THE 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 OF 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING, 
 
 AULIC COUNSELLOR OF THE GRAND DUKE OF 
 BADEN, &c, &c. . 
 
 Eransrtateü front tije ÖKerman b£ Jacfeson. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 IJARPER & BROTHERS, 82 CLIFF-STREET. 
 
 18 44. 
 
 Price 25 Cents. 
 
f 
 
 The Autobiography of Heinrich Stilling, 
 
 Late Aulic Counsellor to the Grand-duke of Baden, &c. Translated from the 
 German, by S. Jackson. Price 25 cents. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 From Frazer's Magazine. 
 '• This book is the most delightful in the whole course of 
 German literature. It is equal, without being an allegory, 
 to Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress." 
 
 Tail's. 
 
 m Why has a work so long been withheld, or overlooked, 
 which only requires to be known to make its way to the 
 purest and soundest portion of the true old heart of England, 
 and to keep its place on our parlour shelves, somewhere be- 
 tween the • Memoirs of Oberlin,' and those of our own 1 Vic- 
 ar of Wakefield V This may seem high praise ; but it is 
 as highly merited. Let us conclude with hearty thanks to 
 Mr. Jackson, who has given us a book from the German, 
 which ought to become extensively popular, and which we 
 trust will long continue to be admired by English readers, 
 from its delightful affinity with all that is felt to be the 
 finer parts of our best national characteristics." 
 
 Metropolitan. 
 
 " The first part of this book is exquisitely pastoral ; and 
 the beautiful simplicity of nature was never made to appear 
 more beautiful than it does in the unsophisticated charac- 
 ters of the Stilling family. From his youth upward, Hein- 
 rich seems to have been marked by the hand of God as one 
 chosen to vindicate his ways, and to show how a true Chris- 
 tian could bear up against all evils, pass unscathed through 
 all trials, and meet, with pious resignation, all tribulations. 
 It is a book for the serious, and to make the thoughtless be- 
 come so." 
 
 Evangelical. 
 
 " It is indeed a remarkable production ; incident and di- 
 alogue are wrought up together, in a manner strongly re- 
 sembling the composition of romance : yet we cannot doubt 
 the truth of the narrative. The story is simple as the Pil- 
 grim's Progress, and fascinating as Robinson Crusoe." 
 
 Monthly Repository. 
 u The book is one of that species, the enjoyment of which 
 both implies and produces good in the reader. It resembles 
 those simple scenes in nature, the charm of which is sent 
 home to the heart by the universal power of nature, and 
 fixes itself there more firmly than can all the violence of tor- 
 rent, precipice, and tempest. An indescribable interest 
 pervades the volume." 
 
 Printing Machine. * 
 " This is a book not to be talked about, but to be fallen 
 in love with, and one, therefore, rather for readers than for 
 critics. It is like a beautiful human countenance, formed 
 to take the hearts of all beholders, but which yet no one 
 ever became enamoured of from the truest and liveliest 
 description. The book is altogether one of the most de- 
 lightful we have ever read. On the whole, perhaps, in the 
 interest it excites, and the hold it takes of the mind, it re- 
 minds us as much of the effect of Robinson Crusoe as of any 
 other narrative we know ; but the two differ in this, that 
 whereas Defoe's work gives to fiction all the life and force 
 of fact, this charms us by making fact as interesting and 
 poetical as fiction. But in Stilling's life, the representation, 
 if less rich and diversified, has perhaps even, from its great- 
 er simplicity and more perfect unity, that which insinuates 
 itself deeper into the heart. This is a mere story of ordi- 
 nary life, but told by an extraordinary mind, which sheds 
 over it of its own beauty, and makes its stoniest places to 
 blossom like the rose. We feel that we have met with an 
 honest book, as we might feel after having made acquaint- 
 ance with a man, that we had found in him a noble na- 
 ture. That simplicity of spirit which is not ignorance, but 
 the highest wisdom, is spread over every page of the book 
 like sunlight." 
 
 Spectator. 
 
 u Heinrich Stilling contains a complete picture of German 
 life as exhibited among the better classes of the peasantry. 
 It also presents us with a picture of a singular and power- 
 ful, if not a first-rate mind, and with the struggles its own- 
 er underwent in the pursuit of learning." 
 
 Literary Gazette. 
 " A more perfect specimen of a style of writing peculiar 
 to Germany has never yet received an English translation. 
 It is therefore a literary curiosity." 
 
 Athenatum. 
 
 "As a book of genuine and unaffected character, this 
 biography has been rarely surpassed. The third volume 
 closes a biography which, for its truth and simplicity, should 
 be acceptable to all, whatsoever be their sect or party." 
 Sun. 
 
 " The first part of the book is strictly a prose pastoral, ad- 
 hering closely to nature, and furnishing the reader with de- 
 lightful specimens of the better class of German peasantry. 
 The characters of the author's family, and the descriptions 
 of his own early wanderings and studies, are given with a 
 minuteness to which nothing but their extreme beauty and 
 delicacy could reconcile us ; but, indeed, Stilling, like our 
 own Goldsmith, adorns everything he touches— so fertile is 
 his fancy, and so picturesque his power of narration. It is 
 greatly to his credit, too, that though his book is impregna- 
 ted with a strong religious feeling, and his scriptural allu- 
 sions are incessant, there is no cant or affectation of supe- 
 rior virtue about him. Piety, in his estimation, is a thing 
 to feel, not to talk about ; hence he recommends himself to 
 all classes of readers. * * * But the main charm of this 
 book is its unaffectedness, in which quality it may vie even 
 with the Robinson Crusoe of Defoe." 
 
 Conversations Lexicon. English Edition, Glasgow, vol. iv., 
 p. 273. 
 
 " His celebrated work is incomparable. He relates with 
 modesty and simplicity the way in which his life was pass- 
 ed among the classes of people less favoured by extensive 
 gifts of fortune ; and his pious and pure heart discloses it- 
 self so unaffectedly and involuntarily, and the stylo is at 
 the same time so excellent, that the work is one of the 
 most popular among the German classics." 
 
 Christian Observer, Feb., 1836. 
 
 " The translation, and not least that of the poetry, is well 
 executed. Jung, or, as he is more commonly called, Stilling, 
 was a truly devout man, and unwearied in his labours to stem 
 the torrent of vice and infidelity that broke in upon his na- 
 tive land. 
 
 Penny Cyclopaedia. 
 " It was at Goethe's suggestion that he wrote his inter- 
 esting Autobiography, to whom he had often related it. As 
 a writer he was very popular." 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM FOREIGN NOTICES. 
 
 From Goe~the's Autobiography. 
 " Among the new-comers, there was one who particularly 
 interested me ; his name was Jung, and is the same who 
 was afterward known under the appellation of Stilling. On 
 becoming more intimately acquainted with him, he was 
 found to possess a sound understanding, which, reposing 
 upon the mind, suffered itself to be governed by inclinations 
 and passions ; and from this very mind arose an enthusiasm 
 for all that is good, right, and true, in the utmost possible 
 purity : for his course of life had been very simple, and yet 
 had abounded with events, and a manifold activity. The 
 element of his energy was an impregnable faith in God, and 
 in an assistance immediately proceeding from Him, which 
 obviously justified itself in an uninterrupted provision, and 
 an infallible deliverance from every distress, and every evil. 
 Jung had experienced numerous instances of this kind in 
 his fife, and they had recently been frequently repeated ; so 
 that though he led a frugal life, yet it was without care and 
 with the greatest cheerfulness ; and he applied himself most 
 diligently to his studies, although he could not reckon upon 
 any certain subsistence from one quarter of a year to an- 
 other. I urged HIM TO write HIS LIFE, and he promised 
 to do so." 
 
 Mathison's Letters, Part I. 
 " Stilling, far from throwing too brilliant a light upon the 
 picture of his life, has, on the contrary, placed manv things, 
 and invariably those which are precisely the most' honour- 
 able to his spirit and his heart, in a dubious and uncertain 
 light. He has preserved in it many an excellent popular 
 ballad." 
 
 Conversations Lexicon. 
 " He has described the greatest part of his life, without 
 fictitious embellishments, in the celebrated work, ' Heinrich 
 Stilling's Childhood, Youthful Years, and Wanderings.' in 
 a manner which completely corresponds with his mental 
 and piously poetic character." 
 
THE 
 
 AUTOBIOGRAPHY 
 
 OF 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING, 
 
 LATE 
 
 AULIC COUNSELLOR TO THE GRAND DUKE OF BADEN, 
 
 &c, &c., &C. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN BY S, JACKSON. 
 
 NEW- YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, 
 No. 82 Cliff- Street. 
 
 18 44. 
 
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 There is a species of confidence felt in 
 introducing to the notice of the public any 
 foreign work which has been well received 
 and frequently reprinted in the original, 
 especially when it has been thought wor- 
 thy of translation into other languages ; 
 and this confidence is considerably aug- 
 mented, when the object of the work is 
 such as the translator can most cordially 
 recommend to his readers, and when moral 
 and religious instruction is conveyed in its 
 most striking and attractive form. 
 
 The translator experiences this confi- 
 dence, in a high degree, with reference to 
 the work he has now the pleasure of laying 
 before the public. It is the biography of 
 no every-day character ; but of one who, 
 from the lowest ranks of society, rose to a 
 station of eminent usefulness, like some 
 brilliant star, which, gradually emerging 
 from a cloudy horizon, increases in bright- 
 ness the nearer it approaches its meridian, 
 and gives light to many a way-worn and 
 benighted traveller on his dubious path. 
 In describing his own remarkable history, 
 the author has developed such a beautiful 
 and indubitable guidance of Providence, as 
 should put unbelief to the blush, and prove 
 highly encouraging to all who are placed 
 in similarly trying circumstances. 
 
 And here the translator cannot avoid the 
 remark, which, indeed, will be obvious to 
 every reflecting mind, that a memoir of 
 any individual written by himself, is much 
 more intrinsically valuable than one that 
 proceeds from the pen of another person. 
 For unless the latter content himself with 
 a bare statement of facts — which, however 
 striking, afford only a certain degree of 
 interest — being necessarily ignorant of the 
 hidden workings of the heart and mind, he 
 is obliged to supply the motives which he 
 supposes to have actuated the individual ; 
 and which, since the minds of men are as 
 various as their countenances, are seldom 
 according to truth. Hence it is, that such 
 memoirs very frequently convey more of 
 the spirit of the biographer, than of the in- 
 dividual whose life is narrated; so that 
 those who have personally known the lat- 
 
 ter, are scarcely able to recognize him in 
 his strange attire. 
 
 But the life of Heinrich Stilling possess- 
 es another advantage, which must not be 
 overlooked. It was written, in the first 
 instance, under an assumed name, and 
 scarcely with the intention of being made 
 public. Hence the author felt himself 
 more at liberty to draw a faithful portrait, 
 both as regards his interior and exterior 
 life, without regard to the praise or cen- 
 sure that might be bestowed upon him. 
 It subsequently became known, indeed,, 
 that he was the author of it ; but the scenes 
 of humiliation through which he had pass- 
 ed, had too deeply abased him in his own 
 esteem to permit him to feel elated, even 
 from the deserved honours he so abundant- 
 ly received ; ana ^hen, at the close, he 
 throws off his disguise, and appears before 
 the reader under his real na«^, it is only 
 to place himself in as humble a point of 
 view as possible, in order that all the git^y 
 and the praise may be rendered unto Him,, 
 to whom he considered them so justly due. 
 
 The remark made above, with reference 
 to autobiography, may be also correctly 
 applied to the mode of translation. If, in 
 order to preserve a certain elegance of 
 style and fluency of expression, the trans- 
 lator takes the liberty of remodelling every* 
 sentence, and clothing the author's ideas- 
 in language of his own, he will certainly fail 
 of conveying the true spirit of the original, 
 and therefore seldom succeed in satisfy- 
 ing the reader. The translator, in accord- 
 ance with the judgment of a late eminent 
 writer, has acted upon the opposite princi- 
 ple, and has sought only to give a faithful 
 version of his author, so far as the differ- 
 ence in the idiom of the language would 
 permit. In a work like the present, in 
 consequence of the familiar mode of ex- 
 pression so frequently employed, the diffi- 
 culty is so much the greater; and the 
 translator must therefore cast himself 
 upon the lenity of his readers, and intreat 
 in this instance the indulgence which has 
 been extended to his former labours. 
 
 January 31st, 1835. 
 
HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. I 
 
 There is, in Westphalia, a diocese, which 
 aies in a very mountainous district, whose sum- 
 mits overlook many little provinces and princi- 
 palities. The village in which the church is sit- 
 uate is called Florenburgh; for the inhabitants 
 have long had a disgust at the name of a village, 
 and, therefore, although compelled to live by 
 farming and grazing, have always sought to 
 maintain a superiority over their neighbours, 
 who are mere peasants ; and who say of them, 
 that they have gradually expelled the name of 
 Florendorf,* and introduced that of Floren- 
 burght in its stead. But, be that as it may, it 
 certainly possesses a magistracy, the head of 
 which, in my time, was Johannes Henricus 
 Scultetus. Rude and ignorant people called him, 
 out of the town-house, Maister Hans ; but hon- 
 est townspeople were also wont to say, Mister 
 Schulde. 
 
 A league from this place, towards the south- 
 west, lies the little village of Tiefenbach, so call- 
 ed from its situation between hills, at the feet of 
 which the houses overhang the water on both 
 sides, which, flowing from the valleys to the 
 south and north, meets just in the deepest and 
 narrowest part, where it forms a river. The 
 eastern hill is called the Giller; it rises perpen- 
 dicularly, and its flat side, turned towards the 
 west, is thickly covered with beech-trees. From 
 thence there is a prospect over fields and mead- 
 ows, which is bounded on both sides by lofty 
 and connected mountains. They are entirely 
 planted with oak and beech-trees, and no open- 
 ing is visible, except where a boy may be fre- 
 quently seen driving an ox, and gathering fire- 
 wood on his half-trodden path. 
 
 Below the northern hill, called the Geisenberg, 
 which ascends towards the clouds like a sugar- 
 loaf, and on whose summit lie the ruins of an 
 ancient castle, stands a house in which Stilling's 
 parents and forefathers dwelt. 
 
 About thirty years ago, there lived in it an old 
 man, named Eberhard Stilling, a peasant, and 
 burner of charcoal. During the whole of the 
 summer he remained in the woods, and made 
 charcoal ; but went home once a week to look- 
 after his family, and to furnish himself with pro- 
 visions for another week. He generally came 
 home on the Saturday evening, in order that on 
 the Sunday he might go to church at Floren- 
 burgh, where he was one of the churchwardens. 
 In this consisted the chief business of his life. 
 He had six grown-up children, of whom the eld- 
 est two were sons, and the others daughters. 
 
 Once, as Eberhard was descending the hill, 
 and contemplating, with the utmost composure, 
 
 * Dorf, a village. t Burgh, a town 
 
 I the setting sun, while whistling the tune of the 
 hymn, 
 
 " The sun its glorious course has run," 
 
 and reflecting upon the subject, he was overta- 
 ken by his neighbour Stahler, who was walk- 
 ing a little quicker, and probably did not trouble 
 himself much about the setting sun. After pro- 
 ceeding a while close behind him, and hem- 
 ming several times in vain, Stahler commenced 
 a conversation, which I must here insert verba- 
 tim. 
 
 Stahler. — "Good evening, Ebert!" 
 Stilling. — " Thank you, Stahler!" (continuing 
 to whistle.) 
 
 Stahler. — "If the weather continues thus, we 
 shall soon be ready with our woods. I think we 
 shall finish in three weeks." 
 
 Stilling. — M May be" (whistling again). 
 Stahler. — " I am no longer so able as I was, 
 lad ! I am already sixty-eight years old, and 
 thou art near seventy." 
 
 Stilling. — " That's very likely. There sets 
 the sun behind the hill; I cannot sufficiently re- 
 joice at the goodness and love of God. I was 
 just thinking about it; it is likewise evening 
 with us, neighbour Stahler ! The shades of 
 death rise daily nearer us; he will surprise us 
 before we are aware. I must thank Eternal 
 Goodness, which has sustained, preserved, and 
 provided for me so bountifully, not only to-day, 
 but all my life long." 
 Stahler— " That's probable !" 
 Stilling.— 1 ' I wait also, really without lear, lor 
 the important moment when I shall be delivered 
 from this cumbersome, old, and stiffening body, 
 and be able to associate with the souls of my 
 forefathers, and other holy men, in a state of eter- 
 nal rest. There I shall find Doctor Luther, Cal- 
 vin, CEcolampadius, Bucer, and others, in whose 
 praise our late pastor, Mr. Winterbergh, has so 
 often spoken to me, and said that, next to the 
 Apostles, they were the most pious of men." 
 
 Stabler. — " That's possible ! But tell me, 
 Ebert, hast thou known the people thou hast just 
 mentioned V 
 
 Stilling.—" How foolishly thou talkest ! They 
 have been dead above two hundred years." 
 Stahler. — "So! that's surprising!" 
 Stilling. — " Besides, all my children are grown 
 up ; they have learned to read and write, they 
 are able to earn their bread, and will soon need 
 neither me nor my Margaret." 
 
 Slahler.—" Need ! that's easily said ! How 
 soon may a girl or boy go astray, attach them- 
 selves, perhaps, to poor people, and cause a slur 
 upon their family, when their parents can no 
 longer attend to them !" 
 Stilling. ,: I am not afraid of all that. God 
 
4 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 be thanked, that my attention to them is not ne- 
 cessary. By my instructions and example, I 
 have, through God's blessing, implanted in my 
 children such an abhorrence of that which is 
 evil, that 1 have no further occasion to fear." 
 
 Stahler laughed heartily — just as a fox would 
 laugh, if he could, that had carried off a pullet in 
 spite of the watchful chanticleer — and continu- 
 ed: "Ebert, thou hast much confidence in thy 
 children ; but I think thou wilt change thy tone 
 when I tell thee all that I know." 
 
 Stilling turned about, stood still, leaned upon 
 his axe, smiled with the most contented and con- 
 fident countenance, and said, " What dost thou 
 know, Stahler, that would so pain me to the 
 soul ?" 
 
 Stahlcr. — "Hast thou heard, neighbour Still- 
 ing, that thy son Wilhelm, the schoolmaster, is 
 about to marry 1" 
 
 Stilling. — " No, I know nothing of it yet." 
 
 Stahle/: — " Then I will tell thee, that he ia- 
 tends to have the daughter of the ejected preach- 
 er, Moritz, of Lichthausen, and that they~are al- 
 ready betrothed." 
 
 Stilling. — " That they are betrothed, is not 
 true ; but it may be that he intends to have her." 
 
 They now went on further. 
 
 Stahler.— " Can that be, Ebert? Canst thou 
 suffer that ? Canst thou give thy son to a beg- 
 gar-woman, that has nothing'?" 
 
 Slitting. — "The honest man's children have 
 never begged ; and if they had ? But which 
 daughter is it? Moritz has two daughters." 
 
 Stahler.—" Doris." 
 
 Stilling. — " 1 am willing to end my days with 
 Doris. 1 shall never forget it. She came to 
 me, one Sunday afternoon, saluted me and Mar- 
 garet from her father, sat down, and was silent. 
 1 saw in her eyes what she wanted, but 1 read 
 from her cheeks that she could not tell it. I ask- 
 ed her if she needed any thing. She was silent, 
 and sighed. I went and fetched her four rix- 
 dollars! ' There !' said I, ' I will lend you this, 
 till you can pay me again.' " 
 
 Stahler. — " Thou mightest as well have given 
 her them ; thou wilt never have them again, as 
 long as thou livest." 
 
 Slilling.—" It was, in fact, my intention to 
 give her the money; but if 1 had told her so, the 
 girl would have been still more ashamed. 'Ah,' 
 said she, 'kindest, dearest father Slilling! (the 
 good girl wept heartfelt tears;) when I see how 
 my old papa mumbles his dry bread in his 
 mouth, and cannot chew it, my heart bleeds.' 
 My Margaret ran and fetched a large jug of 
 sweet milk; and she has ever since sent them 
 sweet milk two or three times a week." 
 
 Stahler.— " And thou canst suffer thy son Wil- 
 helm to have the girl ?" 
 
 Stilling.— •" If he will have her, with all my 
 heart. Healthy people are able to earn some- 
 thing; rich people may lose what they have." 
 
 Stahler. — " Thou saidst before, that thou didst 
 not know any thing of it. Yet thou knowest, as 
 thou sayest, that they are not yet betrothed." 
 
 Stilling.—" I am confident of it ! He will cer- 
 tainly ask me first." 
 
 Siahler,—" Hear ! hear ! He ask thee ? Yes, 
 thou mayest wait long enough for that." 
 
 Stilling.—" Stahler ! I know my Wilhelm. I 
 have always told my children they might marry 
 as rich or as poor as they would or they could, 
 and that they should only have regard to indus- 
 try and piety. My Margaret had nothing, and 
 1 a farm burdened with debt. God has blessed 
 
 me, so that I can give each of them a hundred 
 
 guilders, cash down." 
 
 Slahler. — " I am not a Mr. Indifferent, like 
 thee. I must know what I do, and my children 
 shall marry as I find best." 
 
 "Every one makes his shoe according to his 
 own last," said Stilling. He was now before 
 his house-door. Margaret Stilling had already 
 sent her daughters to bed. A piece of pancake 
 stood for her Ebert in an earthen dish, on the hot 
 ashes ; she had also added a little butter to it. 
 A pitcher of milk and bread stood on the bench, 
 and she began to be anxious about her husband's 
 long delay. At length, the latch of the door rat- 
 tled, and he entered. She took his linen wallet 
 from his shoulder, spread the table, and brought 
 him his supper. " Strange," said Margaret, 
 " that Wilhelm is not here yet ! I hope no mis- 
 fortune has happened to him. Are there any 
 wolves about?" "What of that?" said father 
 Stilling, and laughed, for so he was wont; he 
 often laughed loudly, when he was quite alone. 
 
 The schoolmaster, Wilhelm Stilling, now en- 
 tered the room. After saluting his parents with 
 a good evening, he sat down upon the bench, 
 rested his cheek upon his hand, and was thought- 
 ful. It was long before he said a word. Old 
 Stilling picked his teeth with a knife, for such 
 was his custom after meals, even though he had 
 eaten no flesh-meat. At length the mother be- 
 gan : "Wilhelm, I was afraid something had 
 happened to thee, because thou art so late." 
 Wilhelm answered, "Oh, mother! there was no- 
 need of that. My father often says, he that is in 
 the line of duty need fear nothing." He then 
 became pale and red by turns ; at length, he 
 broke out, and said, with a faltering voice — "At 
 Lichthausen (for so the place was called where 
 he kept a school, and made clothes at the same 
 time for the peasants,) there dwells a poor eject- 
 ed preacher; I am inclined to marry his elder 
 daughter. If you, my parents, are both satis- 
 fied, there will be no further hindrance." " Wil- 
 helm," answered his father, "thou art twenty- 
 three years old; I have had thee taught; thou 
 hast knowledge enough, but canst not help thy- 
 self forward in the world, for thou hast lame feet. 
 The damsel is poor, and not accustomed to hard 
 labour: how dost thou think of maintaining thy- 
 self in future?" The schoolmaster answered, 
 "My trade will support me; and with regard to 
 the rest, I will resign myself entirely to Divine 
 providence, which will provide for me and my 
 Doris, as well as for the birds of the air." 
 "What sayest thou, Margaret?" said the old 
 man. " Hem ! what should I say ?" rejoined 
 she; "dost thou remember what answer I gave 
 thee, during our courtship? Let us take Wil- 
 helm and his wife into the house with us, where 
 he may carry on his trade. Doris shall assist 
 me and my daughters, as much as she is able. 
 She can always learn something, for she is still 
 young. They may take their meals with us; 
 what he earns he shall give us, and we will pro- 
 vide them both with what is needful; this seems 
 to me the best way." "If thou thinkest so," re- 
 plied ftther Stilling, "he may fetch the damsel 
 home. Wilhelm ! Wilhelm ! think of what thou 
 art doing ; it is no trifling matter. The God of 
 thy fathers bless thee with all that thou and thy 
 maiden require." The tears stood in Wilhelm's 
 eyes; he shook his father and mother by the 
 hand, promised them all fidelity, and went to 
 bed. And after old Stilling had sung his even- 
 ing hymn, fastened the door with a wooden bolt, 
 
S T I L L I N G'S 
 
 and Margaret had been to see the kine, whether 
 they all lay and ruminated, they also went to bed. 
 
 Wilhelm entered his chamber, to which there 
 was only a shutter, which did not, however, shut 
 so closely as not to admit so much of the day to 
 glimmer through as to make it evident when it 
 was time to rise. This window was still open ; 
 ne, therefore, stepped towards it ; it looked di- 
 rectly towards the forest; all was profoundly 
 still, except where two nightingales sang most 
 sweetly. This had often served as a hint to 
 "Wilhelm. He sank down by the wall. " O 
 God !" sighed he, " I thank thee for having given 
 me such parents. O that I may cause them joy ! 
 Let me never be burdensome to them. I thank 
 thee, that thou art giving me a virtuous wife. 
 
 bless me !" His tears and his emotions im- 
 peded his words, and his heart spoke untterable 
 things, which only those can know who have 
 themselves been in similar circumstances. 
 
 No one ever slept more sweetly than the 
 schoolmaster. His inward felicity awoke him 
 in the morning earlier than usual. He arose, 
 went into the wood, and renewed all the holy 
 resolutions he had ever formed dufing his life. 
 At seven o'clock he went home again, and ate 
 his breakfast of milk pottage and bread and but- 
 ter. After the father had first shorn his beard, 
 and then the son, while the mother consulted 
 with the daughters which of them should remain 
 at home and which should go to church, they 
 dressed themselves. All this was finished in 
 half an hour; the daughters then went before,. 
 Wilhelm followed them, and last of all the father, 
 with his thick thorn stick. When old Stilling 
 went out with his children, they were always 
 obliged to go before him, that he might observe 
 their gait and manners, and instruct them in 
 propriety of behaviour. 
 
 After sermon, Wilhelm went again to Licht- 
 hausen, where he was schoolmaster, and where 
 his elder married brother, Johann Stilling, also 
 dwelt. Mr. Moritz, the old clergyman, with his 
 two daughters, had hired a couple of rooms in a 
 neighbouring house, in which he resided. After 
 Wilhelm had read a sermon to his peasantry, in 
 the chapel, in the afternoon, and sung a hymn 
 with them according to ancient usage, he hast- 
 ened to Mr. Moritz's, as fast as his lame feet 
 would permit. The old man had just sat down 
 to his harpsichord, and was playing a hymn 
 tune. His morning-gown was very clean, and 
 beautifully washed ; there was not a rent to be 
 seen in it, but certainly at least a hundred patch- 
 es. Near him, on a chest, sat Dorothy, a girl 
 of two-and-twenty years of age, likewise very 
 cleanly, though poorly clad, who very sweetly 
 sang the hymn to her father's tune. She beck- 
 oned to Wilhelm with a cheerful smile ; he sat 
 down by her, and sang with her, out of her book. 
 As soon as the hymn was finished, the clergy- 
 man saluted Wilhelm, and said, " Schoolmaster, 
 
 1 am never better pleased than when I play and 
 sing. When I was a preacher, I often let the 
 people sing a long time ; because in the union of 
 so many voices the heart soars far away above 
 every thing earthly. But 1 must now speak to 
 you of something else. My daughter Doris 
 stammered out to me yesterday evening, that 
 she loves you ; but I am poor ; what do your 
 parents say ?" " They are heartily satisfied with 
 it," answered Wilhelm. The tears burst from 
 the bright eyes of Dorothy, and the venerable 
 old man, standing up, took his daughter's right 
 hand, gave it to Wilhelm, and said, "I have 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 5 
 
 nothing in the world but two daughters; this 
 one is the apple of my eye; take her, son! take 
 her !" He wept. " May the blessing of Jeho- 
 vah descend upon you, and make you blessed in 
 the presence ol Him and his saints, and blessed 
 in the sighf of the world ! May your children 
 be real Christians, and your posterity be great ! 
 May their names stand written in the book of 
 life ! My whole life has been devoted to God ; 
 I have pursued my course with much weakness, 
 but without offence, and have loved all men; be 
 this your rule of lile also, so shall my remains 
 rest in peace !" Here he wiped his eyes. The 
 two lovers kissed his hands, his cheek, and his 
 lips ; and afterwards each other also, for the 
 first time, and then sat down again. The old 
 gentleman now began as follows : " But hast 
 thou not observed, Doris, that thy future hus- 
 band has lame feet'?" "Yes, papa," said she, 
 " I have seen it ; but then he speaks to me so 
 kindly and piously that I seldom pay attention 
 to his feet." 
 
 "Well, Doris, but young women generally 
 look at a man's figure." 
 
 "I too, papa," was her answer; "but Wil- 
 helm pleases me just as he is. If he had straight 
 feet, he would not be Wilhelm Stilling, and how 
 'could I love him then V' 
 
 The clergyman smiled contentedly, and con- 
 tinued: "Thou must this evening provide us 
 with something to eat ; for thy bridegroom must 
 sup- with thee." "I have nothing," said the in- 
 nocent girl, " but a little milk, cheese, and bread ; 
 and who knows whether Wilhelm will be satis- 
 fied with HT "Yes," rejoined Wilhelm, "eat- 
 ing a piece of dry bread with you, is pleasanter 
 than thick milk with white bread and pancakes." 
 Mr. Moritz meanwhile put on his worn-out 
 brown coat, with black buttons and button-holes, 
 took his old japanned cane, and went out, say- 
 ing, " I will go to the justice's deputy ; he will 
 lend me his gun, and I will then see if I cannot 
 shoot something." This he did frequently ; for 
 he had been a friend of the chase in his youth. 
 
 Our two lovers were now alone, and this was 
 what they wished. When he was gone, they 
 took hold of each other's hands, sat down to- 
 gether, and told each other what each had felt, 
 spoken, and done, since they became fond of 
 each other. As soon as they had done, they 
 began again at the commencement, and gave 
 the tale a variety of turns, so that it was always 
 new — tedious to every one else, but not so to 
 them. 
 
 Frederica, Moritz's other daughter, interrupt- 
 ed their enjoyment. She burst into the room, 
 singing an old ballad. On seeing them she start- 
 ed. " Do I disturb you 1" asked she. " Thou 
 never disturbest me," said Doris, " for I never 
 attend to what thou sayest or doest." "Yes, 
 thou art pious." rejoined'the other; " but darest 
 thou sit so near the schoolmaster % It is true, 
 he is also pious." " And besides that, thy future 
 brother-in-law," interrupted Doris ; " we have 
 been this day betrothed to each other." " There 
 will be therefore a wedding for me," said Fred- 
 erica, and skipped out of the door again. 
 
