as it was unpleasant, I borrowed a sum of money for him, which he promised to refund by an appointed day. The time passed without the arrival of the money. My creditor, indeed, did not dun me ; but I was for several weeks 2a 354 TEITTH AND POETBY ; FKOM HT OWN LIFE. in embarrassment. At last the letter and the money came-, and even here he did not act unlike himself; for, instead or thanks or an apology, his letter contained nothing but satirical- things in doggerel verse, which would have puzzled, if not alienated, another ; but it did not move me at all, for I had conceived so great and powerful an idea of his worth that it absorbed everything of an opposite nature which could have injured it. One should never speak, publicly at least, of one's own faults, or those of others, if one does not hope to effect some useful purpose by it ; on this account I will here insert cer- tain remarks which force themselves upon me. Gratitude and ingratitude belong to those events which appear every moment in the moral world, and about which men can never agree among themselves. I usually distinguish' between non-thankfulness, ingratitude, and aversion from- gratitude. The first is innate with men, nay, created with them ; for it arises from a happy volatile forgetfulness of the repulsive as well as of the delightful, by which alone the con- tinuation of life is possible. Man needs such an infinite quantity of previous and concurrent assistances for a tolerable existence, that if he would always pay' to the sun and the earth, to God and nature, to ancestors and parents, to friends and companions, the thanks due to them, he would have neither time nor feeling left to receive and enjoy new benefits- But if the natural man suffers this volatility to get the control in and over him, a cold indifference gains more and more the ascendancy, and one at last regards one's benefactor as a stranger, to whose injury, perhaps, anything may be under- taken, provided it be advantageous to ourselves. This alone ~?an properly be called ingratitude, which results from the rudeness into which the uncultivated nature must necessarily lose itself at last. Aversion from gratitude, however, the rewarding of a benefit by ill-natured and sullen conduct, is very rare, and occurs only in eminent men, such as, with great natural gifts, and a presentiment of them, being born in a lower rank of society or in a helpless condition, must, from their youth upwards, force themselves along, step by step, and receive, at every point, aids and supports, which are often embittered and repulsive to them through the coarseness of their benefactors, since that which they receive is earthly, AKXIFICIAti GBAIITUDE. 355 while that which, On the other hand, they give, is of a higher kind, so that what is, strictly speaking, a compensation, is out of the question. Lessing, with the fine knowledge of earthly things which fell to his share in the best years of his life, has in one place bluntly, hut cheerfully expressed himself. Herder, on the contrary, constantly embittered his finest days, both for himself and others, because he knew not how to moderate, by strength of mind in later years, that ill-humour which had necessarily seized him in youth. One may well make this demand of oneself: for, to a man's capability of cultivation, comes, with friendly aid, the light of nature, which is always active in enlightening him about his condition ; and generally, in many moral points of culture, one should not construe the failings too severely, nor look about after the most serious and remote means of correcting them; for certain faults may be easily and even playfully removed. Thus, for instance, by mere habit, we can excite gratitude in ourselves, keep it alive, and even make it neces- sary to us. In a biographical attempt, it is proper to speak of oneself. I am, by nature, as little grateful as any man, and on forget- ting the benefit received, the violent feeling of a momentary disagreement could very easily beguile me into ingratitude. To obviate this, I accustomed myself, in the first place, with everything that I possessed, to call to mind with pleasure how I came by it, from whom I received it, whether it was by way of present, exchange, or purchase,' or in any other manner. I have accustomed myself, in showing my collec- tions, to mention the persons by whose means I obtained each article, nay, even to do justice to the occasion, to the accident, to the remotest cause and coincidence, by which things which are dear and of value to me have become mine. That which surrounds us thus receives a life ; we see in it a spiritual com- bination, full of love, reminding us of its origin ; and, by thus making past circumstances present to us, our momentary existence is elevated and enriched, the originators of the gifts rise repeatedly before the imagination, we connect with their image a pleasing remembrance, ingratitude becomes impos,-' sible, and a return, on occasion, becomes easy and desirable. At the same time, we are led to the consideration of that which is not a possession palpable to the senses, and we love 2a2 856 IKTTTH AND POETKY ; TllOM MY OWN LIFE. to recapitulate to whom our higher endowments are to bo ascribed, and whence they take their date. Before I turn my attention from that connexion with Her- der, which was so important and so rich in consequences for me, I find yet something more to adduce. Nothing was more natural than that I should by degrees become more and more reserved towards Herder, in communicating those things which had hitherto contributed to my culture, but especially such as still seriously occupied my attention at the moment. He had destroyed iny enjoyment of so much that I had loved before, and had especially blamed me in the strongest manner for the pleasure I took in Ovid's Metamorphoses. I might defend my favourite as I would, I might say that, for a youth- ful fancy, nothing could be more delightful than to linger in those cheerful and glorious regions with gods and demi-gods, and to be a witness of their deeds and passions ; I might cir- cumstantially quote that previously mentioned opinion of a sober-minded man, and corroborate it by my own experience ; all this, according to Herder, went for nothing ; there was no immediate truth, properly so called, to be found in these poems ; here was neither Greece nor Italy, neither a primi- tive world nor a cultivated one, everything was rather an imitation of what had already existed, and a mannerised re- presentation, such as could be expected only from an over- cultivated man. And if at last I would maintain, that what- ever an eminent individual produces is also nature, and that always, in all nations, ancient and modern, the poet alone has been the maker ; this was not allowed to pass, and I had to endure much on this account, nay, I was almost disgusted with my Ovid by it ; for there is no affection, no habit so strong, that it can hold out in the long run against the animadver- sions of eminent men in whom one places confidence. Some- thing always cleaves to us, and if one cannot love uncondi- tionally, love is already in a critical condition. I most carefully concealed from him my interest in certain subjects which had rooted themselves within me, and were, by' little and little, moulding themselves into poetic form. These were Giifa von Berlichingen and Faust. The biography of the former had seized my inmost heart. The figure of a rude, well-meaning self-helper, in a wild anarchical time. awakened my deepest sympathy. The significant puppet- hebdeh's influence on jtjng. 357 show M)le of the latter resounded and vibrated inany-toned within me. I had also wandered about in all sorts of science, and had early enough been led to see its vanity! I had, more- over, tried all sorts of ways in real life, and had always returned more unsatisfied and troubled. Now these things, as well as many others, I carried about with me, and delighted myself with them during my solitary hours, but without writing any- thing down. But most of all, I concealed from Herder my mystico-cabalistical chemistry, and everything relating to it, although, at the same time, I was still very fond of secretly busying myself in working it out more consistently than it had been communicated to me. Of my poetical labours, I believe I laid before him Die Mitsckuldigen, but I do not recollect that on this account I received either correction or encouragement on his part. Yet, with all this, he remained what he was ; whatever proceeded from him had an important, if not a chsermg effect, and even his handwriting exercised a magic power over me. I do not remember having ever torn up or thrown away one of his letters, or even a mere envelope from his hand ; yet, with my various changes of place and time, not one document of those staange, foreboding, and happy days is left. That Herder's power of attraction operated upon others as well as upon me, I should scarcely mention, had I not to re- mark that it extended itself particularly to Jttng, commonly called Stilling. The true, honest striving of this man could not but deeply interest everybody who had any feeling, and. his susceptibility must have charmed into candour every one who wau in a condition to impart anything. Even Herder behaved towards him with more forbearance than towards the rest of us : for his counter-action always seemed to stand in relation with the action exerted upon him. Jung's narrowness was accompanied by so much good-will, his urgency with so much softness and earnestness, that a man of intelligence could certainly not be severe against him, and a benevolent man could not scoff at him, or turn him into ridicule. Jung was also exhilarated to such a degree by Herder, that he felt him- self strengthened and advanced in all he did ; even his affec- tion for me seemed to lose ground in the same ratio ; yet we always remained good companions, made allowances for each other from first to last, and mutually rendered the most friendly services. 358 TKUIH AND POEIBT ; FROM MY 0¥K LIFE. Let us now, however, withdraw ourselves from the sick chamber of friendship, and from the general considerations which refer rather to disorder than to health of mind ; let us betake ourselves into the open air, to the lofty and broad gal- lery of the minster, as if the time were still present, when we young fellows often appointed an evening meeting to greet the departing sun with brimming goblets. Here all conversation was lost in the contemplation of the country : here sharpness of eye-sight was put to the proof, and every one strove to per- ceive, nay, plainly to distinguish, the most distant objects. Good telescopes were employed to assist us, and one friend after another exactly pointed out the spot which had become the most dear and precious to him ; and I also did not lack such a little spot, which, although it did not come out with importance in the landscape, nevertheless more than all the rest attracted me with an amiable magic. On these occasions the imagination was excited by relating our adventures, and several little jaunts were concerted, nay, often undertaken on the spur of the moment, of which I will circumstantially relate only one instead of a number, since in many respects it was of consequence to me. With two worthy friends and fellow-boarders, Engelbach and Weyland, both natives of Lower Alsace, I repaired on horse- back to Zabern, where, in the fine weather, the friendly little place smiled pleasantly upon us. The sight of the bishop's castle awakened our admiration; the extent, height, and splendour of a new set of stables bore witness to the other •comforts of the owner. The gorgeousness of the staircase surprised us, the chambers and saloons we trode with rever- ence, only the person of the cardinal, a little wreck of a man, whom we saw at table, made a contrast. The view of the garden is splendid, and a canal, three quarters of a league long, which leads straight up to the middle of the castle, gives a high idea of the taste and resources of the former possessors. We rambled up and down there, and enjoyed many parts of this beautifully situated whole, which lies on the outskirts of the magnificent plain of Alsace, at the foot of the Vosges. After we had enjoyed ourselves at this clerical outpost of a royal power, and had made ourselves comfortable in its region, we arrived early next morning at a public work, which most nobly opens the entrance into a mighty kingdom. IUumined ZABEKJf— BUCHSWEILER. 359 by tlie beams of the rising sun, the famous Zabern-stairs, a work of incredible labour, rose before us. A road, built ser- pentine-wise over the most fearful crags, and wide enough for three wagons abreast, leads up hill so gently, that the ascent is scarcely perceptible. The hardness and smoothness of the way, the flat-topped elevations on both sides for the foot-pas- sengers, the stone channels to lead off the mountain- water, all are executed as neatly as artistically and durably, so that they afford a satisfactory view. Thus one gradually arrives at Pfalzburg, a modern fortification. It lies upon a moderate hill ; the works are elegantly built on blackish rocks, and of the same kind of stone, and the joinings being pointed out with white mortar, show exactly the size of the square stones, and give a striking proof of neat workmanship. "We found the place itself, as is proper for a fortress, regular, built of stone, and the church in good taste. When we wandered through the streets — it was nine o'clock on Sunday morn- ing—we heard music ; they were already waltzing in the tavern to their hearts' content, and as the inhabitants did not suffer themselves to be disturbed in their pleasures by the great scarcity, nay, by the threatened famine, so also our youthful cheerfulness was not at all troubled when the bake* on the road refused us some bread, and directed us to the tavern, where perhaps we might procure provisions at the usual place. We now very willingly rode down the Zabern-stairs again to gaze at this architectural wonder a second time, and to en- joy once more the refreshing prospect over Alsace. We soon reached Buchsweiler, where friend Weyland had prepared for us a good reception. To a fresh youthful mind the condition of a small town is well suited ; family connexions are closer and more perceptible ; domestic life, which, with moderate activity, moves hither and thither between light official duties, town business, agriculture and gardening, invites us to a friendly participation; sociableness is necessary, and the stranger finds himself very pleasantly situated in the limited circles, if the disputes of the inhabitants, which in such places are more palpable, do not everywhere come in contact with him. This little town was the chief place of the county of JHanau-Lichtenberg, belonging to the Landgrave of Darm- Btadt, under French sovereignty. A regency and board of 360 THTTTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN IIFB. officers established here made the place an important centre- point of a very beautiful and desirable principality. Wo easily forgot the unequal streets and the irregular architecture of the place when we went out to look at the old castle and the gardens, which are excellently laid out on a hill. Nume- rous little pleasure-woods, a preserve for tame and wild phea- sants, and the relics of many similar arrangements, showed how pleasant this little residence must formerly have been. Yet all these views were surpassed by the prospect which met the eye, when, from the neighbouring Basohberg, one looked over the perfectly paradisiacal region. This height, wholly heaped together out of different kinds of shells, attracted my attention for the first time to such documents of antiquity; I had never before seen them together in so great a mass. Yet the curious eye soon turned itself exclusively to the land- scape. You stand on the last landward* mountain-point; towards tbe north lies a fruitful plain, interspersed with little forests, and bounded by a stem row of mountains that stretches itself westward towards Zaber, where the episcopal palace and the abbey of St. John, lying a league beyond it, may be plainly recognised. Thence the eye follows the more and more vanish- ing chain of the Vosges towards the south. If you turn to the- norih-east you see the castle of Lichtenberg upon a rock, and towards the south-east the eye has the boundless plain of Alsace to scrutinize, which, afar off, withdraws itself from the sight in the more and more misty landscape, until at last the Suabian mountains melt away like shadows into the horizon. Already in my limited wanderings through the world, I had remarked how important it is in travelling to inquire after the- course' of the waters, and even to ask with respect to the smallest brook, whither in reality it runs. One thus acquires a general survey of every stream-region, in which one happens to be, a conception of the heights and depths which bear rela- tion to each other, and by these leading lines, which assist the contemplation as well as the memory, extricates oneself in the surest manner from the geological and political labyrinth. With these observations, I took a solemn farewell of my be- loved Alsace, as the next morning we meant to turn our steps towards Lorraine. * That is, towards Germany ■ Germany is the Land by pre-emin«iice» — American Note. SAARBBtrCK. 361 The evening passed away in familiar conversation, in which we tried to cheer ourselves up under a joyless present,' by re- membrances of a better past. Here, as in the whole of this small country, the name of the last Count Reinhard von Hanau was blessed above all others; his great understanding and aptitude had appeared in all his actions, and many a beautiful memorial of his existence yet remained. Such men have the advantage of being double benefactors : once to the present, which they make happy, and then to the future, the feeling of which and courage they nourish and sustain. Now as we turned ourselves north-westward into the moun- tains, passed by Lutzelstein, an old mountain tower, in a very hilly country, and descended into the region of the Saar and the Moselle, the heavens began to lower, as if they would render yet more sensible to us the condition of the more rugged western country. The valley of the Saar, where we first found Bockenheim, a small place, and saw opposite to it Neusaarwer- den, which is well-built, with a pleasure-castle, is bordered on both sides by mountains which might be called melancholy, if at their foot an endless succession of meadows and fields, called the Huhnau, did not extend as far as ^aaralbe, and beyond it, further than the eye can reach. Great buildings, belonging to the former stables of the Duke of Lorraine, here attract the eye ; they are at present used as a dairy, for which purpose, indeed, they are very well situated. We passed through Saargemiind to Saarbriick, and this little residence was a bright point in a land so rocky and woody. The town, small and hilly, but well adorned by the last prince, makes at once a pleasing impres- sion, as the houses are all painted a greyish white, and the different elevation of them affords a variegated view. In the middle of a beautiful square, surrounded with handsome build- ings, stands the Lutheran church, on a small scale, but in pro- portion with the whole. The front of the castle lies on the same level with the town ; the back, on the contrary, on the declivity of a steep rock. This has not only been worked out terrace-fashion, to afford easy access to the valley, but an ob- long garden-plot has also been obtained below, by turning off the steam on one side, and cutting away the rock on the other, after which this whole space was lastly filled up with earth and planted. The time of this undertaking fell in the epoch when they used to consult the architects about laying out gardens, 362 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. just as at present they call in the aid of the landscape-painter's eye. The whole arrangement of the castle, the costly and tho agreeable, the rich and the ornamental, betokened a life-enjoy- ing owner, such as the deceased prince had been ; the present sovereign was not at home. President von Giinderode received us in the most obliging manner, and entertained us for thref days better than we had a right to expect. I made use of the various acquaintance which we formed to instruct myself in many respects. The life of the former prince, rich in pleasure, gave material enough for conversation, as well as the vari- ous expedients which he hit upon to make use of the advan- tages supplied by the nature of his land. Here I was now properly initiated into the interest for mountain countries, and the love for those economical and technical investigations which have busied me a great part of my life, was first awakened within me. We heard of the rich coal-pits at Dutweil, of the iron and alum works, and even of a burning mountain, and we pre- pared ourselves to see these wonders close. We now rode through woody mountains, which must seem wild and dreary to him who comes out of a magnificent fertile land, and which can attract us only by the internal contents of its bosom. We were made acquainted with one simple, and one complicated piece of machinery, within a short dis- tance of each other ; namely, a scythe-smithy and a wire- drawing factory. If one is pleased at the first because it supplies the place of common hands, one cannot sufficiently admire the other, for it works in a higher organic sense, from which understanding and consciousness are scarcely to be separated. In the alum-works we made accurate inquiries after the production and purifying of this so necessary mate- rial, and when we saw great heaps of a white greasy, loose, earthy matter, and asked the use of it, the labourers answered, smiling, that it was the scum thrown up in boiling the alum, and that Herr Stauf had it collected, as he hoped perchance to turn it to some profit. "Is Herr Stauf alive yet?" ex- claimed my companion in surprise. They answered in the affirmative, and assured us that according to the plan of our journey we should not pass far from his lonely dwelling. Our road now led up along the channels by which the alum- water is conducted down, and the principal horizontal works (stollen), which they call the " landgrube," and from which tho C0AI, AND ALUM-WOKKS. 363 famous Dutweil coals are procured. These, when they aro dry, have the blue colour of darkly tarnished steel, and the most beautiful succession of rainbow tints plays over the sur- face with every movement. The deep abysses of the coal-levels, however, attracted us so much the less as their contents lay richly poured out around us. We now reached the open mine, in which the roasted alum-scales are steeped in ley, and soon after, a strange occurrence surprised us, although we had been prepared. We entered into a chasm and found ourselves in the region of the Burning Mountain. A strong smell of sul- phur surrounded us ; one side of the cavity was almost red- hot, covered with reddish stone burnt white ; thick fumes ■arose from the crevices, and we felt the heat of the ground through our strong boot-soles. An event so accidental, for it is not known how this place became ignited, affords a great advantage for the manufacture of alum, since the alum-scales of which the surface of the mountain consists, lie there per- fectly roasted, and may be steeped in a short time and very well. The whole chasm had arisen by the calcined scales being gradually removed and used up. We clambered up ou. of this depth, and were on the top of the mountain. A plea- sant beech-grove encircled the spot, which followed up to the chasm and extended itself on both sides of it. Many trees stood already dried up, some were withering near others, which, as yet quite fresh, felt no forebodings of that fierce heat which was approaching and threatening their roots also. Upon this space different openings were steaming, others had already done smoking, and this fire had thus smouldered for ten years already through old broken-up pits and horizontal shafts, with which the mountain is undermined. It may, too, have penetrated to the clefts through new coal-beds : for, some hundred paces further into the wood, they had contemplated following up manifest indications of an abundance of coal ; but they had not excavated far before a strong smoke burst out against the labourers and dispersed them. The opening was filled up again, yet we found the place still smoking as we went on our way past it to the residence of our hermitlike chemist. This lies amid mountains and woods; the vallies there take very various and pleasing windings, the soil round about is black and of the coal kind, and strata of it frequently come in sight. A coal philosopher— -philosophus ver ignem, as 364 aaiTTH and poetky ; jpkom my own iim. they said formerly — could scarcely have settled himself more suitably. "We came before a small house, not inconvenient for a dwelling, and found Herr Stauf, who immediately recognised my friend, and received him with lamentations about the new government. Indeed we could see from what he said, that the alum-works, as well as many other well-meant establish- ments, on account of external and perhaps internal circum- stances also, did not pay their expenses ; with much else of the sort. He belonged to the chemists of that time, who, with a hearty feeling for all that could be done with the products of nature, took delight in abstruse investigations of trifles and secondary matters, and with their insufficient know- ledge were not dexterous enough to do that from which pro- perly economical and mercantile profit is to be derived. Thus the use which he promised himself from that scum lay very far in the distance ; thus he had nothing to show but a cake of sal-ammoniac, with which the Burning Mountain had supplied him. Beady and glad to communicate his complaints to a human ear, the lean, decrepit little man, with a shoe on one foot and a slipper on the other, and with stockings hanging down and repeatedly pulled up in vain, dragged himself up the mountain to where the resin-house stands, which he himself had erected, and now, with great grief, sees falling to ruins. Here was found a connected row of furnaces, where coal was to be cleansed of sulphur, and made fit for use in iron- works ; but at the same time they wished also to turn the oil and resin to account ; nay, they would not even lose the soot ; and thus all failed together, on account of the many ends in view. During the life-time of the former prince, the business had been carried on in the spirit of an amateur, and in hope ; now they asked for the immediate use, which was not to be shown. After we left our adept to his solitude, we hastened — for it was now late — to the glass-house in Friedrichsthal, where we became acquainted, on our way, with one of the most impor- tant and most wonderful operations of human ingenuity. Nevertheless, some pleasant adventures, and a surprising fire- work at night-fall, not far from Neukirch, interested us young fellows almost more than these important experiences. For as zwey-bkttcken. 