 While they were sitting together thus pleas- 
 antly, Freden'ca burst violently into the room 
 again. " Oh !" cried she, stammering ; " they 
 are bringing my father bleeding into the village. 
 Jost, the gamekeeper, is striking him incessant- 
 ly, and three of the squire's men are dragging 
 him along. Ah, they will beat him to death !" 
 Doris uttered a loud cry, and flew out of the 
 
6 HEI N RICH 
 
 door. Wilhelm hastened after her, but the good 
 man could not run so fast as she. His brother 
 Johann dwelt close to Mr. Moritz ; him he call- 
 ed to his assistance. These two then went to- 
 wards the noise. They found Moritj in the inn, 
 sitting on a chair, his grey hair clotted with 
 blood ; the servant-men and the gamekeeper 
 stood round him, swore, mocked, shook their 
 fists in his face, and a snipe that had been shot 
 lay before Moritz on the table. The impartial 
 landlord quietly served them with liquor. Fred- 
 erica begged suppliantly for mercy, and Doris 
 for a little spirit to wash her father's head ; but 
 she had no money to pay for it, and the loss 
 would have been too great for the landlord to 
 have given her half a glass. But as women are 
 naturally merciful, the landlady brought up 
 some in a piece of broken pot which had stood 
 under the tap of the gin cask, and with it Doris 
 washed her father's head. Moritz had already 
 repeatedly said that the squire had given him 
 permission to shoot as much as he pleased ; but 
 he was, unfortunately, at that time from home ; 
 the old gentleman therefore was silent, and of- 
 fered no further excuse. Things were in this 
 situation when the brothers Stilling entered the 
 inn. The first revenge they took was on a glass 
 of gin, with which the landlord was coming out 
 of the cellar, and carrying very carefully, lest 
 any of it should be spilled ; although this pre- 
 caution was not very necessary, for the glass 
 was above a quarter empty. Johann Stilling 
 slruck the landlord over the hand, so that the 
 glass flew against the wall, and broke into a 
 thousand pieces. But Wilhelm, who was al- 
 ready in the room, seized his father-in-law by 
 the hand and led him out of it in silence, with 
 as much gravity as if he had been the squire 
 himself, without saying any thing to any one. 
 The gamekeeper and the servants threatened 
 and held him, first in one place and then an- 
 other ; but Wilhelm, who was as much strong- 
 er in his arms as he was weaker in his feet, saw 
 and heard nothing, continued silent, and labour- 
 ed but to get Moritz loose ; wherever he found 
 a clenched hand he broke it open, and thus he 
 brought him out of the door. Johann Stilling, 
 meanwhile, spoke with the gamekeeper and the 
 servant men, and his words were daggers to 
 them; for every one knew how high he stood in 
 the squire's esteem, and how often he went to 
 sup with him. 
 
 The affair at length terminated thus : at the 
 return of the squire, the gamekeeper was dis- 
 missed, and Moritz received twenty dollars for 
 the pain he had suffered. 
 
 What helped them the more quickly through, 
 ■was that the whole place before the house was 
 filled with peasants, who stood there smoking 
 tobacco, and making themselves merry with the 
 sight; and it only depended upon one of them 
 putting the question whether their rights had 
 not been encroached upon by this affair, and a 
 hundred fists would have been ready, all on a 
 sudden, to prove their Christian affection for 
 Moritz, on the nape of Jost and his companions. 
 They also called the landlord a cowardly pol- 
 troon, who was obliged to submit to have his 
 ears boxed by his wife. I must mention, in con- 
 clusion, that old Stilling and his sons, by their 
 grave and retired deportment, had become so 
 much esteemed, that no one had the heart even 
 to joke in their presence ; to which must be add- 
 ed, what I have already touched upon above, 
 that Johann Stilling was a great favorite with 
 the sauire. But now to my tale again. 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 Old Moritz grew better in a few days, and this 
 vexatious circumstance was the sooner forgot- 
 ten because they were occupied with much 
 pleasanter things; namely, preparations for the 
 wedding, which old Stilling and his Margaret 
 insisted, once for all, upon keeping in their own 
 house. They fattened a couple of hens for broth, 
 and a fat sucking-calf was destined to be roasted 
 in large earthen dishes ; baked plums in abun- 
 dance, and rice for the soup, together with rai- 
 sins and currants, were provided, even to super- 
 fluity. Old Stilling has been heard to say that 
 this wedding cost him, in victuals alone, about 
 ten rix-dollars. Be that as it may, all was con- 
 sumed. Wilhelm had suspended his school for 
 the time : for at such seasons people are not dis- 
 posed for their ordinary employments. He also 
 needed the time to make new clothes for his fu- 
 ture bride and his sisters against the wedding, 
 as well as for various other purposes. Stilling's 
 daughters required it also. They frequently tri- 
 ed on their new jackets and clothes of fine black 
 cloth, and the time seemed years to them, till 
 they could have them on for a whole day. 
 
 At length the long-wished-for Thursday dawn- 
 ed. That morning, all were awake in Stilling's 
 house before the sun, except the old man, who, 
 having returned late from the woods the evening 
 before, slept quietly till it was time to accom- 
 pany the wedding-people to the church. They 
 then went in due order to Florenburgh, where 
 the bride, with her train, had already arrived. 
 The marriage ceremony was performed without 
 any gainsaying ; after which they all proceeded 
 to Tiefenbäch, to the marriage feast. Two long 
 boards had been laid close together on blocks of 
 wood, in the room, instead of a table. Marga- 
 ret had spread over them her finest table-cloths, 
 and the dinner was then served up. The spoons 
 were of maple, beautifully smooth, and emboss- 
 ed with roses, flowers, and foliage. The knives 
 had fine yellow wooden handles; the plates, 
 turned out of white beech- wood, were also beau- 
 tifully round and smooth. The beer foamed in 
 white stone jugs, enamelled with blue flowers. 
 However, Margaret left every one at liberty to 
 drink her pleasant perry, instead of beer, if they 
 preferred it. 
 
 After they had all eaten and drunk sufficient- 
 ly, rational conversation commenced. But Wil- 
 helm and his bride preferred being and talking 
 alone ; they therefore went deep into the woods ; 
 their affection seemed to increase the further 
 they withdrew from mankind. Ah! if there 
 had been no necessities of life — no cold, no frost, 
 nor wet, what would have been wanting in the 
 earthly felicity of this newly-married coupled 
 The two old fathers, meanwhile, who had sat 
 down alone, with a mug of beer before them, 
 fell into serious conversation. Stilling spoke as 
 follows : 
 
 " My dear sir, it has always seemed to me 
 that you would have done better if you had not 
 applied yourself to alchymy." 
 
 Moritz.—" Why, my friend V 
 
 Stilling. — " If you had prosecuted the watch- 
 making business without interruption, you would 
 have been able richly to earn your bread ; but 
 now your labour has availed you nothing, and 
 what you had has been also expended upon it." 
 
 Moritz.—' 1 You are both in the right and in 
 the wrong. If I had known that from thirty to 
 forty years would have elapsed before I found 
 the philosopher's stone, I should certainly have 
 considered before beginning it. But now, as I 
 
STILLING'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 7 
 
 have learned something by long experience, and 
 have penetrated deep into the knowledge of na- 
 ture, it would pain me to have plagued myself 
 so long in vain." 
 
 Stilling. — " You have certainly plagued your- 
 self in vain hitherto, for you have all the time 
 been scarcely able to subsist; and though you 
 were to become as rich as you wish, yet you 
 could not change so many years of misery into 
 happiness ; besides which, I do not believe you 
 will ever find it. To say the truth, I do not be- 
 lieve that there is such a thing as the philoso- 
 pher's stone." 
 
 Moritz. — "But I can prove to you that there 
 is. A certain Doctor Helvetius, at the Hague, 
 has written a little book, called ' The Golden 
 Calf,' in which it is clearly demonstrated ; so 
 that no one, even the most incredulous, on read- 
 ing it, can doubt of it any longer. But whether 
 I shall obtain it or not is another question. But 
 why not I as well as another, since it is a free 
 gift of God V 
 
 Stilling. — " If God had intended to give you 
 the philosopher's stone, you would have had it 
 long ago ! Why should he keep it from you so 
 long 7 Besides, it is not necessary that you should 
 have it; how many people live without the phi- 
 losopher's stone !" 
 
 Moritz. — " That is true ; but we ought to make 
 ourselves as happy as we can." 
 
 Stilling. — " Thirty years of misery is certain- 
 ly no happiness : but do not take it amiss," sha- 
 king him by the hand. "As long as I have lived, 
 I have never wanted ; I have been healthy, and 
 am now grown old ; I have brought up my chil- 
 dren, had them taught, and clothed them decent- 
 ly. I am quite content, and therefore happy ! 
 It would be of no use to give me the philosopher's 
 stone. But hear me, my friend : you sing very 
 •well, and write beautifully; be schoolmaster 
 here in this village. Frederica can be boarded 
 elsewhere ; I have a clothes room to spare, in 
 -which I could place a bed ; you could then live 
 with me, and so be always with your children." 
 
 Moritz. — " Your offer, my good friend, is very 
 kind ; and I will accept it, after I have made one 
 trial more." 
 
 Stilling. — " Make no more attempts, my 
 friend; they will certainly be fruitless. But let 
 us talk of something else. I am very fond of 
 astronomy; — do you know Sirius in the Great 
 Dog?' 
 
 Moritz. — " I am no great astronomer, yet still 
 1 know it." 
 
 Stilling.— " The direction, in the evening, is 
 generally towards the south. It is of a greenish- 
 red colour. How far may it be from the earth 1 
 They say it is even much higher than the sun." 
 
 Moritz. — " O certainly, a thousand times high- 
 er." 
 
 Stilling. — " Is it possible ! I am so fond of the 
 stars. I always think I am near them, when I 
 look at them. But do you know also the Wain 
 and the Plough V 
 
 Moritz. — "Yes; they have been pointed out 
 to me." 
 
 Stilling. — " Oh, how wonderful God is !" 
 
 Margaret Stilling, hearing this conversation, 
 came and sat down by her husband. " O Ebert !" 
 said she, " I can easily see in a flower that God 
 is wonderful. Let us learn to understand them ; 
 we live among grass and flowers; let us admire 
 them here ; when we are in heaven, we will con- 
 sider the stars " 
 
 "That is right," said Moritz; "there are so 
 
 many wonders in nature; if we duly consider 
 them, we may certainly learn the wisdom of God. 
 Every one, however, has something to which he 
 is particularly inclined." 
 
 Thus the marriage-guests spent the day. Wil- 
 helm and his bride returned home, and commen- 
 ced their marriage state, of which I will say more 
 in the following chapter. 
 
 But Stilling's daughter sat in the twilight, un- 
 der the cherry-tree, and sang the following pa- 
 thetic ballad : — 
 
 " There rode a knight once over the plain, 
 No friend had he, no wealth, nor domain ; 
 His sister was fair and beautiful : — 
 ' O sister dear ! I bid thee adieu ! 
 We never more each other shall view ; 
 I'm travelling away to a distant land, 
 So reach me once more thy snow-white hand, 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu !' 
 " ' My dearest brother, I once did see — 
 As it hopp'd about in the juniper tree — 
 A beautiful bird of plumage gay : 
 I threw my ring at it in a freak, 
 It caught it up in its little beak, 
 And flew into the forest far away. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu !' 
 " ' The castle thou must securely close, 
 And live in solitude and repose, 
 Let no one enter thy chamber fair. 
 The knight that rides the jet-black steed 
 His tender suit will •warmly plead, 
 But O ! of him I pray thee beware ; 
 To many a maid he has been a snare. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu !' 
 " The maiden wept most piteously ; 
 The brother saluted her tenderly, 
 And looked behind him once more. 
 She then went up to her chamber to rest, 
 But peace and joy had fled from her breast, 
 For she, of all the suitor-herd, 
 The knight of the black steed most preferr'd. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu ! 
 u The knight that rode the steed so black 
 Of lands and money had no lack ; 
 He hasten'd to visit the tender maid. 
 He frequently came at the dead of night, 
 And went when dawn'd the morning light. 
 He led her at length to his castle fair, 
 To other young damsels that were there. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu ! 
 " In the gloom of night she accompanied him there, 
 And saw how many a damsel fair 
 He had caused to fall so grievously. 
 She took a cup of costly wine, 
 And pour'd a poison vile therein, 
 And drank to the health of the swarthy knight ;— 
 Their eyes both closed in death that night. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu ! 
 " They buried the knight in the castle-ring ; 
 The maiden near to a little spring. 
 There in the cold ground she sleeps. 
 At the midnight hour, she wanders about. 
 In the moonshine, and then she sighs aloud ; 
 She walks in a robe as white as snow, 
 And mourns to the forest of all her woe. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu ! 
 " The noble brother hasten'd near 
 The edge of the spring, so pure and clear, 
 And saw that it was his sister fair. 
 ' What doest thou here, my sister dear, 
 That thus thou dost sigh and so doleful appear!' 
 ' I murder'd myself and the swarthy knight, 
 By poison in the dead of the night ; 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu !' 
 " As vapour in the boundless space, 
 So fled the maid, without leaving a trace — 
 She never more was seen. 
 The brother retired to a convent with speed, 
 That there a holy life he might lead ; 
 And 'lone in his cell, pour'd forth his prayer 
 For the health of the soul of his sister dear. 
 
 Adieu ! Adieu ! Adieu !'' 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 Eberhard Stilling and Margaret his wife 
 now experienced a novel epoch in their domes- 
 
8 HEINRICH 
 
 tic arrangements, for a newly-married couple 
 existed in their family. The question therefore 
 was — " Where shall these two sit, when we 
 dine V But in order to avoid obscurity in the 
 narrative, I must mention the rank and order 
 which father Stilling observed at his table. At 
 the upper end of the room, there was a bench 
 made of an oaken board, nailed along the wall, 
 which extended behind the stove; before this 
 bench and opposite the stove, stood the table, 
 fastened to the wall as a flap, that it might be 
 fixed up against it: it was made out of an oaken 
 plank, at which father Stilling himself had faith- 
 fully and manfully laboured. At the front of 
 this table sat Eberhard Stilling, up by the wall, 
 to which it was fastened by the board. He had 
 perhaps chosen this advantageous place in order 
 that he might support his left elbow, and at the 
 same time eat, without difficulty, with his right. 
 However, of this there is no certainty, since he 
 never expressed himself clearly upon it in his 
 whole life. At his right hand, in front of the 
 table, sat his four daughters, that they might the 
 more easily pass to and fro. Margaret had her 
 place between the table and the stove, partly be- 
 cause she was easily chilled, and partly that she 
 might duly overlook the table, to see if there was 
 any thing wanting. Johann and Wilhelm used 
 to sit on the opposite side of the table; but be- 
 cause the one was married, and the other kept 
 school, these places were vacant; they were, 
 therefore, after due consideration, destined for 
 the young married couple. 
 
 Johann Stilling occasionally came to visit his 
 parents; and the whole house rejoiced when he 
 came, for he was a singular man. Every peas- 
 ant in the village had respect for him. Even 
 when he was very young, he had transformed a 
 wooden plate into an astrolabe, and a handsome 
 butter-box of fine beech- wood into a compass, 
 and had likewise made geometrical observations 
 from a neighbouring hill ; for at that time the 
 reigning prince caused a survey to be made, and 
 Johann had looked on when the surveyor was at 
 work. But he was now really become an able 
 land-measurer, and was employed by the noble 
 and ignoble in the division of their estates. Great 
 artists generally possess the virtue which always 
 prompts their inventive spirit to seek something 
 new, hence, that which they have already dis- 
 covered, and are acquainted with, is much too 
 tedious to refine upon still further. Johann Still- 
 ing was therefore poor; for what he was com- 
 petent to he neglected, in order to learn that of 
 which he was still incapable. His good but 
 simple wife often wished that he would apply his 
 knowledge of the arts to the improvement of 
 fields and meadows, in order that they might 
 have more bread. But we will forgive the good 
 woman for her simplicity ; she did not understand 
 it better — Johann was wise enough in this re- 
 spect at least; he was either silent, or smiled. 
 
 Perpetual motion and the quadrature of the 
 circle occupied him at that time ; whenever he 
 had penetrated deeper into a mystery of this kind, 
 he hastened to Tiefenbach to relate his discov- 
 ery to his parents and sisters. As he ascended 
 the village, if any of Stilling's household per- 
 ceived him, they immediately ran home, and 
 called all together, in order to receive him at the 
 door. Every one then laboured with double dil- 
 igence, in order to have nothing more to do after 
 supper: they then placed themselves around the 
 table, supporting their elbows upon it, and their 
 cheeks upon their hands — all eyes were directed 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 to Johann's lips. All of them then assisted in 
 finding the quadrature of the circle; even old 
 Stilling himself devoted much attention to it. I 
 should do violence to the inventive, or rather the 
 natural good sense of this man, if I were to say 
 that he contributed nothing towards it. He oc- 
 cupied himself with it even while burning his 
 charcoal; — he drew a string round his perry- 
 cask, cut it with his bread-knife, then sawed a 
 piece of board exactly four-square, and scraped 
 it until the string just fitted it — now the four-cor- 
 nered board must necessarily be exactly the 
 same size as the circumference of the perry-cask.. 
 Eberhard skipped about upon one foot, laughed 
 at the great wise-heads who made so much work 
 of such a simple thing, and related the discovery 
 to his son Johann the next opportunity. We 
 must confess the truth ;— father Stilling had cer- 
 tainly nothing satirical in his character, yet still 
 a little satire was intermingled here. But the- 
 land-measurer soon put an end to his joy by say- 
 ing, "The question, father, is not whether a 
 joiner can make a four-cornered box, that con- 
 tains just as much oats as a round cylindrical 
 cask ; but it must be demonstrated what propor- 
 tion the diameter of the circle bears to its pe- 
 riphery, and then, how large each side of the 
 square must be, in order that the latter be as 
 large as the circle. But in both cases, not a 
 thousandth part of a hair must be wanting in the 
 calculation. It must be proved by algebra that 
 it is correct in the theory." 
 
 Old Stilling would have felt ashamed, if the- 
 learning of his son, and his immoderate joy at 
 it, had not expelled from him all feeling of shame.. 
 He therefore said nothing further, except, " It is 
 not easy to dispute with the learned;" laughed, 
 shook his head, and continued to cut chips from 
 a log of beech- wood, for the purpose of lighting 
 fire and candle, or pe/haps also a pipe of tobac- 
 co; for this was his occupation in his leisure 
 hours. 
 
 Stilling's daughters were strong and laborious ; 
 they cultivated the earth, which yielded them 
 abundant sustenance both in the garden and in 
 the field. But Doris had tender hands and limbs ; 
 she was soon weary, and then she sighed and 
 wept. The girls were not altogether unmerci- 
 ful ; but they could not understand why a female 
 who was quite as tall as one of themselves was 
 not equally able to labour. Their sister-in-law 
 was however often obliged to rest ; but they nev- 
 er told their parents that she scarcely earned her 
 bread. Wilhelm soon remarked it ; he therefore- 
 obtained the consent of the whole family, that 
 his wife should assist him in sewing and clothes- 
 making. This arrangement was entered upon, 
 and all were well satisfied with it. 
 
 Moritz, the old clergyman, now also visited 
 his daughter for the first time. Doris wept for 
 joy on seeing him, and wished to be housekeep- 
 er herself, in order that she might treat him as 
 she desired. He sat the whole afternoon with 
 his children, and spoke with them on spiritual 
 subjects. He seemed to be quite changed, timid 
 and sad. Towards evening, he said, " Children, 
 take me for once to the Geisenberg castle." 
 Wilhelm laid aside his heavy iron thimble, and 
 spat in his hands; but Doris put her thimble 
 upon her little finger, and then they ascended the 
 wood. " Children," said Moritz, " I feel so com- 
 fortable under the shade of these beech-trees. 
 The higher we ascend, the more I am at ease.. 
 For some time past, I have seemed like one that 
 is not at home. This autumn will certainly be- 
 
9 
 
 S T I L L I N G'S 
 
 the last of my life." Wilhelm and Doris had 
 tears in their eyes. They sat down upon a ru- 
 ined wall of the castle on the summit of the hill, 
 from whence they could see as far as the Rhine, 
 and over the whole adjacent country. The sun, 
 in the distance, no longer stood high above the 
 blue mountains. Moritz looked with a fixed 
 eye upon the scene, and was silent a long time, 
 nor did his companions say a word. " Children," 
 said he, at length, " I leave you nothing when I 
 die: you can well spare me. No one will la- 
 ment me. I have spent a tedious and useless 
 life, and have made no one happy." " My dear 
 father," answered Wilhelm, "you have made 
 me happy. I and Doris will lament you tender- 
 ly." "Children," rejoined Moritz, "our incli- 
 nations easily lead us to destruction. Of how 
 much use might I have been in the world, if I 
 had not been an alchymist ! I snould have made 
 you and myself happy. (He wepr aloud.) Yet 
 I always feel that I have acknowledged my 
 faults, and I will still amend myself. God is a 
 father, even to erring children. Listen to one 
 more admonition from me, andfollow it. What- 
 soever you do, consider well beforehand, wheth- 
 er it will be serviceable to ahers also. If you 
 find that it is only advantageous to yourselves, 
 reflect that it is a work without reward. God 
 only rewards us when we serve our neighbour. 
 I have wandered through the world poor and un- 
 observed, and when I am dead I shall soon be 
 forgotten ; but I shall find mercy before the throne 
 of Christ, and obtain salvafon." They now 
 went home again, and Moriiz continued sad. 
 He went about comforting theooor, and praying 
 with them. He also worked, aid made watch- 
 es, by which he earned his bread, and had be- 
 sides something over. Yet fiis did not last 
 long; for the next winter he was lost;— after 
 three days, they found him frozen to death under 
 the snow. t 
 
 After this melancholy event, a novelty of an 
 important kind was discovered in Stilling's 
 house. Doris was pregnant ; and every one re- 
 joiced in the prospect of a child, of which there 
 had been none in the house for many years. It 
 is indescribable what'abour and diligence were 
 employed in preparing for the accouchement of 
 Doris. Even old Stillog himself rejoiced at 
 the idea of a grandson, h the hope of once more 
 singing his old cradle soigs before his end, and 
 of shewing his knowledges the art of education. 
 
 The day of her confinenent approached; and 
 on the 12th of September, i/40, at eight o'clock 
 in the evening, Heinrich Stilling was born. 
 The boy was lively, healthy and well ; and his 
 mother was also soon better "a^ain, notwithstand- 
 ing the predictions of the Tieh n bach sibyls. 
 
 The child was baptized at Floenburgh church. 
 But father Stilling, in order t> make the day 
 more solemn, prepared a feas^ at which he 
 wished to see present the Rev. Mr. Stollbein. 
 He therefore sent his son Johann to the parson- 
 age, to invite the gentleman to acompany him 
 back to Tiefenbach, to partake o' the dinner. 
 Johann went; he took off his haton entering 
 the court-yard, in order to make to mistake ; 
 but alas ! how often is all human preaution un- 
 availing ! A great dog sprang forh ; Johann 
 Stilling seized a stone, threw it, and lit the dog 
 in the side, so that he began to howl aeadfully. 
 The clergyman saw what passed, though the 
 window; he rushed out full of wrath, s^ook his 
 fist in poor Johann's face, and screaned out, 
 " Thou ragamuffin ! '11 teach thee how to be- 
 B 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 9 
 
 have to my dog!" Stilling answered, "1 knew 
 not that it was your reverence's dog. My broth- 
 er and my parents have sent to invite your rev- 
 erence to go with me to Tiefenbach, to partake 
 of the christening-dinner." The clergyman was 
 silent, and went away; but growled back from 
 the house-door, "Wait; I will go with thee." 
 He waited almost an hour in the yard, caress- 
 ing the dog, and the poor beast was really more 
 placable than the learned divine, who now came 
 out of the house. The man walked along, hold- 
 ing firmly by his cane. Johann walked timidly 
 behind him, with his hat under his arm ; putting 
 it on was a dangerous affair, since in his youth 
 he had received many a box on the ear from the 
 clergyman, for not taking it off soon enough — 
 that is, as soon as he perceived him at a dis- 
 tance. But still it was terrible to walk for an 
 hour together bare-headed, in the open air, in 
 September: he therefore thought of some con- 
 trivance by which he might with propriety cover 
 himself. All of a sudden Mr. Stollbein fell to 
 the ground, and made a great splash. Johann 
 was alarmed. " Oh !" cried he, " has your rev- 
 erence received any harm V "What's that to- 
 you, you lubber 1" was the man's heroic reply, 
 while gathering himself up. Johann's fire now 
 took flame in some measure, so that it burst 
 forth: "I am heartily glad, then, that you have 
 fallen," and smiled beside. "What! what!" 
 cried the parson. But Johann put on his hat, 
 let the lion roar without being afraid, and pro- 
 ceeded on his way, as did his reverence also; 
 and thus at length" they arrived at Tiefenbach. 
 
 Old Stilling stood before his door, barehead- 
 ed ; his beautiful grey hair played in the breeze ; 
 he smiled at the clergyman, and said, while 
 giving him his hand, " I am glad to have the 
 pleasure of seeing your reverence, in my old 
 age, at my table; but I should not have been so 
 bold if my joy had not been so great in having 
 a grandson." The clergyman wished him hap- 
 piness, but with a well-meant threat attached, 
 that he must be more diligent in bringing up 
 his children, lest the curse of Eli should fall 
 upon him. The old man stood in the conscious- 
 ness of his ability, and smiled; however he said 
 nothing, but conducted his reverence into the 
 room. "I will hope," said the reverend gen- 
 tleman, " that I am not to eat here among a 
 swarm of peasants !" " No one dines here," re- 
 plied father Stilling, "except myself, my wife, 
 and children; do you call them a swarm of 
 peasants'?" "Ay — what else 1" replied the 
 other. " I must remind you, then, sir, that you 
 are any thing but a servant of Christ, and that 
 you are a pharisee. He sat with publicans and 
 sinners, and ate with them. He was, on all oc- 
 casions, meek, and lowly, and humble. Your 
 reverence! my grey hairs stand on end; sit 
 down or withdraw. Something beats here, or 
 else I might do violence to your cloth, for which 
 I have otherwise respect. Here, sir, here be- 
 fore my house, rode the prince; I was standing 
 at my door ; he knew me, and said, 1 Good morn- 
 ir.g, Stilling!' I answered, ' Good morning, your 
 Highness!' He dismounted from his horse, for 
 he was wearied with hunting. ' Fetch me a 
 crair,' said he; 'I will rest here a little.' 'I 
 h£ve an airy room,' replied I; 'will it please 
 your Highness to walk into the room, and sit 
 "there at your ease V ' Yes,' said he. The ran-- 
 ge- of the forests entered with him. There he 
 sat, where I have placed you my best chair. 
 Mj Margaret provided him with new milk and 
 
10 HEINRICH 
 
 bread-and-butter. He obliged us both to eat 
 with him, and assured us that he had never 
 relished a meal so much. Where cleanliness 
 reigns there any one may eat. Now decide, 
 reverend sir ! we are all hungry." The clergy- 
 man sat down, and Stilling called his family ; 
 but none of them would come in, not even Mar- 
 garet herself. She filled an earthen bowl with 
 chicken-broth for the preacher, gave him a large 
 plate of meat and a jug of beer. Stilling him- 
 self set it before him; the reverend gentleman 
 ate and drank in haste, said nothing, but return- 
 ed again to Florenburgh. They then all sat 
 down to table. Margaret said grace, and they 
 ate with great appetite. Even the lying-in wom- 
 an sat in Margaret's place, with her boy at her 
 breast; for Margaret would wait upon her chil- 
 dren herself. She had put on a very fine white 
 chemise, which she had worn in her bridal-days, 
 the sleeves of which she had rolled up above 
 the elbows. She had a stomacher and dress of 
 fine black cloth ; and her grey locks, well pow- 
 dered with honour and age, projected from be- 
 neath her cap. It is really incomprehensible that 
 during the whole meal not a word was said of the 
 clergyman; but I am of opinion the reason was, 
 because father Stilling did not begin about it. 
 
 Whilst they were sitting thus pleasantly at 
 dinner, a poor woman knocked at the door. She 
 had an infant hanging at her back, wrapped in 
 a cloth, and begged for a piece of bread. Maria 
 hastened to give it her. The woman came in 
 tattered and dirty clothes, which seemed, how- 
 ever, from the cut of them, to have formerly be- 
 longed to some gentlewoman. Father Stilling 
 commanded that she should sit at the room-door, 
 and that something of all should be given her. 
 " Thou mayest offer the child some rice-pap," 
 said he further to Maria. She ate, and relished 
 it exceedingly ; and after she and her child were 
 satisfied, she thanked them with tears in her 
 eyes, and was about to depart. " No," said old 
 Stilling; "sit and tell us from whence you are, 
 and why you are thus obliged to travel. I will 
 give you a little beer to drink." She sat down, 
 and began as follows : 
 
 M Ah, dear me !" said she, "how lamentable it 
 is that I must thus wander about! (Stilling's 
 daughter Maria had taken her seat not far from 
 her ; she listened with the greatest attention, and 
 her eyes were already moistened with tears.) 
 Alas ! I am a poor woman ! Ten years ago, 
 you folks would have thought it an honour if I 
 had dined with you." 
 
 Wilhelm Stilling. — "Surprising!" 
 
 Johann Stilling. — " Unless you had been of a 
 Stollbein disposition." 
 
 Father Stilling. — "Be still, children! — let the 
 woman speak." 
 
 Woman. — " My father is the clergyman of 
 
 Maria. — " What is thai 1 Your father a cler- 
 gyman !" (drawing nearer her.) 
 
 Woman. — " O yes, certainly ! — he is a clergy- 
 man ; a very rich and learned man." 
 
 Father Stilling. — " Of what place is he the 
 clergyman ?" 
 
 Woman. — " Of Goldingen, in the province of 
 Barching. Yes, indeed ; alas, yes." 
 
 Johann Stilling. — " I must search for ttat 
 ■place upon the map; it cannot be far from ihe 
 Mühler lake, at the upper end, towards the S?p- 
 tentrion." 
 
 Woman. — "Ah, young gentleman! I know of 
 no place near there called Schlendrian." 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 Maria. — " Our Johann did not say Schlendrian. 
 What didst thou say?' 
 
 Father Stilling.— " Go on. Hush, children!" 
 
 Woman. — "I was then a bonny lassie, and 
 had many a fine opportunity to marry (Maria 
 looked at her from head to foot), but none of 
 them suited my father. The one was not rich 
 enough— the other was not respectable enough — 
 the third did not go to church often enough." 
 
 Maria. — "I say, Johann, what are the people 
 called who do not go to church V 
 
 Johann Stilling. — " Hush, girl ! — separatists." 
 
 Woman. — " Well ! what happened 1 I clearly 
 saw that I should have none, if I did not help 
 myself. There was a young journeyman bar- 
 ber—" 
 
 Maria.— •" What's that — a journeyman bar- 
 ber?" 
 