365 a few nights before, on the banks of the Saar, shining clouds of glow-worms hovered around us, betwixt rock and thicket, so now the spark-spitting forges played their sprightly firework towards us. We passed, in the depth of night, the smelting- houses situated in the bottom of the valley, and were de- lighted with the strange half-gloom of these dens of plank, which are but dimly lighted by a little opening in the glowing furnace. The noise of the water, and of the bellows driven by it, the fearful whizzing and shrieking of the blast of air which, raging into the smelted ore, stuns the ears and con- fuses the senses, drove us away, at last, to turn into Neukirch, which is built up against the mountain. But, notwithstanding all the variety and fatigue of the day, I could find no rest here. I left my friend to a happy sleep, and sought the hunting-seat, which lay still further up. It looks out far over mountain and wood, the outlines of which were only to be recognised against the clear night-sky, but the sides and depths of which were impenetrable to my sight. This well-preserved building stood as empty as it was lonely ; no castellan, no huntsman was to be found. I sat before the great glass doors upon the steps which, run around the whole terrace. Here, surrounded by mountains, over a forest-grown. dark soil, which seemed yet darker in contrast with the clear horizon of a summer night, with the glowing starry vault above me, I sat for a long time by myself on the deserted spot, and thought 1 never had felt such a solitude. How sweetly, then, was I surprised by the distant sound of a couple of French horns, which at once, like the fragrance of balsam, enlivened the peaceful atmosphere. Then there awakened within me the image of a lovely being, which had retired into the background before the motley objects of these travelling days, but which now unveiled itself more and more, and drove me from the spot back to my quarters, where I made prepa- rations to set off with the earliest. The return was not used like the journey out. Thus we hurried through Zwey-briicken (Deux-Ponts), which, as a beautiful and notable residence, might well have deserved our attention. We cast a glance upon the great, simple castle, ontheextensiveesplanad.es, regularly planted with linden-trees, and very well adapted for the training of race-horses, and on the large stables, and the citizens' houses which the prince had built to be raffled foi. All this, as well as the costume 366 TRUTH AKB P0ETEY ; IBOM MY OWN LIFE. and manners of the inhabitants, especially of the matrons and maids, had reference to a distant connexion, and made plainly visible the relation with Paris, from which, for a long time, nothing transrhenane had been able to withdraw itself. We visited also the ducal wine-cellars, situated before the city,, which are extensive, and furnished with large, well-made tuns. We went on further, and at last found the country like that in the neighbourhood of Saarbriick. Between wild and savage mountains are a few villages ; one here gets rid of the habit of looking about for corn. We mounted up, by the side of. the Hornbach, to Bitsch, which lies on the important spot, where the waters divide, and fall, a part into the Saar, a part into the Rhine. These last were soon to attract us towards them. Yet we could not refuse our attention to the little city of Bitsch, which very picturesquely winds around the moun- tain, nor to the fortress, which lies above. This is partly built on rocks, and partly hewn out of them. The subterra- neous chambers are particularly worthy of remark; here is not only space sufficient for the abode of a number of men and cattle, but one even lights upon large vaults for the dril- ling of troops, a mill, a chapel, and whatever else could be required under-ground, provided the surface were in a state of disturbance. We now followed the down-rushing brooks through Baren- thal. The thick forests on both the heights remain unused by the hand of man. Here trunks of trees he rotting on each other by thousands, and young scions sprout up without number from their half-mouldered progenitors. Here, in con- versation with some companions on foot, the name Von Dieterich again struck our ears, which we had often heard honourably mentioned already in these woody regions. The activity and cleverness of this man, his wealth, and the use and applications of it, all seemed in proportion. He could with justice take delight in the acquisitions which he increased, and enjoy the profits he secured. The more I saw of the world, the more pleasure I took, not only in the universally, famous names, but in those also, especially, which were men- tioned in particular regions with reverence and love : and thus I easily learned here, by a few questions, that Von Dieterich, earlier than others, had known how to make successful use of the mountain treasures, iron, coal, and wood, and had worked his way to an ever-growing opulence. SE8ENHE1M. 367 Niederbrunn, where we now arrived, was a new proof of this. He had purchased this little place from the Count of Leiningen and other part-owners, to erect important iron- works in the place. Here in these baths, already founded by the Romans, floated around me the spirit of antiquity, -venerable relics of which, in fragments of bas-reliefs and inscriptions, capitals and shafts, shone out strangely towards me, from farm-houses, amidst household lumber and furniture. As we were ascending the adjacent Wasenburg also, I paid my respects to a well-preserved inscription, which dis- charged a thankful vow to Mercury, and is situated upon the great mass of rock which forms the base of the hill on one side. ■ The fortress itself lies on the last mountain, looking from Bitsch towards Germany. It is the ruin of a German castle built upon Roman remains. From the tower the whole of Alsace was once more surveyed, and the conspicuous minster-spire pointed out the situation of Strasburg. First of all, however, the great forest of Hagenau extended itself, and the towers of this town peered plainly from behind. I was attracted thither. We rode through Reichshof, where Von Dieterich built an imposing castle, and after we had contemplated from the hills near Niedermoder the pleasing course of the little river Moder, by the forest of Hagenau, I left my friend on a ridiculous coal-mine visitation, which, at Dutweil, might have been a somewhat more serious business^ and I then rode through Hagenau, on the direct road— already indicated by my affection — to my beloved Sesenheim. For all these views into a wild, mountain region, and then, again, into a cheerful, fruitful, joyous land, could not rivet my mind's eye, which was directed to an amiable, attractive object. This time, also, the hither way seemed to me more charming than its opposite, as it brought me again into the neighbourhood of a lady to whom I was heartily devoted, and who deserved as much respect as love. But before I lead my friends to her rural abode, let me be permitted to men- tion a circumstance which contributed very much to enliven and enhance my affection, and the satisfaction which it afforded me. How far I must have been behindhand in modern literature, may be gathered from the mode of life which I led at Frank- 868 TB.TTTH AND POETRY ; FKOM MT OWN 1IFE. fort, and from the studies to which I had devoted myself; nor could my residence in Strasburg have furthered me in this respect. Now Herder came, and together with his great knowledge brought many other aids, and the later publications besides. Among these he announced to us the Vicar of Wakefield as an excellent work, with the German translation •of which he would make us acquainted by reading it aloud to us himself. His method, of reading was quite peculiar; whoever has heard him preach will be able to form a notion of it. He delivered everything, this romance included, in a serious and simple style, perfectly removed from all dramatically imitative representation ; he even avoided that variety which is not only permitted, but even required, in an epical delivery — a slight change of tone when different persons speak, by which what every one says is brought into relief, and the actor is distin- guished from the narrator. Without being monotonous, Herder let everything go on in the same tone, just as if nothing was present before him, but all was merely historical ; as if the shadows of this poetic creation did not act livingly before him, but only glided gently by. Yet this manner of delivery from his month had an infinite charm ; for, as he felt all most deeply, and knew how to estimate the variety of such a work, so the whole merit of a production appeared purely and the more clearly, as one was not disturbed by details sharply spoken out, nor interrupted in the feeling which the whole was meant to produce. A Protestant country clergyman is, perhaps, the most beau- tiful subject for a modem idyl ; he appears, like Melchizedek, as priest and king in one person. To the most innocent situa- tion which can be imagined on earth, to that of a husband- man, he is, for the most part, united by similarity of occupa- tion, as well as by equality in family relationships ; he is a father, a master of a family, an agriculturist, and thus per- fectly a member of the community. On this pure, beautiful, earthly foundation, rests his higher calling ; to him is it given to guide men through life, to take care of their spiritual edu- cation, to bless them at all the leading epochs of their exist- ence, to instruct, to strengthen, to console them, and, if con- solation is not sufficient for the present, to call up and guaran- tee the hope of a happier future. Imagine such a man, with THE "TICAE OF WAKEFIELD." 369 pure human sentiments, strong enough not to deviate from them under any circumstances, and by this already elevated above the multitude, of whom one cannot expect purity and firmness ; give him the learning necessary for his office, as well as a cheerful, equable activity, which is even passionate, as it neglects no moment to do good, — and you will have him well endowed. But at the same time add the necessary limitation, so that he must not only pause in a small circle, but may also perchance pass over to a smaller; grant him good-nature, placability, resolution, and everything else praise- worthy that springs from a decided character, and over all this a cheerful spirit of compliance, and a smiling toleration of his own failings and those of others, — then you will have put together pretty well the image of our excellent Wakefield. The delineation of this character on his course of fife through joys and sorrows, the ever-increasing interest of the Btory, by the combination of the entirely natural with the strange and the singular, make this novel one of the best which has ever been written ; besides this, it has the great advan- tage that it is quite moral, nay, in a pure sense, Christian- represents the reward of a good will ajid perseverance in the right, strengthens an unconditional confidence in God, and attests the final triumph of good over evil ; and all this with- out a trace of cant or pedantry. The author was preserved from both of these by an elevation of mind that shows itself throughout in the form of irony, by which this little work must appear to us as wise as it is amiable. The author, Dr. Goldsmith, has without question great insight into the moral world, into its strength and its infirmities ; but at the same time he can thankfully acknowledge that he is an Englishman, and reckon highly the advantages which his country and his nation afford him. The family, with the de- lineation of which he occupies himself, stands upon one of the last steps of citizen comfort, and yet comes in contact with the highest; its narrow circle, which becomes still more contracted, touches upon the great world through the natural and civil course of things ; this little skiff floats on the agitated waves of English life, and in weal or woe it has to expect injury or help from the vast fleet which sails around it. I may suppose that my readers know this work, and have 2 b 870 TETTTH AND POETRY; FBOM MY OWN MFE. it in memory ; ■whoever hears it named for the first time here, as well as he who is induced to read it again, will thank me. For the former, I would merely make the cursory remark, that the vicar's wife is of that good, busy sort, who allows herself and her own to want for nothing, but who is also some- what vain of herself and her own. There are two daughters, — Olivia, handsome and more devoted to the external, and Sophia, charming and more given to the internal ; nor will I omit to mention an industrious son, Moses, who is somewhat blunt and emulous of his father. If Herder could be accused of any fault in his reading aloud, it was impatience ; he did not wait until the hearer had heard and comprehended a certain part of the progress, so as to be able to feel and think cprrectly about it; hurrying on, he would see their effect at once, and yet he was displeased even with this when it manifested itself. He blamed the excess of feeling which overflowed from me more and more at every step. I felt like a man, like a young man ; everything was living, true, and present before me. He, considering only the intrinsic contents and form, saw clearly, indeed, that I was overpowered by the subject-matter, and this he would not allow. Then Peglow's reflections, which were not of the most refined, were still worse received ; but he was especially angry at our want of keenness in not seeing beforehand the contrasts of which the author often makes use, and in suffering ourselves to be moved and carried away by them without remarking the oft-returning artifice. He would not pardon us for not seeing at once, or at least suspecting at the very beginning, where Burchell is on the point of discovering himself bypassing over in his narration from the third to the first person, that he him- self is the lord of whom he is speaking ; and when, finally, we rejoiced like children at the discovery and the transformation of the poor, needy wanderer, into a rich, powerful lord, he immediately recalled the passage, which, according to the author's plan, we had overlooked, and read us a powerful lecture on our stupidity. It will be seen from this that he re- garded the work merely as a production of art, and required the same of us, who were yet wandering in that state where it is very allowable to let works of art affect us like productions of nature. I did not suffer myself to be at all perplexed by Herder's PLEASURES OF TRAVELLING INCOGNITO, 371 invectives; for young people have the happiness or unhap- piness, that, when once anything has produced an effect on them, this effect must be wrought out within themselves ; from which much good, as well as much mischief, arises. The above work had left with me a great impression, for which I could not account, but properly speaking, I felt myself in har- mony with that ironical tone of mind which elevates itself above every object, above fortune and misfortune, good and evil, death and life, and thus attains to the possession of a truly poetical world. I could not, indeed, become conscious of this until later ; it was enough that it gave me much to do at the moment ; but I could by no means have expected to be so soon transposed from this fictitious world into a similar real one. My fellow-boarder, Weyland, who enlivened his quiet, labo- rious life by visiting from time to time his friends and relations in the country (for he was a native of Alsace), did me many services on my little excursions, by introducing me to different localities and families, sometimes in person, sometimes by re- commendations. He had often spoken to me about a country clergyman who lived near Drusenheim, six leagues from Stras- burg, in possession of a good benefice, with an intelligent wife and a pair of amiable daughters. The hospitality and agree- ableness of this family were always highly extolled. It scarcely needed so much to draw thither a young knight who had already accustomed himself to spend all his leisure days and hours on horseback and in the open air. We decided there- fore upon this trip, and my friend had to promise that on introducing me he would say neither good nor ill of me, but would treat me with general indifference, and would allow me to make my appearance clad, if not meanly, yet somewhat poorly and negligently. He consented to this, and promised himself some sport from it. It is a pardonable whim in men of consequence, to place their exterior advantages in concealment now and then, so as to allow their own internal human nature to operate with the greater purity. For this reason the incognito of princes, and the adventures resulting therefrom, are always highly pleas- ing ; these appear disguised divinities, who can reckon at double its value all the good offices shown to them as indivi- duals, and are in such a position that they can either make light of the disagreeable or avoid it. That Jupiter should bo 2*2 372 TKTTTH AND poetby; from my owh LIMS. well pleased in his incognito with Philemon and Baucis, and Iienry the Fourth with his peasants after a hunting party, is quite conformable to nature, and we like it well ; but that a young man without importance or name, should take it into his head to derive some pleasure from an incognito, might be construed by many as an unpardonable piece of arrogance. Yet since the question here is not of such views and actions, so far as they are praiseworthy or blameable, but so far as they can manifest themselves and actually occur, we will on this occasion, for the sake of our own amusement, pardon the youngster his self-conceit ; and the more so, as I must here allege, that from youth upwards, a love for disguising myself had been excited in me even by my stern father. This time, too, partly by some cast-off clothes of my own, partly by some borrowed garments and by the manner of combing my hair, I had, if not disfigured myself, yet at least decked myself out so oddly, that my friend could not help laughing on the way, especially as I knew how to imitate per- fectly the bearing and gestures of such figures when they sit on horseback, and which are called " Latin riders." The fine road, the most splendid weather, and the neighbourhood of the Rhine, put us in the best humour. At Drusenheim we stopped a moment, he to make himself spruce, and I to re- hearse my part, out of which I was afraid I should now and then fall. The country here has the characteristics of all the open, level Alsace. We rode on a pleasant foot-path over the meadows, soon reached Sesenheim, left our horses at the tavern, and walked leisurely towards the parsonage. " Do not be- put out," said Weyland, showing me the house from a distance, " because it looks like an old miserable farm-house, it is so> much the younger inside." We stepped into the court-yard; the whole pleased me well : for it had exactly that which is called picturesque, and which had so magically interested me in Dutch art. The effect which time produces on all human work was strongly perceptible. House, barn, and stable were just at that point of dilapidation where, indecisive and doubt- ful between preserving and rebuilding, one often neglects the one without being able to accomplish the other. As in the village, so in the court-yard, all was quiet and deserted. We found the father, a little man, wrapped up within himself, but friendly notwithstanding, quite alone, far THE FASTOK's FAMILY. 373 the family were in. the fields. He bade us welcome, and offered us some refreshment, which we declined. My friend hurried away to look after the ladies, and I remained alone with our host. " You are perhaps surprised," said he, " to find me so miserably quartered in a wealthy village, and with a lucrative benefice ; but," he continued, " this proceeds from irresolu- tion. Long since it has been promised me by the parish, and even by those in higher places, that the house shall be rebuilt ; many plans have been already drawn, examined and altered, none of them, altogether rejected, and none carried into execu- tion. This has lasted so many years, that I scarcely know how to command my impatience." I made him an answer such as I thought likely to cherish his hopes, and to encourage him to pursue the affair more vigorously. Upon this he proceeded to describe familiarly the personages on whom such matters de- pended, and although he was no great delineator of character, I could nevertheless easily comprehend how the whole busi- ness must have been delayed. The confidential tone of the man was something peculiar ; he talked to me as if he had known me for ten years, while there was nothing in his look from which I could have suspected that he was directing any attention to me. At last my friend came in with the mother. She seemed to look at me with quite different eyes. Her countenance was regular, and the expression of it intelligent ; she must have been beautiful in her youth. Her figure was tall and spare, but not more so than became her years, and when seen from behind, she had yet quite a youthful and pleas- ing appearance. The elder daughter then came bouncing in briskly ; she inquired after Prederica, just as both the others had also done. The father assured them that he had not seen her since all three had gone out together. The daughter again went out at the door to look for her sister ; the mother brought us some refreshment, and Weyland, with the old couple, con- tinued the conversation, which referred to nothing but known persons and circumstances ; as, indeed, it is usually the case when acquaintances meet after some length of time, that they make inquiries, and mutually give each other information about the members of a large circle. I listened, and now learned how much I had to promise myself from this circle. The elder daughter again came hastily back into the room, uneasy at not having found her sister. They were anxious S?4 TKTTTH AN* POETRY. ; FROM MY OWN !IFE, about her, and blamed her for this or that bad habit ; only the father said, very composedly, " Let her alone ; she has already come back ! " At this instant she really entered the door; and then truly a most charming star arose in this rural heaven. Both daughters still wore nothing but German, as they used to call it, and this almost obsolete national costume became Frederica particularly well. A short, white, full skirt, with a furbelow, not so long but that the neatest little feet were visible up to the ankle ; a tight white bodice and a black taffeta apron, — thus she stood on the boundary between country girl and city girl. Slender and light, she tripped along as if she had nothing to carry, and her neck seemed almost too delicate for the large fair braids on her elegant little head. From cheerful blue eyes she looked very plainly round, and her pretty turned-up nose peered as freely into the' air as if there could be no care in the world ; her straw hat hung on her arm, and thus, at the first glance, I had the delight of see- ing her, and acknowledging her at once in all her grace and loveliness. I now began to act my character with moderation, half ashamed to play a joke on such good people, whom I had time enough to observe : for the girls continued the previous con-. versation, and that with passion and some display of temper. All the neighbours and connexions were again brought for- ward, and there seemed, to my imagination, such a swarm of uncles and aunts, relations, cousins, comers, goers, gossips and guests, that I thought myself lodged in the liveliest world pos sible. All the members of the family had spoken some words with me, the mother looked at me every time she came in or went out, but Frederica first entered into conversation with me, and as I took up and glanced through some music that was lying around, she asked me if I played also ? When I answered in the affirmative, she requested me to perform something ; but the father would not allow this, for he main* tained that it was proper to serve the guest first with some piece of music or a song. She played several things with some readiness, in the style which one usually hears in the country, and on a harpsichord, too, that the schoolmaster should have tuned long since, if he had only had time, She was now to sing a song also, a Cer- tain tender-melancholy affair ; but she did not succeed in it. COMPABISON "WITH THE " VICAK OF WAKEFIELD." 375 She rose up and said, smiling, or rather with that touch of serene joy which ever reposed on her countenance, " If I sing badly, I cannot lay the blame on the harpsichord or the school- master ; but let us go out of doors ; then you shall hear my Alsatian and Swiss songs ; they sound much better." During supper, a notion which had already struck me, occu- pied me to such a degree, that I became meditative and silent, although the liveliness of the elder sister, and the gracefulness of the younger, shook me often enough out of my contempla- tions. My astonishment at finding myself so actually in the Wakefield family was beyond all expression. The father, indeed, could not be compared with that excellent man ; but where will you find his like ? On the other hand, all the dig- nity which is peculiar to that husband, here appeared in the wife. One could not see her without at the same time rever- encing and fearing her. In her were remarked the fruits of a good education ; her demeanour was quiet, easy, cheerful, and inviting. If the elder daughter had not the celebrated beauty of Oli- via, yet she was well-made, lively, and rather impetuous ; she everywhere showed herself active, and, lent a helping hand to her mother in all things. To put Frederica in the place of Primrose's Sophia was not difficult ; for little is said of the latter, it is only taken for granted that she is amiable ; and this girl was amiable indeed. Now as the same occupation, tad the same situation, wherever they may occur, produce similar, if not the same effects, so here too many things were talked about, many things happened, which had already taken place in the Wakefield family. But when at last a younger son, long announced and impatiently expected by the father* at last sprang into the room, and boldly sat himself down by us, taking but little notice of the guests, I could scarcely help exclaiming, " Moses, are you here too !" The conversation at table extended my insight into this country and family circle, since the discourse was about vari- ous droll incidents which had happened now here, now there* Frederica, who sat by me, thence took occasion to describe to me different localities which it was worth while to visit. As one little story always calls forth another, I was able to mingle so much the better in the conversation, and to relate similar incidents, and as, besides this, a good country wine was by no 876 TROTH AND POETM ; FKOM MT OWN IIFE. means spared, I stood in danger of slipping out of my charac- ter, for which reason my more prudent friend took advantage of the beautiful moonlight, and proposed a walk, which was approved at once. He gave his arm to the elder, I to the younger, and thus we went through the wide field, paying more attention to the heavens above us than to the earth, which lost itself in extension around us. There was, however, nothing of moonshine in Erederica's discourse ; by the clearness with which she spoke she turned night into day, and there was no- thing in it which would have indicated or excited any feeling, except that her expressions related more than hitherto to me, since she represented to me her own situation, as well as the neighbourhood and her acquaintances, just as far as I should be acquainted with them ; for she hoped, she added, I would make no exception, and would visit them again, as all strangers had willingly done who had once stopped with them. It was very pleasant to me to listen silently to the descrip- tion which she gave of the little world in which she moved, and of the persons whom she particularly valued. She thereby imparted to me a clear, and, at the same time, such an amiable idea of her situation, that it had a very strange effect on me ; for I felt at once a deep regret that I had not lived with her sooner, and at the same time a truly painful envious feeling towards all who had hitherto had the good fortune to surround her. I at once watched closely,, as if I had a right to do so, all her descriptions of men, whether they appeared under the names of neighbours, cousins, or gossips, and my conjectures inclined now this way, now that ; but how could I have dis- covered anything in my complete ignorance of all the circum- stances ? She at last became more and more talkative, and I more and more silent. It was so pleasant to listen to her, and as I heard only her voice, while the form of her coun- tenance, as well as the rest of the world, floated dimly in the twilight, it seemed to me as if I could see into her heart, which I could not but find very pure, since it unbosomed itself to me in such unembarrassed loquacity. When my companion retired with me into the guest-cham- ber, which was prepared for us, he at once, with self-com- placency, broke out into pleasant jesting, and took great credit to himself for having surprised me so much with the similarity to the Primrose family. I chimed in with him by COMFAKISON WITH THE " VICAR OF 'WAKEFIELD." 377 showing myself thankful. " Truly,'' cried he, " the story is quite complete. This family may very well be compared to that, and the gentleman in disguise here may assume the honour of passing for Mr. Burchell ; moreover, since scoundrels are not so necessary in common life as in novels, I will for this time undertake the r6le of the nephew, and behave myself better than he did." However, I immediately changed this conver- sation, pleasant as it might be to me, and asked him, before all things, on his conscience, if he had not really betrayed me ? He answered me, " No ! " and I could believe him. They had rather inquired, said he, after the merry table-companion who boarded at the same house with him in Strasburg, and of whom they had been told all sorts of preposterous stuff. I now went to other questions : Had she ever been in love ? Was she now in love ? Was she engaged ? He replied to all in the nega- tive. " In truth," replied I, " such a cheerfulness by nature is inconceivable to me. Had she loved and lost, and again recovered herself, or had she been betrothed, — in both these cases I could account for it." Thus we chatted together far into the night, and I was awake again at the dawn. My desire to see her once more seemed unconquerable; but while I dressed myself, I was horrified at the accursed wardrobe I had so wantonly selected. The further I advanced in putting on my clothes, the meaner I seemed in my own eyes ; for everything had been calculated for just this effect. My hair I might perchance have set to rights ; but when at last I forced myself into the borrowed, worn-out grey coat, and the short sleeves gave me the most absurd appearance, I fell the more decidedly into despair, as I could see myself only piecemeal, in a little looking-glass ■since one part always looked more ridiculous than the other. During this toilette my friend awoke, and with the satisfac- tion of a good conscience, and in the feeling of pleasurable hope for the day, looked out at me from the quilted silk cover- let. I had for a long time already envied him his fine clothes, as they hung over the chair, and had he been of my size, I would have carried them off before his eyes, changed my dress outside, and hurrying into the garden, left my cursed husk for him ; he would have had good-humour enough to put himself into my clothes, and the tale would have found a merry end- ing early in the morning. But that was not now to be thought 378 TKT7TH AND POETRY ; FB.OM MY OWN LIFE. of, no more was any other feasible accommodation. To appear again before Frederica in the figure in which my friend could give me out as a laborious and accomplished but poor student of theology, — before Frederica, who the evening before had spoken so friendly to my disguised self, — that was altogether impossible. There I stood, vexed and thoughtful, and sum- moned all my power of invention ; but it deserted me ! But now when he, comfortably stretched out, after fixing his eyes upon me for a while, all at once burst out into a loud laugh, and exclaimed, " No ! it is true, you do look most cursedly !" I replied impetuously, " And I know what I will do. Good bye, and make my excuses!" "Are you mad?" cried he, spinging out of bed and trying to detain me. But I was already out of the door, down the stairs, out of the house and yard, off to the tavern ; in an instant my horse was saddled, and I hurried away in mad vexation, galloping towards Dru- senheim t then through that place, and still further on. As I now thought myself in safety, I rode more slowly, and now first felt how infinitely against my will I was going away. But I resigned myself to my fate, made present to my mind, the promenade of yesterday evening with the greatest calmness, and cherished the secret hope of seeing her soon again. But this quiet feeling soon changed itself again into impatience, and I now determined to ride rapidly into the city, change my dress, take a good, fresh horse, since then, as my passion made me believe, I could at all events return before dinner, or, as was more probable, to the dessert, or towards evening, and beg my forgiveness. I was just about to put spurs to my horse to execute this plan, when another, and, as seemed to me, a very happy thought, passed through my mind. In the tavern at Drusenheim, the day before, I had noticed a son of the landlord very nicely dressed, who, early this morning, being busied about his rural arrangements, had saluted me from his court-yard. He was of my figure, and had for the moment reminded me of myself. No sooner thought than done ! My horse was hardly turned round, when I found myself in Drusenheim ; I brought him into the stable, and in a few words made the fellow my pro- posal, namely, that he should lend me his clothes, as I had something merry on foot at Sesehheim. I had no need to talk long ; he agreed to the proposition with joy, and praised mo THE EXCHAWGE Ot CXOTHES. 37& for wisnlng to make some sport for the Mamsells ; they were, he said, such capital people, especially Mamselle Riekchen,* and the parents, too, liked to see everything go on merrily and pleasantly. He considered me attentively, and as from my appearance he might have taken me for a poor starveling, he said, " If you wish to insinuate yourself, this is the right way." In the meanwhile we had already proceeded far in our toilette, and properly speaking he should not have trusted me with his holiday clothes on the strength of mine ; but he was honest-hearted, and, moreover, had my horse in his stable. I soon stood there smart enough, gave myself a consequential air, and my friend seemed to regard his counterpart with complacency. "Topp,f Mr. Brother!" said he, giving me his hand, which I grasped heartily, "don't come too near my girl ; she might make a mistake ! " My hair, which had now its full growth again, I could part at top, much like his, and as I looked at him repeatedly, I found it comical moderately to imitate his thicker eyebrows with a burnt cork, and bring mine nearer together in the- middle, so that with my enigmatical intentions, I might make myself an external riddle likewise. "Now have you not," said I, as he handed me his be-ribboned hat, " something or other to be done at the parsonage, that I might announce myself there in a natural manner?" "Good!" replied he, " but then you must wait two hours yet. There is a woman confined at our house ; I will offer to take the cake to the- parson's wife,J and you may carry it over. Pride must pay its penalty, and so must a joke." I resolved to wait, but these two hours were infinitely long, and I was dying of im- patience when the third hour passed before the cake came out of the oven. At last I got it quite hot, and hastened away with my credentials in the most beautiful sunshine, accom- panied for a distance by my counterpart, who promised to. come after me in the evening and bring me my clothes. This,, however, I briskly declined, and stipulated that I should deliver up to him his own. I had not skipped far with my present, which I carried in a * Abbreviation for Frederica. — Tram. •f The exclamation used on striking a bargain. It is, we believe,, employed by some trades in England. — Tram. % The general custom of the country villages in Protestant German/ on such interesting occasions. — American Note. 380 TRUTH. AND TOETKY; FROM MT OWN IilT'B. neat tied-up napkin, when, in the distance, I saw my friend •coming towards me with the two ladies. My heart was uneasy, which was certainly unsuitable under this jacket. I stood still, took breath, and tried to consider how I should begin ; and now I first, remarked that the nature of the ground was very much in my favour ; for they were walking on the other side of the brook, which, together with the strips of meadow through which it ran, kept the two footpaths pretty far apart. When they were just opposite to me, Frederica, who had already perceived me long before, cried, " George, what are you bringing there ? " I was clever enough to cover my face with my hat, which I took off, while I held up the loaded napkin high in the air. " A christening cake!" cried she at that; "how is your sister?" " Well,"* said I, for I tried to talk in a strange dialect, if not exactly in the Alsatian. " Carry it to the house ! " said the elder, " and if you do not find my mother, give it to the maid ; but wait for us, we shall soon be back,r— do you hear?" I hastened along my path in the joyous feeling of the best hope that, as the beginning was so lucky, all would go off well, and I had soon reached the par- sonage. I found nobody either in the house or in the kitchen ; I did not wish to disturb the old gentleman, whom I might «uppose busy in the study ; I therefore sat down on the bench before the door, with the cake beside me, and pressed my hat upon my face. I cannot easily recall a pleasanter sensation. To sit again ■on this threshold, over which, a short time before, I had blun- dered put in despair ; to have seen her already again, to have already heard again her dear voice, so soon after my chagrin had pictured to me a long separation, every moment to be expecting herself and a discovery, at which my heart "throbbed, and yet, in this ambiguous case, a discovery with- out shame ; for at the very beginning it was a merrier prank than any of those they had laughed at so much- yesterday. Love and necessity are the best masters ; they both acted together here, and their pupil was not unworthy of them. But the maid came stepping out of the barn. "Now! did the cakes turn out well?" cried she to me; "how is your •sister ? " " All right," said I, and pointed to the cake without looking up. She took up the napkin and muttered, " Now, * In the original his answer is " Guet," for " Gut." — Tram, GOETHE S DISGUISE. 381 what's the matter with you to-day again ? Has Barbchen* been looking again at somebody else ? Don't let us suffer for that ! You will make a happy couple if you carry on so ! " As she spoke pretty loud, the pastor came to the window and asked -what was the matter. She showed him to me ; I stood up and turned myself towards him ; but still kept the hat over my face. When he had spoken somewhat friendly to me, and had asked me to remain, I went towards the garden, and was just going in, when the pastor's wife, who was entering the court- yard gate, called to me. As the sun shone right in my face, I one more availed myself of the advantage which my hat afforded me, and greeted her by scraping a leg ; but she went into the house after she had bidden me not to go away without eating something. I now walked up and down in the garden ; everything had hitherto had the best success, yet I breathed hard when I reflected that the young people now would soon return. But the mother unexpectedly stepped up to me, and was just going to ask me a question, when she looked me in the face, so that I could not conceal myself any longer, and the words stuck in her throat. " I am looking for George," said she, after a pause, "and whom do I find? Is it you, young sir ? How many forms have you, then ? " " In earnest only one," replied I; "in sport as many as you like." " Which sport I will not spoil," smiled she ; " go out behind the garden into the meadow until it strikes twelve, then come back, and I shall already have contrived the joke." I did so ; but when I was beyond the hedges of the village gardens, and was going along the meadows, towards me some country people came by the footpath, and put me in some em- barrassment. I therefore turned aside into a little wood, which crowned an elevation quite near, in order to conceal myself there till the appointed time. Yet how strangely did I feel when I entered it ; for there appeared before me a neat place, with benches, from every one of which was a pretty view of the country. Here was the village and the steeple, here Drusenheim, and behind it the woody islands of the Khine ; in the opposite direction was the Vosgian mountain range, and at last the minster of Strasburg. These different heaven-bright pictures were set in bushy frames, so that one could see nothing more joyous and pleasing. I sat down * Diminutive of Barbara. — Trans. 382 TETJTH AND POETS'/; TROM MY OWH LIEE. upon one of the benches, and noticed on the largest tree an eblong little board with the inscription, *' Frederica's Repose." It never occurred to me that I might have come to disturb this repose ; for a budding passion has this beauty about it, that, as it is unconscious of its origin, neither can it have any thought of an end, nor, while it feels itself glad and cheerful, have any presentiment that it may also create mischief. I had scarcely had time to look about me and was losing myself in sweet reveries, when I heard somebody coming ; it was Frederica herself. " George, what are you doing here ? " she cried from a distance. " Not George ! " cried I, running towards her, f ' but one who craves forgiveness of you a thou- sand times." She looked at me with astonishment, but soon collected herself, and said, after fetching her breath more deeply, "You abominable man, how you frighten me!" " The first disguise has led me into the second," exclaimed I ; *'the former would have been unpardonable if I had only known in any degree to whom I was going ; but this one you will certainly forgive, for it is the shape of persons whom you treat so kindly." Her pale cheeks had coloured up with the most beautiful rose-red. fi You shall not be worse off than George, at any rate ! But let us sit down ! I confess the fright has gone into my limbs." I sat down beside her, ■exceedingly agitated. " We know .every thing already, up to this morning, from your friend," said she, " now do you tell me the rest." I did not let her say that twice, but described . But now all was lost and irrevocable : I had returned into a mere common position, and I thought that I had harmed, irretrievably injured, the dearest of beings. Thus, far from my being freed from the curse, it was flung back from my lips into my own heart. All this together raged in my blood, already excited by love and passion, wine and dancing, confused my thoughts and tor- tured my feelings, so that, especially as contrasted with the joys of the day before, I felt myself in a state of despair which CORKESPONDENCE WITH FKEDERICA. 899 seemed unbounded. Fortunately daylight peered in upon me through a chink in the shutter, and the sun stepping forth and vanquishing all the powers of night, set me again upon my feet; I was soon in the open air, and refreshed, if not restored. Superstition, like many other fancies, very easily loses in power, when, instead of nattering our vanity, it stands in its way, and would fain produce an evil hour to this delicate being. We then see well enough that we can get rid of it when we choose ; we renounce it the more easily, as all of which we deprive ourselves turns to our own advantage. The sight of Trederica, the feeling of her love, the cheerfulness of every- thing around me — all reproved me, that in the midst of the happiest days I could harbour such dismal night-birds in my bosom. The confiding conduct of the dear girl, which became more and more intimate, made me thoroughly rejoiced, and I felt truly happy, when, at parting, she openly gave a kiss to me, as well as the other friends and relations. In the city many occupations and dissipations awaited me, from the midst of which I collected myself for the sake of my beloved, by means of a correspondence, which we regularly established. Even in her letters she always remained the same ; whether she related anything new, or alluded to well- known occurrences, lightly described* or cursorily reflected, it was always as if, even with her pen, she appeared going, com- ing, running, bounding with a step as light as it was sure. I also liked very much to write to her, for the act of rendering present her good qualities increased my affection even during absence, so that this intercourse was little inferior to a personal one, nay, afterwards became pleasanter and dearer to me. For that superstition had been forced to give way altogether. It was indeed based upon the impressions of earlier years, but the spirit of the day, the liveliness of youth, the intercourse with cold sensible men, all was unfavourable to it, so that it would not have been easy to find among all who surrounded me a single person to whom a confession of my whims would not have been perfectly ridiculous. But the worst of it was, that the fancy, while it fled, left behind it a real contemplation of that state in which young people are placed, whose early affections can promise themselves no lasting result. So little was I assisted in getting free from error, that understanding and reflection used me still worse in this instance. My passion 400 TRUTH AND POETRY-; FROM MI OWN LIFE. * increased the more I learned to know the virtue of the excel- lent girl, and the time approached when I was to lose, perhaps for ever, so much that was dear and good. "We had quietly and pleasantly passed a long time together, when friend Weyland had the waggery to bring with him to Sesenheim the Vicar of Wakefield, and when they were talking of reading aloud, to hand it oyer to me unexpectedly, as ii nothing further was to be said. I managed to collect myself, and read with as much cheerfulness and freedom as I could. Even the faces of my hearers at once brightened, and it did not seem unpleasant to them to be again forced to a comparison. If they had found comical counterparts to Raymond and Melu- sina, they here saw themselves in a glass which by no means gave a distorted likeness. They did not openly confess, but they did not deny, that they were moving among persons akin both by mind and feeling. All men of a good disposition feel, with increasing cultiva- tion, that they have a double part to play in the world, — a real one and an ideal one, and in this feeling is the ground of every- thing noble to be sought. The real part which has been assigned to us we experience but too plainly ; with respect to the second, we seldom come to a clear understanding about it. Man may seek his higher destination on earth or in heaven, in the present or in the future, he yet remains on this account exposed to an eternal wavering, to an influence from without which ever disturbs him, until he once for all makes a resolutioa to declare that that is right which is suitable to himself. Among the most venial attempts to acquire something higher, to place oneself on an equality with something higher, may be classed the youthful impulse to compare oneself with the characters in novels. This is highly innocent, and what- ever may be urged against it, the very reverse of mischievous. It amuses at times when we should necessarily die of ennui, or grasp at the recreation of passion. How often is repeated the litany about the mischief of novels —and yet what misfortune is it if a pretty girl or a handsome young man put themselves in the place of a person who fares better or worse than themselves ? Is the citizen life worth so much ? or do the necessities of the day so completely absorb the man, that he must refuse every beautiful demard which is made upon him ? RESULTS OF HOVEL-BEADING. 401 The historico-poetical Christian names which have intruded into the German church in the place of the sacred names, not tmfirequently to the annoyance of the officiating clergyman, are without doubt to be regarded as small ramifications of the romantico-poetical pictures. This very impulse to honour one's child by a well-sounding name — even if the name has nothing further behind it — is praiseworthy, and this connexion of an imaginary world with the real one diffuses an agreeable lustre over the whole life of the person. A beautiful child, whom with satisfaction we call " Bertha," we should think we offended if we were to call it " Urselblandine." With a cultivated man, not to say a lover, such a name would certainly falter on the lips. The cold world, which judges only from one side, is not to be blamed if it sets down as ridiculous and objectionable all that comes forward as imaginary, but the thinking connoisseur of mankind must know how to estimate it according to its worth. For the position of the loving couple on the fair Khine- bank, this comparison, to which a wag had compelled them produced the most agreeable results. We do not think of our- selves when we look in a mirror, but118 ments, which those times have left behind them ; nay, sought to inspire me with an inclination for what we called the Minne-singers and heroic poets. To this good man, as well as to Herr Koch, I have been greatly indebted ; and if things had gone according to their wish, I should have had to thank them for the happiness of my life. The matter stood thus : — Scho'pflin, who for his whole lifetime had moved in the higher sphere of political law, and well knew the great in- fluence which such and kindred studies are likely to procure for a sound head, in courts and cabinets, felt an insuperable, nay, unjust aversion from the situation of a civilian, and had inspired his scholars with the like sentiments. The above- mentioned' two men, friends of Salzmann, had taken notice of me in a most friendly manner. My impassioned grasping at external objects, the manner in which I continued to bring forward their advantages, and to communicate to them a par- ticular interest, they prized higher than I did myself. My slight, and I may say, my scanty occupation with the civil law, had not remained unobserved by them ; they were well enough acquainted with me to know how easily I was to be influenced ; I had made no secret of my liking for an acade- mical life, and they therefore thought to gain me over to his- tory, political law, and rhetoric, at first for a time, but after- wards more decidedly. Strasbourg itself offered advantages enough. The prospect of the German Chancery at Ver- sailles, the precedent of Schbpflin, whose merits, indeed, seemed to me unattainable, were to incite to emulation, if not to imitation ; and perhaps a similar talent was thus to be cultivated, which might be both profitable to him who could boast of it, and useful to others who might choose to employ it on their own account. These, my patrons, and Sabmann with them, set a great value on my memory and un- capacity for apprehending the sense of languages, and chiefly by these sought to further their views and plans. " I now intend to describe, at length, how all this came to nothing, and how it happened that I again passed over from the French to the German side. Let me be allowed, as hitherto, some general reflections, by way of transition. Tltere are few biographies which can represent a pure, quiet, steady pi-ogress of the individual. Our life, as well as all iu which we are contained, is, in an incomprehensible manner, 414 TRUTH AND POETRY: FEOM MI OWN LIFE. composed of freedom and necessity. Our will is a predictiou of what we shall do, under all circumstances. But these cir- cumstances lay hold on us in their own fashion. The what lies in us, the how seldom depends on us, after the wherefoie we dare not ask, and on this account we are rightly referred to the quia. The French tongue I had liked from my youth upwards ; I had learned to know the language through a bustling life, and a bustling life through the language. It had become my own, like a second mother-tongue, without grammar and instruction — by mere intercourse and practice. I now wished to use it with still greater fluency, and gave Strasburg the preference, as a second university residence, to other high schools ; but, alas ! it was just there that I had to experience the very reverse of my hopes, and to be turned rather from than to this language and these manners. The French, who generally aim at good behaviour, are in- dulgent towards foreigners who begin to speak their lan- guage ; they will not laugh any one out of countenance at a fault, or blame him in direct terms. However, since they cannot endure sins committed against their language, they have a manner of repeating, and, as it were, courteously con- m firming what has been said with another turn, at the same time making use of the expression which should properly have been employed; thus leading the intelligent and the attentive to what is right and proper. Now although, if one is in earnest — if one has self-denial enough to profess oneself a pupil, one gains a great deal, and 1 is much advanced by this plan, one nevertheless always feels in some degree humiliated ;. and, since one talks for the sake of the subject-matter also, often too much interrupted, or even distracted, so that one impatiently lets the conversation drop. This happened with me more than with others, as I always thought that I had to say something interesting, and, on the other hand, to hear something important, and did not wish to> be always brought back merely to the expression, — a case which often occurred with me, as my French was just as- motley as that of any other foreigner. I had observed the accent and idiom of footmen, valets, guards, young and old actors, theatrical lovers, peasants, and heroes ; and this Baby- lonish idiom was rendered still more confused by another odd- DIFFICULTY WITH THE FKENCH LANGUAGE. 415 ingredient, as I liked to hear the French reformed clergy, and visited their churches the more willingly, as a Sunday walk to Bockenheim was on this account not only permitted but or- dered. But even this was not enough ; for as in my youthful years, I had always been chiefly directed to the German of the 16th century, I soon included the French also of that noble- opoch among theobjectsof my inclination. Montaigne, Amyot, fiabelais, Marot, were my friends, and excited in mo sympathy and delight. Now all these different elements moved in my discourse chaotically one with another, so that for the, hearer the meaning was lost in the oddity of the expression ; nay an educated Frenchman could no more courteously correct me, but had to censure me and tutor me in plain terms. It therefore happened with me here once more as it had hap- pened in Leipzig, only that on this occasion I could not appeal to the right of my native place to speak idiomatically, as well as other provinces ; but being on a foreign ground and soil, was forced to adapt myself to traditional laws. Perhaps we might even have resigned ourselves to this, if an evil genius had not whispered into our ears that all endea- vours by a foreigner to speak French would remain unsuc- cessful ; for a practised ear can perfectly well detect a Ger- man, Italian, or Englishman under a French mask. One is tolerated, but never received into the bosom of the only church of language. Only a few exceptions were granted. They named to us a Herr von Grimm; but even Schopflin, it seemed, did not reach the summit. They allowed that he had early seen the necessity of expressing himself in French to perfection ; they approved of his inclination to converse with every one, and especially to entertain the great and persons of rank ; they praised him, that living in the place where he was, he had made the language of the country his own, and had endea- voured as much as possible to render himself a Frenchman of jociety and orator. But what does he gain by the denial of his mother-tongue, and his endeavours after a foreign one ? He cannot make it right with anybody. In society they are pleased to deem him vain ; as if any one would or could con- verse with others without some feeling for self and self-com- placency ! Then the refined connoisseurs of the world and of language assert that there is in him more of dissertation and 416 TBTJTH AND POBTET ; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. dialogue than of conversation, properly so called. The forme7 was generally recognised as the original and fundamental sin of the Germans, the latter as the cardinal virtue of the French. As a public orator he fares no better. If he prints a 'well- elaborated address to the king or the princes, the Jesuits, who are ill-disposed to him as a Protestant, lay wait for him, and show that his terms of expression are not French, Instead of consoling ourselves with this, and bearing as green wood that which had been laid upon the dry, we were annoyed at such pedantic injustice. We fall into despair, and, by this striking example, are the more convinced that it is a vain endeavour to try to satisfy the French by the matter itself, as they are too closely bound to the external conditions under which everything is to appear. We therefore embrace the opposite resolution of getting rid of the French language altogether, and of directing ourselves more than ever, with might and earnestness, to our own mother-tongue. And for this we found opportunity and sympathy in actual life. Alsace had not been connected with France so long that an affectionate adherence to the old constitution, manners, language, and costume did not still exist with old and young. If the conquered party loses half his existence by compulsion, he looks upon it as disgraceful voluntarily to part with the other half. He therefore holds fast to all that can recall to him the good old time, and foster in him the hope that a better epoch will return. Very many inhabitants of Stras- burg formed little circles, separate, indeed, but neverthe- less united in spirit, which were always increased and re- cruited by the numerous subjects of German princes who held considerable lands under French sovereignty, since fathers and sons, either for the sake of study or business, resided foi a longer or shorter time at Strasburg. At our table nothing but German was spoken. Salzmann expressed himself in French with much fluency and elegance ; but, with respect to his endeavours and acts, was a perfect German. Lerse might have been set up as a pattern of a German youth. Meyer, of Lindau, liked to get on with good German too well to shine in good French ; and if, among the rest, many were inclined to the Gallic speech and manners, they yet, while they were with us, allowed the general toue to prevail with them. DISLIKE TO THE TRENCH. 417 From the language we turned to political affairs. We had not, indeed, much to say in praise of our own imperial constitution. We granted that it consisted of mere legal contradictions; but exalted ourselves so much the more above the present French constitution, which lost itself in mere lawless abuses, while the government only showed its energy in the wrong place, and was forced to admit that a complete change in affairs was already publicly prophesied with black forebodings. If, on the other hand, we looked towards the north, we were shone upon by Frederic, the polar-star, who seemed to turn about himself Germany, Europe, nay, the whole world. His preponderance in everything was most strongly manifested when the Prussian exercise and even the Prussian stick was introduced into the French army. As* for the rest, we forgave him his predilection for a foreign language, since we felt satis- faction that his French poets, philosophers, and litterateurs continued to annoy him, and often declared that he was to be considered and treated only as an intruder. But what, more than all, forcibly alienated us from the French, was the unpolite opinion, repeatedly maintained, that the Germans in general, as well as the king, who was striving after French cultivation, were deficient in taste. With re- spect to this kind of talk, which followed every judgment like a burden, we endeavoured to solace ourselves with contempt ; but we could so much the less come to a clear understanding about it, as we were assured that Menage had already said, that the French writers possessed everything but taste ; and had also learned from the then living Paris, that all the authors were wanting in taste, and that Voltaire himself could not escape this severest of reproaches. Having been before and often directed to nature, we would allow of nothing but truth and uprightness of feeling, and the quick, blunt expres- sion of it. "Friendship, love, and brotherhood, Are they not self-understood ? " ■was the watchword and cry of battle, by which the members of our little academical horde used to know and enliven each other. This maxim lay at the foundation of all our social banquets, on the occasions of which we did not fail to pay 2 k 418 TSUTH AND POETBY ; TEOM MY OWN LIFE. many an evening visit to Cousin Michel,* in his 'well-known Germanhood. If, in what has hitherto been described, only external con- tingent causes and personal peculiarities are found, the French literature had in itself certain qualities which were rather repulsive than attractive to an aspiring youth. It was ad- vanced in years and genteel ; and by neither of these quali- ties can youth,, which looks about for enjoyment of life and for freedom, be delighted. Since the sixteenth century, the course of French literature had never been seen to be completely interrupted ; nay, the in- ternal and religious disturbances, as well as the external wars, had accelerated its progress ; but, as we heard generally main- tained, it was a hundred years ago that it had existed in its full bloom. Through favourable circumstances, they said, an abundant harvest had at once ripened, and had been happily gathered in, so that the great talents of the eighteenth cen- tury had to be moderately contented with mere gleanings. In the meanwhile, however, much had become antiquated : first of all comedy, which had to be freshened up to adapt itself, less perfectly, indeed, but still with new interest, to actual life and manners. Of the tragedies, many had vanished from the stage, and Voltaire did not let slip ' the important opportunity which offered of editing Corneille's works, that he might show how defective his predecessor had been, whom, according to the general voice, he had not equalled. And even this very Voltaire, the wonder of his time, had grown old, like the literature, which, for nearly a century, he had animated and governed. By his side still existed and vege- tated many litterateurs, in a more or less active and happy old age, who one by one disappeared. The influence of society upon authors increased more and more ; for the best society, consisting of persons of birth, rank, and property, chose for one of their chief recreations literature, which thus became quite social and genteel. Persons, of rank and litterateurs mutually cultivated and necessarily perverted each other; for the genteel has always something excluding in its nature ; and excluding also was the French criticism, being negative, detracting, and fault-finding. The higher class made use * " Michel" is exactly to the Germans what " John Bull" is to the English. — Trans. VOLTAIRE. 416 of such judgments against the authors; the authors, with somewhat less decorum, proceeded in the same manner against each other, nay, against their patrons. If the public was not to be awed, they endeavoured to take it by surprise, or gain it by humility ; and thus— apart from the movements ■which shook church and state to their inmost core — there arose such a literary ferment, that Voltaire himself stood in need of his full activity, and his whole preponderance, to keep himself above the torrent of general disesteem. Already he was openly called an old capricious child; his endeavours, carried on indefatigably, were regarded as the vain eiForts of a decrepid age ; certain principles, on which he had stood during his whole life, and to the spread of which he had de- voted his days, were no more held in esteem and honour ; nay, his Deity, by acknowledging whom he continued to declare himself free from atheism, was not conceded him; and thus he himself, the grandsire and patriarch, was forced, like his youngest competitor, to watch the present moment, to catch at new power— to do his friends too much good, and his enemies too much harm ; and under the appearance of a passionate striving for the love of truth, to act deceitfully and ■ falsely. Was it worth the trouble to have led such a great active life, if it was to end in greater dependence than it had begun? How insupportable such a position was, did not escape his high mind, his delicate sensibility. He often relieved himself by leaps and thrusts, gave the reins to his humour, and carried a few of bis sword-cuts too far,— -at which friends and enemies, for the most part, showed them- selves indignant; for everyone thought he could play the superior to him, though no one could equal him. A public which only hears the judgment of old men, becomes over- wise too soon ; and nothing is more unsatisfactory than a mature judgment adopted by an immature mind. To us youths, before whom, with our German love of truth and nature, honesty towards both ourselves and others hovered as the best guide bo-th in life and learning, the factious dis- honesty of Voltaire and the perversion of so many worthy subjects became more and more annoying, and we daily strengthened ourselves in our aversion from him. He could never have done with degrading religion and the sacred books, 2h2 420 TRUTH AND POEIB.T ; FKOM MTC OWN LIFE. I fox the sake of injuring priestcraft * as they called it, and Lad thus produced in me many an unpleasant sensation. But when I now learned that, to weaken the tradition of a deluge, he had denied all petrified shells, and only admitted them as lusus naturce, he entirely lost my confidence ; for my own eyes had, on the Baschberg, plainly enough shown me that I stood" on the bottom of an old dried-up sea, among the exuvim of its original inhabitants. These mountains had certainly been once covered with waves, whether before or during the deluge did not concern me ; it was enough that the valley of the Rhine had been a monstrous lake, a bay extending beyond the reach of the eyesight ; out of this I was not to be talked. I thought much more of advancing in the knowledge of lands and mountains, let what would be the result. French literature, then, had grown old and genteel in itself,. i nd through Voltaire. Let us devote some further considera- tion to this remarkable man. From his youth upwards, Voltaire's wishes and endeavours had been directed to an active and social life, to politics, to gain on a large scale, to a connexion with the heads of the earth, and a profitable use of this connexion, that he' himself might be one of the heads of the earth also. No one has easily made himself so dependent, for the sake of being inde- pendent. He even succeeded in subjugating minds ; the na- tion became his own. In vain did his opponents unfold their moderate talents, and their monstrous hate; nothing suo ceeded in injuring him. The court he could never reconcile to himself, but by way of compensation, foreign kings were his tributaries ; Katharine and Frederic the Great, Gustavus of Sweden, Christian of Denmark, Peniotowsky of Poland, Henry of Prussia, Charles of Brunswick, acknowledged them- selves his vassals ; even popes thought they must coax him by some acts of indulgence. That Joseph the Second had kept aloof from him did not at all redound to the honour of this prince, for it would have done no harm to him and his undertakings, if, with such a fine intellect and with such * " Urn den so genannten Pfaffen zu schaden." As we have not tlit> word for a priest, which exactly expresses the contempt involved in *■ Pfaffe," the word " priestcraft" has been introduced. — Trans. THE ENCYCLOPEDISTS. 