 Wilhelm Stilling. — "Sister, ask every thing 
 afterwards ; only let the woman speak now. 
 They are lads that shave off people's beards." 
 
 Woman. — "I beg you will, as one may say. 
 My husband could perform cures in spite of the 
 best doctor. O yes! he did many, many cures ! 
 In short, I ran off with him. We fixed our res- 
 idence at Spelterburgh, which lies on the river 
 Spa." 
 
 Johann Stilling.-^" Yes, it lies there, a few 
 miles up, where the Milder flows into it." 
 
 Woman.— 11 Yes, that's the place. Unfortu- 
 nate woman that I am ! I there ascertained that 
 my husband associated with certain people." 
 
 'Maria. — " Were you married at the time?" 
 
 Woman.— " No, truly! who would marry us? 
 O certainly not ! (Maria drew her chair a little 
 further from the woman.) I would absolutely 
 not permit my husband to associate with rogues ; 
 for although my father was only a cobbler — " 
 
 On saying this, the woman packed up her 
 child upon her back, and ran off as fast as she 
 was able. . 
 
 Father Stilling-, with his wife and children, 
 could not comprehend why the woman broke 
 off in the midst of her tale, and ran away. And 
 really it required some knowledge of logic to 
 perceive the reason of it. Every one gave his 
 sentiments upon the subject, but all the reasons 
 assigned were dubious. The most rational opin- 
 ion, and at the same time the most probable, 
 was, that the woman hid become rather indis- 
 posed, from having e»en too much of things 
 she was unaccustomed to ; and with this they 
 satisfied themselves. / But father Stilling, ac- 
 cording to his custöh, drew the following in- 
 struction from the tie— that it was best to im- 
 press religion and /he love of virtue upon his 
 children ; and then/at a proper age, leave them 
 free to choose wit) respect to marriage, if they 
 only made such i choice as not to bring a real 
 disgrace upon 0e family by it. Parents cer- 
 tainly must admonish their children ; but com- 
 pulsion no longer avails, when the individual 
 has attained t> the age of maturity ; he then 
 thinks he und/rstands every thing as well as his 
 parents. J 
 
 During th£ wise speech, to which all present 
 were extremely attentive, Wilhelm sat in deep 
 meditation./ He supported his cheek with one 
 hand, andiooked fixedly straight before him. 
 " Hum !" /aid he ; " every thing that the woman 
 has relate/ seems to me suspicious. She said, 
 at the beginning, that her father was a clergy- 
 man at f — " 
 
 Marty — "At Goldingen, in the province of 
 Barchilg." 
 
S T I L L I N G'S 
 
 Wilhelm. — " Yes, it was there. And yet she 
 said at the end, that her father was a cobbler." 
 All present struck their hands together with as- 
 tonishment. It was now evident why the wom- 
 an had run away; and it was prudently resolved 
 to have cramps and bolts to every door and 
 opening in the house. No one will take this 
 amiss of the Stilling family, who has in a 
 measure learned to see the connection of the 
 thing. 
 
 Doris said nothing during the whole time ; 
 for what reason I cannot exactly say. She 
 suckled her boy Heinrich every moment; for 
 this was now all to her, and the boy was also 
 fat and strong. The most experienced gossips, 
 immediately after the birth of the child, could 
 discover in its features a perfect resemblance to 
 its father; and in particular they thought they 
 had found traces, upon the upper eyelid of the 
 left eye, of a future wart, which his father had 
 there. However, a secret partiality must have 
 induced all the neighbours to give this false tes- 
 timony, for the boy possessed the mother's fea- 
 tures, and her tender, feeling heart, entirely. 
 
 Doris fell, by degrees, into a gentle melan- 
 choly. She had nothing in the world that any 
 longer gave her pleasure ; but still, nothing 
 caused her vexation. She continually enjoyed 
 a delightful sadness, and her tender heart seem- 
 ed to dissolve itself wholly into tears, without 
 grief or sorrow. If the sun arose beautifully, 
 she wept, contemplated it pensively, and said, 
 occasionally, " How beautiful must He be that 
 made it !" If he set, she wept again : " There 
 goes our soothing friend from us again," said 
 she often, and longed to be far away in the 
 woods, during the twilight. But nothing affect- 
 ed her so much as the moon ; she then felt 
 something unutterable, and often walked about 
 whole evenings at the foot of the Geisenberg. 
 Wilhelm almost always accompanied her, and 
 conversed very kindly with her. They had both 
 of them something similar in their dispositions. 
 They could well have spared the whole world- 
 full of people, but not the one the other; yet still 
 they sympathised with all the misery and dis- 
 tress of their fellow-creatures. 
 
 Heinrich Stilling was almost a year and a 
 half old, when Doris, one Sunday afternoon, re- 
 quested her husband to walk with her to the 
 Geisenberg castle. Wilhelm had never yet re- 
 fused her any thing. He went with her. As 
 soon as they entered the wood, they put their 
 arms round each other, and went, step by step, 
 under the shade of the trees, up the hill, accom- 
 panied by the twittering of the birds. Doris be- 
 gan: 
 
 " What dost thou think, Wilhelm 1— shall we 
 know each other in heaven 1" 
 
 Wilhelm. — "O yes, dear Doris! Christ says 
 of the rich man, that he knew Lazarus in Abra- 
 ham's bosom ; and beside this, the rich man was 
 in hell ; therefore, I certainly believe we shall 
 know each other again in eternity." 
 
 Doris. — " O Wilhelm! how I rejoice when I 
 think that we shall be together to all eternity, 
 entirely without sorrow, and in unmingled heav- 
 enly felicity and delight ! I always think I could 
 not be happy in heaven without thee. Yes, dear 
 Wilhelm! we shall most certainly know each 
 other there ! Now this is what I wish so heart- 
 ily ! It is God who made my soul and my heart 
 to wish in this manner; and He would not have 
 implanted such hopes if they were improper, or 
 merely fanciful. Yes, I shall know thee, and 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 11 
 
 will seek thee out amongst all the people there, 
 and then I shall be happy." 
 
 Wilhelm. — " We will let ourselves be buried 
 together, and then we shall not have long to 
 
 seek." 
 
 Doris. — " O that we might both die the same 
 moment ! But what would become of our dear 
 boy V 
 
 Wilhelm. — " He would remain here, and be 
 well brought up, and at length come to us." 
 
 Doris. — " Still, I should be very anxious about 
 him, whether he would be pious or not." 
 
 Wilhelm. — " Hear me, Doris ! — thou hast been 
 a long time particularly melancholy. To say 
 the truth, thou makest me sad likewise. Why 
 dost thou love to be so much alone with me] 
 My sisters believe thou art not fond of them." 
 
 Doris.— "Yet I really love them from my 
 heart." 
 
 Wilhelm. — " Thou often weepest, as if thou 
 wert dejected, and this gives me pain. I shall 
 be melancholy also. Hast thou any thing on 
 thy heart, love, that torments thee ] Tell it to 
 me. I will set thee at rest, whatever it may cost 
 me." 
 
 Doris. — " O no ! I am not dejected, dear Wil- 
 helm ! I am not dissatisfied. I love thee, and I 
 love our parents and sisters; yea, I love all men. 
 But I will tell thee how I feel. In the spring, 
 when I see how every thing shoots forth, the 
 leaves on the trees, the flowers and the plants, it 
 seems to me as if it did not concern me at all ; 
 I then feel as if I were in a world to which I did 
 not belong. But as soon as I find a yellow leaf, 
 a faded flower, or a withered herb, my tears be- 
 gin to flow, and I feel so comfortable I cannot 
 tell thee; and yet I am never cheerful at such 
 times. Formerly, all this made me sad, and I 
 was never more joyful than in spring." 
 
 • Wilhelm. — "I have no knowledge of things of 
 this kind ; however, so much is true, that it makes 
 me very susceptible." 
 
 Whilst conversing in this manner, they came 
 to the ruins of the castle on the side of the hill, 
 and felt the cool breeze from the Rhine, and saw 
 how it played with the long dry blades of grass 
 and ivy leaves, which grew upon the fallen walls, 
 and whistled about them. " This is just the place 
 for me," said Doris ; " here I could wish to 
 dwell. Tell me once more the history of Jo- 
 hann Hübner, who lived in this castle. Let us 
 meanwhile sit down on the rampart, opposite 
 the walls. I would not venture within the walls 
 for the world, whilst thou art relating it ; for I 
 always shudder when I hear it." Wilhelm re- 
 lated as follows : 
 
 "In ancient times this castle was inhabited by 
 robbers, who went about the country in the night, 
 stole the people's cattle, and drove them yonder 
 into the court, where there was a large stable, 
 and afterwards sold them, far off, to strangers. 
 The last robber that dwelt here was Johann 
 Hübner. He wore armour, and was stronger than 
 any other man in the whole country. He had 
 only one eye, and a large curly beard and hair. 
 In the daytime he sat with his servants, who 
 were all very strong men, in the corner yonder, 
 where thou seest the broken window-hole ; there 
 they had a room; there they sat and guzzled 
 beer. Johann Hübner saw, with his one eye, 
 very far through the whole country; and when, 
 ever he perceived a horseman, he called out, 
 ' Halloa ! there goes a horseman on a very fine 
 horse — Halloa !' Then they lay in wait for the 
 horseman, took his horse away, and slew him. 
 
12 HEINRICH 
 
 But there was a prince of Dillenburgh, called 
 Black Christian, a very strong man, who was 
 always hearing of Johann Hübner's robberies, 
 for the peasants came and complained of him. 
 This black prince had a prudent servant, called 
 Hanns Flick, whom he sent over the country in 
 order to spy out this Johann Hübner. The 
 prince himself lay behind in the Giller, which 
 thou seest yonder, and kept himself concealed 
 there with his horsemen ; and the peasants 
 brought him bread, butter, and cheese. Hanns 
 Flick did not know Johann Hübner; he roved 
 about the country and inquired for him. At 
 length he came to a smithy, where horses were 
 shod. There were many wagon-wheels against 
 the wall, which were there to be covered ; a man 
 had leaned himself with his back against them, 
 who had only one eye, and had on an iron jerkin. 
 Hanns Flick went to him, and said, 1 God save 
 thee, thou iron-jerkin man with one eye; is not 
 thy name Johann Hübner of Geisenberg T The 
 man answered, 'Johann Hübner of Geisenberg 
 lies on the wheel.' Hanns Flick understood 
 him to mean the wheel on the scaffold, and said, 
 1 Is that lately V ' Yes,' answered the man, ' this 
 very day.' Hanns Flick did not fully believe 
 him, and continued at the smithy, and watched 
 the man who lay upon the wheel. The man 
 whispered to the smith to shoe his horse the 
 wrong way, so that the forepart of the^shoe was 
 placed behind. The smith did so, and Johann 
 Hübner rode away. As he mounted his horse, 
 he said to Hanns Flick, ' God save thee, brave 
 fellow ! Tell thy master he ought to send me 
 men that can fight, and not eaves-droppe?s.' Hanns 
 Flick stood still, and saw him ride over the field 
 into the forest, and then ran after him, to see 
 where he stopped. He would have followed his 
 track, but Johann Hübner rode up and down, 
 across and athwart, so that Hanns Flick soon lost 
 the track of the horse; lor where he had ridden, 
 the track was in a contrary direction ; he there- 
 fore soon lost him, and knew not what had be- 
 come of him. At length, however, Hanns Flick 
 got sight of him, as he was lying yonder, with 
 his men, on the heath in the forest, guarding the 
 cattle they had stolen. It was in the night, by 
 moonshine. He ran and told it to Prince Chris- 
 tian, who with his men rode silently below, 
 through the forest. They bound moss under the 
 horses' feet, got near him, sprang upon him, and 
 they fought together. Prince Christian and Jo- 
 hann Hübner struck one another upon the iron 
 helmets and cuirasses, so that they rang again, 
 till at length Johann Hübner was slain, and the 
 prince took possession of the castle. They bu- 
 ried Johann Hübner down in the corner yonder, 
 and the prince laid much wood about the great 
 tower, which they also undermined. It fell in 
 the evening, when the Tielenbach people milked 
 their cows; the whole country about trembled 
 with the fall. Thou seest yonder the long heap 
 of stones down the hill; that is the tower, as it 
 fell. Between eleven and twelve at night, Jo- 
 hann Hübner, with his one eye, still haunts this 
 place. He sits on a black horse, and rides about 
 the rampart. Old Neuser, our neighbour, has 
 seen him." 
 
 Doris trembled and shuddered whenever a bird 
 flew upwards out of the bush. " I am always 
 fond of hearing the tale," said she, " when I am 
 thus sitting here; and if I were to hear it ten 
 times, I should not be tired of it. Let us walk 
 about the rampart a little." They went together 
 upon the rampart, and Doris sang : 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 " Three stars shone over a regal dome, 
 In which three maidens abode ; 
 Their father was gone away far from home y 
 And on a white horse he rode. 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo! 
 
 " ' Seest thou not yet the little white horse, 
 Dear sister, down in the dale V 
 ? I see the white horse, pursuing its course, 
 And trotting along the vale.' 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " ' I see the white horse, but my father's not there 
 O sisters, our father is dead ! 
 My heart within me is pained with fear; 
 And glare the heavens so red !' 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " There enter'd a horseman in bloody array, 
 
 Into their chamber fair ; 
 ' O horseman, so bloody, we earnestly pray 
 Thee our virgin lives to spare !' 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " 1 Ye may not live, ye virgins three ! — 
 My wife, so blooming and fair, 
 Your father did murder under a tree, — 
 A stream of blood issued there.' 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " ' The murderer I found in the shady wood, 
 And took his courser away ; 
 And there did I spill his vital blood, — 
 lie fell from the rocks that day.' 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo! 
 
 " ' My mother so dear, thou wouldst also have slain,, 
 As down in the vale she did hie ! 
 O sisters rejoice, we shall soon meet agaia, 
 Right willing we are to die.' 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " The man then took a sharp-pointed knife, 
 And pierced the maidens dead : — 
 Fast ebb'd away their precious life, — 
 They fell to the ground like lead. 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " There flows a rivulet, pure and clear, 
 Along the vale in haste, — 
 Flow winding around, thou rivulet dear, 
 E'en unto the ocean vast ! 
 Star, shine, portentous of wo ! 
 
 " There rest the maidens, in sleep profound, 
 Until the judgment-day ; — 
 They sleep beneath the clay-cold ground, 
 
 Until the judgment-day. 
 , Star, shine, portentous of wo !" 
 
 The sun now began to decline ; and Doris with 
 her Wilhelm had peculiarly felt the pleasure of 
 melancholy. As they went down the wood a 
 mortal tremor pervaded Doris's whole frame. 
 She trembled from a chilly feeling, and it was 
 difficult for her to reach Sailing's house. She 
 fell into a violent fever. Wilhelm was with her 
 day and night. After the lapse of a fortnight, 
 she said at midnight to Wilhelm, "Come, lie 
 down in bed." He complied, and lay down by 
 her. She embraced him with her right arm; he 
 lay with his head on her breast. All at once 
 he perceived that the beating of her pulse 
 ceased, and then again beat a few times. He 
 was petrified, and called out, in the distress of 
 his soul, "Maria! Maria!" All were roused, 
 and ran to him. There lay Wilhelm, and re- 
 ceived Doris's last breath into his mouth. She 
 was dead already ! Wilhelm was stupified, and 
 his soul wished never to come to itself again ; at 
 length, however, he arose from bed, wept, and la- 
 mented aloud. Father Stilling himself and his 
 Margaret went to her, closed her eyes, and 
 sobbed. It was pitiful to see how the two old 
 greyheads looked with tenderness on the departed 
 angel, while the tears flowed down their cheeks. 
 The girls also wept aloud, and recounted to 
 each other all the last words which their late sis- 
 ter-in-law had spoken, and the caresses she had 
 given them. 
 
STILLING'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 13 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Wilhelm Stilling had lived alone with his 
 Doris in a very populous district; she was now 
 dead and buried, and he found that he was living 
 quite alone in the world. His parents and sis- 
 ters were about him, without his perceiving 
 them. In the face of his orphan child he saw 
 only the lineaments of Doris ; and when he went 
 to bed at night, he found his chamber silent and 
 empty. He often imagined he heard the rustling 
 of Doris's foot on stepping into bed. He then 
 started, expecting to see her, but saw her not. 
 He reflected on all the days they had lived to- 
 gether, found in each of them a paradise, and 
 was astonished that he had not at that time ex- 
 ulted for joy. He then look his little Heinrich 
 in his arms, bedewed him with tears, pressed 
 him to his breast, and slept with him. He often 
 dreamed he was walking with Doris in the Gei- 
 senberg forest, and how happy he was to have 
 her again. While dreaming, he was afraid of 
 awaking, and yet he awoke; on which his tears 
 began to flow anew, and his condition was com- 
 fortless. Father Stilling saw all this, and yet 
 he never comforted his son Wilhelm. Marga- 
 ret and her daughters often attempted it, but they 
 only made the evil worse; for every thing of- 
 fended Wilhelm which had even a tendency to 
 withdraw him from his sadness. But they could 
 not comprehend how it was possible that their 
 father made no effort to render hie son more 
 cheerful. They therefore determined to u n it e in 
 exhorting him to do so the next time Wilhelm 
 went to roam about in the Geisenberg forest, to 
 seek out and weep over Doris's traces and foot- 
 steps. This he did frequently, and therefore it 
 was not long before they found an opportunity 
 of accomplishing their purpose. Margaret un- 
 dertook it as soon as the cloth was removed, and 
 Wilhelm had left them; and while Father Still- 
 ing was picking his teeth, and looking at some 
 spot straight before him, " Ebert," said she, 
 " why dost thou let the lad wander about so 1 
 Thou payest no attention to him, nor speakest a 
 little to him, but behavest as if he did not con- 
 cern thee at all. The poor fellow may fall into 
 a consumption from mere sorrow." "Marga- 
 ret," answered the old man, smiling, "what dost 
 thou think I could say to him, to comfort him 1 
 If I tell him he must be content — his Doris is in 
 heaven, and that she is happy, it amounts to the 
 same thing as if any one were to take away all 
 that thou lovest the most in the world, and I were 
 then to come and say to thee, 'Be satisfied, thy 
 things are in good keeping; at the end of sixty 
 years thou wilt have them again ; he is a worthy 
 man in whose possession they are.' Wouldst 
 thou not be very vexed at me, and say, 'But 
 what shall I live upon during the sixty years'?' 
 If I number up all Doris's faults, and seek to 
 persuade him he had lost nothing so particularly 
 valuable, I should insult her memory, be a liar, 
 or a slanderer, and effect nothing more than make 
 Wilhelm for ever my enemy; he would, in op- 
 position to this, recount all her virtues, and I 
 should come off too short in the reckoning. 
 Ought I to seek another Doris for him 1 It must 
 be just such a Doris as she was; and yet he 
 would feel a disgust at her. Ah ! there is not 
 such another Doris !" His lips faltered, and his 
 eyes were moist. They then all wept, chiefly 
 because their father wept. 
 
 Under these circumstances, Wilhelm was not 
 in a situation to take care of his child, or to do 
 
 any thing useful. Margaret, therefore, took the 
 entire charge of her grandson, fed and clothed 
 him in her old-fashioned manner, most cleanlily. 
 Her daughters taught him to walk, to pray, and 
 repeat devotional verses; and when Father Still- 
 ing came from the wood on the Saturday even- 
 ing, and had placed himself near the siove, the 
 little one came tottering to him, sought to climb 
 upon his knee, and took, exultingly, the piece of 
 bread-and-buiter which had been prepared for 
 him; hunting even in the wallet to find it, and 
 relishing it better than other children are wont 
 to relish the best rice-pap, although it was al- 
 ways hard and dry from being exposed to the 
 air. This dry bread-and-butter Heinrich ate on 
 his grandfather's lap, during which the latter 
 sung to him either the song, 
 
 " My little hen's name is Geberli," 
 
 or, 
 
 " Rider, to horse, we're coming' along !" 
 
 making always at the same time the movement 
 of a trotting horse with his knee. In one word, 
 Stilling had the art, in bringing up children, of 
 providing every moment a new amusement for 
 Heinrich, which was always of such a kind as 
 to be suitable for his age; that is, they were 
 comprehensible to him; yet in such a manner, 
 that that which ought always to be had in ven- 
 eration was not only not degraded, but repre- 
 sented, as it -were, en passant, as great and beau- 
 tiful. The boy thus attained a fondness for his 
 grandfather which exceeded every thing, and 
 hence the ideas which he sought to impart to 
 lj im found entrance into his mind. What the 
 grandfather said, he believed without further re- 
 flection. 
 
 Wilhelm's silent grief transformed itself grad- 
 ually into a communicative and confidential 
 sadness. He now spoke again with his family ; 
 they conversed for days together about Doris, 
 sung her songs, looked at her clothes, and other 
 things of the kind. Wilhelm began to experi- 
 ence a feeling of delight in remembering her, and 
 tasted the most supreme peace when he repre- 
 sented to himself that in a few short years death 
 would call him away also; when, without fear 
 of termination, he would eternally enjoy, in the 
 society of his Doris, the highest felicity of which 
 man is capable. This great idea produced an 
 entire change of life, to which the following 
 event much contributed. Some leagues from 
 Tiefenbach, there is a large manor-house, which 
 had fallen, by inheritance, to a certain Count. 
 A society of pious people had rented this man- 
 sion, and had established a manufacture of half- 
 silk stuffs, by which they maintained themselves. 
 Wise-heads who knew the fashions of the world 
 and what was most esteemed in it, or, in one 
 word, people of consequence, had no relish for 
 such an establishment. They knew how dis- 
 graceful it was, in the great world, publicly to 
 profess Jesus Christ, or to hold meetings in or- 
 der mutually to admonish one another to follow 
 his life and doctrine. Hence these people were 
 despised in the world, in the eye of which they 
 were of no value; there were even those who 
 gave out that they had seen all kinds of abomi- 
 nations practised in their mansion, by which the 
 contempt for them was increased. But nothing 
 could vex such persons more than when they 
 heard that these people even rejoiced at such re- 
 viling, and said that the same thing had hap- 
 pened to their Master. In this society, there was 
 a person of the name of Nicolas, a man of un- 
 
14 HEINRICH 
 
 common genius and natural gifts. He had 
 studied divinity, and having discovered the de- 
 fectiveness of all systems of religion, had also 
 publicly spoken and written against them; on 
 which account he had been cast into prison, but 
 afterwards released from it again, and had trav- 
 elled for a long time with a certain nobleman. 
 In order to live freely and peaceably, he had be- 
 taken himself amongst these people; and as he 
 understood nothing of their manufactory, he car- 
 ried about the goods they manufactured, for sale, 
 Dr as people are wont to say, he hawked them. 
 This Nicolas had been often in Selling's house; 
 but as he knew how firmly the family adhered to 
 the principles of the reformed church and reli- 
 gion, he had never expressed his sentiments. 
 On this occasion, however, when Wilhelm Still- 
 ing began to divest himself of his gloomiest sor- 
 row, he found an opportunity of speaking to him. 
 This conversation is of importance ; I will 
 therefore subjoin it, as Nicolas himself related 
 it to me. 
 
 After Nicolas had seated himself, he began : 
 " How is it with you now, Master Stilling'? — can 
 you accommodate yourself yet to your wife's 
 decease 1" 
 
 Wilhelm, — " Not very well. My heart is still 
 so much wounded, that it bleeds; — however, I 
 begin to find more consolation." 
 
 Nicolas. — " Thus it happens, Master Stilling, 
 when we attach ourselves, w T ith our desires, to 
 any thing of a transitory nature; and we are 
 certainly happy ' when we have wives, as though 
 we had none. 5 (1 Cor., vii. 29.) We may love 
 them cordially; but still how useful it is, to ex- 
 ercise ourselves in mortifying even this pleasure, 
 and denying ourselves in it ! —the loss would then 
 certainly not be so grievous to us." 
 
 WLUielm.—" It is very easy to preach so ; but 
 doing — doing — observing, and keeping, is anoth- 
 er affair." 
 
 Nicolas smiled, and said, "Certainly it is dif- 
 ficult, particularly after possessing such a Doris ; 
 but yet, if any one is in earnest — if he only be- 
 lieves that the doctrine of Jesus Christ leads to 
 the highest felicity, he becomes in earnest — it is 
 then not so difficult as people may imagine. Let 
 me briefly explain the whole matter to you. Je- 
 sus Christ has left us a doctrine, which is so 
 adapted to the nature of the human soul that, if 
 practised, it must necessarily render the individ- 
 ual perfectly happy. If we go through all the 
 precepts of the wise men of this world, we find a 
 number of rules, which hang together just as they 
 have formed their system. At one time they are 
 lame, at another, they run, and then they stand 
 still. The doctrine of Christ alone, deduced 
 from the deepest mysteries of human nature, 
 never fails, and perfectly proves to him who has 
 a right insight into it, that its author must him- 
 self have been the Creator of man, since he 
 knew him even from his first original impulse. 
 Man has an infinite hunger after pleasure — after 
 pleasures which are able to satisfy him, which 
 ever yield something new, and are an unceasing 
 source 'of new delight. But we do not find any 
 of this kind in the whole creation. As soon as 
 we are deprived of them by the vicissitude of 
 things, they leave a pang behind; as you, for 
 instance, have felt at the loss of your Doris. 
 This divine Legislator knew that the origin of 
 all human actions is real self-love. Far from 
 expelling this motive, which is capable of pro- 
 ducing much evil, he gives us the means of en- 
 nobling and refining it. He commands us to act 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 towards others as we wish them to act towards 
 us ; if we do so, we are assured of their love, — 
 they will be respectful to us, and cause us much 
 enjoyment, unless they are wicked men. He 
 commands us to love our enemies : — now as soon 
 as we show love and kindness to an enemy, he 
 will be certainly tormented to the utmost, until 
 he is reconciled to us ; whilst in the practice of 
 these duties, which cost us only a little trouble 
 at the commencement, we ourselves enjoy an in- 
 ward peace, which far exceeds all the pleasures 
 of sense. Besides this, pride is peculiarly the 
 source of all our social vices, of all disturbance, 
 hatred, and infraction of peace. Against this 
 root of all evil, there is no better remedy than 
 the above-mentioned laws of Jesus Christ. I do 
 not wish, at present, to explain myself further on 
 the subject; I only meant to say, that it is well 
 worth the trouble to employ earnestness in obey- 
 ing the doctrine of Christ, because it procures 
 us permanent and substantial delights, which are 
 able to counterbalance the loss of others." 
 
 Wilhelm.—" Repeat all this to me, friend Nic- 
 olas! I must write it down; I believe what you 
 say is true." 
 
 Nicolas rehearsed it very cordially, with some 
 little addition or diminution, and Wilhelm wrote 
 it down as he repeated it to him. "But," con- 
 tinued he, " if we are to be saved by obedience 
 to the doctrine of Christ, of what use are his life 
 and death 1 The preachers say, we cannot keep 
 the commandments, but that we are justified and 
 saved only through faith in Christ, and by his 
 m^ts." 
 
 Nicolas smiled, and said, " We will speak of 
 this some other time. For the present, look at 
 the matter thus: that even as by his pure and 
 holy life, in which he walked in favour both with 
 Cod and man, he has enabled us to take a free 
 survey of our mortal existence, and of the con- 
 fused state of earthly things, that by looking unto 
 him, we might be encouraged, and hope in the 
 grace that rules over us, for the attainment of 
 greater simplicity of heart, with which we can 
 make our way every where ; so He has also, I 
 say, planted his cross in the night of death, where 
 the sun goes down, and the moon loses her light, 
 in order that we may look up, and with humble 
 hope, exclaim, ' Remember me !' We are thus 
 saved by his merits, if you will; for He has paid 
 dearly and severely enough to ransom his peo- 
 ple from eternal death, and thus we are saved by 
 faith; for faith is salvation. But in the mean 
 time, do not let this trouble you; and be faith- 
 ful in small things, otherwise you will accom- 
 plish nothing great. I will leave with you a lit- 
 tle tract, translated from the French of Arch- 
 bishop Fenelon; it treats of fidelity in small 
 things. I will also bring with me, for you, the 
 Imitation of Christ, by Thomas ä Kempis, which 
 will instruct you further." 
 
 I cannot exactly say whether Wilhelm re- 
 ceived this doctrine from real conviction, or 
 whether the state of his heart was such, that he 
 felt its beauty without examining its truth. Cer- 
 tainly, when I reflect coolly on this discourse of 
 Nicolas, I find that though I cannot agree with 
 it altogether, yet on the whole it is good and ex- 
 cellent. 
 
 Wilhelm purchased a few ells of cloth of Nic- 
 olas, for which he had no immediate occasion; 
 and then the good preacher took up his bundle 
 on his back, and went away, promising however 
 to return soon ; and Nicolas doubtless thanked 
 God heartily, all the way across the Giller, for 
 
STILLING'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 15 
 
 Wilhelm's conversion. The latter now found a 
 deep and irresistible inclination in his soul to re- 
 nounce the whole world, and to live alone with 
 his child, in an upper room of the house. His 
 sister Elizabeth was married to one Simon, a 
 linen-weaver, who took his place in the house ; 
 and he betook himself to Kis room, procured 
 some books which Nicolas had recommended, 
 and lived there, in this manner, many years with 
 his boy. 
 
 During this time, the whole of Wilhelm's en- 
 deavors were directed, first, to the supply of his 
 necessities, by means of his trade as a lailor; for 
 he gave a considerable sum weekly to his pa- 
 rents for the board of himself and his chi! i ; — 
 next, to quench every inclination of the heart 
 which had not reference to eternity; and finally, 
 also to educate his son in the same principles, 
 which he imagined to be true and firmly found- 
 ed. He rose at four o'clock in the morning, and 
 began his work; at seven he awoke his little 
 Heinrich, and reminded him in a familiar man- 
 ner of the goodness of God, who had watched 
 over him, by his angels, during the night. 
 "Thank him for it, my child," said Wilhelm, 
 whilst dressing the boy. When this was done, 
 he was made to wash himself in cold water, and 
 Wilhelm then took him with him, shut the room- 
 door, and fell on his knees with him at the bed- 
 side, and prayed with the utmost fervour of spirit 
 to God, during which the tears often flowed co- 
 piously to the ground. The boy then had his 
 breakfast, which he was obliged to take with as 
 much decorum and order as if he had been eat- 
 ing in the presence of a prince. He had after- 
 wards to read a small portion of the catechism, 
 and gradually learn it by rote ; he was also permit- 
 ted to read old and pleasing tales, adapted to the 
 capacity of a child ; some of which were reli- 
 gious, and others of a worldly nature, such as 
 the " Emperor Octavian, with his wife and son ;" 
 the " History of the Four Children of Haymon ;" 
 " the Beautiful Melusina," and the like. Wil- 
 helm never permitted the boy to play with other 
 children; but kept him so secluded, that in the 
 seventh year of his age he knew none of the 
 neighbours' children, though well acquainted 
 " ; th a whole row of fine books. Hence it was, 
 tnatv; s w hole soul began to delight in that which 
 T 3 yf J i eil '" his imagination was excited, because 
 it naci no cnw 0D j ects tnan j^eal persons and 
 actions. 1 he i^ oes of old romance w h 0S e vir- 
 tues were described : n an exaggerated manner, 
 fixed themselves impei^ ptibly in his mind as 
 so many objects worthy oc i mita tion, and vice 
 was in the highest degree r^nant to him. 
 But because he was continually hearing of God 
 and pious men, he was imperceptibly pi aC ed in 
 a peculiar point of view, from when£> he ob- 
 served every thing. The first thing he inq^ re d 
 after, when he had read or heard of any one,hao 
 reference to his sentiments towards God and 
 Christ. Hence, when he had once obtained Got- 
 fried Arnold's lives of the Primitive Fathers, he 
 could not cease from reading it; and this book, 
 together with Reitz's History of the Regenerate, 
 continued his chief delight till the tenth year of 
 his age; but all these persons, whose biography 
 he read, remained so firmly idealized in his ima- 
 gination that he never forgot ihem during his 
 whole life. 
 