421 .noble views, he had been somewhat more practically clever,* •8nd a better appreciator of the mind. What I have here stated in a compressed form, and in some connexion, sounded at that time as a cry of the moment, as a perpetual discord, unconnected and uninstructive, in our ears. Nothing was heard but the praise of those who had gone be- fore. Something good and new was required : but the newest was never liked. Scarcely had a patriot exhibited on the long inanimate stage national-French, heart-inspiring subjects, — scarcely had the Siege of Calais gained enthusiastic applause, than the piece, together with all its national comrades, was considered empty, and in every sense objectionable. The delineations of manners by Destouches, which had so often delighted me when a boy, were called weak ; the name of this honest man had passed away ; and how many authors could I dot point out, for the sake of whom I had to endure the reproach that I judged like a provincial, if I showed any sym- pathy for such men and their works, in opposition to any one who was carried along by the newest literary torrent. Thus, to our other German comrades we became more and more annoying. According to our view, — according to the peculiarity of our own nature, we had to retain the im- pressions of objects, to consume them but slowly, and if it was to be so, to let them go as late as possible. We were convinced that by faithful observation, by continued occupa- tion, something might be gained from all things, and that by persevering zeal we must at last arrive at a point where the ground of the judgment may be expressed at the same time with the judgment itself. Neither did we fail to perceive that the great and noble French world offered us many an ad- vantage and much profit ; for Rousseau had really touched our sympathies. But if we considered his life and his fate, ho ■was nevertheless compelled to find the great reward for all he did in this — that he could live unacknowledged and forgotten at Paris. If we heard the encyclopedists mentioned, or opened a volume of their monstrous work, we felt as if we were going between the innumerable moving spools and looms in a great iactory, where, what with the mere creaking and rattling— * " Practically clever " is put as a kind of equivalent for the difficult word " geistreich."— i-Trans. 422 TRUTH AND POBTKY ; FROM MY OWN LIFE. what with all the mechanism, embarrassing both eyes and senses — what with the mere incomprehensibility of an arrange'- ment, the parts of which work into each other in the most manifold way — -what with the contemplation of all that is necessary to prepare a piece of cloth, we feel disgusted with the very coat which we wear upon our backs. Diderot was sufficiently akin to us, as, indeed, in every- thing, for which the French blame him, he is a true German. But even his point of view was too high, his circle of vision was too extended for us to range ourselves with him, and place ourselves at his side. Nevertheless, his children of nature, whom he continued to bring forward and dignify with great rhetorical art, pleased us very much ; his brave poachers and smugglers enchanted us ; and this rabble afterwards throve but too well upon the German Parnassus. It was he also, who, like Rousseau, diffused a disgust of social life-^-a quiet introduction to those monstrous changes of the world; in which everything permanent appeared to sink. However, we ought now to put aside these considerations, and to remark what influence these two men have had upon art. Even here they pointed-^-even from here they urged us- towards nature. The highest problem of any art is to produce by appearance the illusion of a higher reality. But it is a false endeavour to realize the appearance until at last only something com- monly real remains. As an ideal locality, the stage, by the application of the laws of perspective to coulisses ranged one behind the other, had attained the greatest advantage ; and this very gain they now wished wantonly to abandon, by shutting up the sides of the theatre, and forming real room- walls. With such an arrange- ment of the stage, the piece itself, the actors' mode of playing, in a word, everything was to coincide ; and thus an entirely new theatre was to arise. The French actors had, in comedy, attained the summit of the true in art. Their residence at Paris, their observations of the externals of the court, the connexion of the actors and actresses with the highest classes, by means of love affairs— all contributed to transplant to the stage the greatest real- ness and seemliness of social life; and on this point the friends of nature found but little to blame. However they KOUSSEATj'S " PYGMAtlON." 423 thought they made a great advance, if they chose for their pieces earnest and tragical subjects, in 'which the citizen-life should not be wanting, used prose for the higher mode of expression, and thus banished unnatural verse, together with unnatural declamation and gesticulation. It is extremely remarkable, and has not been generally noticed, that at this time, even the old, severe, rhythmical, artistical tragedy was- threatened with a revolution, which could only be averted by great talents and the power of tradition. In opposition to the actor Lecain, who played his heroes with especial theatrical decorum, with deliberation, elevation, and force, and kept himself aloof from the natural and ordi- nary, came forward a man named Aufresne, who declared war against everything unnatural, and in his tragic acting sought to express the highest truth. This mode might not have accorded with that of the other Parisian actors. He stood alone, while they kept together, and adhering to his views obstinately enough, he chose to leave Paris rather than alter them, and came through Strasburg. There we saw him play the part of Augustus in Cinna, that ^of Mithridates, and others of the sort, with the truest and most natural dignity. He appeared as a tall, handsome man, more slender than strong, not, properly speaking, with an imposing, but never- theless with a noble, pleasing demeanour. His acting was well-considered and quiet, without being cold, and forcible enough where force was required. He was a very well- practised actor, and one of the few who know how to turn the artificial completely into nature, and nature completely into the artificial. It is really those few whose misunder- stood good qualities always originate the doctrine of false " naturalness." And thus will I also make mention of a work, which is indeed small, but which made an epoch in a remarkable man- ner, — I mean Rousseau's Pygmalion. A great deal could be said upon it ; for this strange production floats between nature and art, with the full endeavour of resolving the latter into the former. We see an artist who has produced what is most perfect, and yet does not find any satisfaction in having, according to art, represented his idea externally to himself, and given to it a higher life ; no, it must also be drawn down 424 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FROM MY OWN IIPR to him mtp the earthly life. He will destroy the highest thing that mind and deed have produced, by the commonest act of sensuality. All this and much else, right and foolish, true and half-true, operating upon us as it did, still more perplexed our notions ; we were driven astray through many by-ways and roundabout ways, and thus on many sides was prepared that German literary revolution, of which we were witnesses, and to which, consciously or unconsciously, willingly or unwillingly, we unceasingly contributed. We had neither impulse nor tendency to be illumined and advanced in a philosophical manner ; on religious subjects we thought we had sufficiently enlightened ourselves, and there- fore the violent contest of the French philosophers with the priesthood was tolerably indifferent to us. Prohibited books condemned to the flames, which then made a great noise, pro- duced no effect upon us. I mention as an instance, to serve for all, the Systeme de la Nature, which we took in hand out of curiosity. We did not understand how such a book could be dangerous. It appeared to us so dark, so Cimmerian, so deathlike, that we found li a trouble to endure its presence, and shuddered at it as at a spectre. The author fancies he gives his book a peculiar recommendation, when he declares in his preface, that as a decrepid old man, just sinking into the grave, he wishes to announce the truth to his cotempora- ries and to posterity. We laughed him out ; for we thought we had observed that by old people nothing in the world that is loveable and good is in fact appreciated. " Old churches have dark windows ; to know how cherries and berries taste, we must ask children and sparrows." These were our gibes and maxims ; and thus that book, as the very quintessence of senility, appeared to us as unsavoury, nay, absurd. " All was to be of necessity," so said the book, " and therefore there was no God." But could there not be a God by necessity too? asked we. We indeed confessed, at the same time, that we could not with- draw ourselves from the necessities of day and night, the seasons, the influence of climate, physical and animal condi- tion ; but nevertheless we felt within us something that ap- peared like perfect freedom of will, and again something vhich sought to counterbalance this freedom. " SYSTEME BE 1A NATUKE." ^25 The hope of becoming more and more rational, of making ourselves more and more independent of external things, nay, ■of ourselves, we could not give up. The word freedom sounds so beautiful, that we cannot do without it, even though it designates an error. None of us had read the book through ; for we found our- selves deceived in the expectations with which we had opened it. A system of nature was announced ; and therefore we hoped to learn really something of nature — our idol. Physics and chemistry, descriptions of heaven and earth, natural his- tory and anatomy, with much else, had now for years, and up to the last day, constantly directed us to the great adorned world ; and we would willingly have heard both particulars and generals about suns and stars, planets and moons, moun- tains, valleys, rivers and seas, with all that live and move in them. That in the course of this, much must occur which would appear to the common man as injurious, to the clergy as dangerous, and to the state as inadmissible, we had no doubt ; and we hoped that the little book had not unworthily stood the fiery ordeal. But how hollow and empty did we feel in this melancholy, atheistical half-night, in which earth vanished with all its images, heaven with all its stars. There was to be a matter in motion from all eternity, and by this motion, right and left and in every direction, without anything further, it was to produce the infinite phenomena of existence. Even all this we should have allowed to pass, if the author, out of his moved matter, had really built up the world before our eyes. But he seemed to know as little about nature as we did ; for, having set up some general ideas, he -quits them at once, for the sake of .changing that which ■appears as higher than nature, or as a higher nature within, nature, into material, heavy nature, which is moved, indeed, but without direction or form — and thus he fancies he has gained a greal deal. If, after all, this book did us any mischief, it was this, — that we took a hearty dislike to all philosophy, and especially metaphysics, and remained in that dislike; while, on the other hand, we threw ourselves into living knowledge, expe- rience, action, and poetising, with all the more liveliness and passion. Thus, on the very borders of France, we had at once got 426 THT7TH AND POETK* ; FKOM MI OWSJ MFE. rid and clear of everything French about us. The French way of life we found too defined and genteel, their poetry cold, their criticism annihilating, their philosophy abstruse, and yet insufficient, so that we were on the point of resigning our- selves to rude nature, at least by way of experiment, if another influence had not for a long time prepared us for higher and freer views of the world, and intellectual enjoyments as true as they were poetical, and swayed us, first moderately and se- cretly, but afterwards with more and more openness and force. I need scarcely say that Shakspeare is intended ; and having once said this, no more need be added. Shakspeare has been acknowledged by the Germans, more by them than by other nations, perhaps even more than by his own. We have richly bestowed on him all that justice, fairness, and forbearance whicn we refuse to ourselves. Eminent men have occupied themselves in showing his talents in the most favourable light; and I have always readily subscribed to what has been said to his honour, in his favour, or even by way of excuse for him. The influence of this extraordinary mind upon me has been already shown; an attempt has been made with respect to his works, which has received approbation ; and therefore this general statement may suffice for the present, until I am in a position to communicate to such friends as like to hear me, a gleaning of reflections on his great deserts, such as I was tempted to insert in this very place. At present I will only show more clearly the manner in which I became acquainted with him. It happened pretty soon at Leipzig, through Dodd's Beauties of Shakspeare. "Whatever may be said against such collections, which give authors in a fragmentary form, they nevertheless produce many good effects. "We are not always so collected and so ready that we can take in a whole work according to its merits. Do we not, in a book, mark passages which have an immediate reference to ourselves ? Young people especially, who are wanting in a thorough cultivation, are laudably excited by brilliant passages ; and thus I myself remember, as one of the most beautiful epochs of my life, that which is characterised by the above-mentioned work. Those noble peculiarities, those great sayings, those happy descriptions^ those humorous traits^ — all struck me singly and powerfully. Wieiand's translation now made its appearance. It was INFLUENCE or SHAKSFEAKE. 427 devoured, communicated and recommended to friends and acquaintances. We Germans had the advantage that many important •works of foreign nations were first brought over to us in an easy and cheerful fashion. Shakspeare, translated in prose, first by Wieland, afterwards by Eschenburg, was able, as a kind of reading universally intelligible, and suitable to any reader, to diffuse itself speedily, and to produce a great effect. I revere the rhythm as well as the rhyme, by which poetry first becomes poetry ; but that which is really, deeply, and fundamentally effective — that which is really permanent and furthering, is that which remains of the poet when he is translated into prose. Then remains the pure, perfect sub stance, of which, when absent, a dazzling exterior often con- trives to make a false show, and which, when present, such an exterior contrives to conceal. I therefore consider prose translations more advantageous than poetical, for the begin- ning of youthful culture ; for it may be remarked that boys, to whom everything must serve as a jest, delight themselves with the sound of words and the fall of syllables, and by a sort of parodistical wantonness, destroy the deep contents of the noblest work. Hence I would have it considered whether a prose translation of Homer should not be next undertaken, though this, indeed, must be worthy of the degree at which German literature stands at present. I leave this, and what has been already said, to the consideration of our worthy pedagogues, to whom an extensive experience on this matter is most at command. I will only, in favour of my proposi- tion, mention Luther's translation of the Bible ; for the cir. cumstance that this excellent man handed down a work, com- posed in the most diffeient styles, and gave us its poetical, historical, commanding didactic tone in our mother-tongue, as if all were cast in one mould, has done more to advance religion than if he had attempted to imitate, in detail, the peculiarities of the original. In vain has been the subsequent ' endeavour to make Job, the Psalms, and the other lyrical books, capable of affording enjoyment in their poetical form. For the multitude, upon whom the effect is to be produced, a plain translation always remains the best. Those critical translations which vie with the original, really only seem to amuse the learned among themselves. And thus in our Strasburg society did Shakspeare, trass.- 428 TETJTH and poetby; from my own life. lated and in the original, by fragments and as a whole, by pas- sages and by extracts, influence us in such a manner, that as there are Bible-firm (Bibelfest) men, so did we gradually make our- selves firm in Shakspeare, imitated in our conversations those virtues and defects of his time with which he had made us so well acquainted, took the greatest delight in his " quibbles,"* and by translating them, nay, with original recklessness, sought to emulate him. To this, the fact that I had seized upon rirm above all, with great enthusiasm, did not a little contribute. A happy confession that something higher waved over me was infectious for my friends, who all resigned themselves to this mode of thought. We did not deny the possibility of knowing such merits more closely, of comprehending them, of judging them with penetration, but this we reserved for later epochs. At present we only wished to sympathize gladly, and to imitate with spirit, and while we had so much enjoyment, we did not wish to inquire and haggle about the man who afforded it, but unconditionally to revere him. If any one would learn immediately what was thought, talked about, and discussed in this lively society, let him read Herder's essay on Shakspeare, in the part of his works upon the German manner and art ( Ueber Deutsche Art und Kunst), and alsoLenz's remarks on the theatre {Anmerhungenubers Theater), to which a translation of Love's Labour Lost was added.f Herder penetrates into the deepest interior of Shakspeare's nature, and exhibits it nobly; Lenz conducts himself more like an Iconoclast against the traditions of the theatre, and will have everything everywhere treated in Shakspeare's^ manner. Since I have had occasion to mention this clever and eccentric man here, it is the place to say something about him by way of experiment. I did not become acquainted with him till towards the end of my residence at Strasburg. We saw each other seldom, his company was not mine, but we sought an opportunity of meeting, and willingly communicated with each other, because, as cotemporary youths, we harboured similar views. He had a small but neat figure, a charming little head, to the elegant form of which his delicate but somewhat * This English word is used in the original. — Trans. f A complete edition of Lenz's works was published by Tieck in 1828. In that will be found the essay and play in question, to the last of which be gives the name Amor mnat omnia — Tram. IiENZ. 421 fiat features perfectly corresponded ; blue eyes, blond hair, in short, a person such as I have from time to time met among northern youths ; a soft and as it were cautious step, a plea- sant but not quite flowing speech, and a conduct which, fluc- tuating between reserve and shyness, well became a young man. Small poems, especially his own, he read very well aloud. For Ins turn of mind I only know the English word " whimsical," which, as the dictionary shows, comprises very many singularities under one notion. No one, perhaps, was more capable than he to feel and imitate the extravagances and excrescences of Shakspeare's gersim To this the trans- lation above mentioned bears witness. He treated his author with great freedom, was not in the least close and faithful, but he knew how to put on the armour, or rather the motley jacket, of his predecessor so very well, to adapt himself with such humour to his gestures, that he was certain to obtain applause from those who were interested in such matters. The absurdities of the clowns especially constituted our whole happiness, and we praised Lenz as a favoured man, when he succeeded in rendering as follows the epitaph on the deer shot by the princess : — " Die schone Princessin schoss und traf Eines jungen Hirschleins Leben ; Es fiel daliin in schweren Schlaf Und wird ein Bratlein geben. Der Jagdhund boll I Ein L zu Hirscb So wird es derm ein Hirschel ; Doch setzt ein romisch L zu Hirsch So macht es funfzig Hirschel. Ich. macbe hundert Hirsphe draus Schreib Hirschell mit zwei LLen." * * The lines in Shakspeare, which the above are intended to imitate, are- cue following : — " The praiseful princess piere'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket j Some say a sore ; but not a sore tUl now made sore with shooting. The dogs did yell ; put L to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket Or pricket, sore, or else sorel ; the people fall a-hooting. If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores, O sore L ! Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more L.' - Lenz's words, which cannot be rendered intelligibly into English, furnish an instance of Gothe's meaning, when he commends Lenz as happily catch- ing the spirit of the original, without the slightest pretence to accuracy.'* Tratx. 430 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN IIFE. The tendency towards the absurd, which displays itself free and unfettered in youth, but afterwards recedes more into the background, without being on that account utterly lost, was in full bloom among us, and we sought even by original jests to celebrate our great master. We were very proud when we could lay before the company something of the kind, which was in any degree approved, as, for instance, the following on a riding-master, who had been hurt on a wild horse. " A rider in this house you'll find, A master too is he, The two into a nosegay bind, 'Twill riding-master be. If master of the ride, I wis, Pull well he bears the name, But if the ride the master is, On him and his be shame." * About such things serious discussions were held as to whether they were worthy of the clown or not, whether they flowed from the genuine pure fool's spring, and whether sense and understanding had at all mingled in an unfitting and inad- missible manner. Altogether our singular views were diffused with the greater ardour, and more persons were in a position to sympathize with them, as Lessing, in whom great confidence was placed, had, properly speaking, given the first signal in his Dramaturgie. In a society so attuned and excited I managed to take many a pleasant excursion into Upper Alsace, whence, however, on this very account, I brought back no particular instruction. Ihe number of little verses which flowed from us on that occa- sion, and which might serve to adorn a lively description of a journey, are lost. In the cross- way of Molsheim Abbey we admired the painted windows ; in the fertile spot between Col- * The above doggrel is pretty faithful, but it is as well to give the original. " Ein Ritter wohnt in diesem Haus ; Eii- Meister auoh daneben ; Macht man davon einen Blumenstrauss So wird's einen Rittmeister geben. 1st er nun Meister von dem Ritt Fiihrt er mit Reeht den Namen ; Doch nimmt der Ritt den Meister mit, Web ihui und seinem Samen."-— JYym*. THE OTTII/IENBERG. 431 mar and Schlettstadt resounded some comic hymns to Ceres, the consumption of so many fruits heing circumstantially set forth and extolled, and the important question as to the free or restricted trade in them being very merrily taken up. At. Ensisheim we saw the monstrous aerolite hanging up in the church, and in accordance with the scepticism of the time, ridiculed the credulity of man, never suspecting that such air- born beings, if they were not to fall into our corn-fields, were at any rate to be preserved in our cabinets, Of a pilgrimage to the Ottilienberg, accomplished with an hundred, nay, a thousand of the faithful, I still love to think. Here, where the foundation-wall of a Roman castle still re- mained, a count's beautiful daughter, of a pious disposition, was said to have dwelt among rums and stony crevices. Near the chapel where the wanderers edify themselves, her well is shown, and much that is beautiful is narrated. The image which I formed of her, and her name, made a deep impression upon me. I earned both about with me for a long time, until at last I endowed with them one of my later, but not less be- loved daughters,* who was so favourably received by pure and pious hearts. On this eminence also is repeated to the eye the majestic Alsace, always the same, and always new. Just as in an amphitheatre, let one take one's place where one will, one sur- veys the whole people, but sees one's neighbours the plainest, so it is here with bushes, rocks, hills, woods, fields, meadows, and districts near and in the distance. They wished to show us even Basle in the horizon ; that we saw it, I will not swear, but the remote blue of the Swiss mountains even here exer- cised its rights over us, by summoning us to itself, and since we could not follow the impulse, by leaving a painful feeling. To such distractions and cheerful recreations I abandoned myself the more readily, and even with a degree of intoxica- tion, because my passionate connexion with Frederica now began to trouble me. Such a youthful affection cherished at random, may be compared to a bomb-shell thrown at night, which rises with a soft brilliant track, mingles with the stars, nay, for a moment, seems to pause among them, then, in de- scending, describes the same path in the reverse direction, and * By this daughter he means " Ottilie " in the Elective Affinitut.— SFVoms. 432 TKTJTH AND POETRY ; FKOM MY OWN LIFIf. at last brings destruction to the place where it has terminated its course. Frederica always remained equal to herself; she seemed not to think, nor to wish to think, that the connexion would so soon terminate. Olivia, on the contrary, who indeed also missed me with regret, but nevertheless did not lose so much as the other, had more foresight, or was more open. She often spoke to me about my probable departure, and sought to console herself both on her own and her sister's account. A girl who renounces a man to whom she has not denied her affections, is far from being in that painful situation in which a youth finds himself who has gone so far in his declarations to a lady. He always plays a pitiful part, since a certain survey of his situation is expected of him as a growing man, and a decided levity does not suit him. The reasons of a girl who draws back always seem sufficient, those of a man —never. But how should a flattering passion allow us to foresee whither it may lead us ? For even when we have quite sen- sibly renounced it, we cannot get rid of it ; we take pleasure in the charming habit, even if this is to be in an altered manner. Thus it was with me. Although the presence of Frederica pained me, I knew of nothing more pleasant than to think of her while absent, and to converse ,with her. I went to see her less frequently, but our correspondence became so much the more animated. She knew how to bring before me her situation with cheerfulness, her feelings with grace, and I called her merits to mind with fervour and with passion. Absence made me free, and my whole affection first truly bloomed by this communication in the distance. At such moments I could quite blind myself as to the future ; and was sufficiently dis- tracted by the progress of time and of pressing business. I had hitherto made it possible to do the most various things by always taking a lively interest in what was present and be- longed to the immediate moment ; but towards the end all became too much crowded together, as is always the case when one is to free oneself from a place. One more event, which happened in an interval, took from me the last days. I found myself in a respectable society at a country-house, whence there was a noble view of the front of the minster, and the tower which rises over it. " It is a pity," said some one, "that the whole was not finished, and STRASBURG MISSTEK. 433 that we have only one tower." " It is just as unpleasant w me," answered I, " to see this one tower not quite completed, tor the four volutes leave off much too bluntly ; there should have been upon them four light spires, with a higher one in the middle where the clumsy cross is standing." "When I had expressed this strong opinion with my accus- tomed animation, a little lively man addressed me, and asked, " Who told you so ? " " The tower itself," I replied ; " I have observed it so long and so attentively, and have shown it so much affection, that it at last resolved to make me this open confession." " It has not misinformed you," answered he ; "I am the best judge of that ; for I am the person officially placed over the public edifices. We still have among our archives the original sketches, which say the same thing, and which I can show to you." On account of my speedy departure I pressed him to show me this kindness as speedily as possible. He let me see the precious rolls ; I soon, with the help of oiled paper, drew the spires, which were wanting in the build- ing as executed, and regretted that I had not been sooner informed of this treasure. But this was always to be the case with me, that by looking at things and considering them, I should first attain a conception, which perhaps would not have been so striking and so fruitful, if it had been given ready made. Amid all this pressure and confusion I could not fail to see Frederica once more. Those were painful days, the memory of which has not remained with me. When I reached her my hand from my horse, the tears stood in her eyes, and I felt very uneasy. I now rode along the footpath towards Drusen- heim, and here one of the most singular forebodings took pos- session of me. I saw, not with the eyes of the body, but with those of the mind, my own figure coming towards me, on horseback, and on the same road, attired in a dress which I had never worn ; — it was pike-grey (Jiecht-grau) with, somewhat of gold. As soon as I shook myself out of this dream, the figure had entirely disappeared. It is strange, however, that eignt years afterwards, I found myself on the very road, to pay one more visit to Frederica, in the dress of which I had dreamed, and which I wore, not from choice, but by accident. However it may be with matters of this kind generally, this strange illusion in some measure calmed me at the moment of parting. 