 In the afternoon, from two to three o'clock, or 
 even somewhat later, Wilhelm let him walk in 
 the orchard and the Geisenberg forest : he had 
 appointed him a district there, which he was at 
 
 liberty to appropriate for his amusement, but 
 which he was not to exceed without the company 
 of his father. This district was not larger than 
 Wilhelm could overlook from his window, in 
 order that he might never lose sight of him.. 
 When the time appointed had expired, or if only 
 a neighbour's child approached Heinrich, though 
 distantly, Wilhelm whistled, and on this signal 
 he was in a moment again with his father. 
 
 This district, Stilling's orchard, and a portion 
 of the forest which bordered on the garden, werg 
 therefore daily visited by our youth, when the 
 weather was fine, and made entirely into ideal 
 landscapes. There was an Egyptian desert, in 
 which he transformed a bush into a cave, where 
 he hid himself, representing St. Anthony; and, 
 in his enthusiasm, also occasionally prayed very 
 heartily. In another part was the fountain of 
 Melusina; there was also the land of the Turks, 
 where the sultan and his daughter, the fair Mar- 
 cebilla, dwelt; and on a rock, there was the cas- 
 tle Montalban, in which Rinold lived, &c. To 
 these places he made a pilgrimage daily ; and no 
 one can form an idea of the delight which the 
 boy there enjoyed ; he stammered out verses, and 
 had poetic feelings. Such was the nature of this 
 child's education, till he was ten years old. One 
 thing more must be mentioned here. Wilhelm 
 was very strict; he punished the smallest trans- 
 gression of his commands most severely with the 
 rod. Hence there was added to the above-men- 
 tioned fundamental feelings, a certain timidity 
 in young Stilling's soul ; and from fear of cor- 
 rection, he sought to hide and conceal his faults,, 
 so that he gradually let himself be seduced to 
 telling falsehoods, a propensity which afterwards 
 gave him much trouble to overcome, even to his 
 twentieth year. Wilhelm's intention was to 
 bring up his son to be docile and obedient, in or- 
 der to render him capable of keeping divine and 
 human laws; and it seemed to him, that a cer- 
 tain severity was the shortest way to attain his 
 object ; and thus he could not comprehend whence 
 it came, that the felicity he enjoyed in the good 
 qualities of his boy should be so hatefully em- 
 bittered by the vice of lying, in which he often 
 caught him. He redoubled his severity, particu- 
 larly when he perceived he was telling an un- 
 truth ; however, he effected nothing more than 
 causing Heinrich to employ every possible art 
 to make his falsehood more probable, and thus 
 the good Wilhelm was still deceived. No soon- 
 er did the boy perceive he was successful, than 
 he rejoiced and even thanked God that he had 
 found a means of escaping punishment. How- 
 ever, I must mention this to his credit, that he 
 never spoke falsely except when he was able, by 
 so doing, to avoid correction. 
 
 Old Stilling regarded all this very quietly, 
 His son's austere mode of life he never coa- 
 demned; but smiled occasionally, and shook his 
 grey locks, when he saw how Wilhelm seized 
 the rod, because the boy had eaten or done some- 
 thing contrary to his orders. He would then 
 say in the absence of the child, " Wilhelm, he 
 that does not wish to have his commands re- 
 peatedly transgressed, must not command much. 
 All men love liberty." "Yes," said Wilhelm, 
 " but the boy will become wilful." Forbid him 
 his faults," rejoined the old man, " when he is 
 about to commit them, and inform him why; 
 but if thou hast previously forbidden it, the boy 
 forgets the many commands and prohibitions, 
 and is always in fault; whilst meanwhile thou 
 must make thy words good, and thus there is no 
 
16 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 end to chastising." Wilhelm acknowledged 
 this, and gradually let ihe greater part of his 
 rules lall into oblivion. He now governed no 
 longer so much according to laws, but entirely 
 in monarchical style; he gave his orders always 
 when they were needful, regulated them accord- 
 ing to circumstances, and the boy was no long- 
 er chastised so much ; his whole mode of life be- 
 came somewhat more animated, free, and noble. 
 
 Heinrich Stilling was therefore educated in 
 an extraordinary manner, entirely without the 
 society of others; hence he knew nothing of the 
 •world, and nothing of vice; he was ignorant of 
 treachery and frivolity ; praying, reading, and 
 writing was his occupation. His mind was 
 therefore filled with few things; but all that was 
 in it was so lively, clear, refined, and ennobled, 
 that his expressions, speeches, and actions' - are 
 not to be described. The whole family were as- 
 tonished at the boy ; and old Stilling often said, 
 " The lad is soaring away from us ; the feathers 
 are growing larger upon him than was ever the 
 case with any other of our family; we must 
 pray that God will guide him by his good Spir- 
 it." All the neighbours who visited Stilling, 
 and saw the boy, were amazed, for they under- 
 stood nothing of all he said, although he spoke 
 good German. Amongst others, neighbour Stah- 
 ler once came thither, because he wanted Wil- 
 helm to make him a great-coat; however, his 
 chief object in this was a secret hope to provide 
 for his daughter Maria-, for Stilling was respect- 
 ed in the village, and Wilhelm was pious and 
 diligent. Young Heinrich might be about eight 
 years old ; he sat on a chair, and read in a book, 
 looking, according to custom, very serious; and 
 I do not believe that up to that time he had ever 
 laughed loudly in his whole life. Stahler look- 
 ed at him, and said, " Heinrich, what art thou 
 doing there V- 
 
 Heinrich.— •" I am reading." 
 
 Stahler. — "Art thou able to read already?" 
 
 Heinrich looked at him with astonishment, and 
 said, " That is a foolish question, for 1 am a hu- 
 man being." He then read aloud with ease, 
 proper emphasis, and due distinction. Stahler 
 
 was amazed, and said, "The d fetch me! 
 
 I have never seen the like in all my life." At 
 this imprecation, Heinrich jumped up, and look- 
 ed timidly around him ; at length, when he saw 
 that the devil did not come, he exclaimed, "O 
 God, how gracious art thou!" stepped up to 
 Stahler, and said, "Man, have you ever seen 
 Satan 1" "No," answered Stabler. "Then 
 call upon him no more," rejoined Heinrich, and 
 went into another room. 
 
 The fame of this boy resounded far and wide ; 
 every one spoke of him with astonishment. Even 
 the Rev. Mr. Stollbein himself was curious to 
 see him. Now Heinrich had never been at 
 church, and had consequently never yet seen p 
 man with a large white wig and fine wack 
 clothes. The clergyman came to T;crenbach; 
 and having, perhaps, previously entered some 
 other house, his arrival was already known in 
 Stilling's house, and the reason of his coming. 
 Wilhelm, therefore, instructed his boy Heinrich 
 how to behave when the clergyman should come. 
 At length he appeared, and old Stilling with him. 
 Heinrich stood straight up by the wall, like a 
 soldier presenting arms; he held in his folded 
 hands his cap, composed of blue and grey rem- 
 nants of cloth, and regarded the clergyman full 
 in the face. Afier Mr. Stollbein had seated him- 
 self, and spoken a few words with Wilhelm, he 
 
 turned towards the wall, and said, " Good morn- 
 ing, Heinrich !" 
 
 Heinrich. — •' People say good morning as soon 
 as they enter the room." 
 
 Stollbein perceived with whom he had to do; 
 he therefore turned himself with his chair to- 
 wards him, and continued, " Dost thou know 
 the catechism V 
 
 Heinrich. — " Not the whole of it." 
 
 Stollbein. — "How! not the whole of if? That 
 is the first thing children ought to learn." 
 
 Heinrich. — " No, your reverence, that is not 
 the first ; children must first learn to pray, that 
 God may give them understanding to compre- 
 hend the catechism." 
 
 Mr. Stollbein was already seriously vexed, 
 and had studied out a severe lecture for Wilhelm, 
 but this answer startled him. "In what way 
 dost thou pray V inquired he further. 
 
 Heinrich. — " I pray, ' Gracious God, give me 
 understanding that I may comprehend what I 
 read.' " 
 
 Stollbein.— " That is right, my son; continue 
 to pray thus." 
 
 Heinrich. — " You are not my father." 
 
 Stollbein. — " I am thy spiritual father." 
 
 Heinrich, — "No, God is my spiritual father: 
 you are a man ; a man cannot be a spirit." 
 
 Stollbein. — "What! hast thou no spirit, no 
 soul?" 
 
 Heinrich. — "Yes, certainly! How can you 
 ask such a simple question ? But 1 know my 
 father." 
 
 Stollbein. — " Dost thou know God, thy spirit- 
 ual father?" 
 
 Heinrich smiled and said, " Should not a man 
 know God V' 
 
 Stollbein.— " But thou hast never seen him." 
 
 Heinrich did not reply, but fetched his well- 
 used Bible, and pointed out to the clergyman the 
 passage in Rom. i. 19, 20. 
 
 Stollbein had now heard enough. He told 
 the boy to leave the room, and said to his father, 
 " Your ehild will surpass all his forefathers; 
 continue to keep him well under the rod ; the 
 boy will become a great man in the world." 
 
 Wilhelm still continued to feel the wound oc- 
 casioned by the death of Doris, and cons antV 
 sighed after her. He now also occasionally v ° oj£ 
 his boy with him to the old castle, po^ ted out 
 to him the tracks and footsteps of l ^ deceased 
 mother, and all that she had ar ^ s P oken 
 there. Heinrich became s ^ che ^ 1° l , ne m f m ; 
 
 ory of his mother, that 
 
 ie made all he heard of 
 
 her his own, which P le f u ed Wilhelm so well 
 that he could not conceal his joy. 
 
 Once on a fine evening in autumn, the two 
 lovers of the departed Doris went about the ru- 
 ins f tk6 castle, and sought for snail-shells, 
 w h>a were very numerous there. Doris had 
 taken great pleasure in so doing. Heinrich 
 found under a stone, near a wall, a pocket-knife, 
 with a yellow back and green handle. It was 
 still not at all rusty, partly from lying in a dry 
 place, and partly because it was so covered, that 
 the rain could not fall upon it. Heinrich was 
 glad on finding it, ran to his father, and shewed 
 it him. Wilhelm looked at it, grew pale, and 
 began to sob and weep. Heinrich was terrified, 
 and the tears already stood in his eyes without 
 knowing why, nor did he dare to ask. He turn- 
 ed the knife about, and saw written with aqua- 
 fortis upon the blade, "Johanna Dorothea Cath- 
 arina Stilling." He cried aloud, and fell down 
 like one dead. Wilhelm heard the reading of 
 
STILLING'S CHILDHOOD. 
 
 17 
 
 the name, as weh as the loud cry ; he sat down 
 by the boy, and sought to bring him to himself. 
 Whilst he was thus occupied, he felt inwardly 
 happy; he found himself comforted, he took the 
 toy in his arms, pressed him to his breast, and 
 experienced a delight which for a time excluded 
 every other feeling. He drew near unto God as 
 unto his friend, and thought he ascended into 
 the glory of heaven, and saw Doris amongst the 
 angels. " Meanwhile Heinrich came to himself 
 again, and found himself in his father's arms. 
 He could not recollect that his father had ever 
 had him in his arms before. His whole soul 
 was penetrated ; tears of the strongest emotion 
 flowed down his full and snow-white cheeks. 
 " Father, do you love me V asked he. Wilhelm 
 tad never either joked or trifled with his child ; 
 therefore the boy knew of no other father "but a 
 grave and severe man, whom he was obliged to 
 fear and honor. Wilhelm's head sunk upon 
 Heinrich's breast; he said, "Yes!" and wept 
 aloud. Heinrich was beside himself, and on the 
 point of fainting away again ; but his father sud- 
 denly rising up, placed him upon his feet. He 
 was scarcely able to stand. " Come," said Wil- 
 helm, "we will walk about a little." They 
 sought for the knife, but could not find it again"; 
 it had certainly fallen down deep between the 
 stones. They searched long, but found it not. 
 No one was more grieved than Heinrich; his 
 father however led him away, and spoke to him 
 as follows : 
 
 " My son, thou wilt now soon be nine years 
 old. I have taught and instructed thee as well 
 as I am able, and thou hast now so much sense 
 that I can talk rationally to thee. Thou hast 
 much before thee in the world, and I myself am 
 still young. We shall not be able to end our 
 lives in our chamber; we must again associate 
 with mankind; I will keep school again, and 
 thou shalt go with me, and learn further. Em- 
 ploy thyself in any thing that gives thee pleasure ; 
 thou shalt have no want of books.; but in order 
 that thou mayest have something certain, by 
 which thou canst earn thy bread, thou must learn 
 my trade. If God graciously gives thee a better 
 vocation, thou wilt have reason to thank him ; 
 but no one will despise thee for being my son, 
 even wert thou to become a prince." Hein- 
 rich was delighted with his father's confidential 
 manner; his soul became infinitely enlarged; 
 he felt such a gentle uncontrollable freedom as 
 is not to be described; he experienced now for 
 the first time that he was treated as a human be- 
 ing. He looked at his father, and said, " I will 
 do all that you wish me to do." Wilhelm smi- 
 led at him, and continued, 11 Thou wilt be suc- 
 cessful in the world ; only thou must never for- 
 get to cultivate a confidential communion with 
 God, who will take thee into his protection, and 
 preserve thee from all evil." During this con- 
 versation they arrived at home and entered their 
 chamber. From that time, Wilhelm appeared 
 to be entirely changed ; his heart was again 
 opened, and his religious sentiments did not hin- 
 der him from going amongst people. All men, 
 even the rudest, felt a reverence in his presence; 
 for his whole man had put on, in his retirement, 
 an irresistible, gentle gravity, through which a 
 pure and simple soul beamed forth. He also 
 frequently took his son with him, to whom he 
 felt an entirely new and warm affection. He 
 had perceived, in the finding of the knife, Doris's 
 f nti re character in the boy; he was his and 
 Doris's son, and at this discovery all his affec- 
 
 tion was transferred to Heinrich, and he found 
 Doris again in him. 
 
 Wilhelm now conducted his boy, for the first 
 time, to church. He was astonished at every 
 thing he saw ; but as soon as the organ began 
 to play, his sensations became too powerful, and 
 he was slightly convulsed. Every soft harmo- 
 ny melted him ; the minor keys caused his tears 
 to flow, and the rapid allegro' made him spring 
 up. However indifferently the good organist 
 understood his trade, Wilhelm found it, notwith- 
 standing, impossible to prevent his son, after the 
 sermon, from going to look at the organist and 
 his organ. He saw them; and the virtuoso, to 
 please him, played an andante, which was per- 
 haps the first time that this had ever been done 
 in the church at Florenburg to please a peasant's 
 boy. 
 
 Heinrich now saw also, for the first time, his 
 mother's grave. He wished he could likewise 
 have seen her remains; but as this could not be, 
 he sat himself down upon the mound of grass 
 that covered the grave, plucked a few autumnal 
 flowers and plants that grew upon it, put them 
 into his button-hole, and went away. He did 
 not feel so much on this occasion as on finding 
 the knife ; however, both he and his father had 
 wept their eyes red. The former circumstance 
 was sudden and unexpected, but the latter un- 
 dertaken considerately ; the sensations produced 
 by the church music were also still too powerful, 
 in his heart. 
 
 Old Stilling now likewise perceived how 
 much his son Wilhelm was consoled. He saw, 
 with inward delight, all the reciprocal kindness 
 and affection manifested by him and his child ; 
 he became by this, still more animated, and al- 
 most renovated. 
 
 One Monday morning in the spring, as he 
 went to his occupation in the woods, he request- 
 ed Wilhelm to let his grandson accompany him. 
 The latter consented, and Heinrich was highly 
 delighted. As they ascended the Giller, the old 
 man said, " Heinrich, relate to me the history 
 of the beautiful Melusiana ; I listen so gladly to 
 ancient tales, and then the time will not seem 
 long to us." Heinrich related it very circum- 
 stantially, with the greatest pleasure. Falher 
 Stilling made as if he were quite astonished at 
 the tale, and as if he believed it in all its details. 
 But this was necessary, in order not to vex Hein- 
 rich ; for he believed all these tales as firmly as 
 the Bible itself. The place where Stilling burnt 
 charcoal was three leagues from Tiefenbach ; 
 the road to it lay entirely through the wood. 
 Heinrich, who idealized every thing he saw, 
 found nothing but a paradise the whole of the 
 way. Every thing seemed to him beautiful and 
 faultless. A very dark beech-tree, which he saw 
 at some distance before him, with its beautiful 
 green light and shade, made an impression upon 
 him; the whole country around was immediate- 
 ly ideal, and heavenly-beautiful in his eyes. 
 They at length reached the scene of labor, on a 
 very high hill. The woodman's hut covered 
 with sods, immediately attracted young Stilling's 
 attention ; he crept into it, saw the mossy couch 
 and the fireplace between two rough stones, and 
 was highly delighted. During the time that his 
 grandfather was at work, he went about in the 
 wood, and contemplated all the beauties of the 
 scenery around, and of nature ; every thing was 
 new and unspeakably charming to him. One 
 evening, when they intended to return home the 
 day following, they sat down in front of the hut, 
 
13 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 just as the sun was set. "Grandfather," said 
 Heinrich, " when I read in the books that the 
 heroes were able to reckon so far back who were 
 their forefathers, I wish that I also knew who 
 rny forefathers were. Who knows whether we 
 are not likewise descended from some great man 
 or prince ! My mother's forefathers were all of 
 them preachers, but I do not yet know yours'. I 
 will write them all down if you will tell me 
 them." Father Stilling smiled, and replied, " It 
 would be hard to prove that we were descended 
 from a prince ; but that is all the same to me, 
 nor must thou wish it. Thy forefathers were all 
 honest and pious people ; there are few princes 
 that can say that. Let this be thy greatest hon- 
 or in the world, that thy grandfather, great-grand- 
 father, and their fathers, were all men who, 
 though they had nothing under their command 
 out of their house, were notwithstanding beloved 
 and honored by all men. None of them married 
 in a dishonorable manner, or transgressed with 
 any female; none of them ever coveted that 
 which was not his, and all died honorably at a 
 very great age." Heinrich rejoiced, and said, 
 "I shall then find all my forefathers in heav- 
 en." " Yes," replied his grandfather, l! that thou 
 wilt; our family will there bloom and flour- 
 ish ; Heinrich, remember this evening as long 
 as thou livest. In the world to come, we shall 
 be of high nobility : do not lose this privilege. 
 Our blessing will rest upon thee, as long as thou 
 art pious ; but if thou become wicked, and de- 
 spise thy parents, we shall not know thee in the 
 next world." Heinrich began to weep, and said, 
 " Do not fear that, grandfather ! I will be reli- 
 gious, and rejoice that my name is Stilling. But 
 tell me what you know of our forefathers." Fa- 
 ther Stilling narrated as follows: 
 
 "My great-grandfather's father's name was 
 Ulli Stilling. He was born about the year 1500. 
 I know, from ancient letters, that he came to Tie- 
 ienbach, where, in 1530, he married the daughter 
 of Hans Stahler. He came from Switzerland, 
 and was acquainted with Zuinglius. He was 
 a very pious man; and so strong, that once he 
 recovered his four cows from five robbers, who 
 had stolen them from him. In the year 1536 he 
 had a son, who was called Reinhard Stilling ; 
 this was my great-grandfather. He was a quiet 
 and retired man, who did good to every one. In 
 his 50th year, he married a very young woman, 
 by whom he had many children. In his 60th 
 year his wife bare him a son called Heinrich 
 Stilling, who was my grandfather. He was born 
 in 1596, and lived to be 101 years old; therefore 
 I just knew him. This Heinrich was a very 
 active man ; in his youth he bought himself a 
 horse, became a carrier, and travelled to Bruns- 
 wick, Brabant, and Saxony. He was at the 
 head of a number of carriers, and had generally 
 from twenty to thirty people with him. At that 
 time robberies were very frequent, and but 
 few inns on the road, so that the carriers took 
 their provision with them. In the evening they 
 ranged the carts in a circle, close to each other ; 
 the horses were placed in the midst, and my 
 grandfather with the carriers were with them. 
 After feeding the horses, he called out ' To pray- 
 ers, neighbours.' They then all came, and Hein- 
 rich Stilling prayed to God very earnestly. One 
 of them kept watch, and the others crept under 
 their carts, where it was dry, and slept. But 
 they had always sabres and well-loaded muskets 
 with them. Now it once happened that my 
 grandfather himself had the watch, when they 
 
 were encamped in a meadow in the Hessian ter- 
 ritory ; there were twenty-six of them, strong 
 men. Towards eleven o'clock in the evening 
 he heard some horses entering the meadow ; he 
 awoke all the carriers very quietly, and placed 
 each behind his cart. But Heinrich Stilling 
 kneeled down and prayed by himself, very fer- 
 vently. At length he ascended his cart, and 
 looked about. The moon was on the point of 
 setting, so that there was just light enough. He 
 then saw about twenty men dismounting from 
 their horses, and softly approaching the carts. 
 He crept down again, went under the cart, that 
 they might not see him, and gave heed to what 
 they were doing. The robbers went round about 
 the barricado, and on finding no admission, they 
 began to draw one of the carts. Stilling, as soon 
 as he saw that, called out, 1 Fire, in God's name !' 
 Each of the carriers had cocked his gun, and 
 shot from under the carts, so that six of the rob- 
 bers immediately fell ; the rest of them were ter- 
 rified, drew back a little, and conversed together. 
 The carriers, meanwhile, reloaded their mus- 
 kets. 'Now,' said Stilling, 'give heed: when- 
 they come near again, then fire !' However, 
 they did not come, but rode away. At daybreak, 
 the carriers yoked their horses again, and pro- 
 ceeded further ; every one carried his loaded gun, 
 and his sword, for they were not safe. In the 
 forenoon, they again saw some horsemen riding 
 towards them out of the wood. Stilling drove 
 first, and all the rest after him. He then called 
 out, 'Every man behind his cart, and his mus- 
 ket cocked !' The horsemen halted, and the 
 chief of them rode up to them alone, unarmed, 
 and called out for the head-carrier to appear. 
 My grandfather stepped forth, with his gun in 
 his hand, and his sword under his arm. 'We 
 come as friends,' said the horseman. Heinrich 
 did not trust him ; but stood still. The cavalier 
 dismounted, offered him his hand, and asked 
 whether they had not been attacked by robbers 
 in the night. ' Yes,' answered my grandfather, 
 'not far from Hirschfeld, in a meadow.' 'Just 
 so,' replied the horseman; 'we have pursued 
 them, and just reached the meadow as they rode 
 off, after you had blown out the light of some of 
 them; you are brave people.' Stilling asked 
 who he was. The cavalier answered, 'I am 
 Count Wittgenstein ; I will give you ten horse- 
 men for an escort, for I have still people enough 
 with me in the wood behind.' Stilling accepted 
 them, and agreed with the Count how much he 
 should give him yearly, if he would always es- 
 cort him through Hesse. The Count promised 
 to do so, and the carriers drove home. This 
 grandfather of mine was married in his twenty- 
 second year, and in his twenty-fourth— that is, 
 in 1620 — he had a son called Hanns Stilling; 
 this was my father. He lived quietly, employ- 
 ed himself in husbandry, and served God. He 
 lived through the whole of the thirty years' war, 
 and often fell into the greatest poverty. He be- 
 gat ten children, of whom I am the youngest. I 
 was born in 1680, just as my father was sixty 
 years old. I have, God be thanked! enjoyed 
 tranquillity, and freed my land again from all 
 debt. My father died in 1724, in the hundred- 
 and-fourth year of his age; I had to lead him 
 like a child, and he lies buried at Florenburg 
 with his forefathers." 
 
 Heinrich Stilling had listened with the great- 
 est attention. " Well," said he, " God be thank- 
 ed that I have had such progenitors ! I will 
 write them all down neatly, that I may not for- 
 
STIRLING'S 
 
 get them. Ine knights call their forefathers an- 
 cestors ; I will also call them my ancestors." 
 His grandfather smiled, and was silent. 
 
 The next day they went home again, and 
 Heinrich wrote all the narratives in an old wri- 
 ting-book, which he reversed, and filled the 
 white leaves at the end with the account of his 
 ancestors. 
 
 My tears burst forth whilst writing this. 
 Whither are ye fled, ye happy hours t Why 
 does the remembrance of you alone remain to 
 man % What fulness of supernal pleasure does 
 the susceptible spirit of youth enjoy ! There is 
 no meanness of rank if the soul be ennobled. 
 Ye, my tears, pressed forth by my laboring spir- 
 it, say to every well-disposed heart, say without 
 words, what that individual is, who is acquaint- 
 ed with God his Father, and tastes all his gifts 
 in their greatness ! 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Heinrich Stilling was the hope and the joy 
 of his family; for although Johann Stilling had 
 an elder son, no one took any particular notice 
 of him. He often came to visit his grandpa- 
 rents ; but as he came so he went away again — 
 a strange circumstance ! — and yet Eberhard Still- 
 ing was really not partial. But why do I linger 
 at this 1 Who can prevent one person from be- 
 ing loved more than another 1 Mr. Stollbein 
 saw clearly that this boy would become some- 
 thing, if people only made something of him ; 
 and hence it was. that on one occasion, when he 
 was in Stilling's house, he spoke of the boy to 
 his father and grandfather, and proposed to them 
 that Wilhelm should let him learn Latin. " We 
 have a good Latin schoolmaster," said he, "at 
 Florenburg; send him thither; it will cost, lit- 
 tle." Old Stilling sat at the table, chewing a 
 chip, for such was his custom when he reflected 
 on matters of importance. Wilhelm laid his 
 iron thimble on the table, folded his arms to- 
 gether on his breast, and reflected also. Marga- 
 ret laid her arms in her lap, twisted her thumbs 
 over each other, looked wistfully occasional- 
 ly towards the room-door, and considered too. 
 But Heinrich sat with his cloth-pieced cap in 
 his hand, in a little chair, and did not reflect, 
 but only wished. Stollbein sat in his arm-chair, 
 one hand upon the head of his cane, and the oth- 
 er on his side, and waited the result of the mat- 
 ter. They were long silent: at length the old 
 man said, "Now, Wilhelm, he is thy child; 
 what thinkest thouT' 
 
 Wilhelm. — "Father, I know not how to bear 
 the expense." 
 
 Stilling. — " Is it that causes thee the most 
 anxiety, Wilhelm 1 Be only careful, if the boy 
 learns Latin, that he may cause thee joy." 
 
 " What joy are you talking of?" said - the cler- 
 gyman ; " the question is, whether you are will- 
 ing to make something of the boy or not. If any 
 thing proper is to be made of him, he must learn 
 Latin, otherwise he will remain a lubber, like — " 
 
 " Like his parents," said old Stilling. 
 
 " I believe you mean to banter me," rejoined 
 the preacher. 
 
 " No, God forbid !" replied Eberhard ; " do not 
 take it amiss; for your father was a woollen- 
 weaver, and was unacquainted with Latin ; yet 
 the people say he was a worthy man, although I 
 never bought cloth of him. Hear me, dear sir ! 
 —an honest man loves God and his neighbour ; 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 19 
 
 he does that which is right, and fears no one ; 
 he is diligent, and provides tor himself and his 
 family, that they may have bread enough. Why 
 does he do all this?' 
 
 Stollbein. — " I really believe you want to cate- 
 chise me, Stilling! Be respectful, and remem- 
 ber whom you are speaking to. He does it, be- 
 cause it is just and right that he do it." 
 
 Stilling. — " Do not be angry if 1 contradict you 
 — he does it that he may have joy, both here and 
 hereafter." 
 
 Stollbein. — " How so 1 He ma)', notwithstand- 
 ing, go to hell." 
 
 Stilling. — "With the love of God and his 
 neighbour 1" 
 
 Stollbein— 11 Yes, certainly !— if he has not true 
 faith in Christ." 
 
 Stilling. — "But it follows of course, that we 
 cannot love God and our neighbour, if we do not 
 believe in God and his word. But tell us, Wil- 
 helm, what dost thou think V 
 
 Wilhelm. — " Methin ks if I knew how to bear 
 the expense, I would take care the boy should not 
 become too much of a Latin scholar. During 
 the leisure days, he shall be employed in making 
 camel-hair buttons, and help me at the needle, 
 until we see what God will make of him." 
 
 " That does not displease me, Wilhelm," said 
 father Stilling ; " it is my advice also. The boy 
 possesses unheard-of abilities for learning; God 
 has not given him such a head in vain ; let him 
 learn what he is able and willing to learn ; give 
 him occasionally time for this purpose — but not 
 too- much, otherwise he will grow idle, and not 
 read so diligently ; but after he has laboured 
 well at the needle, and is truly hungering after 
 his books, let him read an hour ; that is enough. 
 Only let him learn a trade properly, and then he 
 will* be able to earn his bread till he can make 
 use of his Latin, and become a gentleman." 
 
 " Hum ! hum ! — a gentleman !" growled Stoll- 
 bein ; "he shall be no gentleman, but a village 
 schoolmaster, and then it is good to know a lit- 
 tle Latin. But you peasants suppose it such an 
 easy matter to beeome a gentleman. You plant 
 ambition in the children's hearts, which never- 
 theless proceeds from its father the devil." 
 
 Old Stilling's large bright eyes sparkled; he 
 stood there like a little giant (for he was a tall, 
 good-looking man), shook his white head, smiled, 
 and said, "What is ambition, your reverence V 
 
 Stollbein sprang up, and exclaimed, " What ! 
 another question ! I am not bound to answer 
 you, but you me. Attend to my sermons ; you 
 will there hear what ambition is. I know not 
 how it is you grow so proud, Churchwarden ! — 
 you were formerly a modest kind of a man." 
 