2 p 434 TBUTH AND POETKT ; FEOM MY OWN LIVE. The pain of quitting for ever the noble Alsace, with all thai 1 had gained in it, was softened, and having at last escaped the excitement of a farewell, I found myself on a peaceful and quiet journey, pretty well recovered. Arrived at Mannheim, I hastened with great eagerness to see the hall of antiquities, of which a great boast was made. Even at Leipzig, on the occasion of Winckehnann's and Lessing's writings, I had heard much said of those impor- tant works of art, but so much the less had I seen them, for except Laocoon, the father, and the Faun with the crotola, there were no casts in the academy, and whatever Oeser chose to say to us on the subject of those works, was enigma- tical enough. How can a conception of the end of art be given to beginners ? Director Verschaffel's reception was kind. I was conducted to the saloon by one of his associates, who, after he had opened it for me, left me to my own inclinations and reflections. Here I now stood, open to the most wonderful impressions, in. a spacious, four-cornered, and, with its extraordinary height, almost cubical saloon, in a space well lighted from above by the windows under the cornice ; with the noblest statues of antiquity, not only ranged along the walls, but also set up one with another over the whole area;— a forest of statues, through which one was forced to wind ; a great ideal popular assembly, through which one was forced to nress. All these noble figures could, by opening and closing" the curtains, be placed in the most advantageous light, and besides this, they were moveable on their pedestals, and could be turned about at pleasure. After I had for a time sustained the first impression of this irresistible mass, I turned to those figures which attracted me the most, and who can deny that the Apollo Belvidere, with his well-proportioned colossal stature, his slender build, his free movement, his conquering glance, carried off the victory over our feelings in preference to all the others ? I then turned to Laocoon, whom I here saw for the first time in connexion with his sons. I brought to mind as well as possible the dis- cussions and contests which had been held concerning him, •and tried to get a point of view of my own ; but I was now drawn this way, now that. The dying gladiator long held me fast, but the group of Castor and Pollux, that precious though ANTIQUITIES AT MANNHEIM. 485 problematical relic, I had especially to thank for my happieeS moments. I did not know how impossible it was at once to account to oneself for a sight affording enjoyment. I forced myself to reflect, and little as I succeeded in attaining any sort of clearness, I felt that every individual figure from this great assembled mass was comprehensible, that every object was natural and significant in itself. Nevertheless my chief attention was directed to Laocoon, and I decided for myself the famous question, why he did not shriek, by declaring to myself that he could not shriek. All the actions and movements of the three figures proceeded, •according to my view, from the first conception of the group. The whole position— as forcible as artistical — of the chief body was composed with reference to two impulses-— the struggle against the snakes, and the flight from the momentary bite. To soften this pain, the abdomen must be drawn in, and shriek- ing rendered impossible. Thus I also decided that the younger son was not bitten, and in other respects' sought to elicit the artistical merits of this group. I wrote a letter on the sub- ject to Oeser, who, however, did not show any special esteem for my interpretation, but only replied to my good will with general terms of encouragement. I wasfhowever, fortunate enough to retain that thought, and to allow it to repose in me for several' years, until it was at last annexed to the whole body of my experiences and convictions, in which sense I after- wards gave it in editing my Propylcea. After a zealous contemplation of so many sublime plastic works, I was not to want a foretaste of antique architecture. I found the cast of a capital of the Rotunda, and do not deny that at the sight of those acanthus-leaves, as huge as they were elegant, my faith in the northern architecture began somewhat to waver. This early sight, although so great and so effective through- out my whole life, was nevertheless attended with but small results" in the time immediately following. How willingly would I have begun a book, instead of ending one, with do scribing it; for no sooner was the door of the noble saloon closed behind me, than I wished to recover myself again, nay, I rather sought to remove those forms as cumbersome from my memory ; and it was only by a long circuitous route that I was 2 f a 4?6 TEUl'H AND POETKr ; FROM MY OWN IirB. brought back into this sphere. However, the quiet fruitfulness is quite inestimable of those impressions, which are received with enjoyment, and without dissecting judgment. Youth is capable of this highest happiness, if it will not be critical, but allows the excellent and the good to act upon it without investigation and division. TWELFTH BOOJK.. The wanderer had now at last reached home, — more healthy and cheerful than on the first occasion, — but still in his whole being there appeared something over-strained, which did not fully indicate mental health. At the very first I put my mother into the position, that, between my father's sincere spirit of order and my own various eccentricities, she was forced to occupy herself with bringing passing events into a certain medium. At Mayence, a harp-playing boy had so well pleased me, that, as the fair was close at hand, I invited him to Frankfort, and promised to give hi™ lodging and to en- courage him. In this occurrence appeared once more that peculiarity which has cost me so much in my lifetime, — namely, that I liked to see younger people gather round me and attach themselves to me, by which, indeed, I am at last encumbered with their fete. One^unpleasant experience after another could not reclaim me from this innate impulse, which even at present, and in spite of the clearest convic- tion, threatens from time to time to lead me astray. My mother, clearer than myself, plainly foresaw how strange it. would appear to my father, if a musical fair- vagabond went from such a respectable house to taverns and drinking-houses to earn his bread. Hence she provided him with board and lodging in the neighbourhood. I recommended him to my friends ; and thus the lad did not fare badly. After several years I saw him again, when he had grown taller and riore clumsy, without having advanced much in his art. The good lady, well contented with this first attempt at squaring and hushing up, did not think that this art would immediately become completely necessary to her. My father, leading a contented life amid his old tastes and occupations, was com- fortable, like one who, in spite of all hindrances and delays, carries out his plans. I had now gained my degree, and the first step to the further graduating course of citizen-life was taken. My Disputation had obtained his applause ; a further examination of it, and many a preparation for a future edition 433 TKTJTH AND POETRY; tfBOM MT OWN IIFE. gave him occupation. During my residence in Alsace, I had written many little poems, essays, notes on travel, and several loose sheets. He found amusement in bringing these under heads, in arranging them, and in devising their completion ; and was delighted with the expectation that my hitherto insuperable dislike to see any of these things printed would soon cease. My sister had collected around her a circle of intelligent and amiable women. Without being domineering, she domineered over all, as her good imderstanding could overlook much, and her good- will could often accommodate matters ; moreover, she was in the position of playing the confidant, rather than the rival. Of my older friends and companions, I found in Horn the unalterably true friend and cheerful associate. I also became intimate with Eiese, who did not fail to practise and try .my acuteness by opposing, with a persevering contradic- tion, doubt and negation to a dogmatic enthusiasm into which I too readily fell. Others, by degrees, entered into this circle, whom I shall afterwards mention ; but among the persons who rendered my new residence in my native city pleasant and profitable, the brothers Schlosser certainly stood at the head. The elder, Hieronymus, a profound and elegant jurist, enjoyed universal confidence as counsellor. His favourite abode was amongst his books and papers, in rooms where the greatest order prevailed; there I have never found him otherwise than cheerful and sympathising. In a larger society also he showed himself agreeable and entertaining, for his mind, by extensive reading, was adorned with all the beauty of antiquity. He did not, on occasion, disdain to increase the social pleasures by agreeable Latin poems ; and I still possess several sportive distiches which he wrote under some portraits drawn by me of strange and generally known Frankfort caricatures. Often I consulted with him as to the course of life and business I was now commencing; and if an hundredfold inclinations and passions had not torn me from this path, he would have been my surest guide. Nearer to me, in point of age, was his brother George, who had again returned from Treptow, from the service of the Duke Eugene of Wurtemberg. While he had advanced in know- ledge of the world and in practical talent, he had not re- mained behindhand in a survey of German and foreign litera- ture. He liked, as before, to write in all languages ; but did MERGE. 439 vwt further excite me in this respect, as I devoted myself exclusively to German, and only cultivated other languages so far as to enable me, in some measure, to read the best authors in the original. His honesty showed itself the same as ever ; nay, his acquaintance ■with the world may have oc- casioned him to adhere with more severity and even obstinacy to his well-meaning views. Through these two friends, I very soon became acquainted with Merck, to whom I had not been unfavourably announced by Herder, from Strasburg. This strange man, who had the greatest influence on my life, was a native of Darmstadt. Of his early education I can say but little. After finishing his studies, he conducted a young man to Switzerland, where he remained for some time, and came back married. When I made his acquaintance, he was military paymaster at Darm- stadt. Born with mind and understanding, he had acquired much elegant knowledge, especially in modern literature, and had paid attention to all times and places in the history of the world and of man. He had the talent of judging with certainty and acuteness. He was prized as a thorough, decisive man of business, and a ready accountant. "With ease he gained an entrance everywhere, as a very plea- sant companion for those to whom he had not rendered him- self formidable by sarcasms. His figure was long and lean ; a sharp prominent nose was remarkable ; light blue, perhaps grey eyes, gave something tiger-like to his glance, which wan- dered attentively here and there. Lavater's Physiognomy has preserved his profile for us. In his character there was a wonderful contradiction. By nature a good, noble, upright man, he had embittered himself against the world, and al- lowed this morbid whim to sway him to such a degree, that he felt an irresistible inclination to be wilfully a rogue, or even a villain. Sensible, quiet, kind at one moment, it might strike him in the next— just as a snail puts out his horns— to do something which might hurt, wound, or even injure another. Yet as one readily associates with something dan- gerous when one believes oneself safe from it, I felt so much the greater inclination to live with him, and to enjoy his good qualities, since a confident feeling allowed me to suspect that he would not turn his bad side towards me. While now, by this morally restless mind,— by this necessity of treating men *40 TSTTTH AND POETRY; FEOM MY OWN LIFK. in a malignant and spiteful way, he on one side destroyed social life, another disquiet, which, also he very carefully fostered within himself, opposed his internal comfort ; namely he felt a certain dilettantish impulse to production, in which he indulged the more readily, as he expressed himself easily and happily in prose and verse, and might well venture to play a part among the beaux esprits of the time. I myself still possess poetical epistles, full of uncommon boldness, force, and Swift-like gall, which are highly remarkable from their original views of persons and things, but are at the same time written with such wounding power, that I could not publish them, even at present, but must either destroy them or preserve them for posterity as str iking documents of the secret discord in our literature. However, the fact that in all his labours he went to work v.egatively and destruc- tively, was unpleasant to himself, and he often declared that he envied me that innocent love of setting forth a subject which arose from the pleasure I took both in the original and the imitation. For the rest, his literary dilettantism would have been rather useful than injurious to him, if he had not felt an irre- sistible impulse to enter also into the technical and mercan- tile department. For when' he once began to curse his facul- ties, and was beside himself that he could not, with sufficient genius, satisfy his claims to a practical talent, he gave up now plastic art, jiow poetry, and thought of mercantile and manu- facturing undertakings, which were to bring in money while they afforded him amusement. In Darmstadt there was besides a society of very cultivated men. Privy Councillor von Hesse, Minister of the Landgrave, Professor Petersen, Sector Wenck, and others, were the natu- ralized persons whose worth attracted by turns many neigh- bours from other parts, and many travellers through the city. The wife of the privy councillor and her sister, Demoiselle Flachsland, were ladies of uncommon merit and talents ; the latter, who was betrothed to Herder, being doubly interesting from her own qualities and her attachment to so excellent a man. How much I was animated and advanced by this circle is not to be expressed. They readily heard me read aloud my completed or begun works ; they encouraged me, when 1 PAPER ON GERMAN ARCHITECIUBB. 441 jpenly and circumstantially told what I was then planning, and blamed me when on every new occasion I laid aside what I had already commenced. Faust had already advanced ; Gotz von BerHchingm was gradually building itself up in my mind : .he study of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries occupied «ie ; and the minster had left in me a very serious impres- ilon, which could well stand as a background to such poetical inventions. What I had thought and imagined with respect to that ■style of architecture, I wrote in a connected form. The first joint on which I insisted was, that it should be called Ger- man, and not Gothic ; that it should be considered not foreign, -but native. The second point was, that it could not be com- pared with the architecture of the Greeks and Romans, because it sprang from quite another principle. If these, living under a more favourable sky, allowed their roof to rest upon columns, -a wall, broken through, arose of its own accord. "We, how- ever, who must always protect ourselves against the weather, -and everywhere surround ourselves with walls, have to revere the genius who discovered the means of endowing massive walls with variety, of apparently breaking them through, and ■of thus occupying the eye in a worthy and pleasing manner •on the broad surface. The same principle applied to the steeples, which are not, like cupolas, to form a heaven within, but to strive towards heaven without, and to announce to the ■countries far around the existence of the sanctuary which lies at their base. The interior of these venerable piles I only ventured to touch by poetical contemplation and a pious tone. If I had been pleased to write down these views, the value of which I will not deny, clearly and distinctly, in an intelli- gible style, the paper " On German Architecture, J: M : Ervini a Steinbach," would then, when I published it, have produced more effect, and would sooner have drawn the attention of the native friends of art. But, misled by the example of Herder and Hamann, I obscured these very simple thoughts and ■observations by a dusty cloud of words and phrases, and •Doth for myself and others, darkened the light which had ^arisen within me. However, the paper was well received, ■and reprinted in Herder's work on German mamer and art. If now, partly from inclination, partly with poetical and 142 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FKOM MY OWH LlFiS. other views, I very readily occupied myself with, the antiqui- ties of my country, and sought to render them present to my mind, I was from time to time distracted from this subject by biblical studies and religious sympathies, since Luther's life and deeds, which shine forth so magnificently in the sixteenth century, always necessarily brought me back to the Holy Scriptures, and. to the observation of religious feelings and opinions. To look upon the Bible as a work of compilation, which had gradually arisen, and had been elaborated at diffe- rent times, was flattering to my little self-conceit, since this view was then by no means predominant, — much less was it received in the circle in which I lived. With respect to the chief sense, I adhered to Luther's expression ; in matters of detail, I went to Schmidt's literal translation, and sought to use my little Hebrew as well as possible. That there are contradictions in the Bible, no one will now deny. These they sought to reconcile by laying down the plainest passage as a foundation, and endeavouring to assimilate to that those that were contradictory and less clear. I, on the contrary, wished to find out, by examination, what passage best expressed the sense of the matter. To this I adhered, and rejected the rest as interpolated. For a fundamental opinion had already confirmed itself in me, without my being able to say whether it had been im- parted to me, or had been excited in me, or had arisen from my own reflection. It was this, — that in anything which is handed down to us, especially in writing, the real point is the ground, the interior, the sense, the tendency of the work ; that here lies the original, the divine, the effective, the intact, the indestructible ; and that no time, no external operation or condition, can in any degree affect this internal primeval nature, at least no more than the sickness of the body affects a well-cultivated soul. Thus, according to my view, the lan- guage, the dialect, the peculiarity, the style, and finally the writing, were to be regarded as the body of every work of mind; this body, although nearly enough akin to the in- ternal, was yet exposed to deterioration and corruption ; as, indeed, altogether no tradition can be given quite pure, according to its nature; nor, indeed, if one were given pure, could it be perfectly intelligible at every following period, — the former on account of the insufficiency of tho STUDY OF THE BI3LE. 443 Tgans through which the tradition is made,— the latter c-i account of the difference of time and place, — but especially 'he diversity of human capacities and modes of thought; for which reason the interpreters themselves never agree. Hence it is everybody's duty to seek out for what is inter- nal and peculiar in a book which particularly interests us, and at the same time, above all things, to weigh in what relation it stands to our own inner nature, and how far, by that vitality, our own is excited and rendered fruitful. On the other hand, everything external that is ineffective with respect to ourselves, or is subject to a doubt, is to be con- signed over to criticism, which, even if it should be able to dislocate and dismember the whole, would never succeed in depriving us of the only ground to which we hold fast, nor even in perplexing us for a moment with respect to our once formed confidence. This conviction, sprung from faith and sight, which in all cases that we recognise as the most important, is applicable and strengthening, lies at the foundation of the moral as well as the literary edifice of my life, and is to be regarded as a well- invested and richly productive capital, although in particular cases ws may be seduced into making an erroneous application. By this notion, the Bible first became really accessible to me. I had, as is the case in the religious instruction of Protestants, run through it several times, nay, had made myself acquainted with it, by way of leaps from beginning to end and back again. The blunt naturalness of the Old Testament, and the tender naivete of the New, had attracted me in particular instances ; as a whole, indeed, it never properly appealed to me ; but now the diverse characters of the different books no more perplexed* me ; I knew how to represent to myself their significance faithfully and in proper order, and had too much feeling for the book to be ever able to do without it. By this very side of feeling I was protected against all scoffing, because I saw its dishonesty at once. I not only detested it, but could even- fall in a rage about it ; and I still perfectly remember that in my childishly fanatical zeal I should have completely throttled Voltaire, on account of his Saul, if I could only have got at him. On the other hand, every kind of honest investigation pleased me greatly ; the revelations as to the locality and costume of the East, which diffused more and more light, I 444 TRUTH AND POJSTUX ; FEOM MY OWN LI?3. received with joy, and continued to exercise all my acuteness on such valuable traditions. • It is known that at an earlier period I sought to initiate myself into the situation of the world, as described to us by the first book of Moses. As I now thought to proceed step- wise, and in proper order, I seized, after a long interruption, on the second book. But what a difference! Just as the fulness of childhood had vanished from my life, so did I find the second book separated from the first by a monstrous chasm. The utter forgetfulness of a bygone time is already expressed 'in the few important words, " Now there arose a new king over Egypt, which knew not Joseph." But the people also, innumerable as the stars of heaven, had almost forgotten the ancestor to whom, under the starry heaven, Jehovah had made the very promise which was now fulfilled. I worked through the five books with unspeakable trouble and insuffi- cient means and powers, and in doing this fell upon the strangest notions. I thought I had discovered that it waj not our ten commandments which stood upon the tables that the Israelites did not wander through the desert fct forty years, but only for a short time ; and thus I fancied that I could give entirely new revelations as to the character of Moses. Even the New Testament was not safe from my inquiries ; with my passion for dissection, I did not spare it, but with love and affection I chimed in with that wholesome word, " The evangelists may contradict each other, provided only the gospel does not contradict itself." In this region also I thought I should make all sorts of discoveries. That gift of tongues imparted at Pentecost with lustre and clearness, I interpreted for myself in a somewhat abstruse manner, not adapted to procure many adherents. Into one of the chief Lutheran doctrines, which has been still more sharpened by the Hernhuters, — namely, that of regarding the sinful principle as predominant in man, — I en- deavoured to accommodate myself, but without remarkable success. Nevertheless. I had made the terminology of this doctrine tolerably my own, and made use of it in a letter, which, in the character of country pastor, I was pleased to send to a new brother in office. However, the chief theme in the paper was that watchword of the time, called " Tolera- BAMANir. 446 tiou." which prevailed among the better order of brains and minds. Such things, which were produced by degrees, I had printed at my own cost in the following year, to try myself with the public, — made presents of them, or sent them to Eichen - berg's shop, in order to get rid of them as fast as possible, without deriving any profit myself. Here and there a review mentions them, now favourably, now unfavourably, — but they soon passed away. My father kept them carefully in his archives, otherwise I should not have possessed a copy of them. I shall add these, as well as some things of the kind which I have found, to the new edition of my works. Since I had really been seduced into the sybilline style of such papers, as well as into the publication of them, by Hamann, this seems to me a proper place to make mention ' of this worthy aDd influential man, who was then as great a mystery to us as he has always remained to his native country. His Socratio Memorabilia was more especially liked by those per- sons who could not adapt themselves to the dazzling spirit of the time. It was suspected that he was a profound, well-grounded man, who, accurately acquainted with the public world and. with literature, allowed of something mysterious and unfa- thomable, and expressed himself on this subject in a manner quite his own. By those who then ruled the literature of the day, he was indeed considered an abstruse mystic, but an aspiring youth suffered themselves to be attracted by him. Even the " Quiet-in-the-lands," as they were called — half in jest, half in earnest — those pious souls, who, without profess- ing themselves members of any society, formed an invisible church, turned their attention to him ; while to my friend Er'aulein von Klettenberg, and no less to her friend Moser, the "Magus from the North" was a welcome apparitior.. People put themselves the more in connexion with him. when they had learned that he was tormented by narrow domestic circumstances, but nevertheless understood how to maintain this beautiful and lofty mode of thought. With the great influence of President von Moser, it would have been easy to provide a tolerable and convenient existence for such a frugal man. The matter was seton foot, nay, so good an understanding and mutual approval was attained, that Hamann undertook the long journey from Konigsberg to Darmstadt. But as tk/i president happened to be absent, that odd man, no one know 446 THT/TH AND POETKT ; FKOM HI OWN I.ISE. on what account, returned at once, though, a friendly corre- spondence was kept up. I still possess two letters from the Konigsberger to his patron, which bear testimony to the wondrous greatness and sincerity of their author. But so good an understanding was not to last long. These pious men had thought the other one pious in their own fashion ; they had treated him with reverence as the " Magus of the North," and thought that he would continue to exhibit himself with a reverend demeanour. But already in the Clouds, an after-piece of Socratic Memorabilia, he had given some offence ; and when he now published the Crusades of a Philologist, on the title-page of which was to be seen not only the goat-profile of a horned Pan, but also on one of the first pages, a large cock, cut in wood, and setting time to some young cockerels, who stood before h:— with notes in their claws, made an exceedingly ridiculous appearance, by which certain church-music, of which the author did not approve, was to be made a laughing-stock, — there arose among well- minded and sensitive people a dissatisfaction, which was exhibited to the author, who, not being edified by it, shunned a closer connexion. Our attention to this man was, however, always kept alive by Herder, who, remain- ing in correspondence with us and his betrothed, communi- cated to us at once all that proceeded from that extraordinary man. To these belonged his critiques and notices, inserted in the Kbnigsberg Zeitung, all of which bore a very singular character. I possess an almost complete collection of his works, and a very important essay on Herder's prize paper concerning the origin of language, in which, in the most peculiar manner, he throws flashes of light upon this specimen of Herder. I do not give up the hope of superintending myself, or at least furthering, an edition of Hamann's works; and then, when these documents are again before the public, it will be time to speak more closely of the author, his nature and cha- racter. In the meanwhile, however, I will here adduce some- thing concerning him, especially as emiment men are still living who felt a great jregard for him, and whose assent oi correction will be very welcome to me. The principle to which all Hamann's expressions may be referred is this : " All that man undertakes to perform, whether by deed, by word, or otherwise, must proceed from all his powers united ; every- thing isolated is worthless." A noble maxim, but hard to follow. To life and art it may indeed be applied, but in every communication by words, that is not exactly poetic, there is, on the contrary, a grand difficulty ; for a word must sever itself, isolate itself, to say or signify anything. Man, while he speaks, must, for the moment, become one-sided ; there is no communication, no instruction, without severing. Now since Hamann, once for all, opposed this separation, and because he felt, imagined, and thought in unity, chose to speak in unity likewise, and to require the same of others, he came into opposition with his own style, and with all that others produced. To produce the impossible, he therefore grasps at every element ; the deepest and most mystical con- templations in which nature and mind meet each other- illuminating flashes of the understanding, which beam forth from such a contact — significant images, which float in these regions — forcible aphorisms from sacred and profane writers — with whatever else of a humorous kind could be added— all this forms the wondrous aggregate of his style and his com- munications. If, now, one cannot associate oneself with hi™ in his depths — cannot wander with him on his heights— can- not master the forms which float before* him — cannot, from an infinitely extended literature, exactly find out the sense of a passage which is only hinted at — we find that the more we study him, the more dim and dark it becomes ; and this dark- ness always increases with years, because his allusions were directed to certain definite peculiarities which prevailed, for the moment, in life and in literature. In my collection there are some of his printed sheets, where he has cited with his own hand, in the margin, the passages to which his hints refer. If one opens them, there is again a sort of equivocal double light, which appears to us highly agreeable ; only one must completely renounce what is ordinarily called under- standing. Such leaves merit to be called sybilline, for this reason, that one cannot consider them in and for themselves, but must wait for an opportunity to seek refuge with their oracles. Every time that one opens them one fancies one has found something new, because lie sense which abides in every passage touches and excites us in a curious manner. Personally I never saw him ; nor did I hold any immediate communication with him by means of letters. It seems to 448 TRUTH AtfD POETRY ; FROM MY OWX LIFE. mo that lie was extremely clear in the relations of life aii<] friendship, and that he had a correct feeling for the positions of persons among each other, and with reference to himself. All the letters which I saw by him were excellent, and much plainer than his works, because here the reference to time, circumstances, and personal affairs, was more clearly promi- nent. I thought, however, that I could discern this much gene- rally, that he, feeling the superiority of his mental gifts, in the most naive manner, always considered himself somewhat wiser and more shrewd than his correspondents, whom he treated rather ironically than heartily. If this held good only of single cases, it applied to the majority, as far as my own observation went, and was the cause that I never felt a desire to approach him. On the other hand, a kindly literary communication be- tween Herder and us was maintained with great vivacity, though it was a pity that he could not keep himself quiet. But Herder never left off his teazing and scolding ; and much was not required to irritate Merck, who also contrived to excite me to impatience. Because now Herder, among all authors and men, seems to respect Swift the most, he was among us called the " Dean," and this gave further occasion to all sorts of perplexities and annoyances. Nevertheless we were highly pleased when we learned that he was to have an appointment at Biickeburg, which would bring him double honour, for his new patron had the highest fame as a clear-headed and brave, though eccentric man. Thomas Abbt had been known and celebrated in this service ; his country still mourned his death, and was pleased with the monument which his patron had erected for him. Now Her- der, in the place of the untimely deceased, was to fulfil aL those hopes which his predecessor had so worthily excited. The epoch in which this happened gave a double brilliancy and value to such an appointment : for several German princes already followed the example of the Count of Lippe, inas- much as they took into their service not merely learned men, and men of business, properly so called, but also persons of mind and promise. 