 Stilling.— " As you take it, proud or not proud, 
 I am a man that has loved God and served him ; 
 given every one w r hat belonged to him; brought 
 up my children, and been faithful. God, I know, 
 will forgive me my sins. I am now old — my 
 end is near. Although I am in good health, stiil 
 I must die; and I rejoice at the thought of soon 
 leaving this M 7 orld. Let me be proud of dying 
 like an honest man in the midst of his grown-up 
 and pious children, whom he has brought up. 
 But when I think of it, I am more active than I 
 was when Margaret and I married." 
 
 "People don't enter heaven as if in shoes and 
 stockings," said the clergyman. 
 
 "My grandfather will pull them off before he 
 dies," said little Heinrich. 
 
 Every one laughed; even Stollbein was obli- 
 ged to smile. 
 
20 HEINRICH 
 
 Margaret put an end to the consultation. She 
 proposed to give the boy enough to eat in the 
 morning, and a sandwich lor dinner in his pock- 
 et; whilst in the evening he could eat again as 
 much as he pleased; "And so the boy can go 
 to-morrow to the school at Florenburg," said she, 
 " and return in the evening. The summer is at 
 hand, and in winter we will see what is to be done." 
 
 Thus the matter was concluded, and Stollbein 
 went home again. 
 
 A great change took place, at this period, in 
 Sailing's house ; the eldest daughters married 
 out of the house ; and thus Eberhard and his 
 Margaret, Wilhelm, Maria, and Heinrich, con- 
 stituted the whole family. Eberhard now also 
 determined to give up burning charcoal, and at- 
 tend merely to his farm. 
 
 The mastership of the village-school at Tie- 
 fenbach became vacant, and all the peasantry 
 had Wilhelm Stilling in view, to choose him for 
 their schoolmaster. The place was offered him ; 
 he accepted it without reluctance, although he 
 was inwardly concerned at forsaking, with so 
 little reflection, his solitary and holy life, and 
 again associating with mankind. But the good 
 man did not perceive that it was merely the 
 grief he felt at the death of Doris, that suffered 
 no rival feeling, which had made him a hermit; 
 and that, as this became more supportable, he 
 was again able to mix in society, and could 
 again take pleasure in being employed. He 
 explained it to himself very differently. He be- 
 lieved that the holy impulse above mentioned be- 
 gan to abate in him, and he therefore accepted 
 the situation with fear and trembling. He filled 
 it with zeal and fidelity, and began at length to 
 suppose that it might not be displeasing to God 
 if he put out his talent to usury, and sought to 
 serve his neighbour. 
 
 Heinrich, therefore, now began to go to the 
 Latin school. It may easily be imagined what 
 attention he excited among the other school- 
 boys. He was known merely in Stilling's house 
 and garden, and had never been among other 
 children. His speeches were always uncom- 
 mon, and few persons understood what he meant. 
 No youthful games, of which boys are generally 
 so fond, affected him; he passed by, and saw 
 them not. Wieland, the schoolmaster, remark- 
 ed his abilities and his great diligence ; he there- 
 fore avoided troubling him ; and as he perceived 
 that he was unable to follow the tedious method 
 of committing long lessons to memory, he dis- 
 pensed with it; and really, Heinrich's plan of 
 learning Latin was very advantageous to him. 
 He placed the Latin text before him, looked for 
 the words in the lexicon, found there what part 
 of speech each word was, then looked at the ta- 
 ble of exceptions in the grammar, &c. By this 
 method, his spirit found food in the best Latin 
 authors, and he learned to write, read, and un- 
 derstand the language sufficiently. But what 
 caused him the greatest pleasure was a little 
 library of the schoolmaster's which he had per- 
 mission to use. It consisted of all kinds of use- 
 ful Cologne works, particularly Reynard the fox, 
 with excellent wooden cuts; the Emperor Octa- 
 vian with his wife and sons ; a beautiful history 
 of the four children of Haymon; Peter and 
 Magelone; the fair Melusina, and lastly, the 
 excellent Hanns dauert: As soon as the school 
 was over in the afternoon, he set out on the road 
 to Tiefenbach, and read one of these histories 
 upon the way. The path led through green 
 meadows, woods, and bushes, up and down hill; 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 and the natural scenery around him made a pro- 
 found and solemn impression on his free and 
 open heart. In the evening, the five good peo- 
 ple met together again, supped, poured out their 
 souls to each other, and Heinrich, in particular, 
 related his histories, with which all, not except- 
 ing Margaret, were uncommonly delighted. 
 Even the grave and pietistic Wilhelm took 
 pleasure in them, and read them himself on a 
 Sunday afternoon, when making a pilgrimage 
 to the old castle. Heinrich, on such occasions, 
 always looked at the place where he was read- 
 ing; and whenever an affecting passage occur- 
 red, he rejoiced in himself, but when he saw that 
 his father also was affected by it, his joy was 
 complete. 
 
 Meanwhile young Stilling proceeded rapidly 
 in learning the Latin language — at least, the 
 reading and understanding Latin histories, and 
 the speaking and writing Latin. Whether that 
 is enough, or whether more is required, I know 
 not; the Rev. Mr. Stollbein, at least, demanded 
 more. After Heinrich had gone for about a year 
 to the Latin school, it once occurred to the above- 
 mentioned gentleman to examine our young stu- 
 dent. From his room-window, he saw him 
 standing before the school; he whistled, and 
 Heinrich flew to him. 
 
 Stollbein.— ■" Art thou diligent in learning'?" 
 
 Heinrich. — "Yes, your reverence." 
 
 Stollbein. — "How many verba anomala are 
 there!" 
 
 Heinrich. — "I do not know." 
 
 Stollbein.— " What, dost thou not know that, 
 thou clown 1 I had almost given thee a box on 
 the ear. Sum, possum, now — what further 1" 
 
 Heinrich. — " I have not learned that." 
 
 Stollbein. — " Ho ! Madalene !— call the school- 
 master." 
 
 The schoolmaster came. 
 
 Stollbein.—' 1 What do you teach the boy V 
 
 The schoolmaster stood at the door, with his 
 hat under his arm, and said, humbly, "Latin." 
 
 Stollbein. — " There, you good-for-nothing ! — 
 he does not even know how many verba anomala 
 there are." 
 
 Schoolmaster. — " Knowest thou not, Hein- 
 rich r 
 
 " No," said the latter, " I know not." 
 
 The schoolmaster continued, 11 Nolo and malo, 
 what kind of words are they?' 
 
 Heinrich. — " They are verba anomala, 1 ' 
 
 Schoolmaster. — " Fero and volo, what are they f 
 
 Heinrich. — " Verba anomala." 
 
 " Now, your reverence," continued the school- 
 master, "the boy knows all the words in this 
 manner." 
 
 Stollbein replied, "But he must commit all 
 the rules to memory ; go home — I'll have it so." 
 
 Bath.-— "Yes, your reverence!" 
 
 From that time Heinrich also learned with 
 little trouble all the rules by memory, but he 
 soon forgot them again. This appeared as though 
 it would be peculiar to him ; his genius soared 
 above what was not easily overcome. But 
 enough of Stilling's learning Latin: we will 
 proceed further. 
 
 Old Stilling now began to lay aside his pater- 
 nal seriousness, and to be more tender towards 
 his few remaining inmates. In particular, he 
 kept Heinrich, who was now eleven vears old, 
 much away from school, and took him with him 
 when he went to his labour in the fields; spoke 
 much with him upon man's integrity in the 
 world, and particularly of his conduct toward* 
 God; recommended good books to him, esne- 
 
S T I L L I N GS 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 21 
 
 cially the reading of the Bible, and afterwards 
 also "what Dr. Luther, Calvin, CEcolampadius, 
 and Bucer have written. One morning early, 
 Father Stilling, Maria, and Heinrich, went into 
 the forest, in order to procure fire- wood. Mar- 
 garet had put a good mess of milk, with bread- 
 and-butter, into a basket for them, which Maria 
 carried upon her head ; she ascended the forest 
 first; Heinrich followed, and related with great 
 hilarity the history of the four children of Hay- 
 mon ; and Father Stilling, supporting himself 
 on his hatchet, according to his custom, stalked 
 laboriously aller them, and listened attentively. 
 They came at length to a remote part of the for- 
 est, where there was a verdant plain, at the end 
 of which was a beautiful spring. " Let us stop 
 here," said Father Stilling, and sat down; Ma- 
 ria took down her basket, placed it on the ground, 
 and sat down also. But Heinrich again saw, 
 in his soul, the Egyptian desert before him, in 
 which he would gladly have become a St. An- 
 thony ; soon after, he saw before him the fountain 
 of Melusina, and wished that he were Raymond ; 
 both ideas then united themselves, and resulted in 
 a pious romantic feeling, which enabled him to 
 taste all that which was good and beautiful in 
 this solitary region with the highest pleasure. 
 Father Stilling at length arose, and said, 
 " Children, stay here : I will go about a little, 
 and collect fallen wood; I will occasionally call 
 out, and you must answer me, lest I lose you." 
 He then went his way. 
 
 Meanwhile Maria and Heinrich sat together 
 very sociably. "Tell me, aunt, once more," 
 said Heinrich, " the tale of Joringel and Jorinde." 
 Maria complied. 
 
 " There was once an old castle in the midst 
 of a large and gloomy forest. An old woman 
 lived in it quite alone ; she was an arch-enchant- 
 ress. In the day-time she made herself into a 
 cat, or a hare, or an owl ; but in the evening, she 
 was again regularly formed like a human being. 
 She could entice game and birds to her, which 
 she afterwards killed, and boiled or roasted. If 
 any one came within a hundred paces of the 
 castle, he was compelled to stand still, and could 
 not move from the place, until she set him free ; 
 but when a pure chaste virgin entered the circle, 
 she transformed her into a bird, and shut it up 
 in a cage in the rooms of the castle. She had 
 about seven thousand such cages with such rare 
 birds in the castle. 
 
 "Now there was once a maiden, whose name 
 was Jorinde ; she was more beautiful than all 
 other maidens, and had promised herself in mar- 
 riage to a very handsome youth of the name of 
 Joringel. They were on the eve of their nup- 
 tials, and took the greatest delight in each other's 
 company. In order that they might converse 
 confidently together, they took a walk into the 
 wood. ' Beware,' said Joringel, 1 that thou dost 
 not come too near the castle !' It was a beauti- 
 ful evening; the sun shone bright between the 
 trunks of the trees, into the dark verdure of the 
 forest, and the turtle-dove sung mournfully upon 
 the old beech-trees. Jorinde wept occasionally, 
 placed herself in the sunshine, and complained. 
 Joringel complained also; they were as confu- 
 sed as if they had been near death ; they looked 
 about, were at a loss, and knew not which way 
 to return home. The sun still stood half above 
 the hill, and was half-set. Joringel looked 
 through the bushes, and saw the old walls of 
 the castle near him ; he was terrified, and be- 
 came deadly afraid; Jorinde sung: 
 
 ' My little bird with the ring so red, 
 
 Sing lida, lida, lida ; 
 The turtle-dove mourns before it is dead, 
 
 Sing lida, li — Zickcut ! Zickeut ! Zickeut !' 
 
 " Joringel looked at Jorinde. Jorinde was 
 changed into a nightingale, which sung Zick- 
 eut ! Zickeut ! An owl, with glaring eyes, flew 
 three times round them, and cried three times, 
 ' Shoo-hoo — hoo-hoo !' Joringel could not move ; 
 he stood there like a stone; he could neither 
 weep, nor speak, nor lift hand or foot. The sun 
 was now set; the owl flew into a bush, and im- 
 mediately afterwards, an old crooked woman 
 came out of the bush, yellow and meagre, with 
 large red eyes, and a crooked nose, the point of 
 which reached to her chin. She muttered, and 
 caught the nightingale, and bore it away in her 
 hand. Joringel could not utter a word, nor 
 move from the place. The nightingale was 
 gone; at length the woman came again, and 
 said, with a hollow voice, 'Greet thee, Zachieli 
 when the moon shines into the cage, let loose, 
 Zachiel, at the proper hour !' Joringel was then 
 at liberty: he fell down on his knees before the 
 woman, and besought her to give him his Jo- 
 rinde again; but she said he should never have 
 her again, and went away. He called, he wept, 
 he mourned, but all in vain. Well, what hap- 
 pened 1 Joringel went away, and came at length 
 into a strange village; he there kept sheep a 
 long time. He often went about the castle at 
 night, but not too near; at length he dreamed, 
 one night, that he found a blood-red flower, in 
 the midst of which was a beautiful large pearl ; 
 that he broke off the flower, went with it to the 
 castle, and all that he touched with the flower 
 became free from enchantment ; he also dreamed 
 that by this means he recovered his dear Jorin- 
 de. In the morning Avhen he awoke, he began 
 to search through hill and dale, in order to find 
 such a flower; he sought until the ninth day, 
 when he found the blood-red flower, early in the 
 morning. In the midst was a large dew-drop, 
 as large as the finest pearl. He carried this 
 flower with him, day and night, till he arrived 
 at the castle. Well ! what thinkest thou 1 When 
 he came within a hundred paces of the castle, he 
 did not stick fast, but went on to the gate. Jo- 
 ringel was highly rejoiced; he touched the gate 
 with the flower, and it sprang open ; he went in, 
 across the court, and listened if he could hear 
 where the many birds were singing. At length 
 he heard them, and went on till he found the 
 chamber; the enchantress was there, feeding the 
 birds in the seven thousand cages. When she 
 saw Joringel she was angry, very angry ; scold- 
 ed, spat forth venom and gall against him, but 
 could not come within two paces of him. He 
 did not trouble himself about her, but went and 
 looked at the cages with the birds. There were, 
 however, many hundred nightingales, and how 
 was he to find his Jorinde amongst theml 
 Whilst thus viewing them, he perceived that the 
 old woman privately took a cage with a bird in it, 
 and went with it towards the door. He imme- 
 diately sprang thither, touched the cage with the 
 flower, and also the old woman. She could now 
 enchant no longer; and Jorinde, who stood be- 
 fore him, threw her arms around his neck, as 
 beautiful as she had ever been. He then also 
 restored all the other birds to their original form, 
 went home with his Jorinde, and they lived long 
 and happily together." 
 
 Heinrich sat as if petrified — his eyes fixed and 
 his mouth half open. "Aunt!" said he, at 
 
22 HEINRICH 
 
 length, "it is enough to make one afraid in the 
 night!" "Yes," said she; "I do not tell these 
 tales at night, otherwise I should be afraid my- 
 self." Whilst they sat thus, Father Stilling 
 whistled. Maria and Heinrich called out in re- 
 ply. He came not long after, looked cheerful 
 and pleasant, as if he had found something, 
 smiled also occasionally, stood, shook his head, 
 looked fixedly at one particular spot, folded his 
 hands, and smiled again. Maria and Heinrich 
 looked at him with astonishment, yet they did 
 not venture to ask him about it; for he often did 
 as though he laughed to himself. Stilling's 
 heart was however too full; he sat down by 
 them, and related as follows : when he began, 
 his eyes were full of tears. Maria and Hein- 
 rich saw it, and their tears already overflowed. 
 
 " On leaving you to go into the wood, I saw 
 at a distance before me, a light, just as when the 
 sun rises in the morning, and was much surpri- 
 sed. 'What is thatT thought I; 'the sun is al- 
 ready standing in the heavens — is it a new sun 1 
 It must be something strange : I will go and see 
 it.' I went towards it; as I approached, there 
 was before me a large plain, the extent of which 
 I could not overlook. I had never seen any thing 
 so glorious in all my life ! — such a fine perfume, 
 and such a cool air proceeded from it, as I can- 
 not express. The whole region was white with 
 the light — the day with the sun is night compared 
 to it. There stood there many thousand beauti- 
 ful castles, one near another — castles ! I cannot 
 describe them to you ! as if they were made of 
 silver. There were also gardens, bushes, brooks. 
 
 God, how beautiful ! Not far from me stood a 
 large and glorious mansion (the tears here 
 flowed abundantly down the good Stilling's 
 cheeks, as well as those of Maria and Heinrich). 
 Some one came towards me out of the door of 
 this mansion, like a virgin. Ah ! a glorious 
 angel ! When she was close to me, I saw .it 
 was our departed Doris ! (All three now sob- 
 bed ; neither of them could speak, except Hein- 
 rich, who wept, and exclaimed, ' O my mother, 
 my dear mother!') She said to me, in such a 
 friendly manner, with the very look which for- 
 merly so offm stole my heart, ' Father, yonder is 
 our eternal habitation; you will soon come to us? 
 
 1 looked, but all was fo'rest before me; the glo- 
 rious vision had departed. Children, I shall die 
 soon — how glad am I at the thought!" Hein- 
 rich could not cease asking how his mother 
 looked, what she had on, and such like. All 
 three pursued their labor during the day, and 
 spoke continually of this occurrence. But old 
 Stilling was from that time like one who is in a 
 strange land and not at home. 
 
 It was an ancient custom, which, like many 
 others, I have not yet mentioned, that Father 
 Stilling should, with his own hands, cover every 
 year a part of his straw-thatched cottage. He 
 had done this for forty-eight years, and it was to 
 be done again that summer. He arranged it so, 
 that he covered it anew every year, as far as the 
 rye-straw served which he had grown that year. 
 
 The time of thatching fell towards Michael- 
 mas-day, and was rapidly approaching, so that 
 Father Stilling began to prepare for the work. 
 Heinrich was appointed to hand him the straw, 
 and therefore his going to school was postponed 
 for a week. Margaret and Maria daily held a 
 secret council in the kitchen, respecting the fit- 
 test means of restraining him from thatching. 
 Both at length resolved to represent the matter 
 to him seriously, and to warn him of the danger. 
 
 STIL LI NC. 
 
 They appointed the time during dinner for the 
 purpose. 
 
 Margaret therefore brought up a dish of vege- 
 tables, on which were four pieces of meat, which 
 were laid so that each of them stood just before 
 the person they were destined for. Behind her 
 came Maria, with a jug full of milk and crum- 
 bled bread. Both placed their dishes on the 
 table, at which Father Stilling and Heinrich 
 already sat in their places, and spoke, with an air 
 of importance, of the thatching they intended to 
 commence on the morrow. For, to speak in 
 confidence, however intent Heinrich might be 
 upon his studies, sciences and books, still it was 
 a much greater joy, either to roam about the 
 woods, or in the fields, or even climb upon the 
 roof of the house in the company of his grand- 
 father ; for this was now the third year in which 
 he had assisted his grandfather as deacon at this 
 yearly solemnity. It may therefore be easily 
 supposed, that the boy was heartily vexed when 
 he began to comprehend Margaret and Maria's 
 intention. 
 
 " I know not, Eberhard," said Margaret, whilst 
 laying her left hand upon his shoulder; "thou 
 seemest to me to fall away so. Dost thou not 
 feel any thing of it in thy constitution V 
 
 Stilling. — " One grows older every day, Mar- 
 garet." 
 
 Margaret. — " O yes ! certainly, old and stiff." 
 
 " That's true," rejoined Maria, and sighed. 
 
 " My grandfather is still very strong for his 
 age," said Heinrich. 
 
 " That I am, lad," answered the old man. " I 
 would still run up the ladder with thee for a wa- 
 ger." 
 
 Heinrich laughed aloud : Margaret soon saw 
 that she could not carry the fortress on that side; 
 she therefore sought another way. 
 
 " O yes," said she, " it is a peculiar favour to 
 be so well in one's old age ; thou hast never been 
 sick, I believe, in thy life, Ebert 1" 
 
 Stilling. — " Never in my life ; I know not what 
 sickness is ; for I went about when I had the 
 small-pox and measles." 
 
 " Yet I believe, father," rejoined Maria, " that 
 you have been ill several times from falling; for 
 you have sometimes told us that you have often 
 had dangerous falls." 
 
 Stilling. — " Yes, I have had three mortal falls." 
 
 " And the fourth time thou wilt fall down," 
 said Margaret; " I forbode it. Thou hast lately 
 seen a vision in the wood ; and a little while 
 ago, a neighbour warned and begged of me not 
 to let thee go upon the roof: for she said that, in 
 the evenings, when she milked the cows, she had 
 heard a noise and a piteous lamentation near 
 our house in the road. I beg of thee, Ebert, do 
 me the pleasure, and let some one else thatch 
 the house ; thou dost not need to do it." 
 
 Stilling. — " Margaret, may not I, or any one 
 else, meet with some other misfortune on the 
 road 1 I have seen a vision, it is true ; and our 
 neighbour may have had such a foreboding. 
 Now if this is certain, who can escape what 
 God has ordained concerning him'? If he has 
 determined that I should end my course in the 
 road here, shall I, a poor stupid mortal, be able 
 to avoid if? And if I am to fall down dead, 
 how shall I be able to preserve myself? Sup- 
 posing I do not go upon the roof, may not I, to- 
 day or to-morrow, ascend a cartload of wood in 
 the road, in order to unload it, stumble, and 
 break my neck 1 Margaret, let me alone ! I 
 will go on just as I have hitherto done, and if 
 my hour comes suddenly, I will call it welcome." 
 
STILLING'S 
 
 Margaret and Maria added still something 
 more; but he heeded it not, and spoke, on the 
 contrary, with Heinrich, on a variety of things 
 regarding the thatching; they were therefore 
 obliged to be content, and attempted the thing 
 no more. 
 
 The next morning they rose early, and old 
 Stilling began, whilst singing a morning hymn, 
 to loosen and throw down the old straw, which 
 he easily accomplished in the course of the day, 
 so that the next day they were able to commence 
 covering the roof with new straw; in short, the 
 roof was finished without experiencing the slight- 
 est danger or affright ; only it was necessary to 
 ascend it once more, in order to place strong 
 fresh sods along the ridge. Old Stilling, how- 
 ever, was in no hurry with this ; a week some- 
 times passed over before it occurred to him to 
 perform this last pari of his labor. 
 
 The next Wednesday morning, Eberhard rose 
 uncommonly early, and went about in the house, 
 from one room to another, as if he were seeking 
 something. His family were surprised, and 
 asked him what he sought 1 "Nothing," said 
 he ; "I know not. I am very well, and yet I 
 have no rest; I cannot be still any where, just 
 as if there was something in me that impelled 
 me ; I also feel an apprehension of which I know 
 not the reason." Margaret advised him to dress 
 himself, and afterwards to go with Heinrich to 
 Lichthausen to visit his son Johann. He assent- 
 ed, but wished first to lay the sods upon the ridge 
 of the house, and visit his son the day following. 
 His wife and daughter were both opposed to 
 this idea. At dinner, they seriously warned 
 him not to go upon the roof; even Heinrich 
 begged him to hire some one to complete the 
 thatching. But the worthy old man smiled with 
 an unlimited influence on those around him — a 
 smile which had won so many a heart, and im- 
 pressed it with reverence, although at the same 
 time he did not say a word. A man who has 
 grown old in the enjoyment of a good conscience, 
 with the consciousness of many good actions, 
 and who has accustomed himself to a free inter- 
 course with God and his Redeemer, acquires a 
 greatness and a freedom which the greatest con- 
 queror never attained. The whole of Stilling's 
 answer to this well-meant warning of his fam- 
 ily consisted in this. — That he would ascend the 
 cherry-tree, and once more eat his full of cher- 
 ries; for there was a tree which stood in the 
 orchard behind, which bore fruit very late, but 
 so much the more excellent in quality. His 
 wife and daughter were amazed at this propo- 
 sal, for he had not been in a tree for the last ten 
 years. "Now then," said Margaret, "for this 
 time thou must exalt thyself, let it cost what it 
 will." Eberhard laughed, and replied, " The 
 higher, the nearer heaven." With this he went 
 out of the door, and Heinrich after him, towards 
 the cherry-tree, He took hold of the tree with 
 his arms and knees, and climbing up to the top, 
 placed himself in a forked branch of the tree, 
 and began to eat the cherries, occasionally throw- 
 ing down a twig to Heinrich. Margaret and 
 Maria came likewise. " Hold !" said the hon- 
 est woman; "lift me up a little, Maria, that I 
 may take hold of th<? lowest boughs. I must try 
 whether I can also climb up." She succeeded, 
 and got up; Stilling looked down, and laughed 
 heartily, and said, " This may truly be called 
 having our youth renewed like the eagle's." 
 There sat the two honest old grey-heads in the 
 branches of the cherry-tree, and enjoyed 'once 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 23 
 
 more together the sweet fruits of their youth; 
 Stilling was particularly cheerful. Margaret 
 descended again, and went with Maria to the 
 garden, which was a good way off, down the 
 village. An hour afterwards, Stilling also de- 
 scended ; and took a mattock in order to cut 
 sods. For this purpose, he went to the end of 
 the orchard, near to the wood. Heinrich re- 
 mained opposite the house, sitting under the 
 cherry-tree. Eberhard came at length again, 
 carrying a large piece of green turf on his head, 
 and bowed to Heinrich, looking very grave, and 
 said, " See what a night-cap." Heinrich start- 
 ed, and a tremor pervaded his whole soul. He 
 has subsequently confessed to me, that this made 
 an indelible impression upon him. 
 
 Father Stilling, meanwhile, ascended the roof 
 with the sods. Heinrich was cutting a piece of 
 wood ; and whilst thus engaged, he heard a 
 noise of some one falling. He looked towards 
 the place, and blackness covered his eyes, like 
 the night. The kind and dear old man lay 
 stretched out under the weight of the ladders, 
 his hands folded upon his breast, his eyes fixed, 
 his teeth shaking, and all his limbs trembling, 
 like a person in a severe frost. Heinrich hasti- 
 ly threw the ladders off him, stretched out his 
 arms, and ran like one insane down the village, 
 filling the whole valley with his moaning and 
 lamentation. Scarcely had Margaret and Ma- 
 ria heard in the garden the sorrowful and well- 
 known voice of their dear boy, than Maria utter- 
 ed a deep cry, wrung her hands above her head, 
 and flew up the village. Margaret hastened 
 after her, with her arms extended, her eyes 
 staring wildly, and now and then relieving her 
 oppressed bosom a little by a hoarse shriek. 
 Maria and Heinrich were the first with the good 
 man. He lay stretched out at full length, his 
 eyes and mouth were closed, his hands folded 
 upon his breast, and he was breathing slowly 
 and strongly, like a healthy man in a sound 
 sleep ; nor was it any where perceptible that he 
 had lost blood. Maria shed many tears upon 
 his face, and moaned continually, " Ah ! my 
 father ! my father !" Heinrich sat at his feet in 
 the dust, sobbing and weeping. Meanwhile 
 Margaret arrived also ; she fell down beside him 
 on her knees, took her husband round the neck, 
 and called into his ear with her usual tone of 
 voice ; but he made no sign. The intrepid wom- 
 an then rose, took courage, nor had a tear fallen 
 from her eyes. Some of the neighbours now 
 came to them, and all shed tears, for he was 
 universally beloved. Margaret quickly made 
 up a low bed in the room ; she spread over it 
 her best sheets, which she had used, some forty 
 years before, in her bridal days. She then came 
 out, quite resigned, and exclaimed, " Bring in 
 my Eberhard, and lay him upon the bed." The 
 men took hold of him, Maria held his head, and 
 Heinrich had both his feet in his arms; they laid 
 him upon the bed, and Margaret undressed him 
 and covered him up. He lay there, just like a 
 healthy man asleep. Heinrich was now order- 
 ed to run to Florenburgh, to fetch a surgeon. 
 The latter came the same evening, examined 
 him, bled him, and declared that, though there 
 was no fracture, yet his death would certainly 
 ensue within three days, there being a complete 
 concussion of the brain. 
 
 On this, Stilling's six children were ä*ll sent 
 for, and arrived betimes on the Thursday morn- 
 ing; they all sat down round his bed, were silent, 
 mourned, and wept. The windows were hung 
 
24 HEINRICH 
 
 with cloth, and Margaret, very resignedly, attend- 
 ed to her household affairs. On the Friday af- 
 ternoon, the sufferer's head began to move, the 
 upper lip lilted itself up a little, and became of 
 a blueish colour, and a cold sweat burst forth 
 all over. His children all approached nearer 
 the bed. Margaret saw it also ; she took a chair 
 and sat backwards near the wall in the dark; all 
 looked down and were silent. Heinrich sat at 
 his grandfather's feet, looked at him occasion- 
 ally, with weeping eyes, and was silent also. 
 Thus they all sat till nine o'clock in the even- 
 ing. Catherine then first observed that her father 
 ceased to breathe. — She called out piteously, 
 " My father is dying !" All fell with their faces 
 on the bed, sobbing and weeping. Heinrich 
 stood up, took his grandfather by the feet, and 
 wept bitterly. Father Stilling drew his breath 
 deeply, like one that sighs profoundly, and be- 
 tween each sigh his breath ceased entirely; no- 
 thing moved in his whole body, except the under 
 jaw, which projected forward a little at every 
 sigh. 
 
 Margaret Stilling, with all her grief, had not 
 yet wept; but, as soon as she heard Catherine's 
 exclamation, she rose up, went to the bed, and 
 looked her dying husband in the face. Some 
 tears now fell down her cheeks ; she stretched 
 herself out, for she was a little bent by age, lift- 
 ed up her eyes, ^ and, extending her hands to- 
 wards heaven, prayed wiih the utmost fervour 
 of heart ; she fetched her breath deeply every time, 
 which she spent in an ardent ejaculation. She 
 spoke the words as she was wont, in low Ger- 
 man, but all were full of spirit and life. The 
 purport of them was, that her God and Redeemer 
 would graciously receive her dear husband's 
 soul, and take him to himself in everlasting joy. 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 ! As she began to pray, all her children looked 
 up astonished, sank by the bedside upon their 
 knees, and prayed with her in silence. The 
 last mortal blow now arrived:— the whole body 
 was convulsed, he uttered a cry, and departed. 
 Margaret ceased praying, took her deceased hus- 
 band's right hand, shook it, and said, " Fare- 
 well, Eberhard! we shall soon meet again in 
 heaven." On saying this, she sank upon her 
 knees, while all her children fell down around 
 her. Margaret now wept the bitterest tears, and 
 mourned deeply. 
 
 Meanwhile the neighbours came to dress the 
 deceased. The children rose up, and the mother 
 fetched the shroud. He lay till the following 
 Monday on the bier, and was then taken to 
 Florenburgh to be interred. 
 
 The R.everend Mr. Stollbein appears in this 
 history as a strange and obstinate man ; but 
 when not in this humour, he was kind and ten- 
 der-hearted. When Stilling was lowered into 
 his grave, he wept big tears ; and, in the pulpit, 
 in the midst of continual weeping, his words 
 were, " I am grieved for thee, my brother Jona- 
 than ! Would God, I had died for thee !" And 
 the text for the funeral sermon was, " Well done, 
 good and faithful servant ! thou hast been faith- 
 ful over a few things, I will make thee ruler 
 over many. Enter thou into the joy of thv 
 Lord !" 
 
 Should any of my readers come to Floren- 
 burgh, opposite the church-door, at the highest 
 part of the church-yard, sleeps Father Stilling, 
 on the ascent. No sumptuous tombstone cov- 
 ers his grave ; but in the spring, a pair of doves 
 coo and caress each other solitarily between the 
 grass and the flowers which spring forth from 
 the mouldering remains of Father Stilling. 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Father Stilling was gone to the quiet habita- 
 tion of his forefathers, and in his house every 
 thing reposed in mournful and deathlike silence. 
 For upwards of a century, every hatchet, milk- 
 pail, and other article of household furniture, 
 had had its fixed place, and from long use had 
 become smooth and polished. Each neighbour 
 and friend from the neighbourhood or from a 
 distance, always found every thing in its wont- 
 ed order ; and this renders people sociable. On 
 entering the house-door, the individual felt him- 
 self at home. But now, every thing was still 
 and deserted, the voice of mirth and joy was 
 silent, and his place at the table remained emp- 
 ty; no one ventured to sit down in it, until at 
 length Heinrich took possession of it ; but he 
 only half-filled it. 
 
 Margaret Stilling, meanwhile, mourned calm- 
 ly and without complaining ; but Heinrich spoke 
 much with her concerning his grandfather. He 
 imagined heaven to himself as a glorious coun- 
 try, full of woods, fields, and meadows, in all 
 the bloom and verdure of the finest spring, when 
 the south wind breathes over them, and the sun 
 imparts life and fecundity to every creature. 
 He then saw father Stilling walking about with 
 a glory round his head, and a silvery robe flow- 
 ing about him. 
 
 All his conversation had reference to these 
 
 ideas. Margaret once asked him, " What think- 
 est thou, Heinrich, that thy grandfather is doing 
 at present 1" He answered, " He will be trav- 
 elling to Orion, to Sirius, to Charles's Wain, and 
 the Pleiades, and take a good view of every 
 thing ; he will then be truly astonished, and say, 
 as he has so often said, ' what a wonderful 
 God!'" "But I have no mind for all this," 
 said Margaret ; " what shall I do there 1" Hein- 
 rich rejoined, " Act like Mary, who sat at the 
 feet of Jesus." With such discourse the memo- 
 ry of the good man was frequently renewed. 
 
 The housekeeping could not long exist on the 
 footing it now was ; the old mother, therefore, 
 requested her son-in-law Simon, with his wife 
 Elizabeth, to take up their abode again in the 
 house, for they had rented a house and garden 
 in another place, where they resided during- 
 father Stilling's life. They came with their 
 children and furniture, and took charge of the 
 paternal inheritance ; — immediately every thing 
 became strange ; they broke down a wall of the 
 room, and built out four feet further into the 
 yard. Simon had not room enough. He was 
 no Stilling ; and the oaken table, full of bless- 
 ing and hospitality — the honest old table — was 
 obliged to make way for a yellow maple one, 
 full of closed drawers, and had its place assign- 
 ed it on the beam behind the chimney. Hein- 
 rich occasionally made a pilgrimage thither, laid 
 himself down near it, on the loft, and wept. 
 
STILLIN G\S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 25 
 
 Simon found him once in this posture, and said 
 to him, "Heinrich, what art thqu doing here!" 
 The latter answered, " I am weeping about the 
 table." The uncle laughed, and said, "Thou 
 hast good reason to weep for an old oaken 
 board !" Heinrich was vexed, and added, " This 
 handle behind, and that foot there, and this work 
 at the handle, was made by my grandfather ; he 
 that loves him would not break it." Simon was 
 angry, and replied, "It was not large enough 
 for me ; and besides, what should I have done 
 with my own 1" " Uncle," said Heinrich, " you 
 should have placed it here till my grandmother 
 dies, and the rest of us are gone." 
 
 Meanwhile, every thing was changed ; the 
 gentle breathing of Stilling's spirit was trans- 
 muted into the roaring of an anxious desire after 
 money and property. Margaret felt this, and 
 her children with her ; she retired into a corner 
 behind the stove, and there she spent her re- 
 maining years ; she became entirely blind, yet 
 this did not hinder her from spinning flax, in 
 which she passed her time. 
 
 Father Stilling is gone ; I will now follow 
 the footsteps of young Heinrich, his grandson, 
 wherever he may go ; nothing besides shall re- 
 tard me. 
 
 Johann Stilling was now bailiff and landmeas- 
 arer ; Wilhelm schoolmaster at Tiefenbach ; 
 Maria at service with her sister Elizabeth ; the 
 other daughters were married out of the house ; 
 and Heinrich went to Florenburgh to the Latin 
 school. 
 
 Wilhelm had a room in Stilling's house ; in 
 it there stood a bed in which he slept with his 
 son, and at the window was a table with the 
 appurtenances of his trade, for as soon as he 
 came from the school he laboured at his needle. 
 In the morning early, Heinrich took his satchel, 
 in which, besides the necessary schoolbooks, 
 there was a sandwich for dinner, as also the 
 " History of the Four Children of Haymon," or 
 some other such book, together with a shep- 
 herd's flute. As soon as he had breakfasted, 
 he set off; and when he was outside the vil- 
 lage, he took out his book, and read whilst walk- 
 ing, or else quavered some old ballad or other 
 tune upon his flute. Learning Latin was not at 
 all difficult to him, and he had still time enough 
 to read old tales. In the summer he went home 
 every evening ; but in the winter he came only 
 on the Saturday evening, and went away again 
 on the Monday morning ; — this continued four 
 years ; but the last summer he stayed much at 
 home, and assisted his father at his trade, or 
 made buttons. 
 
 Even the road to Florenburgh and the school 
 afforded him many a pleasant hour. The school- 
 master was a gentle and sensible man, and 
 knew bcth how to give and to take. After din- 
 ner Stilling assembled a number of children 
 about him, went out with them into the fields, 
 or to the edge of a brook, and then related to 
 them all kinds of fine sentimental tales ; and 
 after his store was exhausted, others were 
 obliged to do the same. Some of them were 
 once together in a meadow, when a boy came 
 to them, who began as follows : " Hear me, 
 children i I will tell you something. Near us 
 lives old Frühling : you know how he totters 
 about with his stick ; he has no longer any 
 D 
 
 teeth, and he cannot see or hear much. Now, 
 when he sits at the dinner-table, and trembles 
 in such a manner, he always scatters much, and 
 sometimes something falls out of his mouth 
 again. This disgusted his son and his daugh- 
 ter-in-law ; and, therefore, the old grandfather 
 was at length obliged to eat in the corner, be- 
 hind the stove ; they gave him something to eat 
 in an earthen dish, and that often not enough 
 to satisfy him. I have seen him eating ; and 
 he looked so sad after dinner, and his eyes were 
 wet with tears. Well, the day before yester- 
 day he broke his earthen dish. The young, 
 woman scolded him severely, but he said noth- 
 ing, and only sighed. They then bought him a 
 wooden dish for a couple of farthings, and he 
 was obliged to eat out of it yesterday for the 
 first time. Whilst they were sitting thus at 
 dinner, their little boy, who is three years and 
 a half old, began to gather little boards together 
 on the floor. Young Frühling said to him, 
 ' What art thou doing there, Peter V ' 0,' said 
 the child, 4 1 am making a little trough, out of 
 which my father and mother shall eat when I 
 am grown up. 5 Young Frühling and his wife 
 looked at each other awhile ; at length they 
 began to weep, and immediately fetched the old 
 grandfather to the table, and let him eat with 
 them." 
 
 The children sprang up, clapped their hands, 
 and cried out, "That is very pretty ; — did little 
 Peter say sol" "Yes," rejoined the boy, "I 
 stood by when it happened." Heinrich Stilling, 
 however, did not laugh : he stood still, and 
 looked down ; the tale penetrated through him, 
 even to his inmost soul ; at length he began : 
 " I believe if that had happened to my grand- 
 father, he would have risen up from his wooden 
 dish, gone into a corner of the room, and, hav- 
 ing placed himself there, would have exclaimed, 
 ' Lord, strengthen me at this time, that I may 
 avenge myself of these Philistines !' He would 
 then have laid hold of the corner-posts, and have 
 pulled the house down about them." " Gently, 
 gently, Stilling!" said one of the tallest of the 
 boys to him ; " that would have been a little too 
 bad of thy grandfather." "Thou art in the 
 right," said Heinrich ; " but only think how Sa- 
 tanic it was ! — how often may old Frühling have 
 had his boy in his lap, and put the best morsels 
 into his mouth ! It would not have been won- 
 derful if some fiery dragon, at midnight, when 
 the first quarter of the moon had just set, had 
 hurled itself down the chimney of such a house, 
 and poisoned all the food." It was nothing 
 strange that he thought of the dragon ; for some- 
 days before, on going home in the evening, he 
 himself had seen what he thought a great one 
 flying through the air, and he was still firmly 
 persuaded that it was one of the chief of the 
 devils. 
 
 Thus the time glided away, and the period 
 was at hand when he was to leave the Latin 
 school, and assist his father in his trade. This 
 was, however, a great trial to him ; he lived 
 only amongst his books, and it always seemed 
 to him that time enough was not afforded him 
 for reading ; on which account he had an inde- 
 scribable longing to become a schoolmaster. 
 This was, in his eyes, the most honourable sta- 
 tion he ever expected to attain. The thought 
 of becoming a preacher was too far beyond his 
 
26 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 sphere. But when he sometimes soared on 
 high, imagined himself in the pulpit, and then 
 reflected what a happiness it would be to spend 
 a whole life surrounded by books, his heart en- 
 larged—delight pervaded him, and then it some- 
 times occurred to him that God did not create 
 this impulse in him in vain ; therefore said he. 
 " I will be quiet. He will lead me, and I will 
 follow him." 
 
 This enthusiasm sometimes induced him, 
 when his family was not at home, to act a pleas- 
 ant comedy ; he collected as many children round 
 him as he could gather together, hung a woman's 
 black apron on his back, made himself a ruff of 
 white paper, which he put round his neck, then 
 ascended an arm-chair, with the back before 
 him, and began to preach with a gravity which 
 astonished all his hearers. He did this often ; 
 for it was perhaps the only child's play in which 
 he ever indulged. 
 
 Now, it happened on one occasion, as he was 
 declaiming very violently, and making hell hot 
 for his hearers, that the Rev. Mr. Stollbein all 
 at once entered the room ; he did not often 
 smile, but this time he could not smother his 
 laughter. Heinrich, however, did not laugh, 
 but stood there like a statue, pale as the wall, 
 and he was nearer weeping than laughing. His 
 hearers placed themselves all along the wall, 
 and folded their hands. Heinrich looked timid- 
 ly at the clergyman, fearing lest he should lift 
 up his cane to strike him, for such was his cus- 
 tom when he saw children at play ;— however, 
 he did not do so on this occasion ; he merely 
 said, " Come down and place thyself yonder, 
 and throw aside that foolish dress !" Heinrich 
 willingly obeyed. Stollbein continued : 
 
 " I believe thou intendest to act the preacher." 
 
 Heinrich. — "I have no money to study." 
 
 Stollbein. — "Thou shalt not be a preacher, 
 but a schoolmaster." 
 
 Heinrich.— "That I will, gladly, your rever- 
 ence ! But if our Lord God will have me be- 
 come a preacher, or some other learned man, 
 must I then say, * No, gracious God, I will con- 
 tinue a schoolmaster — his reverence will have 
 it so.' " 
 
 Stollbein. — " Hold thy tongue, thou ass ! dost 
 thou not know whom thou hast before thee?" 
 
 The clergyman then catechized all the chil- 
 dren, in which he had an excellent gift. 
 
 At the next opportunity Mr. Stollbein sought 
 to persuade Wilhelm to send his son to the uni- 
 versity ; he even promised to procure the sup- 
 plies, but this undertaking was too great to be 
 surmounted. 
 
 Heinrich, meanwhile, struggled honestly with 
 his unpleasant situation. His inclination to 
 keep a school was inexpressible ; but solely in 
 order that he might get rid of his trade, and be 
 able to occupy himself with books ; for he felt 
 plainly that the instruction of other children 
 would be extremely tedious to him. However, 
 he made his life as tolerable as he possibly could. 
 Mathematics, together with ancient histories, 
 and tales of romance, were his department ; for 
 he had really studied through Tobias Beutel, 
 and Bion's mathematical work-school ; dialling, 
 in particular, delighted him beyond measure. 
 It was curious to see how he had garnished the 
 corner in which he sat at his needle, according 
 to his own fancy. The window-panes were full 
 
 of sun-dials ; inside, before the window, there 
 stood a square hlock, in the shape of a die, cov- 
 ered with paper, all the five sides of which were 
 adorned with sun-dials, the hands of which were 
 broken needles. On the ceiling above, there 
 was likewise a sun-dial, on which light was cast 
 by a piece of looking-glass in the window ; and 
 an astronomical ring, made of whalebone, hung 
 by a thread before the window ; this latter served 
 in the place of a watch, when he went out. All 
 these dials were not only correctly and properly 
 drawn, but he also, even then, understood com- 
 mon geometry, together with writing and arith- 
 metic thoroughly, although he was only a boy 
 of twelve years of age, and an apprentice to the 
 trade of a tailor. 
 
 Young Stilling now also began to attend Mr. 
 Stollbein's catechizations. But though this 
 was a trifle to him, yet it had also its difficul- 
 ties ; for as the reverend gentleman had always 
 an eye upon him, he continually discovered 
 something that displeased him ; for instance, 
 when he entered the church or the vestry, he 
 was always the foremost, and had therefore al- 
 so always the uppermost place ; this Stollbein 
 could not endure, for he uncommonly loved hu- 
 mility in other people. Once, he attacked him, 
 and said, — 
 
 "Why art thou always the foremost?" 
 He answered, " When there is any thing to 
 learn, I am not willingly the hindmost." 
 
 Stollbein. — " What, thou clown 1 — knowest 
 thou no medium between behind and in the 
 front?" 
 
 Stilling would gladly have added a word or 
 two, but he was afraid of enraging the clergy- 
 man. Mr. Stollbein walked up the room, and 
 on coming down, he said smiling, — " Stilling, 
 how do'st thou translate medium tenucre beati ?" 
 
 Heinrich. — " That means, the saints have 
 kept the middle way ; yet it seems to me, it 
 might also be said, plerique medium tenentes sunt 
 darnnatiy (The most of those are damned, who 
 kept the middle way — that is, men neither cold 
 nor hot:) Mr. Stollbein started, looked at him, 
 and said, " Boy, I tell thee thou shalt have the 
 right of standing first ; thou hast made an e£ 
 cellent reply." However, he never stood fore- 
 most again, in order that the other children 
 might not be vexed. I know not whether it 
 was cowardice or humility. Mr. Stollbein now 
 asked him why he did not go to his place. He 
 answered, " He that humbleth himself shall be 
 exalted." " Silence !" rejoined the clergyman ; 
 " thou art a presumptuous boy." 
 
 Things continued thus until Easter of the 
 year 1755, when Heinrich Stilling was fourteen 
 years and a-half old. A fortnight before this 
 time, the Rev. Mr. Stollbein sent for him to 
 come to him alone, and said to him, " Hear me, 
 Stilling ; I would gladly make a brave fellow of 
 thee, but thou must behave thyself well, and be 
 obedient to me, thy superior. At Easter I will 
 confirm thee, with some others, who are older 
 than thou, for the reception of the holy sacra- 
 ment, and then I will see if I cannot make a 
 schoolmaster of thee." Stilling's heart leaped 
 for joy ; he thanked the clergyman, and pro- 
 mised to do every thing he wished him. This 
 pleased the old man exceedingly ; he let him go 
 in peace, and faithfully kept his word ; for at 
 Easter he went to the sacrament, and was im- 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 27 
 
 mediately appointed schoolmaster of Zellberg, 
 which office he was to enter upon on the first 
 of May. The Zellberg people also anxiously 
 desired him, for his fame had spread far and 
 wide. It is impossible to express the pleasure 
 which young Stilling felt on this occasion ; he 
 could scarcely wait for the day which was fixed 
 for his entrance into office. 
 
 Zellberg lies just behind the summit of the 
 Giller ; and the road to it from Tiefenbach leads 
 directly up through the wood. As soon as a 
 person ascends the hill, he has before him a 
 large level field, near the right side of the wood, 
 whose aged oaks and beech-trees planted in a 
 straight line towards the east, like a Prussian 
 regiment on the parade, seem to prop the sky ; 
 in the same direction, at the end of the wood, 
 there rises a bushy hill, called the Heights, and 
 also, the Hängesberg ; this is the highest point 
 in all Westphalia. From Tiefenbach to this 
 place, there is a continual, straight, and steep 
 ascent, for three quarters of a league. To the 
 left lies a delightful plain, which, towards the 
 north, elevates itself into a hill, covered with 
 corn-fields ; this is called St. Anthony's Church ; 
 probably a chapel stood there in ancient times, 
 dedicated to that saint. In the front of this 
 hill, to the south, lies a charming manorial farm, 
 which is occupied by farmers. To the north- 
 east, the plain terminates in a beautiful mea- 
 dow, at the foot of two bushy hills ; betwixt 
 this meadow and the heights a green path-way 
 leads through the bushes from the field, along 
 the side of the hill, until at length it hides itself 
 in solemn obscurity from the view ; it is a mere 
 forest-path, so formed by nature and accident. 
 As soon as the highest hill is surmounted, the 
 traveller arrives at the village of Zellberg ; it 
 lies therefore on the east side of the Giller, 
 where a brook springs up in a meadow, which 
 at length becomes a river, and falls into the 
 "Weser not far from Cassel. The situation of 
 this place is enchantingly beautiful, particularly 
 towards the close of the spring, during the sum- 
 mer, and in the beginning of autumn ; but in the 
 winter it is terrible there. The howling of the 
 storm, and the quantity of snow which is hurled 
 down by the wind, transforms this paradise into 
 a Norwegian landscape. This place therefore 
 was the first in which Heinrich Stilling was to 
 give proof of his abilities. 
 
 In the small villages in that country, school 
 is kept from the first of May till Martinmas, and 
 consequently through the summer, but only two 
 days in the week, namely, Friday and Satur- 
 day ; and such was also the case at Zellberg. 
 Stilling went thither on the Friday morning at 
 sunrise, and returned the Saturday evening. 
 This walk had for him something indescribable, 
 particularly when he ascended the hill and en- 
 tered the plain before sunrise, and saw the sun 
 rising in the distance between the bushy hills ; 
 — before it breathed a gentle wind, which play- 
 ed with his locks ; his heart then melted, he 
 often wept, and wished to see angels, like Jacob 
 at Mahanaim. When he thus stood dissolved 
 in feelings of delight, he turned about, and saw 
 Tiefenbach lying below in nocturnal vapour. 
 To the left, a large hill descended from the Gil- 
 ler, called der hitzige Stein ; and forward, to the 
 right, lay close at hand the ruins of Geisenberg 
 castle. All the scenes which had there taken 
 
 place between his father and his late mother, 
 and between his father and himself, then pre- 
 sented themselves to his soul, like so many pic- 
 tures irradiated with the most glorious light ; 
 he stood like one intoxicated, and yielded him- 
 self entirely up to his sensations. He then 
 looked at the distant prospect ; — twelve Ger- 
 man miles southward lay the Taunus, or Feld- 
 berg r near Frankfort ; eight or nine miles west- 
 ward, lay before him the seven hills on the 
 Rhine, besides numberless less celebrated emi- 
 nences ; but to the north-west lay a high hill, 
 whose summit almost rivalled that of the Gil- 
 ler, and hid from Stilling's view the prospect of 
 the scene of his future important destinies. 
 
 This was the place where Heinrich could 
 linger for an hour together, without being fully 
 conscious of himself; his whole spirit was 
 prayer, inward peace, and love to the Almighty, 
 who had made all these things. 
 
 Sometimes also, he wished himself a prince, 
 that he might build a town upon this plain. It 
 was immediately there in his imagination. His 
 own residence was fixed on the St. Anthony's 
 Church ;— on the heights he saw the citadel of 
 the town, like Montalban in the wooden cuts in 
 the book of the Fair Melusina ; this citadel was 
 to be called Heinrichsburg ; but as to the name 
 of the town, he was still in doubt ; however, the 
 name Stillingen seemed to him the most beauti- 
 ful. Whilst occupied in this manner, he as- 
 cended from a prince to a king ; but when he 
 had reached " the Heights," he saw Zellberg ly- 
 ing before him, and he was then nothing more 
 than the temporary schoolmaster of that place, 
 and with this he was quite satisfied — for he had 
 time for reading. 
 
 There dwelt at this place a forester, of the 
 name of Krüger, a worthy and honest man ; 
 this person had two young boys, of whom he 
 was desirous to make something. He had been 
 cordially attached to old Stilling, and therefore 
 he loved his children also. It gave joy to the 
 soul of this man to see young Stilling as school- 
 master in his village. He therefore resolved to 
 take him into his house. Heinrich was well 
 pleased with this arrangement ; his father made 
 all the clothes for the forester and his family, 
 and therefore was well acquainted with them ; 
 besides, he knew that Krüger had many rare 
 books, of which he hoped to make good use. 
 He consequently fixed his quarters there ; and 
 the first thing he undertook was the examina- 
 tion of Krüger's library. He opened an old 
 folio, and found a translation of Homer in Ger- 
 man verse ; he leaped for joy, kissed the book, 
 pressed it to his breast, requested the loan of it, 
 and took it with him to the school, where he 
 carefully shut it up in the drawer under the ta- 
 ble, and read in it as often as possible. He had 
 translated Virgil at the Latin school ; and on 
 that occasion had heard so much of Homer, that 
 he would previously have given treasures to 
 have been able to read it ; the opportunity now 
 presented itself to him, and he faithfully availed 
 himself of it. 
 
 Seldom has the Iliad, since it has been in the 
 world, been read with more rapture and feeling. 
 Hector was a man — not so Achilles — still less 
 Agamemnon; in a word, he took the part of 
 the Trojans throughout : yet he scarcely deign- 
 ed to bestow a thought upon Paris and his Hel- 
 
28 HEINRICH 
 
 en ; particularly because he always remained at 
 home, although he caused the war. " What an 
 intolerably miserable fellow he is !" thought he 
 often to himself He regretted no one so much 
 as old Priam. The images and scenery of Ho- 
 mer were so much according to his taste, that 
 he could not refrain from exulting aloud when- 
 ever he met with a very animated expression, 
 which was adapted to the subject ; — this would 
 have been the right time for him to have read 
 Ossian. 
 
 This high degree of sentimentalism had how- 
 ever its minor causes also, for the whole sur- 
 rounding country contributed to it. Let the 
 reader imagine to himself a mind susceptible, 
 even to the highest degree of enthusiasm, whose 
 taste was natural, and not yet in subjection to 
 any specific mode, and which had felt, seen, and 
 studied nothing but real nature, which lived 
 without care or sorrow, highly satisfied with its 
 situation, and open to every pleasure ; — imagine 
 such a spirit reading Homer, in the most beau- 
 tiful and natural scenery in the world, and that 
 early in the morning ; — call to mind the situa- 
 tion of the place : he sat in the school, near two 
 windows which looked towards the east ; the 
 school stood on the south side, on the declivity 
 of the loftiest hill, and around it were planted 
 old birch-trees with snow-white stems, on a 
 verdant lawn, whose dark-green leaves trem- 
 bled continually in the restless breeze. To- 
 wards sunrise, there was a beautiful valley of 
 meadows bordered by bushy hills and moun- 
 tains. Towards the south lay, something low- 
 er, the village ; behind it a meadow, and then 
 a range of fields imperceptibly rose, which were 
 terminated by a wood. Towards the west, and 
 near at hand, was the lofty Giller with its thou- 
 sand oaks. Here Stilling read Homer in May 
 and June, when the whole hemisphere is beau- 
 tiful, and rejoices in the strength of its Preserv- 
 er and Supporter. 
 
 In addition to this, all his peasants were na- 
 turally a good sort of people, whose minds were 
 stored with old tales and narratives, which they 
 brought to light on every occasion. By this 
 means the schoolmaster was nourished with his 
 own element and increasingly disposed to sen- 
 timentalism. On one occasion, he took a walk 
 upon the highest hill behind the school ; and on 
 its summit he met with an old peasant from the 
 village, who was gathering sticks : as soon as 
 the latter saw the schoolmaster coming, he 
 ceased working and said, " It is well, schoolmas- 
 ter, that you are come, for I am tired. Listen 
 now to what I will tell you ; I was just think- 
 ing about it. I and your grandfather once burnt 
 charcoal here, above thirty years ago, and we 
 were then very happy. We always came to 
 meet each other, ate and drank together, and 
 were continually talking over old tales. As far 
 as your eye can reach, you cannot see a hill the 
 name of which we did not call to mind, and the 
 place to which it adjoins ; we had then great 
 pleasure in lying down on the grass, in this 
 manner, and telling each other tales, pointing 
 out at the same time the place where they hap- 
 pened." The peasant now held his left hand 
 over his eyes, and with his right he pointed to- 
 wards the west and north-west, and said, "A 
 little below, yonder, you see Geisenberg castle ; 
 immediately behind it, a good way off, is a lofty 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 hill with three summits, the middle one of which 
 is still called the Kindelsberg. In ancient times, 
 there stood a castle there, which had also that 
 name, and wherein resided some knights, who 
 were very wicked. To the right, they had a 
 very excellent silver-mine, by which they be- 
 came amazingly rich. Well, what happened ? 
 Their presumption went so far that they caused 
 silver balls to be made, and when they played, 
 they struck at these balls with silver bats ; — - 
 then they baked large cakes of wheaten flour, 
 as big as coach-wheels, made holes in the mid- 
 dle, and put axle-trees on them ; now this was 
 a heinous sin, for how many people have not 
 bread to eat ! At length the Lord God was 
 weary of it ; for there came a little white man 
 to the castle, one evening late, who notified to 
 them that they must all die within three days, 
 and gave them a sign, which was, that in that 
 same night a cow would cast two lambs. This 
 took place, but no one heeded it, except the 
 youngest son, a knight whose name was Sig- 
 mund, and a daughter who was a very beautiful, 
 lady. These two prayed day and night. The 
 others died of the plague, but these two conti- 
 nued alive. But there was here, on the Gei- 
 senberg, also a young bold knight, who con- 
 stantly rode a large black horse, on which ac- 
 count he was always termed ' the Knight with 
 the black horse.' He was a wicked man, and 
 was continually robbing and murdering. This 
 knight fell in love with the fair lady on the Kin- 
 delsberg, and would absolutely have her ; but 
 the thing had a bad end. I still know an old 
 song about it." 
 
 The schoolmaster said, " Let me beg of you, 
 Kraft," for so was the peasant called, "to re- 
 peat the song to me." Kraft answered, " That 
 I will, gladly ; I will sing it to you." 
 
 " Near Kindelsberg castle's lofty towers, 
 There stands an old linden-tree ; 
 Its numerous branches, so crooked and large, 
 Wave in the cool breeze so free. 
 
 Close to this linden-tree there stands 
 
 A stone both broad and high ; 
 'Tis clad with old moss of red and grey hue 
 
 And the storm and the rain doth defy- 
 There sleeps a maiden the doleful sleep, 
 
 Who was true to her knight so dear ; 
 A noble count of the Mark was he. 
 
 But her end was woeful and drear. 
 
 He went with her brother to a distant land, 
 
 To the tournament so gay ; 
 He gave the maiden the iron hand ; 
 
 She wept in sad dismay. 
 
 The time already was long elapsed ; 
 
 The count return'd not again ; 
 She sat herself down by the linden-tree, 
 
 And mourn'd from heartfelt pain. 
 
 There came a young knight to the place where she lay,. 
 
 Upon a jet-black steed ; 
 He spoke to the maiden in friendly guise, 
 And proudly his suit did plead. 
 
 The virgin replied, 'Thou never mayest have 
 
 Me for thy tender bride, 
 Until this linden-tree .«o green 
 
 Shall have wither'd away and died.' 
 
 The linden-tree was still young and tall : — 
 
 The knight sought the country round 
 For a wither'd one, equally high and large, 
 
 Until such a tree he found. 
 
 He went by the light of the midnight moon, 
 
 Dug up the green linden-tree, 
 And planted the wither'd one in its place 
 
 With care, that none might see. 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 29 
 
 The maiden rose at break of day, 
 
 Her window appear'd so light; 
 The linden-tree's shadow play'd on it no more, 
 
 And darkness cover'd her sight. 
 
 Away she ran to the linden- tree. 
 
 And sat herself down to complain ; 
 The knight soon appear'd, with lofty mien, 
 
 And demanded her heart again. 
 
 The maiden replied, in deep distress, 
 
 ' I am unable thee to love!' 
 The haughty knight struck her dead to the ground, 
 
 Which the count to tears did move. 
 
 The count return'd that self same day, 
 
 And saw, in doleful mood, 
 How by the wither'd linden lay 
 
 The maiden in her blood. 
 
 And there he made a grave profound 
 
 His love's sad resting-place ; 
 And sought for a linden the country round, 
 
 The virgin's tomb to grace. 
 
 And a large stone he fixed there, 
 
 Which stands in the breeze so free ; — 
 There sleeps the maiden once so fair, 
 
 In the shade of the linden-tree." 
 
 Stilling listened in silence ; — he scarcely ven- 
 tured to breathe ; — the fine voice of old Kraft, 
 the touching melody, and the tale itself, wrought 
 upon him in such a manner that his heart beat 
 violently. He often visited the old peasant, 
 who sang him the song repeatedly, until he 
 knew it from memory. 
 
 The sun now sank beneath the distant blue 
 hill, and Kraft and the schoolmaster descended 
 the eminence together ; the brown and piebald 
 cows were grazing in the pasture, the sound of 
 their hoarse bells reechoing hither and thither ; 
 the boys ran about in the gardens, and divided 
 their bread, butter, and cheese with each other ; 
 the women were engaged in preparing the cow- 
 stalls, and the hens fluttered up to their roosts ; 
 the orange and red-brown cock turned himself 
 once more upon his perch before the hole, and 
 and crowed a good night to his neighbours ; the 
 burners of charcoal conversed together, as they 
 descended the wood, their wallets on their 
 backs, and rejoiced at the approach of repose. 
 
 Heinrich Stilling's method of teaching was 
 singular, and so ordered that he lost little or 
 nothing by it. In the morning, as soon as the 
 children entered the school, and were all as- 
 sembled, he prayed with them and catechized 
 them in the first, principles of religion, according 
 to his own ideas, without book. He then let 
 each of them read a portion ; when this was 
 done, he encouraged the children to learn the 
 catechism, promising to relate charming tales 
 to them if they learned their tasks well. Mean- 
 while he wrote what they were to copy, let 
 them all read once more, and then began his 
 narrations, by which all that he had ever read 
 in the Bible, in the Emperor Octavian, the Fair 
 Magelone, and others, was gradually exhausted ; 
 even the destruction of the regal city of Troy 
 was undertaken. Such was the manner and 
 custom in his school, from one day to another. 
 It is impossible to express with what zeal the 
 children learned their tasks in order that they 
 might the earlier listen to the tales ; and if 
 they were perverse or not diligent, the school- 
 master did not relate his histories, but read to 
 himself. 
 