11ms, it was said, Klopstock had been invited by the Margrave Charles of Baden, not for real busi- ness, but that by his presence he might impart a grace and iao useful to The higher society. As now the regard felt id COMMOTION IN THE BOOK-TRADE. 44iJ this excellent prince, who paid attention to all that was useful and beautiful, increased in consequence, so also was the vene- ration for Klopstock not a little heightened. Everything that emanated from him was held dear and valuable ; and we care- fully wrote down his odes and elegies as we could get them. We were therefore highly delighted when the great Land- gravine Caroline of Hesse-Darmstadt made a collection of them, and we obtained possession of one of the few copies, which enabled us to complete our own manuscript collection. Hence those first readings have long been most in favour with us ; nay, we have often refreshed and delighted ourselves with poems which the author afterwards rejected. So true it is, that the life which presses forth out of a " fine soul " works with the greater freedom the less /it appears to be drawn by criticism into the department of art. Klopstock, by his character and conduct, had managed to attain regard and dignity, both for himself and for other men of talent ; now they were also, if possible, to be indebted to him for the security and improvement of their domestic con- dition. For the book-trade, in the previous period, had more to do with important scientific books, belonging to the diffe- rent faculties — with stock- works, for whieh a moderate remu- neration was paid. But the production of poetical works was looked upon as something sacred ; and in this case the ac- ceptance or increase of any remuneration would have been regarded almost as simony. Authors and publishers stood in the strangest reciprocal position. Both appeared, accordingly as it was taken, as patrons and clients. The authors, who, irrespectively of their talent, were generally respected and revered by the public as highly moral men, had a mental rank, and felt themselves rewarded by the success of their labours ; the publishers were well satisfied with the second place, and enjoyed a considerable profit. But now opulence again set the rich bookseller above the poor poet, and thus everything stood in the most beautiful equilibrium. Mag- nanimity and gratitude were not unfrequent on either side. Breitkopf and Gottsched lived, all their lives, as inmates of the same house. Stinginess and meanness, especially that of piracy, were not yet in vogue. Nevertheless a general commotion had arisen among the German authors. They compared their own very moderate, if 2g 450 TKTJIH AND POETRY ; IMtOM MY OWN LIFB- not poor condition, with the wealth of the eminent booksellers ; they considered how great was the fame of a Gellert, of a Rabener, and in what narrow domestic circumstances an uni- versally esteemed German poet must struggle on, if he did not render life easy by some other calling. Even the mediocre and lesser minds felt a strong desire to see their situation improved,— to make themselves free of the publishers. Now Klopstock came forward and offered his " Republic of Letters" (Gelekrten-Republik) for subscription. Although the latter cantos of the Messiah, partly on account of their subject, partly on account of the treatment, could not produce the same effect as the earlier ones, which, themselves pure and innocent, came into a pure and innocent time, the same respect was always maintained for the poet, who, by the pub- lication of his odes, had drawn to himself the hearts, minds, and feelings of many persons. Many weU-thinking men, among whom were several of great influence, offered to secure payment beforehand. This was fixed at a Louis d'or, the object being, it was said, not so much to pay for the book, as on this occasion to reward the author for his services to his country. Now every one pressed forward ; even youths and young girls, who had not much to expend, opened their saving-boxes ; men and women, the higher and the middle classes, contributed to this holy offering ; and perhaps a thou- sand subscribers, all paying in advance, were collected. Ex- pectation was raised to the highest pitch, and confidence was as great as possible. After this, the work, on its appearance, was compelled to experience the strangest result in the world ; it was, indeed, of importantvalue,butbynomeans universally interesting. Klop- stock' s thoughts on poetry and literature were set forth in the form of an old German Druidical republic ; his maxims on the true and false were expressed in pithy laconic aphorisms, in which, however, much that was instructive was sacrificed to the singularity of form. For authors and litterateurs, the book was and is invaluable ; but it was only in this circle that it could be useful and effective. He who had thought himself followed the thinker ; he who knew how to seek and prize what was genuine, found himself instructed by the profound, honest man ; but the amateur, the general reader, was not enlightened, — to him the book remained sealed; and yet COMBINATION OP YOUNG POETS. 451 it had been placed in all hands ; and while every one ex- pected a perfectly serviceable work, most of them obtained one from which they could not get the smallest taste. Thf astonishment was general, but the esteem for the man was so great, that no grumbling, scarcely a murmur, arose. The young and beautiful part of the world got over their loss, and now freely gave away the copies they had so dearly pur- chased. I received several from kind female friends, but none of them have remained with me. This undertaking, which was successful to the author, but a failure to the public, had the ill consequence, that there was now no further thought about subscriptions and prepay- ments ; nevertheless the wish had been too generally diffused for the attempt not to be renewed. The Dessau publishing- house now offered to do this on a large scale. Learned men and publishers were here, by a close compact, to enjoy, both in a certain proportion, the hoped-for advantage. The neces- sity, so long painfully felt, again awakened a great confidence ; "jut this could not last long ; and after a brief endeavour the parties' separated, with a loss on both sides. However, a speedy communication among the friends of lite- rature was already introduced. The Musgnahnanache* united all the young poets with each other ; the journals united the poet with other authors. My own pleasure in production was boundless ; to what I had produced I remained indiffe- rent ; only when, in social circles, I made it present to myself and others, my affection for it was renewed. Moreover, many persons took an interest in both my larger and smaller works, because I urgently pressed every one who felt in any degree inclined and adapted to production, to produce something in- dependently, after his own fashion, and was, in turn, chal- lenged by all to new poetising and writing. These mutual impulses, which were carried even to an extreme, gave every one a happy influence in his own fashion; and from this whirling and working, this living and letting-live, this taking and giving, which was carried on by so many youths, from their own free hearts, without any theoretical guiding-star, according to the innate character of each, and without any special design, arose that famed, extolled, and decried epoch in literature, when a mass of young genial men, with all that * Annual publications devoted to poetry only. — 'Jrtn*. 2 a a 452 TKUTH AND POETKY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. audacity and assumption which is peculiar to their own period of youth, produced, by the application of their powers, much that was good, and by the abuse of these, much ill-feeling and mischief; and it is, indeed, the action and reaction which proceeded from this source, that form the chief theme of this volume. In what can young people take the highest interest, how are they to excite interest among those of their own age, if they are not animated by love, and if affairs of the heart, of whatever kind they may be, are not living within them ? I had in secret to complain of a love I had lost ; this made me mild and tolerant, and more agreeable to society than in those brilliant times when nothing reminded me of a want or a fault, and I went storming along completely without restraint. Frederica's answer to a written adieu rent n_y heart. It was the same hand, the same tone of thought, the same feel- ing, which had formed itself for me and by me. I now, for the first time, felt the loss which she suffered, and saw no means to supply it, or even to alleviate it. She was completely present to me ; I always felt that she was wanting to me and, what was worst of all, I could not forgive myself for my own misfortune. Gretchen had been taken away from me ; Annette had left me ; now, for the first time, I was guilty I had wounded the most beautiful heart to its very depths ; and the period of a gloomy repentance, with the absence of a refreshing love, to which I had grown accustomed, was most agonising, nay, insupportable. But man will live ; and hence I took an honest interest in others ; I sought to disentangle their embarrassments, and to unite what was about to part, that they might not have the same lot as myself. They were hence accustomed to call me the " confidant," and on account of wandering about the district, the "wanderer." In pro- ducing that calm for my mind, which I felt under the open sky, in the valleys, on the heights, in the fields and in the woods, the situation of Frankfort was serviceable, as it lay in the middle between Darmstadt and Hamborg, two pleasant places, which are on good terms with each other, through the relationship of both courts. I accustomed myself to live on the road, and, like a messenger, to wander about between the mountains and the flat country. Often I went alone, or ^K-ATtNO, 453 in company, through my native city, as if it did not at. all concern me, dined at one of the great inns in the High-street, and after dinner went further on my way. More than ever was I directed to the open world and to free nature. On my way I sang to myself strange hymns and dithyrambics, of which one entitled "The Wanderer's Storm-song" (Wan- derer's Sturmlied) still remains. This half-nonsense I sang aloud, in an impassioned manner, when I found myself in a terrific storm, which I was obliged to meet. My heart was untouched and unoccupied ; I conscientiously avoided all closer connexion with ladies, and thus it re- mained concealed from me, that, inattentive and unconscious as I was, an amiable spirit was secretly hovering round me. It was not until many years afterwards, nay, until after her death, that I learned of her secret heavenly love, in a manner that necessarily overwhelmed me. But I was innocent, and could purely and honestly pity an innocent being; nay, I could do this the more, as the discovery occurred at an epoch when, completely without passion, I had the happiness of living for myself and my own intellectual inclinations. At the time when I was pained by my«grief at Frederica's situation, I again, after my old fashion, sought aid from poetry. I again continued the poetical confession which I had commenced, that by this self-tormenting penance I might be worthy of an internal absolution. The two Marias in Obtn von BerUchingen and Clavigo, and the two bad cha- racters who play the part of their lovers, may have been the results of such penitent reflections. But as in youth one soon overcomes mental wounds and diseases, because a healthy system of organic life can rise up for a sick one, and allow it time to grow healthy again, cor- poreal exercises, on many a favourable opportunity, came for- ward with very advantageous effect ; and I was excited in many ways to man myself afresh, and to seek new pleasures of life and enjoyments. Biding gradually took the place of those sauntering, melancholy, toilsome, and at the same time tedious and aimless rambles on foot ; one reached one's end more quickly, merrily, and commodiously. The young people again introduced fencing, but in particular, on the setting-rn of winter, a new world was revealed to us, since I at once determined to skate,— an exercise which I had never at- tempted,— and, in a short time, by practice, reflection, and 454 TRUTH AND POJSTKY ; FBOM MY OWH LIFE. perseverance, brought it as far as was necessary to enjoy with others a gay, animated course on the ice, without wishing to distinguish myself. For this new joyous activity we were also indebted to Klopstock, — to his enthusiasm for this happy species of mo- tion, which private accounts confirmed, while his odes gave an undeniable evidence of it. I still exactly remember that on a cheerful frosty morning I sprang out of bed, and uttered aloud these passages : — "Already, glad with feeling of health, Far down along the shore, I have whiten' d The covering crystal. ' How does the winter's advancing day Softly illumine the lake ! The night has cast * The glittering frost, like stars, upon it.' My hesitating and wavering resolution was fixed at once, and I flew straight to the place where so old a beginner might with some degree of propriety make his first trial. And, indeed, this manifestation of our strength well deserved to be. commended by Klopstock, for it is an exercise which brings us into contact with the freshest childhood, summons the youth to the full enjoyment of his suppleness, and is fitted to keep off a stagnant old age. We were immoderately addicted to this pleasure. To pass thus a splendid Sunday on the ice did not satisfy us, we continued our movement late into the night. For as other exertions fatigue the body, so does this give it a constantly new power. The full moon rising from the clouds, over the wide nocturnal meadows, which were frozen into fields of ice ; the night-breeze, which rustled towards us on our course ; the solemn thunder of the ice, which Bank as the water decreased ; the strange echo of our own movements, rendered the scenes of Ossian j-ast present to our minds. Now this friend, now that, uttered an ode of Klopstock's, in a decla- matory recitative ; and if we found ourselves together at dawn, the unfeigned praise of the author of our joys broke forth : — " And should he not be immortal, Who found for us health and joys Which the horse, though bold in his course, never gave, And which even the ball is without? " Such gratitude is earned by a man who knows how tot honour and worthily to extend an earthly act by spiritual incitement. H1SX0BY OF THJS IMPERIAL CHAM1 EH. 455 And thus, as children of talent, whose mental gifts have, at an early period, been cultivated to an extraordinary degree, return, if they can, to the simplest sports of youth, did we, too, often forget our calling to more serious things. Never- theless this very motion, so often carried on in solitude — this agreeable soaring in undetermined space — again excited many of my internal wants, which had, for a time, lain dormant ; and I have been indebted to such hours for a more speedy elaboration of older plans. The darker ages of German history had always occupied my desire for knowledge and my imagination. The thought of dramatizing Gbtz von Berlichingen, with all the circum- stances of his time, was one which I much liked and valued. I industriously read the chief authors ; to Datt's work, De Pace Publica, I devoted all my attention ; I had sedulously studied it through, and rendered those singular details as visible to me as possible. These endeavours, which were directed to moral and poetical ends, I could also use in another direction, and I was now to visit Wetzlar. I had sufficient historical preparation; for the Imperial Chamber had arisen in consequence of the public tranquillity, and its history could serve as an important clue through the confused events of Germany. Indeed, the constitution of the courts and* armies gives the most accurate insight into the constitu- tion of every empire. Even the finances, the influence of which are considered so important, come much less under consideration ; for if the whole is deficient, it is only neces- sary to take from the individual what he has laboriously scraped together, and thus the state is always sufficiently rich. What occurred to me at Wetzlar is of no great importance* but it may inspire a greater interest, if the reader will not disdain a cursory history of the Imperial Chamber, in order to render present to his mind the unfavourable moment at which I arrived there. The lords of the earth are such, principally because they can assemble around them, in war, the bravest and most reso- lute, and in peace, the wisest and most just. Even to the state of a German emperor belonged a court of this kind, which always accompanied him in his expeditions through the empire. But neither this precaution, nor the Suabian Jaw, which prevailed in the south of Germany, nor the Saxon 456 TBUXH AND POETKr ; TKOM MY OVH LIFE. law, which prevailed in the north, — neither the judges ap- pointed to maintain them, nor the decisions of the peers of the contending parties, — neither the umpires recognised .by agreement, nor friendly compacts instituted by the clergy, — nothing, in short, could quiet that excited chivalric spirit of feuds which had been roused, fostered, and made a custom among the Germans, by internal discord, by foreign campaigns, by the .crusades especially, and even by judicial usages. To the emperor, as well as to the powerful estates, these squabbles were extremely annoying, while, through them, the less pow- erful became troublesome to each other, and if they combined, to the great also. All outward strength was paralysed, while internal order was destroyed ; and besides this, a great part of the country was still encumbered with the Vehmgericht, of the horrors of which a notion may be formed, if we think that it degenerated into a secret police, which, at last, even fell into the hands of private persons. Many attempts to steer against these evils had been made in vain, until, at last, the estates urgently proposed a court formed from among themselves. This proposal, well-meant as it might have been, nevertheless indicated an extension of the privileges of the estates, and a limitation of the imperial power. Under Frederic III. the matter is delayed ; his son Maximilian, being pressed from without, complies. He ap- points the chief judge, the estates send the assistants. There were to be four-and-twenty of them; but, at first, twelve are thought sufficient. An universal fault, of which men are guilty in their under takings, was the first and perpetual fundamental defect of the Imperial Chamber : insufficient means were applied to a great end. The number of the assessors was too small. How was the difficult and extensive problem to be solved by them ? But who could urge an efficient arrangement ? The emperor could not favour an institution which seemed to work more against him than for him ; far more reason had he to complete- the formation of his own court — his own council. If, on the other hand, we regard the interest of the estates, all that they could properly have to do with was the stoppage of bloodshed. Whether the wound was healed, did not so much, concern them : and now there was to be, besides, a new ex- pense. It may not have been quite plainly seen that by thin. HISTORY OF THE IMPERIAL CHAMBER. 457 institution, every prince increased his retinue, for a decided 1 end indeed, — but who readily gives money for what is neces- sary ? Every one would be satisfied, if he could have what is useful " for God's sake." At first the assistants were to live on fees ; then followed a moderate grant from the estates ; both were scanty. But to meet the great and striking exigency, willing, clever, and industrious men were found, and the court was established. Whether it was perceived that the question here was con- cerning only the alleviation and not the cure of the evil,, or whether, as in similar cases, the flattering hope was enter- tained that much was to be done with little, is not to be de- cided. It is enough that the court served rather as a pretext to punish the originators of mischief, than completely to pre- vent wrong. But it has scarcely met, than a power grows out rf itself ; it feels the eminence on which it is placed ; it re- cognises its own great political importance. It now endea- vours, by a striking activity, to acquire for itself a more decided respect ; they briskly got through what can and must be rapidly dispatched, what can be decided at the moment, or what can otherwise be easily judged ; and thus, throughout the empire, they appear effective and dignified. On the other hand, matters of weightier import, the law-suits, pro- perly so called, remained behindhand, and this was no mis- fortune. The only concern of the state is, that possession, shall be certain and secure ; whether it is also legal, is of less consequence. Hence, from the monstrous and ever- swelling number of delayed suits, no mischief arose to the- empire. Against people who employed force, provision was already made, and with such matters could be settled ; but those, on the other hand, who . legally disputed about posses- sion, lived, enjoyed, or starved, as they could ; they died, were ruined, or made it up ; but all this was the good or evil of individual families, — the empire was gradually tranquillised. For the Imperial Chamber was endowed with a legal club-law against the disobedient ; had it been able to hurl the bolt of excommunication, this would have been more effective. But now, what with the sometimes increased, sometimes diminished number of assessors, what with the many inter- ruptions, what with the removal of the court from one place to another, these arrears, these records necessarily increased. 458 TRUTH AND POETKY ; TBOM MY OWN LIFE. to an infinite extent. Now, in the distress of war, a part of the archives was sent for safety from Spire to Aschaffenburg, a part to Worms, the third fell into the hands of the French, who thought they had gained the state-archives, but would afterwards have been glad to get rid of such a chaos of paper, if any one would but have furnished the carriages. During the negotiations for the peace of Westphalia, the chosen men, who were assembled, plainly saw what sort of a lever was required to move from its place a load like that of Sisyphus. Fifty assessors were now to be appointed, but the number was never made up : the half of it was again made to suffice, because the expense appeared too great ; but if the parties interested had all seen their advantage in the matter, the whole might well have been afforded. To pay five-and- twenty assessors about one hundred thousand florins {gulden) were required, and how easily could double that amount have been raised in Germany ? The proposition to endow the Im- perial Chamber with confiscated church property could not pass, for how could the two religious parties agree to such a sacrifice ? The Catholics were not willing to lose any more, and the Protestants wished to employ what they had gained, each for his own private ends. The division of the empire into two religious parties had here, in several respects, the worst influence. The interest which the estates took in this their court diminished more and more; the more powerful wished to free themselves from the confederation; licenses exempting their possessor from being prosecuted before any higher tribunal were sought with more and more eagerness ; the greater kept back with their payments, while the lesser, who, moreover, believed themselves wronged in the estimates, delayed as long as they could. How difficult was it, therefore, to raise the supplies necessary for payment. Hence arose a new occupation, a new loss of time for the chamber ; previously the so-called annual " visi- tations" had taken care of this matter. Princes in person, or their councillors, went only for months or weeks to the place of the court, examined the state of the treasury, investigated the arrears, and undertook to get them in. At the same time, if anything was about to create an impediment in the course cf law or the court, or any abuse to creep in, they were autho- rized to provide a remedy. The faults of the institution they HISTORY OF THE IMPERIAL CHAMBER. 459 were to discover and remove, but it was not till afterwards that the investigation and punishment of the personal crimes of its members became a part of their duty. But because parties engaged in litigation always like to extend their hopes a moment longer, and on this account always seek and appeal to higher authorities, so did these " visitators " become a court of revision, from which, at first in determined manifest cases, persons hoped to find restitution, but at last in all cases, delay and perpetuation of the controversy, to which the appeal to the Imperial diet, and the endeavour of the two religious parties, if not to outweigh each other, at any rate to preserve an equilibrium, contributed their part. But if one considers what this court might have been with- out such obstacles, without such disturbing and destructive conditions, one cannot imagine it remarkable and important enough. Had it been supplied at the beginning with a suffi- cient number of persons, had a sufficient support been secured to them, the monstrous influence which this body might have attained, considering the aptness of the Germans, would have been immeasurable. The honourable title of " Amphictyons," which was only bestowed on them oratorically, they would actually have deserved, nay, they might have elevated them- selves into an intermediate power, while revered by the head and the members. But far removed from such great effects, the court, except- ing for a short time under Charles V., and before the Thirty Years' war, dragged itself miserably along. One often cannot understand how men could be found for such a thankless and melancholy employment. But what a man does every day he puts up with, if he has any talent for it, even if he does not exactly see that anything will come of it. The German espe- cially is of this persevering turn of mind, and thus for three hundred years the worthiest men have employed themselves on these labours and objects. A characteristic gallery of such, figures would even now excite interest and inspire courage. For it is just in such anarchical times that the able man takes the strongest position, and he who desires what is good finds himself right in his place. Thus, for instance, the Direc- torium of Fiirstenberg was still held in blessed memory, and with the death of this excellent man begins the epoch of many pernicious abuses. 460 TRUTH AND POETRY ; FBOM MY OWN LIFE. But all these defects, whether later or earlier, arose from one only original source, the small number of persons. It was de- creed that the assistants were to act in a fixed order, and accord- ing to a determined arrangement. Every one could know when the turn would come to him, and which of the cases belonging to him it would affect ; he could work up to this point, — he could prepare himself. But now the innumerable arrears had heaped themselves up, and they were forced to resolve to select the more important cases, and to deal with them out of order. But with a pressure of important affairs, the decision as to which matter has the more weight, is difficult, and selection leaves room for favour. Now, another critical case occurred. The Referent tormented both himself and the court with a difficult involved affair, and at last no one was found willing to take up the judgment. The parties had come to an agree- ment, had separated, had died, had changed their minds. Hence they resolved to take in hand only the cases of which they were reminded. They wished to be convinced of the continued obstinacy of the parties, and hence was given an introduction to the greatest defects, for he who commends his affairs, must commend them to somebody, and to whom can one commend them better, than to him who has them already in his hands? To keep this one regularly secret was im- possible ; for how could he remain concealed with so many subordinates, all acquainted with the matter ? If acceleration is requested, favour may well be requested likewise, for the very fact that people urge their cause, shows that they consider it just. This will perhaps not be done in a direct manner, cer- tainly it will be first done through subordinates ; these must be gained over, and thus an introduction is given to all sorts of intrigues and briberies. The Emperor Joseph, following his own impulse, and m imi- tation of Frederic, first directed his attention to arms and the administration of justice. He cast his eyes upon the Imperial Chamber ; traditional wrongs, introduced abuses had not re- mained unknown to him. Even here something was to be stirred up, shaken, and done. Without inquiring whether it was his imperial right, without foreseeing the possibility of a happy result, he proposed a revival of the " visitation," and hastened its opening. For one hundred and sixty years no regular " visitation" had taken place ; a monstrous chaos of THE " VISITATION AT WETZLAR. 