 No one lost by this singular mode of instruc- 
 tion, but the scholars in A. B. C. and spelling; 
 this part of Stilling's scholastic duties was 
 
 much too tedious for him. On the Sunday 
 morning the school-children assembled them- 
 selves around their agreeable teacher, and thus 
 he walked with his retinue, whilst relating the 
 most beautiful tales, to the church at Floren- 
 burg, and after sermon, in the same order, home 
 again. 
 
 The Zeliberg people were, however, well sat- 
 isfied with Stilling ; they saw that their children 
 learned, without receiving much correction ; 
 many of them even took a pleasure in all the 
 beautiful tales which their children were able 
 to relate to them. Krüger, in particular, loved 
 him extremely, for he could talk much with him 
 out of Paraacelsus (for so he pronounced the 
 word Paracelsus) ; he had an old German trans- 
 lation of his writings, and as he was a slavish 
 admirer of all those whom he believed to have 
 possessed the philosopher's stone, consequently 
 Jacob Böhme's, Count Bernhard's, and Paracel- 
 sus's works were precious relics in his esteem. 
 Stilling himself had a relish for them, not merely 
 on account of the philosopher's stone, but be- 
 cause he thought he found very sublime and 
 glorious ideas, particularly in Böhme ; when 
 they pronounced the words " wheel of the eter- 
 nal essences," or even "oblique lightning," and 
 others of the same kind, he felt a very peculiar 
 elevation of mind. They investigated magical 
 figures for hours together, until they often lost 
 both beginning and end, and imagined that the 
 figures before them lived and moved ; this was 
 then a real enjoyment of soul to them in this 
 kind of intoxication, to have and feel grotesque 
 ideas in a lively manner. 
 
 This paradisiacal life, however, was of short 
 duration. The Rev. Mr. Stollbein and Krüger 
 the forester, were mortal enemies. The reason 
 of it was this : — Stollbein was an unlimited 
 monarch in his parish ; his privy-council, I 
 mean the consistory, was entirely composed of 
 men whom he himself had selected, and of 
 whom he knew beforehand, that they were sim- 
 ple enough always to say yes. Father Stilling 
 was the last that had been appointed by the 
 former preacher ; hence he found opposition no 
 where. He declared war and concluded peace, 
 without asking advice of any one ; every one 
 feared him, and trembled in his presence. How- 
 ever, I cannot say that the common weal suf- 
 fered particularly under his government ; for 
 with all his faults he had a number of good 
 qualities. Only Krüger and some of the first 
 people of Florenburg hated him so much that 
 they scarcely ever went to church, much less 
 took the sacrament with him. Krüger asserted 
 openly, that he was possessed by the evü one ; 
 and therefore he always did the very reverse 
 of that which the clergyman wished. 
 
 After Stilling had been some weeks at Zell- 
 berg, Mr. Stollbein resolved to visit his new- 
 schoolmaster there. He came to the school at 
 nine o'clock in the forenoon ; fortunately, Still- 
 ing was neither reading nor relating. But still 
 he knew that he was lodging with Krüger ; he 
 therefore looked very cross, gazed around him, 
 and asked, "What are you doing with slates in 
 the school?" (Stilling instructed the children 
 in the evening in arithmetic,) The schoolmas- 
 ter answered, " The children use them for cal- 
 culations in the evening." The clergyman 
 continued, — 
 
30 HEINRICH 
 
 " That I can suppose ; but who told you to 
 do that ?" 
 
 Heinrich knew not what he should say ; he 
 looked his reverence in the face, and was as- 
 tonished ; at length he replied, with a smile, 
 " He that appointed me to teach the children to 
 read, write, and the catechism, told me also to 
 instruct them in arithmetic." 
 
 Stollbein. — " You ! I had almost said 
 
 something. Teach them first what is most 
 needful for them, and when they have learned 
 that, then teach them arithmetic likewise." 
 
 Stilling's heart now began to give way ; it 
 was constitutional with him, instead of being 
 angry and irritated like others, for the tears to 
 come into his eyes, and flow down his cheeks ; 
 but there is a case in which he can be really 
 angry, and that is, when he himself, or some 
 grave and sentimental subject, is treated satiri- 
 cally. " Indeed !'' rejoined he ; " what shall I 
 do ? The people will have me teach the chil- 
 dren accounts, and your reverence will not per- 
 mit it. Whom must I obey?" 
 
 " I have to command in school matters," said 
 Stollbein, "and not your peasants !" — and with 
 that he went out of the door. 
 
 Stilling immediately ordered all the slates to 
 be taken down, and laid in a heap behind the 
 stove, under the seat. He was obeyed ; every 
 one, however, w r rote his own name upon his 
 slate, with his pencil. 
 
 After school, he went to the churchwarden, 
 related the circumstance to him, and asked his 
 advice. The man smiled, and said, "Mr. Stoll- 
 bein has probably vented his ill-temper ; lay 
 the slates aside, so that he may not see them 
 when he comes again ; but do you continue as 
 before ; the children must learn arithmetic." 
 He told it also to Krüger, who thought the evil 
 one possessed him ; and according to his opin- 
 ion, the girls ought to learn accounts— his chil- 
 dren, at least, should now begin. This accord- 
 ingly took place, and Stilling was even obliged 
 to instruct the eldest boys in geometry. 
 
 Matters continued thus during the summer; 
 but no one imagined what would occur in the 
 autumn. A fortnight before Martinmas, the 
 churchwardens came to the school, and an- 
 nounced to Stilling, in the name of the clergy- 
 man, that he must leave the school at Martin- 
 mas, and return to his father. This was a clap 
 of thunder to the schoolmaster and his scholars ; 
 they all wept together. Krüger and the rest 
 of the Zellbergers were almost mad ; they 
 stamped with their feet, and swore that the 
 clergyman should not deprive them of their 
 schoolmaster. But Wilhelm Stilling, however 
 much vexed he felt, found it more advisable to 
 take back his son, in order not to prevent his 
 future good fortune. The Sunday afternoon 
 before Martinmas, the good schoolmaster put 
 his few clothes and books into a bag, hung it 
 over his shoulder, and, leaving Zellberg, as- 
 cended the Heights ; his scholars followed him 
 in troops, weeping ; he himself shed floods of 
 tears, and bewailed the sweet season he had 
 spent at Zellberg. The whole of the western 
 heaven presented a gloomy appearance ; the 
 sun crept behind a black moutain of clouds, and 
 he wandered in the darkness of the forest down 
 the Giller. 
 
 On the Monday morning, his father placed 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 him again in his old corner, at the needle. 
 The trade of a taüor was now doubly disgusting 
 to him, after having tasted the sweets of keep- 
 ing school. The only thing that still gave him 
 pleasure, was, to repair his old sun-dials, and 
 relate to his grandmother the excellencies of 
 Homer, who seemed pleased with all she heard, 
 and even relished it — not from a natural feel- 
 ing, but because she remembered that her dear 
 Eberhard had been a great admirer of such 
 things. 
 
 Heinrich Stilling's sufferings now assaulted 
 him in all their violence ; he firmly believed he 
 was not born to be a tailor, and he was heartily 
 ashamed of sitting in such a manner at his 
 needle ; therefore when any person of respecta- 
 bility entered the room he blushed. 
 
 Some weeks after this, uncle Simon was met 
 on the highway by the Rev. Mr. Stollbein. On 
 seeing the clergyman on horseback at a dis- 
 tance, he laboured with all his might to get his 
 cart and oxen out of the road into the field, and 
 placed himself near the oxen with his hat in his 
 hand, until Mr. Stollbein came up. 
 
 Stollbein. — " Well, what is your brother-in- 
 law's son doing?" 
 
 Simon. — " He sits at the table, and sews." 
 
 Stollbein.—' 1 That's right ! I'll have it so !" 
 
 Stollbein rode on, and Simon continued his 
 way home. He immediately related to Wil- 
 helm what the clergyman had said. Heinrich 
 heard it with the most heartfelt pain ; but took 
 courage again, when he saw how his father 
 threw his work aside in a rage, and said pas- 
 sionately, "And I'll have him keep school as 
 soon as opportunity offers !" Sirmn rejoined, 
 " I would have left him at Zellberg ; the clergy- 
 man might have been conquered." " That 
 might have been done," replied Wilhelm ; " but 
 then I should have made him always my enemy, 
 and have lived uncomfortably. Suffering is 
 better than striving." " For my part," contin- 
 ued Simon, " I do not care a straw for him ; 
 let him only once come too near me !" Wilhelm 
 was silent, and thought it was easy to say so in 
 the room, behind the stove. 
 
 The tedious time which he was obliged to 
 devote to his trade, did not, on this occasion, 
 Jast long ; for a fortnight before Christmas, a 
 letter from Dorlingen, in the Westphalian coun- 
 ty of Mark, arrived at Stilling's house ; — a rich 
 man of the name of Steifmann dwelt there, 
 who wished to have young Stilling as private 
 tutor. The conditions were, that Mr. Stief- 
 mann's children should receive instruction from 
 new-year until Easter, for which he would give 
 Stilling board and lodging, light and fire ; he 
 was also to receive five rix-dollars salary ; but 
 for this he would have to instruct as many of 
 the children of the neighbouring farmers as 
 they would send him, while Mr. Steifmann 
 pocketed the money for their schooling; in this 
 manner, he had his own children educated al- 
 most for nothing. 
 
 Old Margaret, Wilhelm, Elizabeth, Maria, and 
 Heinrich, now conferred together respecting 
 this letter. Margaret, after some considera- 
 tion, began as follows : — " Wilhelm, keep the 
 lad with thee ; only think, it is no joke to send 
 a child to such a distance! There will be 
 doubtless some situation to be found for him 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 31 
 
 here in the neighbourhood." " That is true," 
 said Maria ; " my brother Johann often says 
 that the peasants thereabouts are such coarse 
 people ; who knows what they will do to the 
 boy 1 Keep him here, Wilhelm!" Elizabeth 
 also gave her vote ; but she thought it was bet- 
 ter that Heinrich should try to make his way 
 in the world ; if she had to command, he should 
 go. Wilhelm at length concluded, without say- 
 ing why, that if Heinrich had a mind to go, he 
 should consent to it. " Yes, indeed, I am will- 
 ing to go," interrupted he ; "I wish I was al- 
 ready there !" Margaret and Maria grew sad 
 and were silent. Wilhelm, therefore, answered 
 the letter, and every thing was agreed to. 
 
 Dorlingen lay nine whole leagues from Tiefen- 
 bach. Perhaps none of Stilling's family had, for 
 centuries, wandered so far away, or been so 
 long absent. For some days before Heinrich's 
 departure, all the family wept and lamented ; he 
 alone was inwardly rejoiced. Wilhelm conceal- 
 ed his sorrow as much as he could. Margaret 
 and Maria felt too deeply that he was a Stilling ; 
 hence they wept the most, which from the blind 
 eyes of the old grandmother had a pitiable ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 The last morning arrived, and all were 
 plunged in sorrow. Wilhelm usually demean- 
 ed himself harshly towards him, but the parting 
 softened him so much the more. Heinrich also 
 shed many tears ; but he ran and wiped them 
 away. At Lichthausen, he called upon his un- 
 cle, Johann Stilling, who gave him much good 
 advice. The carriers now came, who were to 
 take him with them, and Heinrich joyfully set 
 out on his journey. 
 
 That part of the country through which he 
 had to travel looked very melancholy at this 
 season of the year. It made an impression 
 upon him which plunged him into a kind of de- 
 spondency. " If Dorlingen lies in such a coun- 
 try as this," thought he, continually, "I shall 
 not be pleased with it." The carriers with 
 whom he travelled were at home there ; — he 
 often observed how they went behind him and 
 ridiculed him ; for because he did not converse 
 with them, and looked rather bashful, they took 
 him for a simpleton, with whom they might do 
 what they would. Sometimes one of them 
 pulled him behind, and when he turned about 
 they pretended to be transacting matters of im- 
 portance amongst themselves. Such treatment 
 was enough to excite his anger : he bore it a 
 few times ; but at length he turned about, look- 
 ed at them sharply, and said, " Hear me, good 
 people : I am going to be your schoolmaster at 
 Dorlingen, and if your children are such ill-bred 
 creatures as I suppose them to be, I shall know 
 how to teach them other manners ; you may 
 tell them of this when you get home !" The car- 
 riers looked at each other, and merely for the 
 sake of their children they left him in peace. 
 
 Late in the evening, at nine o'clock, he ar- 
 rived at Dorlingen. Steifmann examined him 
 from head to foot, as did also his wife, children, 
 and servants. They gave him something to eat, 
 after which he lay down to sleep. On awaking 
 early in the morning, he was much terrified, 
 for he saw the sun, according to his ideas, rising 
 in the west ; it continued to ascend towards the 
 north, and set in the evening in the east. This 
 he could not at all comprehend ; and yet he un- 
 
 derstood so much of astronomy and geopraphy 
 as to be well aware that the Zellberg and Tief- 
 enbach sun must be the same as shone at Dor- 
 lingen. This strange circumstance confused 
 his conceptions, and he now heartily wished he 
 had his uncle Johann's compass, in order to see 
 whether the needle agreed with the sun in de- 
 ceiving him. He found, indeed, at length, the 
 cause of this phenomenon ; he had arrived late 
 the evening before, and had not observed the 
 gradual winding of the valley. However, he 
 was unable to master his imagination ; every 
 view he took of the rude and desert country 
 around, appeared to him, for this reason, gloomy 
 and terrific. 
 
 Steifmann was rich ; he possessed much 
 wealth, land, oxen, kine, sheep, goats, and 
 swine ; and besides these, a steel- foundry, in 
 which articles were manufactured with which 
 he carried on business. At that time, he had 
 only his second wife ; but afterwards he mar- 
 ried a third, or perhaps even a fourth ; fortune 
 favoured him so much that he was able to take 
 one wife after another — at least, the decease of 
 his wives and marrying again seemed to afford 
 him peculiar amusement. His present wife was 
 a good-natured creature ; but her husband often 
 spoke to her in a very edifying manner of the 
 virtues of his first wife, so that from excessive 
 and heartfelt feeling she wept bitter tears. In 
 other respects, he was not at all irascible ; he 
 did not speak much, but what he said was 
 weighty and emphatic, because it generally gave 
 offence to some one present. He entered into 
 conversation with his new schoolmaster at first, 
 but he did not please him. Of all that Stilling 
 was accustomed to talk about, he did not un- 
 derstand a word, just as little as Stilling com- 
 prehended his patron's conversation. They 
 were therefore both silent when together. 
 
 The following Monday morning, the school 
 commenced. Steifmann's three boys made the 
 beginning ; in a short time, about eighteen tall, 
 square-shouldered lads made their appearance, 
 who, compared with their schoolmaster, were 
 like so many Patagonians compared with a 
 Frenchman. Ten or twelve girls of much the 
 same size and figure, came also and placed 
 themselves behind the table. Stilling scarcely 
 knew what he should do with these people. He 
 was afraid of so many wild faces ; — however, 
 he attempted the customary method used in 
 schools, and made them pray, sing, read, and 
 learn the catechism. 
 
 Things continued their ordinary course for 
 about a fortnight ; but then there was an end 
 of it. One or other Cossack-like lad attempted 
 to banter the schoolmaster, which caused Still- 
 ing to use his stick faithfully, but with such 
 contrary effect, that when he had wearied him- 
 self with thrashing the stout shoulders of any 
 of the scholars, they laughed aloud, whilst the 
 schoolmaster wept. Now this was Mr. Steif- 
 mann's greatest amusement ; so that whenever 
 he heard a noise in the school-room, he came, 
 opened the door, and was heartily entertained. 
 
 This behaviour gave the last blow to Stilling. 
 His school became a Polish diet, where every 
 one did what he pleased. And after the poor 
 schoolmaster had endured this fiery trial in the 
 school, he had not a happy hour even out of it. 
 Books he found few, except a large Basle Bible, 
 
32 HEINRICH 
 
 the wooden cuts of which he studied over and 
 over, and likewise read therein, although he 
 had frequently read it through. " Zion's Doc- 
 trines and Wonders," by Dr. Meli, together with 
 some old volumes of sermons and hymn-books 
 stood on a shelf in the clothes-room, in calm re- 
 pose, and had certainly been little used since 
 Mr. Steifmann had inherited them. In the 
 house itself no one was kind to him. All look- 
 ed upon him as a completely foolish boy, for he 
 did not understand their vile, ironically obscene, 
 and ambiguous speeches ; he always replied in 
 sincerity, and, as he thought, according to the 
 sense of the words, seeking to gain every one 
 by kindness ; and this was exactly the way to 
 become every one's shoe-black. 
 
 However, something once occurred which 
 might easily have cost him his life, if the kind 
 Father of men had not peculiarly preserved him. 
 He was obliged to light the fire himself in the 
 morning, in his stove ; on one occasion, finding 
 no wood, he wished to fetch some. Now there 
 was over the kitchen a smoke-room, where meat 
 was smoked, and the wood dried at the same 
 time. The thrashing-floor adjoined the kitchen, 
 and from thence there were steps up into the 
 smoke-room. Six day-labourers were just then 
 engaged in thrashing. Heinrich ran up the 
 steps, and opened the door, from which a thick 
 cloud of smoke burst forth ; he left the door 
 open, made a spring towards the wood, and 
 caught hold of a few pieces. Meanwhile, one 
 of the thrashers fastened the door on the out- 
 side ; poor Stilling fell into an agony, — the 
 smoke stifled him, — it was dark as midnight, — 
 he became confused, and knew no longer where 
 the door was. In this dreadful situation, he 
 made a spring against the wall, and hit just 
 against the door, so that the fastening broke, 
 and the door sprang open. Stilling fell down 
 the steps upon the floor, where he lay stretched 
 out, stupified and insensible. On coming again 
 to himself, he found himself surrounded by the 
 thrashers, who with Mr. Steifmann were laugh- 
 ing aloud. " It was enough to make the d 
 
 laugh," said Steifmann. This went through 
 Stilling's soul. " Yes," answered he, " he 
 laughs in reality at having at length found one 
 of his like." This pleased his patron extreme- 
 ly, and he was wont to say it was the first and 
 last clever speech he had heard from his school- 
 master. 
 
 However, the best of the matter was, that 
 Stilling sustained no injury ; he gave himself en- 
 tirely up to grief, wept till his eyes were red, 
 and gained nothing by it but contempt. Thus 
 mournfully passed his time ; and his pleasure 
 in keeping school was dreadfully embittered. 
 
 His father, Wilhelm Stilling, was meanwhile 
 occupied at home with more agreeable matters. 
 The wound occasioned by the decease of Doris 
 was healed ; he always remembered her with 
 tenderness, yet he lamented her no more ; she 
 had been dead now fourteen years, and his se- 
 vere mystic mode of thinking softened itself so 
 far that he cultivated acquaintance with every 
 one ; all was however mingled with friendly 
 gravity, the fear of God, and uprightness; so 
 that he grew more like father Stilling than any 
 other of his children. He now wished to be- 
 come the father of a family, to have his own 
 house and garden, and to carry on farming to- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 gether with his trade ; he therefore sought out 
 a wife for himself, who, with the necessary 
 qualities of body and soul, had also house and 
 land ; and he soon found what he sought. At 
 Leindorf, two leagues westward of Tiefenbach, 
 there was a widow of twenty-eight years of age, 
 an honest good-looking woman ; she had two 
 children by her first marriage, one of whom, 
 however, died soon after her nuptials. This 
 person was very glad of Wilhelm's addresses, 
 although he had lame feet. The marriage was 
 agreed upon, the wedding-day fixed, and Hein- 
 rich received a letter at Dorlingen, which, in 
 the warmest and tenderest expressions which a 
 father can possibly employ towards his son, 
 made him acquainted with the affair, and in- 
 vited him, on the day appointed, to the wedding. 
 Heinrich read this letter, laid it down, rose up, 
 and reflected within himself ; it required him 
 deeply to examine, first, before he could ascer- 
 tain whether he was pleased or grieved at it, 
 such entirely different emotions arose in his 
 mind. At length, after walking a few paces, he 
 said to himself, " My mother is in heaven ; let 
 this one, meanwhile, take her place in this vale 
 of tears, with me and my father. Eventually, I 
 shall forsake the latter, and seek the former. 
 My father does well ; I will be very fond of her, 
 and do all she wishes, as well as I am able ; she 
 will then love me in return, and I shall rejoice." 
 
 He now made Steifmann acquainted with the 
 matter, requested some money, and travelled 
 back to Tiefenbach. He was received there 
 most joyfully by all, particularly by Wilhelm, 
 who had been a little dubious whether his son 
 would not complain ; but when he saw him 
 coming so cheerfully, the tears flowed from his 
 eyes, he sprang towards him, and said, 
 
 "Welcome, Heinrich !" 
 
 Heinrich. — " Welcome, father ! I heartily 
 wish you happiness in what you have in view, 
 and I rejoice much that you can now have con- 
 solation in your old age, if it pleases God." 
 
 Wilhelm sank down upon a chair, held botk 
 his hands before his face, and wept. Heinrick 
 wept also. At length Wilhelm began as fol- 
 lows : "Thou knowest, that while I was a 
 widower I laid by five hundred rix-dollars ; I am 
 now forty years old, and I should, perhaps, have 
 been able to save much more ; thou wilt be de- 
 prived of all this, of which thou wouldst other- 
 wise have been the sole heir." 
 
 Heinrich. — " Father, I may die — you may die 
 — we may both live a long time ; you may be 
 sickly, and not even be able to subsist on your 
 money. But, father, does my new mother re- 
 semble my late mother'?" 
 
 Wilhelm again held his hands before his eyes. 
 " No," said he ; " but she is a worthy woman." 
 
 " I am glad of it," said Heinrich ; and stood 
 at the window to review, once more, his old 
 romantic country scenery. There was no snow 
 upon the ground. The prospect of the neigh- 
 bouring forest appeared so pleasant to him, that 
 although it was in the latter end of February, 
 he resolved to walk thither ; he therefore went 
 up the hill, and into the wood. After he had 
 wandered about a while, he felt so comfortable 
 within, that he forgot the whole world, and, lost 
 in thought, walked forwards until he impercep- 
 tibly arrived at the west side of Geis^nberg cas- 
 tle. He already saw, between the trunks of 
 
STIL LING'S YO 
 
 UTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 33 
 
 the trees, the ruined walls lying upon the hill. 
 This surprised him a little. Something now 
 rustled in a hush on one side ; he looked, and 
 saw an agreeahle-looking female standing there, 
 pale, hut of a delicate countenance, and clothed 
 in linen and cotton. He shuddered, and his 
 heart heat. As it was still hy no means late in 
 the day, he was not afraid, hut asked, " Where 
 are you from 1" She answered, " From Tiefen- 
 bach." This seemed strange to him, for he did 
 not know her. "What is your name V "Doris" 
 Stilling uttered a loud cry, and sank upon the 
 ground in a fit. The good girl knew not what 
 to think of the circumstance, for she was like 
 wise unacquainted with the youth, having come 
 to Tiefenhaeh only at. new year, as a maid- 
 servant. She ran to him, knelt down hy him 
 upon the ground, and wept. She was much 
 surprised at the young man, particularly because 
 he had such soft hands and so white a face ; 
 his clothes were also a little cleaner and neater, 
 as well as a little better, than those of oiher 
 lads. The stranger pleased her. Meanwhile, 
 Stilling came again to himself ; he saw the 
 female close to him, raised himself, regarded 
 her with a fixed look, and said to her tenderly, 
 " What are you doing here 1" She answered in 
 a very friendly manner, "I am gathering dry 
 wood ; where are you from V' He replied 
 "I am also from Tiefenbach — Wilhelm Selling's 
 son." He now heard that she had only been 
 there since new-year, as maid-servant, and she 
 listened to the statement of his circumstances ; 
 both were grieved at being obliged to part. 
 Stilling walked to the castle, and she gathered 
 firewood. Nearly two years elapsed before the 
 image of this girl was obliterated from his heart, 
 so firmly had it impressed itself upon him. 
 When the sun was about to set, he returned 
 home, but related nothing of what had happen- 
 ed — not so much from love of secrecy, as from 
 other reasons. 
 
 The next day he went with his father and 
 other friends to Leindorf to the wedding ; his 
 mother-in-law received him with all tenderness ; 
 he became fond of her, and she loved him in 
 return; at which Wilhelm was heartily pleased. 
 He now informed his parents how painfully it 
 tared with him at Dorlingen. The mother's ad- 
 vice was, that he should remain at home, and 
 not go again ; but Wilhelm said, " We have al- 
 ways kept our word hitherto, and thou must not 
 be wanting ; if other people do not do so, they 
 must answer for it ; but thou must continue thy 
 time." Nor was Stilling much opposed to this, 
 but set off again the next morning for Dorlin- 
 gen." His scholars however did not return ; 
 .spring approached, and every one betook him- 
 self to the field. As he had now nothing to do, 
 contemptible offices were assigned him, so that 
 his daily bread was rendered very bitter. 
 
 Previous to his departure before Easter, Steif- 
 mann's servant-men resolved to make him very 
 drunk, that so they might make themselves 
 merry at his expence. On coming out of church, 
 •on the Sunday, they said to one another, " Let. 
 us warm ourselves a little, hefore we set out," — 
 for it was cold, and they had a league to walk. 
 Now Stilling was accustomed to go home in 
 company ; he therefore went in with them, and 
 sat down hy the stove. They then began to 
 drink spirits, which were sweetened with a kind 
 
 of syrup, and the schoolmaster was obliged to 
 drink with them. He soon perceived their in- 
 tentions ; and therefore after taking a mouthful, 
 he ejected it again, unobserved, behind the 
 stove, into the coalscuttle. Hence the men 
 were intoxicated first, and they no longer paid 
 attention to the schoolmaster, but became com- 
 pletely fuddled ; under these circumstances, 
 they at length sought a quarrel with Stilling, and 
 he escaped with difficulty out of their hands. 
 He paid his proportion of the charge, and went 
 away privately. On reaching home, he related 
 the circumstance to Mr. Steifmann, who only 
 laughed at it ; it was obvious that he lamented 
 the bad success of the attempt. The men-ser- 
 vants were afterwards quite in a rage, and 
 sought every opportunity of revenging them- 
 selves ; but God preserved him. Only two days 
 before his departure, a peasant's son from the 
 village met him in the fields, who had also been 
 present at the drinking-bout ; the latter seized 
 him by the head, and wrestled with him in or- 
 der to threw him to the ground ; fortunately 
 there was an old man near in a garden, who 
 came up, and asked what the schoolmaster had 
 done to him. The lad replied, " He has done 
 nothing to me ; I will only give him a box or 
 two on the ear." But the old peasant laid hold 
 of him, and said to Stilling, " Do you go home !" 
 He then gave the other a violent blow on the 
 mouth, and added, " Now, thou go home also, — 
 I only did it for a joke." 
 
 On Easter-Monday, Stilling took his leave of 
 Dorlingen, and arrived again in the evening at 
 the house of his parents at Leindorf. 
 
 He was now so far in his element again ; he 
 was indeed obliged to labour hard at his trade, 
 yet still he again found opportunity of obtaining 
 books. The first Sunday he went to Zellberg, 
 and fetched Homer ; and wherever else he 
 knew of any thing which in his estimation was 
 beautiful to read, he brought it horre, so that in 
 a short time the board above the windows, 
 where previously all kinds of implements had 
 stood, was entirely filled with books. Wilhelm 
 was accustomed to this, and was glad to see it ; 
 hut they were sometimes in his wife's way, so 
 that she said to him, " Heinrich, what art thou 
 doing with all these books'?" He read also on 
 the Sunday, and during meal-times ; his mother- 
 in-law then often shook her head, and said, 
 "What a strange lad he is!" whilst Wilhelm 
 smiled, in Stilling's manner, and said, " Greta, 
 do not hinder him." 
 
 After a few weeks had elapsed, the most ar- 
 duous part of agricultural labour commenced. 
 Wilhelm was obliged to make use of his son for 
 this purpose also, or else engage a day laborer 
 in his place, with which his wife would not have 
 been satisfied. This period, however, was the 
 beginning of Stilling's grevious sufferings: 
 he possessed, it is true, common stature and 
 strength ; hut he had not been accustomed to 
 so severe labour, nor were his limbs suited for 
 such employment. As soon as he began to hoe 
 or mow, all his limbs bent to the implement he 
 was using, as though they would break ; he of- 
 ten thought he should sink down from weariness 
 and pain. But all availed not; Wilhelm feared 
 vexation at home, and his wife always believed 
 he would gradually accustom himself to it. This 
 mode of life at length became intolerable to hiin, 
 
34 HEINRICH 
 
 and he rejoiced when he could sometimes sit at 
 his needle on a rainy day, and refresh his weary 
 limhs ; he sighed bpneath this yoke, often 
 walked alone, wept the hitterest tears, and be- 
 sought his heavenly Father to pity and change 
 his condition. 
 
 Wilhelm secretly suffered with him. When 
 he came home in the evening with his hands 
 swollen and full of blisters, and trembling from 
 fatigue, his father sighed, and both longed most 
 fervently for his being again employed as school- 
 master. This at length occurred, after a very 
 painful and wearisome summer. The inhabi- 
 tants of Leindorf, where Wilhelm dwelt, appoint- 
 ed him their schoolmaster at Michaelmas, 1756. 
 Stilling accepted this vocation with joy ; he was 
 now happy, and entered upon his office with his 
 seventeenth year. He dined with his peasant- 
 ry by turns ; but before and after school, he was 
 obliged to assist his father at his trade. Thus 
 there was no time left him for studying, except 
 when he was in the school • and that was not 
 the place to read himself, but to instruct others. 
 However, he stole many an hour which he de- 
 voted to mathematics and other scientific pur- 
 suits. Wilhelm perceiving this, took him to 
 task for it, and asked him how he could do it 
 conscientiously. 
 
 Stilling, with heartfelt grief, replied, "Father, 
 my whole soul is directed to study ; I cannot 
 restrain my inclination ; give me time before 
 and after school-hours, and I will not take a 
 book into the school." Wilhelm rejoined, " It 
 is a lamentable thing ! All that thou learnest 
 yields thee neither bread nor clothes, and for all 
 that could maintain thee thou art unfit." 
 
 Stilling himself lamented his condition ; for 
 keeping school was likewise burdensome to him, 
 if he had with it no time for reading ; he therefore 
 longed to be away from his father, and to be in 
 some other place. 
 