401 papers lay swelled up and increased every year, since tlio ■seventeen assessors were not even able to despatch the current business. Twenty thousand processes were heaped up ; sixty ■could be settled every year, and double that number was brought forward. Besides, it was not a small number of revi- sions that awaited the " visitators," — they were estimated at fifty thousand. Many other abuses, in addition to this, hin- dered the course of justice ; but the most critical matter of all was the personal delinquency of some assessors, which appeared in the background. "When I was about to go to "Wetzlar, the " visitation " had been already for some years in operation, the parties accused had been suspended from office, .the investigation had been carried a long way; and because the masters and commis- sioners of German political law could not let pass this oppor- tunity of exhibiting their sagacity and devoting it to the common weal, several profound, well-designed works appeared, from which every one, who possessed only some preparatory Knowledge, could derive solid instruction. "When on this occa- sion they went back into the constitution of the empire and the books written upon it, it was striking to me how the mon- strous condition of this thoroughly diseased body, which was kept alive by a miracle alone, was the very thing that most suited the learned. For the venerable German industry, which was more directed to the collection and development of details than to results, found here an inexhaustible impulse to new employment, and whether the empire was opposed to the Emperor, the lesser to the greater estates, or the Catholics to the Protestants, there was necessarily always, according to the diversity of interest, a diversity of opinion, and always an occasion for new contests and controversies. Since I had rendered all these older and newer circumstances as present to my mind as possible, it was impossible for me to promise myself much pleasure from my abode at Wetzlar. The prospect of finding in a city, which was indeed well situ- ated, but small and ill-built, a double world; first the domestic, old traditional world, then a foreign new one, authorized to scrutinize the other with severity, — a judging and a judged tribunal ; many an inhabitant in fear and anxiety, lest he might also be drawn into the impending investigation ; persons of consideration, long held in respect, convicted of the most •462 IKUTH AND POETKT ; FROM MY OWN .LIFE. scandalous misdeeds, and marked out for disgraceful punish - ment ; — all this together made the most dismal picture, and could not lure me to go deeper into a business, which, involved in itself, seemed so much perplexed by wrong. That, excepting the German civil and public law, I should find nothing remarkable in the scientific way, that I should be without all poetical communication, I thought I could fore- see, when, after some delay, the desire of altering my situation more than impulse to knowledge led me to this spot. But how surprised I was, when, instead of a crabbed society, a third academical life sprang towards me. At a large fable d'hote I found a number of young lively people, nearly all subordinates to the commission ; they gave me a friendly reception, and the very first day it remained no secret to me that they had cheered their noon-meetings by a romantic fiction. With much wit and cheerfulness they represented a table of knights. At the top sat the grand-master, by his side the chancellor, then the most important officers of the state ; now followed the knights, according to their seniority. Strangers, on the other hand, who visited, were forced to be content with the lowest places, and to these the conversation was almost unintelligible, because the language of the society, in addition to the chivalric expres- sions, was enriched with many allusions. To every one a name with an epithet was assigned. Me they called " Gotz von Ber- lichingen the honest." The former I earned by the atten- tion to the gallant German patriarch, the latter by my upright affection and devotion for the eminent men with whom I be- came acquainted. To the Count voh Kielmannsegg I was much indebted during this residence. He was the most serious of all, highly clever, and to be relied on. There was Von Goue, a man hard to be deciphered and described, a blunt, kind, quietly reserved Hanoverian figure. He was not wanting in talent of various kinds. It was conjectured concerning him that he was a natural son ; he loved, besides, a certain myste- rious deportment, and concealed his most peculiar wishes and plans under various eccentricities, as indeed he was, properly speaking, the very soul of the odd confederation of knights, without having striven to attain the post of grand-master, On the contrary, when, just at this time, the head of the knighthood departed, he caused another to be elected, and, through him exercised his influence. Thus he managed bo to WHIMSICAL SOCIETIES AT WETZLAK. 4faculty. Nobly as they excited my imagination, they never- theless entirely withdrew themselves from the sensuous per- ception, while the mythology of the Greeks, changed by the greatest artists in the world into visible, easily imagined forms, still existed before our own eyes in abundance. Gods in general I did not allow often to appear, because, at all TASTE FOR HOMER. 467 events, they had their abode out of the Nature, which I under- stood how to imitate. What now could have induced to sub- stitute Woden for Jupiter, and Thor for Mars, and instead of the Southern, accurately described figures, to introduce forms of mist, nay, mere verbal sounds, into my poems? On the one side, they were related to the equally formless heroes of Ossian, only they were ruder and more gigantic ; on the other, I brought them into contact with the cheerful tale ; for the humoristic vein which runs through the whole Northern mythus, was to me highly pleasing and remarkable. It appeared to me the only one which jests with itself throughout, — wondrous giants, magicians, and monsters op posed to an odd dynasty of gods, and only occupied in leading astray and deriding the highest persons during their govern- ment, while they threaten them, besides, with disgraceful and inevitable destruction. I felt a similar if not an equal interest for the Indian fables, which I at first learned to know from Dapper's Travels, and likewise added with great pleasure to my store of tales, In subsequent repetitions I succeeded especially with the Altar of Bam ; and notwithstanding the great number of persons in this tale, the ape Hannemann remained the favorite of my public. But even these unformed and over-formed monsters could not satisfy me in a true poetic sense ; they lay too far from the truth, towards which my mind unceasingly strove. But against all these goblins, so repulsive to art, my sense for the beautiful was to be protected by the noblest power. Always fortunate is that epoch in a literature when the great works of the past again rise up as if thawed, and come into notice, because they then produce a perfectly fresh effect. Even the Homeric fight rose again quite new to us, and in- deed quite in the spirit of the time, which highly favoured such an appearance ; for the constant reference to nature had at last the effect, that we learned to regard even the works of the ancients from this side. What several travellers had done for explanation of the Holy Scriptures, others had done for Homer. By Guys the matter was introduced ; Wood gave it an impulse. A Gottingen review of the original work, which was at first very rare, made us acquainted with the design, and taught us how far it had been carried out. Wo uow no longer saw in those poems a strained and inflated 2h2 463 TKTJTH AND FOETK-tf; FKOM MY OWN LIFE. heroism, but the reflected truth of a primeval present, and sought to bring this as closely to us as possible. At the same time we could not give our assent, when it was maintained that in order rightly to understand the Homeric natures, one must make oneself acquainted with the wild races and their manners, as described by the travellers in new worlds ; for it cannot be denied that both Europeans and Asiatics are repre- sented in the Homeric poems as at a higher grade of culture, —perhaps higher than the time of the Trojan war could have enjoyed. But that maxim was nevertheless in harmony with the prevailing confession of nature, and so far we let it pass. With all these occupations, which were related to the knowledge of mankind in the higher sense, as well as most nearly and dearly to poetry, I was nevertheless forced every day to experience that I was residing in Wetzlar. The con- versation on the situation of the business of the " Visitation," and its ever-increasing obstacles, the discovery of new offences, was heard every hour. Here was the holy Roman Empire once more assembled, not for mere outward forms, but for an occupation which penetrated to the very depths. But even here that half-empty banqueting-hall on the coronation-day occurred to me, where the bidden guests remained without, because they were too proud. Here, indeed, they had come, but even worse symptoms were to be seen. The want of coherence in the whole, the mutual opposition of the parts, were con- tinually apparent ; and it remained no secret that princes had confidentially communicated to each other this notion, that they must see whether, on this occasion, something could not be gained from the supreme authority. What a bad impression the petty detail of all the anecdotes of neglects and delays, of injustices and corruptions, must make upon a young man who desired what was good, and with this view cultivated his mind, every honest person will feel. Under such circumstances, where was a reverence for the law and the judge to arise ? Even if the greatest confi- dence had been placed in the effects of the " Visitation," — if it could have been believed that it would fully accomplish its high purpose, — there was still no remedy to be found here for a joyous, inwardly-striving youth. The formalities of the proceeding all tended towards delay ; if any one desired to co anything, and to be of any importance, he was oblige! -ESTHETIC SPECULATIONS. 469 to serve the party in the -wrong — always the accused— and to be skilled in the fencing-art of twisting and evading. Since, amid this distraction, I could not succeed in any aesthetic labours, I again and again lost myself in aesthetic speculations, as indeed all theorising indicates a defect or stagnation of productive power. Before with Merk, now with Gotter, I endeavoured to find out the maxims according to which one might go to work in production. But neither with me nor with them would it succeed. Merk was a sceptic and eclectic ; Gotter adhered to such examples as pleased him the most. The Sulzer theory was published more for the amateur than the artist. In this sphere moral effects are required above all things ; and here at once arises a dissension between the class that produces and that which uses; for a good work of art can, and will indeed, have moral conse- , quences ; but to require moral ends of the artist, is to destroy his profession. What the ancients had said on these important subjects I had read industriously for some years, by skips, at least,, if not in regular order. Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian, Longinus — none were unconsidered ; but this did not help me in the least, for all these men presupposed an experience which I lacked. They led me into a world infinitely rich in works of art ; they un- folded the merits of excellent poets and orators, of most of whom the names alone are left us, and convinced me but too well that a great abundance of objects must lie before us ere we can think upon them; that one must first accom- plish something oneself, nay, fail in something, to learn to know one's own capacities, and those of others. My acquaint ance with so much that was good in those old times, was only according to school and book, and by no means vital, since, even with the most celebrated orators, it was striking that they had altogether formed themselves in life, and that one could never speak of the peculiarities of their character as artists, without at the same time mentioning the personal peculiarities of their disposition. With the poets this seemed less to be the case ; and thus- the result of all my thoughts and endeavours was the old resolution to investigate inner and outer nature, and to allow her to rule herself in loving imitation. For these operations, which rested in me neither day nor 470 TBUTH AND POETRY ; TSOM MY OWN £IJFE. night, lay before me two great, nay, monstrous materials, the wealth of which I had only to prize, in order to produce some- thing of importance. There was the older epoch, into which falls the life of Gotz von Berlichingen, and the modern one, the unhappy bloom of which is depicted in Werther. Of the historical preparation to that first work I have already spoken; tile ethical occasions of the second shall now be introduced. The resolution to preserve my internal nature according to its peculiarities, and to let external nature influence me according to its qualities, impelled me to the strange element in which Werther is designed and written. I sought to free myself internally from all that was foreign to me, to regard the external with love, and to allow all beings, from man downwards, as low as they were comprehensible, to act upon me, each after its own kind. Thus arose a wonderful affinity with the single objects of nature, and a hearty concord, a har- mony with the whole, so that every change, whether of place and region, or of the times of the day and year, or whatever else could happen, affected me in the deepest manner. The glance of the painter associated itself to that of the poet, the beautiful rural landscape, animated by the pleasant river, increased my love of solitude, and favoured my silent observations as they extended on all sides. But since I had left the family circle in Sesenheim, and again my family circle at Frankfort and Darmstadt, a vacuum had remained in my bosom which I was not able to fill up ; I therefore found myself in a situation where the inclinations, if they appear in any degree veiled, gradually steal' upon us, and can render abortive all our good resolutions. And now, when the author has attained this step of his undertaking, he for the first time feels light-hearted in his labour, since from henceforward this book first becomes what it properly ought to be. It has not been announced as an inde- pendent work ; it is much more designed to fill up the gaps of an author's life, to complete much that is fragmentary, and to preserve the memory of lost and forgotten ventures. But what is already done neither should nor can be repeated, and the poet would now vainly call upon those darkened powers of the soul, vainly ask of them to render present again those charm- ing circumstances, which rendered the period in Lahnthal so agrtieable to him. Fortunately the genius had already pro* OKICJIN OH " WERTHBK." 471 vided for that, and had impelled him, in the vigorous period of youth, to hold fast, describe, and with sufficient boldness and at the favourable hour publicly to exhibit that which had immediately gone by. That the little book Werther is here meant, requires no further indication, but something is to be gradually revealed, both of the persons introduced in it and the views which it exhibits. Among the young men, who, attached to the embassy, had to prepare themselves for their future career of office, was one whom we were accustomed to call only the " Bridegroom." He distinguished himself by a calm, agreeable deportment, clearness of views, definiteness both in speaking and in acting. His cheerful activity, his persevering industry so much recom- mended him to his superiors, that an appointment at an early period was promised him. Being justified by this, he ventured to betroth himself to a lady, who fully corresponded to his tone of mind and his wishes. After the death of her mother, she had shown herself extremely active as the head of a numerous young family, and had alone sustained her father in his widow- hood, so that a future husband might hope the same for him- self and his posterity, and expect a decided domestic felicity. Every one confessed, without having these selfish ends imme- diately in view, that she was a desirable lady. She belonged to those who, if they do not inspire ardent passion, are neverthe- less formed to create a general feeling of pleasure. A figure lightly built and neatly formed, a pure healthy temperament, with a glad activity of life resulting from it, an unembarrassed management of the necessities of the day — all these were given her together. I always felt happy in the contemplation of such qualities, and I readily associated myself to those who possessed them ; and if I did not always find opportunity to render them real service, I rather shared with them than with others the enjoyment of those innocent pleasures which youth can always find at hand, and seize without any great cost or effort. Moreover, since it is now settled that ladies decorate them- selves only for each other, and are unwearied among each other to heighten the effect of their adornments, those were always the most agreeable to me, who, with simple purity, give their friend, their bridegroom, the silent assurance thf & all is really done for him alone, and that a whole life could be so carried on without much circumstance and outlay ,' 4T2 TBUTH AND POETRY; FKOM MY OW LIFE. Such persons are not too much occupied with themselves ; they have time to consider the external world, and 'patience enough to direct themselves according to it, and to adapt themselves to it ; they become shrewd and sensible without exertion, and require but few books for their cultivation. Such was the bride.* The bridegroom, with his thoroughly upright and confiding turn of mind, soon made, many whom he esteemed acquainted with her ; and as he had to pass the greatest part of his day in a zealous attention to business, was pleased when his betrothed, after the domestic toils were ended, amused herself otherwise, and took social recreation in walks and rural parties with friends of both sexes. Lottie — for so we shall call her — was unpretending in two senses ; first, by her nature, which was rather directed to a general kindly feeling than to particular inclinations ; and then she had set her mind upon a man who, being worthy of her, de- clared himself ready to attach his fate to hers for life. The most cheerful atmosphere seemed to surround her ; nay, if it be a pleasing sight to see parents bestow an uninterrupted care upon their children, there is something still more beautiful when brothers and sisters do the same for each other. In the former case we think we can perceive more of natural impulse and social tradition ; in the latter, more of choice and of a free exercise of feeling. The new comer, perfectly free from all ties, and careless in the presence of a girl who, already engaged to another, could not interpret the most obliging services as acts of courtship, and could take the more pleasure in them accordingly, quietly went his way, but was soon so drawn in and rivetted, that he no longer knew himself. Indolent and dreamy, because nothing present satisfied him, he found what he had lacked in a female friend, who, while she lived for the whole year, seemed only to live for the moment. She liked him much as her companion ; he soon could not bear her absence, as she formed for him the connecting link with the every-day world ; and during extensive household occupations, they were inse- parable companions in the fields and in the meadows, in the vegetable-ground and in the garden. If business permitted, the bridegroom was also of the party ; they had all three ac- * Persona betrothed are in German called "bride" and "brido- groom." — Tram. YOUNG JERUSALEM:. 478 customed themselves to each other without intention, and did not know how they had become so mutually indispensable. During the splendid summer they lived through a real Ger- man idyl, to which the fertile land gave the form and a pure affection the poetry. Wandering through ripe corn-fields, they took delight in the dewy morning ; the song of the lark, the cry of the quail, were pleasant tones ; sultry hours fol- lowed, monstrous storms came on, — they grew more and more attached to each other, and by this continuous love many a little domestic annoyance was easily extinguished. And thus one ordinary day followed another, and all seemed to be holi- days,-— the whole calendar should have been printed red. He will understand me who recollects what was predicted by the happily unhappy friend of the " New Heloise : " " And sitting at the feet of his beloved, he will break hemp, and he will wish to break hemp to-day, to-morrow, and the day after, nay, for his whole life." I can say but little, though just as much as may be neces- siry, respecting a young man, whose name was afterwards but too often mentioned. This was Jerusalem, the son of the freely and tenderly thinking theologian. He also had an ap- pointment with an embassy ; his form was pleasing, of a middle height, and well built ; his face was rather round than long ; his features were soft and calm, and he had the other appurtenances of a handsome blond youth, with blue eyes, rather attractive than speaking. His dress was that intro- duced in Lower Germany in imitation of the English, — a blue frock, waistcoat and breeches of yellow leather, and boots with brown tops. The author never visited him, nor saw him at his own residence, but often met bim among his friends. The exf "essions of this young man were moderate but kindly. He took interest in productions of the most different kinds, gjad espTcially loved those designs and sketches in which the the tranquil character of solitary spots is caught. On such occasions he showed Gesner's etchings, and encouraged the amateurs' to study them. In all that mummery and knight- hood he took no part, but lived for himself and his own senti- ments. It was said he had a decided passion for the wife of one of lis friends. In public they were never seen together. In general very little could be said of him, except that he occupied himself with English literature. As the son of an ■474 tiuj-jch Aye. poetry; fkom my own life. opulent man, he had no occasion either painfully to dev6tj himself to business, or to make pressing applications for an early appointment. Those etchings by Gesner increased the pleasure and inte- rest in rural objects, and a little poem, which we passionately received into our circle, allowed us from henceforward to think of nothing else. Goldsmith's Deserted Village necessarily de- lighted every one at that grade of cultivation, in that sphere of thought. Not as living and active, but as a departed, vanished existence was described, all that one so readily looked upon, that one loved, prized, sought passionately in the present, to take part in it with the cheerfulness of youth. Highdays and holidays in the country, church consecrations and fairs, the solemn assemblage of the elders under the village linden-tree, supplanted in its turn by the lively delight of youth in dancing, while the more educated classes show their sympa- thy. How seemly did these pleasures appear, moderated as they were by an excellent country pastor, who understood how to smooth down and remove all that went too far, — that gave occasion to quarrel and dispute. Here again We found an honest Wakefield, in his well-known circle, yet no longer in his living bodily form, but as a shadow recalled by the soft mournful tones of the elegiac poet. The very thought of this picture is one of the happiest possible, when once the design is formed to evoke once more an innocent past with a graceful melancholy. And in this kindly endeavour, how well has the Englishman succeeded in every sense of the word ! I shared the enthusiasm for this charming poem with Gotter, who was more felicitous than myself with the translation undertaken by us both ; for I had too painfully tried to imitate in our lan- guage the delicate significance of the original, and thus had well agreed with single passages, but not with the whole. If now, as they say, the greatest happiness rests on a sense of longing (sehnsucht), and if the genuine longing can only be directed to something unattainable, everything had fallen together to render the youth whom we now accompany on his wanderings the happiest of mortals. An affection for one betrothed to another, the effort to acquire the master- pieces of foreign literature for our own, the endeavour to imi- tate natural objects, not only with words, but also with style- and pencil, without any proper technical knowledge,— each at HOEPFNEK. 476. these particulars would singly have sufficed to melt the heart and oppress the bosom. But, that the sweetly suffering youth might be torn out of this state, and that new circumstances might be prepared for new disquiet, the following events occurred :— Hopfner, professor of law, was at Giessen. He was ac- knowledged and highly esteemed by Merck and Sohloeser as clever in his office, and as a thinking and excellent man. I had long ago desired his acquaintance, and now, when these two friends thought to pay him a visit, to negotiate about some literary matters, it was agreed that I should likewise go- to Giessen on this opportunity. Because, however — as gene- rally happens with the wilfulness of glad and peaceful times — we could not easily do anything in the direct way, but, like genuine children, sought to get a jest even out of what was necessary, I was now, as an unknown person, to appear in a strange form, and once more satisfy my desire to appear disguised. One cheerful morning, before sunrise, I went from Wetzlar along the Lahn, up the charming valley;; such ramblings again constituted my greatest felicity. I invented, connected, elaborated, and was quietly happy and cheerful with myself; I set right what the ever-contradic- tory world had clumsily and confusedly forced upon me. Arrived at the end of my journey, I looked out for Hopfner'* residence, and knocked at his study. "When he had cried, out, "■ Come in ! " I modestly appeared before him as a student who was going home from the universities, and wished on his way to become acquainted with the most worthy men. For his questions as to my more intimate circumstances, I was prepared ; I made up a plausible, pro- saic tale, with which he seemed satisfied, and as I gave myself out for a jurist, I did not come off badly ; for I well knew his merits in this department, and also that he was occupied. with natural law. Conversation, however, sometimes came to a stand, and it seemed as if he were looking for a Stamm- buch,* or for me to take my leave. Nevertheless, I managed) to delay my departure, as I expected with certainty the arrival of Schlosser, whose punctuality was well known tc * A " Stammbuch " is a sort of album for autographs and short con- tributions. — Trans. 476 TBTTTH AND POETBT ; PKOM MY OWN MFB. me. He came in reality, and after a side glance, took little notice of me. Hopfner, however, drew me into conversa- tion, and showed himself throughout as a humane and kindly man. I at last took my leave, and hastened to the inn, where I exchanged a few hurried words with Merck, and awaited further proceedings. The friends had resolved to ask Hopfner to dinner, and also (that Christian Heinrich Schmid who had played a part, though a very subordinate one, in German literature. For him the affair was really designed, and he was to be punished in a mirthful manner. When the guests had assembled in the dining-room, I asked, through the waiter, whether the gen- tlemen would allow me to diiie with them. Schlosser, whom a certain earnestness well became, opposed this proposition, because they did not wish their conversation interrupted by a third party. But, on the pressing demand of the waiter and the advocacy of Hopfner, who assured the other that I was a very tolerable person, I was admitted, and at the commence- ment- of the meal behaved as if modest and abashed. Schlos- ser and Merck rmt no restraint upon themselves, and went on about many subjects as freely as if no stranger were present. I now showed myself somewhat bolder, and did not allow ray- self to be disturbed when Schlosser threw out at me much that was in earnest, and Merck something sarcastic ; but I directed against Schmid all my darts, which fell sharply and surely on the uncovered places which I well knew. I had been moderate over my pint of table-wine, but the gentlemen ordered better wine to be brought, and did not fail to give me some. After many affairs of the day had been talked over, conversation went into general matters, and the question was discussed, which will be repeated as long as there are authors in the world, — the question, namely, whether litera- ture was rising or declining, progressing or retrograding? This question, about which old and young, those commencing and those retiring, seldom agree, was discussed with cheerful- ness, though without any exact design of coming decidedly to terms about it. At last 1 took up the discourse, and said, " The different literatures, as it seems to me, have seasons, which alternating with each other, as in nature, bring forth ■certain phenomena, and assert themselves in due order. Hence I do not believe that any epoch of a literature can bo JOKE UPON C. H. SCHMID. /rf^ praised or blamed on the whole ; especially it displeases me when certain talents, which are brought out by their time, are raised and Taunted so highly, while others are censured and depreciated. The throat of the nightingale is excited by the spring, but at the same time also that of the cuckoo. The butterflies, which are so agreeable to the eye, and the gnats, which are so painful to the feelings, are called into being by the same heat of the sun. If this were duly considered, we should not hear the same complaints renewed every ten years, and the vain trouble which is taken to root out this or that offensive thing, would not so often be wasted." The party looked at me, wondering whence I had got so much wisdom and tolerance. I, however, continued quite calmly to compare literary phenomena with natural productions, and (I know not how) came to the mottuscce, of which I contrived to' set forth all sorts of strange things. I said that there were creatures to whom a sort of body, nay, a certain figure, could not be denied ; but that, since they had no bones, one never knew how to set about rightly with them, and they were nothing better than living slime ; nevertheless, the sea must have such inhabitants. Since I carried the simile beyond its due limits to designate Schmid, who was present, and that class of characterless litterateurs, I was reminded that a simile carried too far at last becomes nothing. " Well, then, I will return to the earth," I replied, " and speak of the ivy. As these creatures have no bones, so this has no trunk; but wherever it attaches itself, it likes to play the chief part. It belongs to old walls, in which there is nothing more to destroy ; but from new buildings it is pro- perly removed. It sucks up the goodness of the trees ; and is most insupportable to me when it Clambers up a post, and assures me that this is a living trunk, because it has covered it with leaves." Notwithstanding I was again reproached with the obscurity and inapplicability of my similes, I became more and more warm against all parasitical creatures, and as far as my know- ledge of nature, then extended, managed the affair pretty well. I at last sang a vivat to all independent men, upereal to those who forced themselves upon them, seized Hopfner's hand after dinner, shook it violently, declared him to be the best man in the world, and finally embraced both him and the ±78 TRUTH AND POETKY ; FBOM MY OWN MFE. others right heartily. My excellent new friend thought hu was really dreaming, until Schlosser and Merk at last solved the riddle ; and the discovered joke diffused a' general hilarity, which was shared by Schmid himself, who was appeased by an acknowledgment of his real merits, and the interest we took in his tastes. This ingenious introduction could not do otherwise than animate and favour the literary congress, which was indeed, chiefly kept in view. Merck, active now in aesthetics, now in literature, now in commerce, had stimulated the weU-thinking, well-informed Schlosser, whose knowledge extended to so many oranch.es, to edit the Frankfort Gelehrte Anzeige {Learned Ad- vertiser) for that year. They had associated to themselves Hopfner. and other university-men in Giessen, a meritorious schoolman, Rector Wenck in Darmstadt, and many other good men. Every one of them possessed enough historical and theoretical knowledge in his department, and the feeling of the times allowed these men to work in one spirit. The human and cosmopolitan is encouraged; really good men justly celebrated are protected against obtrusion of every kind ; their -defence is undertaken against enemies, and especially against •scholars, who use what has been taught them to the detriment •of their instructors. Nearly the most interesting articles are the critiques on other periodical publications, the Berlin, Library {Bibliothek), the German Mercury, where the cleverness in so many departments, the judgment as well the fairness of the papers, is rightly admired. As for myself, they saw well enough that I was deficient in everything that belongs to a critic, properly so called. My historical knowledge was unconnected, the histories of the world, science, and literature had only attracted me by epochs, the objects themselves only partially and in masses. My capa- city of giving life to things, and rendering them present to me out of their real connexion, put me in the position that I could be perfectly at home in a certain century or in a department of science, without being in any degree instructed as to what preceded or what followed. Thus a certain theoretico-practical sense had tjeen awakened in me, by which I could give account of things, rather as they should be than as they were, without .any proper philosophical connexion, but by way of leaps. To this was added a very easy power of apprehension, and a FBANKFOKT " GELEHKTE AKZEIGE." 479 friendly reception of the opinions of others, if they did not stand in direct opposition to my own convictions. That literary union was also favoured by an animated cor- respondence, and by frequent personal communication, which was possible from the vicinity of the places, He who had first rea"d a book was to give an account of it ; often another reviewer of the same book was found ; the affair was talked over, connected with kindred subjects, and if at last a certain result had been obtained, one of them took the office of edit- ing. Thus many reviews are as clever as they are spirited, as pleasant as they are satisfactory. I often had the task of intro- ducing the matter ; my friends also permitted me to jest in their works, and to appear independently with objects to which I felt myself equal, and in which I especially took interest. In vain should I endeavour, either by description or reflection, to recall the proper spirit and sense of those days, if the two years of the above-mentioned periodical did not furnish me with the most decisive documents. Extracts from passages, in which I again recognise myself, may appear in future in their proper place, together with similar essays. During this lively interchange of knowledge, opinions, and convictions, I very soon became better acquainted withHopfner, and became very fond of him. As soon as we were alone I spoke with him about subjects connected with his department, which was to be my department also ; and found a very naturally connected explanation and instruction. I was not then as yet plainly conscious that I could learn something from books and conversation, but not from continuous professional lectures. A book allowed me to pause at a passage, and even to look back, which is impossible with oral delivery and a teacher. Often at the beginning of the lecture, some thought in which I indulged laid hold of me, and thus I lost what followed, and altogether got out of the connexion. Thus it had happened to me with respect to the lectures on jurisprudence ; and on this account I could take many opportunities of talking with Hopfner, who entered very readily into my doubts and scruples, and filled up many gaps, so that the wish arose in me to re- main with him at Giessen, and derive instruction from him, without removing myself too far from Wetzlar inclinations. Against this wish of mine my two friends had laboured, first unconsciously, but afterwards consciously ; for both were in a ^80 TKTJTK AND POETRY. ; FROM MY OWK LIFE. hurry, not only to leave the place themselves, but had also au interest to remove me from the spot. Schlosser disclosed to me that he had formed, first a friendly then a closer connexion with my sister, and that he was looking about for an early appointment that he might be united to her. This explanation surprised me to some degree, although I ought to have found it out long ago in my sister's letters ; but we easily pass over that which may hurt the good opinion which we entertain of ourselves, and I now remarked for the first time that I was really jealous about my sister ; a feeling which I concealed from myself the less, as, since my return from Stras- burg, our connexion had been much more intimate. How much time had we not expended in communicating each little affair of the heart, love-matters, and other matters, which had occurred in the interval. In the field of imagination too, had there not been revealed to me a new world, into which I sought to conduct her also ? My own little productions, and a far-extended world-poetry, was gradually to be made known to her. Thus I made for her impromptu translations of those passages of Homer, in which she could take the greatest inte- rest. Clarke's literal translation I read into German, as well as I could; my version generally found its way into metrical turns and terminations, and the liveliness with which I had apprehended the images, the force with which I expressed them, removed all the obstacles of a cramped order of words ; what I gave with mind, she followed with mind also. We passed many hours of the day in this fashion ; while, if her company met, the Wolf Fenris and the Ape Hannemann were unanimously called for, and how often have I not been obliged to repeat circumstantially how Thor and his comrades were deluded by the magical giants ! Hence from these fictions such a pleasant impression has remained with me, that they belong to the most valuable things which my imagination can recall. Into the connexion with the Darmstadt people I had drawn my sister also, and now my wanderings and occasional absence necessarily bound us closer together, as I discoursed with her by letter respecting every thing that occurred to me, communicated to her every little poem, if even only a note of admiration, and let her first see all the letters which I received, and all the answers which I wrote. All these lively impulses had been stopped since- my departure from Frankfort, my re~ MEKE » HATRED OF STUDENTS. 481 sidence at Wetzlar was not fertile enough for such a corres- pondence, and, moreover, my attachment to Charlotte may have infringed upon my attentions to my sister ; enough, she felt herself alone, perhaps neglected, and therefore the more readily gave a hearing to the honest -wooing of an honourable man, who, serious and reserved, estimable and worthy of con- fidence, had passionately bestowed on her his affections, with which he was otherwise very niggardly. I was now forced to resign myself and grant my friend his happiness, though I did not fail in secret to say confidently to myself, that if the brother had not been absent, it would not have gone so well with the friend. My friend ana probable brother-in-law was now very anxious that I should return home, because, by my mediation, a freer intercourse was possible, of which the feelings of this man, so unexpectedly attacked by a tender passion, seemed to stand extremely in need. Therefore, on his .speedy departure, he elicited from me the promise that I would immediately follow im. Of Merck, whose time was free, I hoped that he would delay his sojourn in Giessen, that I might be able to pass some hours ot the day with my good Hopfner, while my friend employed his time on the Frankfort Gelehrte Anzeige ; but he was not to be moved, and as my brother-in-law was driven from the uni- versity by love, he was driven by hate. For as there are innate antipathies — -just as certain men cannot endure cats, while this or that is repugnant to the soul of others, — so was Merk a deadly enemy to all the academical citizens (the students), who indeed at that time, at Giessen, took delight in the greatest rudeness. For me they were well enough ; I could have used them as masks for one of my carnival plays, but with him the sight of them by day, and their noise by night, destroyed every sort of good humour. He had spent the best days of his youth in French Switzerland, and had afterwards enjoyed the pleasant intercourse of people of the court, world, and business, and of cultivated litterateurs ; several military persons, in whom a desire for mental culture had been awakened, sought his society, and thus he had passed his life in a very cultivated circle. That the rudeness of the students vexed him, was therefore not to be wondered at, but his aversion from them 2 i 482 1SUTH AND POETET * » ROM MY OWN LIFE. was really more passionate than became a sound man, although lie often made me laugh by his •witty descriptions of their mon- strous appearance and behaviour. Hopfher's invitations and my persuasions were of no avail ; I was obliged to depart with him as soon as possible for Wetzlar. I could scarcely wait any time, till I had introduced him to Charlotte, but his presence in this circle' did me" no good ; for as Mephistopheles, let him go when he will, hardly brings a blessing with him, so did he, by his indifference towards that beloved person, cause me no joy, even if he did not make me waver. This I might have foreseen, if I had recollected that it was exactly those slender, delicate persons, who diffuse a lively cheerfulness around them, without making further pre- tensions, who did not remarkably please him. He very quickly preferred the Juno-form of one of her friends, and since he lacked time to form a close connexion, he bitterly blamed me for not exerting myself to gain this magnificent figure, espe- cially as she was free and without any tie. He thought that I did not understand my own advantage, and that he here — very unwillingly — perceived my especial taste for wasting my time. If it is dangerous to make a friend acquainted with the per- fections of one's beloved, because he also may find her charm- ing and desirable ; no less is the reverse danger, that he may perplex us by his dissent. This, indeed, was not the case here, for I had too deeply impressed upon myself the picture of her amiability for it to be so easily obliterated ; but his presence and his persuasions nevertheless hastened my resolution to leave the place. He represented to me a journey on the Rhine, which he was going to take with his wife and son, in the most glowing colours, and excited in me the desire to see, at last, with my eyes those objects of which I had often heard with envy. Now, when he had departed, I separated myself from Charlotte with a purer conscience indeed than from Frederica, but still not without pain. This connexion also had by habit and indulgence grown more passionate than was right on my side, while, on the other hand, she and her bridegroom kept themselves with cheerfulness in a measure which could not be more beautiful and amiable, and the .secu- rity which resulted just from this caused me to forget every SEPARATION FROM CHARLOTTE. 483 danger. I could not, however, conceal from myself that this adventure must come to a speedy end ; for the union of the young man •with the amiable girl depended on a promotion whicn was immediately to be expected, and as man, if he is in any degree resolute, even dares to make a virtue of necessity, so did I embrace the determination voluntarily to depart before I was driven away by anything insupportable. 2 i 2 THIRTEENTH BOOK It was agreed with Merck, that in the fine season we should meet at Coblentz at Frau von Laroche's. I sent to Frankfort my baggage and whatever I might want on my way down the Laim by an opportunity which offered, and now wandered down that beautiful river, so lovely in its windings, so vari- ous in its shores, free as to my resolution, but oppressed as to my feelings — in a condition, when the presence of silently- living nature is so beneficial to us. My eye, accustomed to discern those beauties of a landscape that suited the painter, and were above him, rioted in the contemplation of near and distant objects, of bushy rocks, of sunny heights, of damp valleys, of enthroned castles, and of the blue range of moun- tains inviting us from the distance. I wandered on the right bank of the river, which at some depth and distance below me, and partly concealed by a rich bush of willows, glided along in the sunlight. Then again arose in me the old wish, worthily to imitate such objects. By chance I had a handsome pocket<-knife in my left hand, and at the moment, from the depth of my soul, arose, as it were,, an absolute command, according to which, without delay, I was to fling this knife into the river. If I saw it fall, my wish to become an artist would be fulfilled, but if the sinking of the knife was concealed by the overhanging bush of willows, I was to abandon the wish and the endeavour. This whim had no sooner arisen in me than it was executed. For, with- out regarding the usefulness of the knife, which, comprised many instruments in itself, I cast it with the left hand, as I held it, violently towards the river. But here I had to expe' rience that deceptive ambiguity of oracles, of which, in anti- quity, such bitter complaints were made. The sinking of the knife into the water was concealed from me by the extreme twigs of the willows, but the water, which rose from the fall, sprang up like a strong fountain, and was perfectly visible. I EFFECT OF WEKIHEB. 513 Deration I received for it was not entirely swallowed up by the debts which I had been forced to contract on account of Gotz von Berlichingen. The effect of this little book was great, nay immense, and chiefly because it exactly hit the temper of the times. For as it requires but a little match to blow up an immense mine, so the explosion which followed my publication was mighty, from the circumstance that the youthful world had already undermined itself; and the shock was great, because all extra- vagant demands, unsatisfied passions, and imaginary wrongs, were suddenly brought to an eruption. It cannot be expected of the public that it should receive an intellectual work intel- lectually. In fact, it was only the subject, the material part, that was considered, as I had already found to be the case among my own friends; while at the same time arose that old prejudice, associated with the dignity of a printed book, — that it ought to have a moral aim. But a true picture of life has none. It neither approves nor censures, but developes sentiments and actions in their consequences, and thereby enlightens and instructs. Of the reviews I took little notice. I had completely washed my hands of the matter, and the good folks might now try what they could make of it. Yet my friends did not fail to collect these things, and as they were already initiated into my views, to make merry with them. The Joys of Young Werther, with which Nicolai came forth, gave us occa- sion for many a jest. This otherwise excellent, meritorious, and well-informed man, had already begun to depreciate and oppose everything that did not accord with his own way of thinking, which, as he was of a very narrow mind, he held to be the only correct way. Against me, too, he must needs try his strength, and his pamphlet was soon in our hands. The very delicate vignette, by Chodowiecki, gave me much delight; as at that time I admired this artist extravagantly. The jumbling ' medley itself was cut out of that rough house- hold stuff, which the human understanding, in its homely limits, takes especial pains to make sufficiently coarse. Without perceiving that there was nothing here to qualify, that Werther's youthful bloom, from the very first, appears gnawed by the deadly worm, Nicolai allows my treatment to pass current up to the two hundred and fourteenth page, and then, when the desolate mortal is preparing for the fatal step 2l 514 TRUTH AND POETRY; FROM MY OWN LIFE. the acute psychological physician contrives to palm upon his patient a pistol, loaded with chickens' blood, from which a filthy spectacle, but happily no mischief, arises. Charlotte becomes the wife of Werther, and the whole affair ends to the satisfaction of everybody. So much I can recall to memory, for the book never came before my eyes again. I had cut out the vignette, and placed it among my most favourite engravings. I then, by way of quiet, innocent revenge, composed a little burlesque poem, "Nicolai at the grave of Werther :" which, however, cannot be communi- cated. On this occasion, too, the pleasure of giving everything a dramatic shape, was again predominant. I wrote a prose dialogue between Charlotte and Werther, which was tolerably comical; Werther bitterly complains that his deliverance by chickens' blood has turned out so badly. His life is saved, it is true, but he has shot his eyes out. He is now in despair at being her husband, without being able to see her ; for the complete view of her person would to him be much dearer than all those pretty details of which he could assure himself by the touch. Charlotte, as may be imagined, has no great catch in a blind husband, and thus occasion is given to abuse Nicolai pretty roundly, for interfering unasked in other peo- ple's affairs. The whole was written in a good-natured spirit, and painted, with prophetic forebodings, that unhappy, con- ceited humour of Nicolai's, which led him to meddle with things beyond his compass, which gave great annoyance both to himself and others, and by which, eventually, in spite of his undoubted merits, he entirely destroyed his literary repu- tation. The original of this jeu d'esprit was riever copied, and has been lost sight of for years. I had a' special predi- lection for the little production. The pure ardent attach- ment of the two young persons, was rather heightened than diminished by the comico-tragic situation into which they were thus transposed. The greatest tenderness prevailed through- out ; and even my adversary was not treated illnaturedly, but only humourously. I did not, however, let the book itself speak quite so politely ; in imitation of an old rhyme it expressed itself thus : — " By that conceited man — by him I'm dangerous declar'd, The heavy man, who cannot swim, Is by the water soar'd, OTFECT OP WEKTHEEJ v ' 51* That Berlin pack, priest-ridden lot— Their ban I do not heed, And those who understand me not Should better learn to read." Being prepared for all that might be alleged against Weriher, i found those attacks, numerous as they were, by no means annoying ; but I had no anticipation of the intolerable torment provided for me by sympathizers and well-wishers. These, instead of saying anything civil to me about my book just as it was, wished to know, one and all, what was really true in it ; at which I grew very angry, and often expressed myself with great discourtesy. To answer this question, I should have been obliged to pull to pieces and destroy the form of a work on which I had so long pondered, with the view of giving a, poetical unity to its many elements; and in this operation, if the essential parts were not destroyed, they would, at least, have been scattered and dispersed. However, upon a closer consideration of the matter, I could not take the public inqui- sitiveness in ill part. Jerusalem's fate had excited great atten- tion. An educated, amiable, blameless young nian, the son of one of the first theologians and authors, healthy and opulent, had at once, without any known cause, destroyed himself. Every one asked how this was possible, and when they heard of an unfortunate love affair, the whole youth were excited, and as soon as it transpired that some little annoyances had oc- curred to him in the higher circles, the middle classes also became excited ; indeed every one was anxious to learn further particulars. Now Weriher appeared an exact delineation, as it was thought, of the life and character of that young man. The locality and person tallied, and the narrative was so very natural, that they considered themselves fully informed and satisfied. But, on the other hand, on closer examination, there was so much that did not fit, that there arose, for those who sought the truth, an unmanageable business, because a critical investigation must necessarily produce a hundred doubts. The real groundwork of the affair was, however, not to be fathomed, for all that I had interwoven of my own life and suffering could not be deciphered, because, as an unobserved young man, I had secretly, though not silently, pursued my course. While engaged in my work, I was fully aware how highly that artist was favoured who had an opportunity of composing a Venus from the study of i variety of beauties. Accordingly 516 TEUIH and poetry; prom my own life. I took leave to model my Charlotte according to the shape and qualities of several pretty girls, although the chief charac- teristics were taken from the one I loved best. The inqui- sitive public could therefore discover similarities in various ladies ; and even to the ladies themselves it was not quite in- different to be taken for the right one. But these several Char- lottes, caused me infinite trouble, because every one who only looked at me seemed determined to know where the proper one really resided. I endeavoured to save myself, like Nathan* with the three rings, by an expedient, which, though it might suit higher beings, would not satisfy either the believing or the reading public. I hoped after a time to be freed from such tormenting inquiries, but they pursued me through my whole life. I sought, on my travels, to escape them, by assuming an incognito, but even this remedy was, to my disappointment, unavailing, and thus the author of the little work, had he even done anything wrong and mischievous, was sufficiently, I may say disproportionately, punished by such unavoidable impor- tunities. Subjected to this kind of infliction, I was taught but too unequivocally, that authors and their p iblic are separated by an immense gulf, of which, happily, neither of them have any conception. The uselessness, therefore, of all prefaces I had long ago seen; for the more pains a writer takes to render his views clear, the more occasion he gives for embarrassment. Besides, an author may preface as elaborately as he will, the public will always go on making precisely those demands which he has endeavoured to avoid. With a kindred pecu- liarity of readers, which (particularly with those who print their judgments) seems remarkably comical, I was likewise- soon acquainted. They live, for instance, in the delusion that an author, in producing anything, becomes their debtor; and he always fait short of what they wished and expected of him, although before they had seen our work, they had not the least notion that anything of the kind existed, or was even possible. Independent of all this, it was now the greatest fortune, or misfortune, that every one wished to make the acquaintance of this strange young author, who had stepped forward so unexpectedly and so boldly. They desired to see him, to speak to him, and, even at a distance, to hear some- * " Nathan the wise," in Lessing's play, founded on Boccacio's tale of the rings. — T^atu. DRAMATIC TENDENCY. 517' thing from him; thus he had to undergo a very consider- able crowd, sometimes pleasant, sometimes disagreeable, but always distracting. For enough works already begun lay before him, nay, and would have given him abundance of work for some years, if he could have kept to them with his old fervour; but he was drawn forth from the quiet, the twilight, the obscurity, which alone can favour pure creation, into the noise of daylight, where one is lost in others, where one is led. astray, alike by sympathy and by coldness, by praise ana by blame, because outward contact never accords with the epoch, of our inner culture, and therefore, as it cannot further us, must necessarily injure us. Yet more than by all the distractions of the day, the author was kept from the elaboration and completion of greater works- by the taste then prevalent in this society for dramatizing everything of importance which occurred in actual life. "What that technical expression (for such it was in our inventive society) really meant, shall here be explained. Excited by intellectual' meetings on days of hilarity, we were accustomed, in short extemporary performances, to communicate, in fragments, all. the materials we had collected towards the formation of larger compositions. One single simple incident, a pleasantly naive or even silly word, a blunder, a paradox, a clever remark, personal singularities or habits, nay, a peculiar expression, and whatever else would occur in a gay and bustling life — took the- form of a dialogue, a catechism, a passing scene, or a drama,— often in prose, but oftener in verse. By this practice, carried on with genial passion, the really poetic mode of thought was established. We allowed objects, events, persons, to stand for themselves in all their bearings, our only endeavour being to comprehend them clearly, and exhibit them vividly. Every expression of approbation or disapprobation was to pass in living forms before the eyes of the spectator. These productions might be called ani- mated epigrams, which, though without edges or points, were richly furnished with marked and striking features. The Jahr- marktsfest (Pair-festival) is an epigram of this kind, or rather a collection of such epigrams. All the characters there introduced are meant for actual living members of that society, or for per- sons at least connected and in some degree known to it; but the meaning of the riddle remained concealed to the greater part r. all laughed and few knew that their own marked peculiarities 518 TRUTH AND POETRY ; TBOM MY OWN IIFE. served as the jest. The prologue to Bahrdt's Newest Revelations may be looked upon as a document of another kind ; the smallest pieces are among the miscellaneous poems, a great many have been destroyed or lost, and some that still exist do not admit of being published. Those which appeared in print only in- creased the excitement of the public, and curiosity about the author ; those which were handed about in manuscript enter- tained the immediate circle, which was continually increasing. Doctor Bahrdt, then iat Giessen, paid me a visit, apparently courteous and confiding ; he laughed over the prologue, and wished to be placed on a friendly footing. But we young people still continued to omit no opportunity at social festivals, of sporting, in a malicious vein, at the peculiarities which we 'had remarked in others, and successfully exhibited. If now it was by no means displeasing to the young author to be stared at as a literary meteor, he nevertheless sought, with glad modesty, to testify his esteem for the most deserving men of his country, among whom, before all others, the admi- rable Justus Moser claims especial mention. The little essays on political subjects by this incomparable man, had been printed some years before in the Osndburg InteUigenzblatter, and made known to me through Herder, who overlooked nothing of worth that appeared in his time, especially if in print. Moser's daugh- ter, Frau von Voigt, was occupied in collecting these scattered papers. We had scarcely patience to wait for their publica- tion, and I placed myself in communication with her, to assure her, with sincere interest, that the essays, which, both in matter and form, had been addressed only to a limited circle, would be useful and beneficial everywhere. She and her •father received these assurances from a stranger, not altogether unknown, in the kindest manner, since an anxiety which they bad felt, was thus preliminarily removed. "What is in the highest degree remarkable and commendable in these little essays, all of which being composed in one spirit, form together a perfect whole, is the very intimate knowledge they display of the whole civil state of man. We see a sys- tem resting upon the past, and still in vigorous existence. On the one hand there is a firm adherence to tradition, on the other, movement and change which cannot be prevented. Here alarm is felt at a useful novelty, there pleasure in what is new, although it be useless, or even injurious. With what freedom from prejudice the author explains the relative position of dif- JUSTUS MOESEK. 519 iereiit ranks, and the connexion in which cities, towns, and villages mutually stand ! We learn their prerogatives, together with the legal grounds of them ; we are told where the main capital of the state is invested, and what interest it yields. We see property and its advantages on the one hand, on the other, taxes and disadvantages of various kinds; and then the numerous branches of industry ; and in all this past and present times are contrasted. Osnaburg, as a member of the Hanseatic League, we are told, had in the earlier periods an extensive and active commerce. According to the circumstances of those times, it had a re- markable and fine situation; it could receive the produce of the country, and was not too far removed from the sea to transport it in its own ships. But now, in later times, it lies- deep in the interior, and is gradually removed and shut out from the sea trade. How this has occurred, is explained in alL its bearings. The conflict between England and the coasts, and of the havens with the interior, is mentioned; here are set forth the great advantages of those who live on the sea-side, and. deliberate plans are proposed for enabling the inhabitants of the interior to obtain similar advantages. We then learn a great deal about tr'ades and handicrafts, and how these have been outstripped by manufactures, and undermined by shop-keeping ;. decline is pointed out as the result of various causes, and this result, in its turn, as the cause of a further decline, in an end- less circle, which it is difficult to unravel ; yet it is so clearly set forth by the vigilant citizen, that one fancies one can see the way to escape from it. The author throughout display* the clearest insight into the most minute circumstances. Hist proposals, his counsel — nothing is drawn from the air, and yel they are often impracticable; on which account he calls hi» collection "patriotic fancies," although everything in it 19 based on the actual and the possible. But as everything in public life is influenced by domestic condition, this especially engages his attention. As objects both of his serious and sportive reflections, we find the changes in manners and customs, dress, diet, domestic life, and educa- tion. It would be necessary to indicate everything which exists in the civil and- social world, to exhaust the list of subjects which he discusses. And his treatment of them is admirable^ A thorough man of business discourses with the people hi weekly papers, respecting whatever a wise and beneficent 520 TKTJTH AND POETEY ; MOM MI OWN LIFE. government undertakes or carries out, that he may bring it to their comprehension in its true light. This is by no means done in a learned manner, but in those varied forms which may be called poetic, and which, in the best sense of the word, must certainly be considered rhetorical. He is always elevated above his subject, and understands how to give a cheerful view of the most serious subjects; now half-concealed behind this or that mask, now speaking in his own person, always complete and exhausting his subject, — at the. same time always in good humour; more or less ironical, tho- roughly to the purpose, honest, well-meaning, sometimes rough and vehement; — and all this so well regulated, that the spirit, understanding, facility, skill, taste, and character of the author •cannot but be admired. In the choice of subjects of general utility, deep insight, enlarged views, happy treatment, pro- found yet cheerful humour, I know no one to whom I can compare him but Franklin. Such a man had an imposing effect upon us, and greatly influenced a. youthful generation, which demanded something sound, and stood ready to appreciate it. We thought we could adapt ourselves to the form of his exposition ; but who could hope to make himself master of so rich an entertainment, and to handle the most unmanageable subjects with so much ease ? But this is our purest and sweetest illusion — one which we cannot resign, however much pain it may cause us through life — that we would, where possible, appropriate to ourselves, cay, even reproduce and exhibit as our own, that which wa raize- and honour in others. END OF THE THIRTEENTH BOOK. unvuxi ritixTKn n* william clowes and sons, limited, K1AMHJHD BTIiKET AND CHAU1XS CROSS. COMPLETE CATALOGUE BOHN'S LIBEAKIES, CONTAINING STANDARD WORKS OF EUROPEAN LITERATURE IN THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE, ON HISTORY, EI09RAPHT, TOPOGRAPHY, ARCHJU5LOGY, THEOLOOY, ANTIQUITIES, SCIENCE, PHILOSOPHY, NATURAL HISTORY, POETRY, ART, FICTION, WITH DICTIONARIES, AND OTHER BOOKS OF REFERENCE. 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