 The people, however, at Leindorf, were pret- 
 ty well satisfied with him, although their chil- 
 dren might have learned more in the time; for 
 his conduct and deportment towards the children 
 pleased them. The Rev. Mr. Dahlheim also, to 
 whose parish Leindorf belonged, a man who was 
 an honour to his office, was fond of him. Stilling 
 was astonished above measure, the first time he 
 entered the room of this excellent man ; — he 
 was an old man of eighty years of age, and was 
 lying upon a couch : as he entered the door, he im- 
 mediately arose, offered him his hand, and said, 
 " Do not take it amiss, schoolmaster, that you 
 find me reposing ; I am old, and my powers 
 fail." Stilling was penetrated with reverence, 
 and the tears flowed down his cheeks. He re- 
 plied, " Sir, it gives me great pleasure to keep 
 school under your superintendence. God grant 
 you much joy and blessing in your old age !" 
 " 1 thank you, dear schoolmaster," replied the 
 worthy old man, "I am, thank God, near the 
 end of my course, and I heartily rejoice at the 
 prospect of my great Sabbath." Stilling went 
 home, and on the road he made the peculiar re- 
 mark, that either Mr. Dahlheim must be an apos- 
 tle or Mr. Stollbein a priest of Baal. 
 
 Mr. Dahlheim sometimes visited the Leindorf 
 school, and though he might not find every 
 thing in due order, yet he did not break out into 
 a passrjun like Mr. Stollbein, but admonished 
 Stilling very kindly, to alter any particular 
 
 STILLING 
 
 thing ; and this had the best effect on a mind 
 so susceptible. This treatment of the clergy- 
 man's was really surprising ; for he was a pas- 
 sionate and violent man, but his anger mani- 
 fested itself solely against vice, and not against 
 failings ; he was, at the same time, not at all 
 ambitious of ruling. In order to portray this 
 man's character to my readers, I will relate a 
 circumstance which occurred to him when he 
 
 was court-chaplain to the Prince of R 
 
 This prince had an excellent consort, and by her 
 several princesses ; he notwithstanding fell in 
 love with a tradesman's daughter in his capital, 
 with whom he spent whole nights, to the great 
 grief of the princess. Dahlheim could not suffer 
 this to pass unnoticed. He began to preach 
 against it covertly from the pulpit; the prince 
 however was well aware what the chaplain was 
 aiming at. ; he therefore no longer went to 
 church, but drove, during the time, to his coun- 
 try residence, at the Menagerie. Dahlheim 
 was once just entering the church in order to 
 preach, when he met the prince upon the spot, 
 as he was on the point of getting into his car- 
 riage. The chaplain stepped up to him, and: 
 said, " Whither does your highness intend to 
 go?" "What is that to thee, parson?" Was 
 the reply. " Very much," rejoined Dahlheim ; 
 and went into the church, where he attacked, 
 in plain terms, the excesses of the great men of 
 this world, and pronounced one woe after anoth- 
 er upon them. The princess was at church, 
 and sent to invite him to dinner ; he came, and 
 she lamented his boldness, being apprehensive 
 of evil consequences. Meanwhile the prince 
 returned ; but drove immediately again into the 
 town to his mistress, who unfortunately had 
 also been at church, and heard Mr. Dahlheim. 
 The chaplain as well as the princess had seen 
 her there, and they could therefore easily fore* 
 see the storm which hovered over the head of 
 Mr. Dahlheim. The latter however was en- 
 tirely unconcerned about it, and told the prin- 
 cess that he would go instantly, and tell the 
 prince the truth to his face. He would take 
 no warning, but went directly into the prince's 
 apartment. On entering, the latter started, and 
 asked him what business he had there. Dahl- 
 heim replied, "I am come to lay before your 
 Highness blessing and curse. If your Highness 
 will not renounce this unbecoming course of life, 
 the curse will, fall upon your noble house and fam- 
 ily, and your city and country strangers shall in- 
 herit." On which he went, away, and the day 
 following he was dismissed from his office, and 
 banished the country. However, the prince 
 had no rest after doing so, but honourably re- 
 called him at the end of two years, and gave 
 him the best living he had in his territory. 
 Dahlheim's prediction was nevertheless fulfilled. 
 For more than forty years, there has not been 
 a single branch left of this princely house. But 
 I return to my narrative. 
 
 Stilling, with all his good nature, could net 
 prevent some people from thinking he read too 
 many books in the school ; there was a mur- 
 mur in the village, and many supposed that the 
 children were neglected. The people were not 
 entirely in the wrong, but yet not Quite in the 
 right ; for he still took pretty good care tliat hia 
 object in being there was attained. It appear 
 ed indeed strange to the boors, to see such uiv 
 
STILLING'S YOU 
 
 THFUL YEARS. 
 
 35 
 
 heard-of figures in the school-windows, as his 
 sun-dials were. Two or more of them often 
 stood 'still in the street, and saw him at the win- 
 dow, looking through a piece of glass at the sun , 
 then said one of them, "The fellow is not right 
 in his head !" — the other imagined he was con- 
 sidering the course of the heavens ; but both 
 were greatly mistaken ; — Ihey were only pieces 
 of the broken feet of spirit-glasses, which he 
 held before his eye, and contemplated in the 
 sunshine the glorious colours, in their various 
 forms, which pleased him extremely, and not 
 without reason. 
 
 This year therefore proceeded on its course 
 as above described. Working at his trade, 
 keeping school, and stolen hours for reading, had 
 alternately succeeded each other; until a short 
 time before Michaelmas, as he had just entered 
 his eighteenth year, he received a letter from 
 the Rev. Mr. Goldrnann, who offered him a good 
 school, attached to a chapel at Preisingen. 
 This village lies two leagues southwards of 
 Leindorf, in a charming broad valley. Stilling 
 was so delighted with this letter, that he could 
 scarcely contain himself ; and his father and 
 mother also lejoiced beyond measure. Stilling 
 thanked Mr. Goldrnann by letter for this excel- 
 lent recommendation, and promised that he 
 should have joy of him. 
 
 This preacher was a distant relation of the 
 departed Doris, and consequently also of young 
 Stilling. This reason, as well as the general 
 reputation of his uncommon gifts, had induced 
 the worthy clergyman to propose him to the 
 congregation at Preisingen. He proceeded 
 therefore, at Michaelmas, to his new destina- 
 tion. After ascending the hill, and on seeing 
 before him the beautiful valley with its broad 
 and verdant meadows, and on the opposite side 
 a range of green hills covered with woods and 
 fields, whilst in the midst of the plain lay the 
 village of Preisingen, in a compressed circle, 
 the green fruit trees and the white houses be- 
 tween, presenting a pleasing appearance ; exact- 
 ly in the midst of which rose the chapel turret, 
 covered and clothed with blue slate ; and be- 
 yond all the rest, the little rivulet Sal, behind 
 the village, glittering in the rays of the sun — he 
 was deeply affected, sat down a while upon the 
 grass, and delighted himself with the charming 
 prospect. Here he first began to attempt versifi- 
 cation ; he succeeded pretty well in it, for he 
 had a natural talent that way. I have sought 
 for the piece among his papers, but was unable 
 to find it. 
 
 He now resolved firmly and irrevocably to 
 apply himself to teaching with diligence and 
 zeal, and devote the rest of the time to making 
 progress in his mathematical studies. After he 
 had concluded this covenant with himself, he 
 rose up, and finished his walk to Preisingen. 
 
 His lodging was fixed for him at a rich and 
 respectable widow's, who was, at the same 
 time, immoderately corpulent. She was called 
 Madame Schmoll, and had two handsome mod- 
 est daughters ; the name of the eldest was 
 Maria, who was twenty years of age, and of t he 
 other Anna, who was eighteen. Both the girls 
 were re.illv good creatures, as well as their 
 mother. They lived together like angels, in the 
 most perfect harmony < and so to speak, in a su- 
 perabundance of joys and pleasures, for they 
 
 I wanted for nothing ; and of this they knew how 
 I to take advantage; hence they passed their 
 time, after attending to their household affairs, 
 in singing, and a variety of other allowable re- 
 creations. Stilling, it is true, loved pleasure 
 also ; but such inactivity of the human spirit 
 was so repugnant to him that he could not con- 
 ceive bow the people did not become weary of 
 it. However, he found himself very comforta- 
 ble in their society ; and when he had occasion- 
 ally fatigued himself with study and business, 
 it was a sweet recreation for him to associate 
 with them. 
 
 Stilling had hitherto never thought of love ; 
 this passion and marriage were, in his eyes, 
 one ; and the one without the other an abomi- 
 nation. Now as he knew for a certainty that 
 he could not marry either of the Misses Schmoll, 
 since they would not be permitted to take either 
 a tailor or a school- master, he consequently sup- 
 pressed every feeling of love which would of- 
 ten have sprung up in his heart, particularly for 
 Maria. But what do I talk of suppressing !— 
 who can do it in his own strength 1 It was 
 Stirling's angel that guided him, who turned 
 aside the arrows which were shot at him. The 
 two sisters thought, however, very differently ; 
 — the schoolmaster pleased them heartily ; he 
 was in his first bloom, and full of fire and feel- 
 ing ; for although he was serious and quiet, yet 
 there were moments in which his light shone 
 forth from every corner of his heart ; Iiis spirit 
 then enlarged, he overflowed with social and 
 cheerful delight, and then it was good to be in 
 his company. But there are few spirits which 
 are susceptible of this ; it is something so spir- 
 itual and sublime, and so remote from rude and 
 noisy pleasure, that very few comprehend what 
 I mean by it. Madame Schmoll and her daugh- 
 ters, however, were conscious of it, and felt it 
 in all its power. Others of the common sort 
 often sat and listened ; the one exclaimed, 
 M Paul, thou art beside thyself;" another sat in 
 mute astonishment ; and the third believed he 
 was half-witted. The two girls, meanwhile, 
 reposed in some dark corner, where they could 
 contemplate him undisturbed ; they were silent, 
 and fixed their eyes upon him. Stilling per- 
 ceived this with deep sympathy ; however, he 
 was firmly resolved to give no occasion for a 
 further expression of love. They were both 
 modest and bashful, and consequently far from 
 revealing themselves to him. Madame Schmoll, 
 meanwhile, sat playing with her black paper 
 snuff-box in her lap, and reflected as to what 
 class of men the schoolmaster properly belong- 
 ed ; he was good and gentle in her eyes, and 
 besides that, truly devout ; but as he spoke of 
 any thing ^Ise but things by which he. might 
 earn his bread, she often said, as he left the 
 room, " Poor rogue, what will become of him V 
 '■ It is impossible to say," rejoined Maria 
 44 sometimes I believe he will yet be a respecta- 
 ble man in the world." The mother laughed, 
 and often replied, " God grant it may go well 
 with him ! — he is an excellent youth !" which 
 was enough immediately to animate her dau^h- 
 ters. ° 
 
 I am able to affirm that StHling attended to 
 his school at Preisingen, according to duty and 
 order; he sought, with his more mature vears 
 and views, to estabi.sh his reputation in the in- 
 
36 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 struciion of youth. However, it was to be la- 
 mented that it did not proceed from natural in- 
 clination. If he mi.^lit have applied only eight 
 hours of the day to the tailor's trade, as well as 
 to keeping school, tie certainly would have 
 rather continued at his needle ; for it was a 
 more quiet occupation, and not subject to so 
 much responsibility. In order to make the 
 school more agreeable, he thought of a variety 
 of means, how he might with the less trouble 
 excite his scholars to learn. He introduced an 
 order of rank, w hich had reference to greater 
 ability ; he invented all kinds of prizes for writ- 
 ing, reading, and spelling ; and as he was a 
 great lover of singing and music, he collected 
 a number of pretty hymns, learned the notes 
 himself with little difficulty, and introduced 
 singing in four parts. All Preisingen thus be- 
 came full of life and song. In the evening, be- 
 fore supper, he gave a lesson in arithmetic, and 
 after it, in singing; and when the moon glisten- 
 ed so tranquilly and solemnly through the trees, 
 and the stars glanced down from the azure sky, 
 he went out with his singers to the Preisingen 
 hill ; there they sat down in the shade, and 
 sang, so that hill and valley resounded. Hus- 
 band, wife, and children in the village then went 
 out before the door, stood, and listened ; they 
 blessed their schoolmaster, went in again, gave 
 each other the hand, and lay down to sleep. He 
 often went with his retinue into the orchard be- 
 hind Madame Schmoll's house, and there they 
 6ang softly and gently, either, " pleasure 
 sweet !" or, " Jesus is my heart's delight," or, 
 44 The night is at the door," and other beautiful 
 hymns of the kind ; the two girls then went up 
 into their chamber without a light, sat down, 
 and lost themselves in emotion. He often 
 found them sitting thus, when he came home 
 and retired to rest, for all the rooms of the 
 house were in common — the schoolmaster had 
 free admittance every where. No one was less 
 careful of her daughters than Madame Schmoll ; 
 and it was fortunate for her that she did not 
 need to be otherwise. When he thus found 
 Maria and Anna with closed eyes, in a dark 
 corner, it went through his heart ; he took them 
 by the hand, and said, 41 How do you feel, Ma- 
 ria !*' She then sighed deeply, pressed his 
 hand, and said, "Your singing delights me!" 
 He then frequently responded, " Let us be de- 
 vout, my dear girls ! — in heaven we shall learn 
 to sing properly ;" then went hastily away, and 
 retired to rest ; he often felt his heart beat, but 
 he heeded it not. Whether the damsels were 
 entirely satisfied with being consoled in a fu- 
 ture world, cannot be exactly ascertained, be- 
 cause they never explained themselves on the 
 subject. 
 
 In the morning, before school commenced, 
 and at noon, in the interval of teaching, he 
 studied Geography, and Wolf's Principles of 
 Mathematics entirely through ; he also found 
 opportunity of extending his knowledge of dial- 
 ling; for he had drawn in the school — one of 
 the windows of which lay directly towards the 
 south — upon the ceding, with black oil colours, a 
 sun-dial as large as the ceiling itself introduced 
 into it correctly the twelve signs, of the zodiac, 
 and divided each into its thirty degrees ; above, 
 in the zenith of the dial, stood written in Ro- 
 man characters, neatly painted, " Coeli ennar- 
 
 rant gloriam Dei ;"— (The heavens declare the 
 glory of God.) Before the window, a round 
 mirror was fixed, across which a line was drawn 
 in oil-colours ; this mirror reflected downwards, 
 and showed not only the hour of the day, but 
 also, minutely, the situation of the sun in the 
 zodiac. This dial is perhaps still in existence ; 
 and every schoolmaster can make use of it, and 
 at the same time be conscious what kind of a 
 predecessor he has had. 
 
 Up to this period, he had read nothing of his- 
 tory, except church history, the history of the 
 martyrs, and the biography of pious persons, 
 together with old histories of the wars, of the 
 " thirty years' war," and the like. He was still 
 deficient in poesy, — in which he had hitherto 
 advanced no further than from Eulenspiegel to 
 the Emperor Octavian, including Reynard the 
 Fox. All these excellent works of the ancient 
 Germans he had read, perhaps a hundred times, 
 and related them again to others; he now 
 longed after the moderns. He did not reckon 
 Homer in this species of reading ; — he was 
 anxious to obtain the poets of h:s own country. 
 And he found what he sought. The Rev. Mr. 
 Goldmann had a son-in-law, who was a surgeon 
 and apothecary ; this man had a store of beau- 
 tiful works, particularly of romances, which he 
 willingly lent to the schoolmaster ; and the first 
 book he took home with him was " the Asiatic 
 Banise." 
 
 He began to read this book on a Sunday af- 
 ternoon. The style was new and strange to 
 him. He imagined he had entered into a for- 
 eign land, and heard a new language, but it 
 transported and touched him even to the very 
 centre of his heart ; " lightning, thunder, and. 
 hail, as the avenging instruments, of a righte- 
 ous Heaven," was to him an expression the 
 beauty of which he was unable sufficiently to 
 applaud. 14 Gilded towers," — what admirable 
 beauty ! — and thus he wondered through the 
 whole hook at the number of metaphors with 
 which the style of Mr. Von Ziegler overflowed. 
 But above all, the plan of this romance seemed 
 to him a master-piece of invention, and its au- 
 thor was, in his eyes, the greatest poet that 
 Germany had ever produced. When in the 
 course of reading he came to the place where 
 Balacin delivers his Banise in the temple, and 
 slays Chaumigrem, the thrill of sensation so 
 overpowered him, that he ran out, knelt down 
 in a private corner, and thanked God that he 
 had at length recompensed the wickedness o 
 the wicked on their own heads, and placed in- 
 nocence upon the throne. He shed sympathet- 
 ic tears, and perused the second part with equal 
 warmth of feeling. This latter pleased him 
 still« better ; the plan is more intricate, — and on 
 the whole, more romantic. He afterwards read 
 two quarto volumes of the history of the Ger- 
 man Christian grand-prince Hercules, and the 
 royal Bohemian princess Valiska ; and this 
 book likewise pleased' him exceedingly ; he 
 read it in summer, during the hay-harvest, 
 when he had a vacation of a few days, and for- 
 got the whole world over it. What a felicity it 
 is, to read such a new creation of histories, — 
 to be as it were a spectator, and feel every 
 thing with the actors of them ! — but this can 
 only be understood by those who have a Sell- 
 ing's heart. 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 3? 
 
 There was once a time when it was said that 
 this Hercules, Banise, and such like, were the 
 greatest works that Germany ever produced. 
 There was also a time when gentlemen's hats 
 stood three-cornered, high in the air, and the 
 higher the handsomer. Meanwhile, the head- 
 dress of the women and virgins stood athwart, 
 the broader the better. People now laugh at 
 Banise and Hercules, just as they laugh at some 
 old bachelor, who still appears in a three-corn- 
 ered hat, stiff-skirted coat, and long depending 
 cuffs. Instead of these, they now wear little 
 hats, little coats, little frills, read love sonnets 
 and chequered romances, and imperceptibly 
 become so small, that a man of the last century 
 is regarded as a giant, that swells with gross- 
 ness. Thanks be, first to Klopstock, and from 
 
 him down to , for offering resistance to this 
 
 foreign trifling taste, and causing it to decline. 
 A time will come, once more, when large hats 
 will be worn again, and Banise be read as an 
 excellent piece of antiquity. 
 
 The effect of this kind of reading on Stilling's 
 spirit was wonderful, and certainly uncommon ; 
 there was something in him, which foreboded 
 strange events in his own life ; he rejoiced in 
 the anticipation of the future, took confidence 
 in his gracious and heavenly Father, and mag- 
 nanimously resolved blindly and implicitly to 
 follow the clue which a wise Providence might 
 put into his hand. He likewise felt a sweet and 
 heavenly impulse to be truly noble in all his ac- 
 tions — just as the heroes are depicted in the 
 above-mentioned books. He then read, with a 
 heart thus rendered susceptible, the Bible, and 
 spiritual biographies of pious people, such as 
 Gottfried Arnold's " Lives of the Primitive 
 Fathers," his " History of the Church and 
 Heretics," and others of the same kind. By 
 this means his spirit received an extremely 
 singular direction. Every thing that he saw in 
 nature, every prospect, was idealized into a 
 paradise ; all was beautiful in his estimation, 
 and the whole world almost a heaven. He 
 placed wicked men in the same class with brute 
 beasts ; and that which might be construed into 
 partially good, was no longer evil in his eyes. 
 A mouth that spoke differently to what the 
 heart thought, and all irony and satire, was an 
 abomination to him ; all other weaknesses he 
 could excuse. 
 
 Madame Schmoll learnt also gradually to 
 know him better, and therefore her fondness for 
 him increased. She lamented nothing so much 
 as that he was a tailor and schoolmaster, both 
 of which were, in her eyes, a poor means of 
 gaining a subsistence ; and in her way, she was 
 quite in the right. Stilling knew this as well as 
 she. But his secondary employments pleased 
 her just as little ; she said sometimes in jest, 
 "The schoolmaster will eventually either come 
 to my door and beg, or he will come on horse- 
 back as a gentleman, so that we shall be obliged 
 to humble ourselves before him." She then 
 presented him her snuff-box, tapped him on the 
 shoulder, and said, "Take a pinch, schoolmas- 
 ter ! — we shall live to see something more of 
 each other !" Stilling smiled, obeyed, and said, 
 " The Lord will direct !" This continued until 
 the second year of his keeping school at Prei- 
 singen. The two girls then began to manifest 
 their affection for the schoolmaster more and 
 
 more. Maria had the courage to reveal herself 
 more clearly, and to lessen the obstacles which 
 lay in the way to it. He felt very sensibly that 
 he could love her, but he was horrified at the 
 consequences of encouraging the sentiment ; 
 he therefore continued to resist every thought 
 of her; yet in secret, he always felt tenderly 
 inclined towards her — it was impossible for him 
 to be reserved. Anna saw this, and was in 
 despair; she did not discover herself, but was 
 silent, and violently suppressed her sorrow. 
 Stilling, however, did not perceive it; he did 
 not once forebode any thing disagreeable; 
 otherwise he would have been prudent enough 
 to have treated her with kindness also. She 
 grew silent and melancholy ;— no one knew 
 what ailed her. A variety of diversions were 
 sought for, but all was in vain. At length she 
 wished to visit her aunt, who lived full a league 
 from Preisingen, near the town of Salen. This 
 was willingly granted her; and she departed 
 with a servant-girl, who returned the same 
 evening, and affirmed that she had become 
 quite cheerful, on arriving at her friend's Af- 
 ter a few days, she was expected back again ; 
 but she remained away, and not the smallest 
 news was received of her. Madame Schmoll 
 began to be anxious : she could not compre- 
 hend why the girl staid so long away; she al- 
 ways started when the door opened in the even- 
 ing, and was apprehensive of hearing some 
 gloomy tidings. At noon, on the Saturday lol- 
 lowing, she requested the schoolmaster to fetch 
 her Anna back again ; he was not disinclined, 
 but made himself ready, and set off. * 
 
 It was late in October ; the sun stood low in 
 the south ; a green leal still hung here and 
 there on the trees, and a cool east wind whistled 
 through the leafless birches. He had to pass 
 over a long and extensive heath, and there a 
 horrible and melancholy feeling oppressed him. 
 He reflected upon the transitory nature of all 
 things; he felt at parting with the beauties of 
 nature as at parting with a dear friend ; but he 
 was also terrified by a gloomy presentiment, 
 similar to what is felt in passing some notorious 
 and solitary place by moonlight, where appari- 
 tions are dreaded. He proceeded on his way, 
 and arrived at her aunt's. On entering the door, 
 Anna skipped towards him with dishevelled 
 hair, and neglected dress, frisked a few times 
 round him, and said, "Thou art my dear boy ! 
 but thou lovest me not. Wait ! thou shalt have 
 a little nosegay — such a nosegay of flowers as 
 grow on the rocks and cliffs — a nosegay of wild 
 flowers — that is for thee !" 
 
 Stilling was petrified; he stood, and said not 
 a Word. The aunt looked at him and wept, 
 but Anna skipped and danced away again, and 
 sang, 
 
 A lambkin grazed near the flinty stone, 
 But found no pasture sweet; 
 The shepherd went and left it alone, 
 Which caused the lrmbkin to bleat. 
 
 Two days before, she had gone to bed in the 
 evening sensible and well ; but in the morning, 
 she was just as Stilling now found her. No one 
 could guess the cause from whence this misfor- 
 tune took its rise ; the schoolmaster himself did 
 not know it at that time, but he afterwards 
 learned it from the speeches that she made. 
 
 The worthy woman would not suffer the two 
 
38 HEINRICH 
 
 to depart that day ; but besought Stilling to stay 
 the night there, and to go home with her poor 
 niece the next morning; he willingly agreed to 
 the proposal and remained there. 
 
 In the evening, during supper, she sat quite 
 still at the table, but ate very little. Stilling 
 said to her, "Tell me, Anna, do not you relish 
 your supper ?" She answered, " I have eaten, 
 but it does not agree with me — I have pain in 
 the heart !" She looked wildly. " Hush !" con- 
 tinued the schoolmaster; "you were formeily 
 a meek and gentle girl ; how is it that you are 
 so changed] You see how your aunt weeps 
 over you, — does not that pain you3 I myself 
 have been forced to weep over you ; reflec t a 
 little ! — you were not formerly as you are now ! 
 Be as you were before !" She replied, " Lis- 
 ten ; I vvili tell thee a pretty tale : — There was 
 once an old woman — " she now rose up, bent 
 herself, took a stick in her hand, went about 
 the room, and imitated quite naturally the figure 
 of an old woman. — "Thou hast surely seen an 
 old woman going a-begging. This old woman 
 also went a-begging, and when she received 
 any thing, she said * God reward you !' Is not 
 that what beggars say when people give them 
 something* The beggar-woman came to a 
 door — to a door. There stood a friendly rogue 
 of a boy at the fire, and warmed himself. He 
 was just such a youth as — ,'' she winked at the 
 schoolmaster. — " The lad said kindly to the poor 
 old woman; as she stood at the door and trem- 
 bled, 1 Come in, old mother, and warm yourself.' 
 She came towards the fire." — She now walked 
 about again very nimbly, came and stood bent 
 near Stilling : — " but she went and stood too 
 near the fire ; her old rags began to burn, and 
 she knew it not. The youth stood and saw it. 
 He should have extinguished it, ought he not, 
 schoolmaster ? He should have extinguished it." 
 
 Stilling was silent. He knew not what to 
 think ; he had a kind of gloomy presentiment, 
 which made him very melancholy. But she 
 -would have an answer ; she said — 
 
 " Tell me, should he not have extinguished 
 it 1 Give me an answer, and I will also say, 
 1 God reward you !' " 
 
 "Yes," replied Stilling; "he ought to have 
 extinguished it. But suppose he had no water, 
 and could not extinguish it !" 
 
 Stilling now rose up; he was much disturbed, 
 yet did not dare to let it be perceived. 
 
 " Yes," continued Anna, and wept ; " he 
 ought in that case to have poured all the water 
 out of his body through his eyes, that would 
 have made two such pretty streams to put the 
 fire out." — She came again, and looked at him 
 keenly in the face ; the tears stood in his eyes* — 
 « Come," said she, " I will however wipe these 
 away !" 
 
 She took her white pocket-handkerchief, 
 wiped them away, and sat down again quietly 
 in her place. All were silent and melancholy. 
 They then went to bed. 
 
 It was impossible for Stilling to sleep ; he 
 thought nothing else than that his heart would 
 burst in his body from pure sympathy and com- 
 passion. He revolved within himself how he 
 ought to act. His heart spoke for compassion 
 upon her, but his conscience demanded the 
 strictest reserve. He then examined which re- 
 quirement he ought to follow. His heart said, 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 " Thou canst make her happy !" But his con- 
 science replied, "This happiness would be of 
 short duration, and be followed by long and un- 
 limited wretchedness." His heart thought, God 
 might cause his future fortunes to turn out 
 very happily ; but conscience judged, that we 
 ought not to tempt God, nor expect that, for the 
 sake of gratilymg the passions of two poor 
 worms, He would alter the course which his 
 providence might have marked out for him. 
 "That is but too true!" said Stilling, as he 
 jumped out of bed, and walked up and down; 
 " 1 will behave in a friendly manner towards 
 her ; but at the same time with seriousness and 
 reserve." 
 
 On Sunday morning, the schoolmaster set 
 off with the young lady to return home. She 
 would absolutely take his arm ; he consented 
 unwillingly, because it would have been taken 
 much amiss of him, if it had been seen by grave 
 and serious people. However, he overcame his 
 repugnance, and gave her his right arm. On 
 arriving at the heath above-mentioned, she left 
 him, walked about, and plucked herbs, not green, 
 but such as were either half or entirely wither- 
 ed and dry. She sang, at the same time, the 
 following song : — 
 
 " There sat upon the verdant heath, 
 
 A shepherd old and gray ; 
 His sheep around the pasture grazed, 
 
 And by the wood did stray. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 The shepherd, tired and bent with age, 
 
 About his flocks did go, 
 And when the sun at noontide glovv'd, 
 
 His steps were faint and slow. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 He had a daughter, young and fair, 
 
 An only daughter she ; 
 And many a shepherd's son did long 
 
 That she his bride might be. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 „ There was but one amongst them all, 
 The worthy Pharaniond ; 
 That touched the maiden's tender heart, 
 Of whom she could be fond. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 A grievous bite he had received 
 From some strange shepherd's hound, 
 
 Which tore his flesh, and in his foot 
 Inflicted deep a wound. 
 O sun, look back once more '. 
 
 One time, as they together went 
 
 Beneath the forest's shade, 
 And walked side by side, they felt 
 
 Dismay each heart pervade. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 Now to the heath at length they came, 
 
 Where the old shepherd was, 
 Whilst round about the pasture mourn'd 
 
 The sheep upon the grass. 
 O sun, look back once more 
 
 On a green spot, all suddenly, 
 
 Poor Pharamond stood fast ; 
 The little birds in terror sate 
 
 Quite still, each in its nest. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 And with his cruel teeth so white, 
 
 He seized upon his bride, , 
 
 Who shed a thousand bitter tears, 
 And for compassion cried. 
 O sun, look back once more I 
 
 The fearful agonizing cry 
 
 The father's ear soon found : 
 The maiden's lamentation loud 
 
 Did through the wood resound. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 
 The father, stiff and weak with age, 
 Ran slowly to the place ; 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 39 
 
 He found her only just alive, 
 And horror clothed his luce. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 The young man now return 'd again, 
 
 From his insanity, 
 And dying, tell upon the ground, 
 Where Loru'a head did lie. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 And 'midst a thousand kisses sweet, 
 
 Their souls together tied ; 
 And whilst the tears flow'd weakly down, 
 They mingled with the dead. 
 O sun, look back once more ! 
 The father, in distress of soul, 
 
 Wow totters up and down 
 No genial star shines on him more, 
 And every joy is flown. 
 O sun, look back once more !" 
 
 Stilling was forced to do violence to himself 
 to prevent himself from weeping and crying 
 aloud. She often stood opposite the sun, look- 
 ed tenderly at it, and sang, " O sun, look back 
 once more !" Her tones were soft, like those 
 of the turtle-dove, when it coos once more be- 
 fore the setting of the sun. I could wish my 
 readers had only heard the soft harmonious 
 melody of this and the other songs which ap- 
 pear in this narrative; they would then proba- 
 bly feel them doubly ; however, I may perhaps 
 publish them at some future period. 
 
 At length she again seized hold of his arm, 
 and went on with him. " Thou weepest, Phar- 
 amond !" said she, "but thou dost not bite me 
 yet ; call me Lora, — I will call thee Phara- 
 mond ; wilt thou V " Yes," said Stilling, with 
 tears ; " be thou Lora, I am Pharamond. Poor 
 Lora ! what will your mother say to you !" 
 
 Anna. — " Here is a withered nosegay for 
 thee, my Pharamond ! — but thou weepest V 
 
 Stilling. — " I weep for Lora." 
 
 Anna. — " Lora is a good girl. Hast thou ever 
 been in hell, Pharamond V 
 
 Stilling. — " God preserve us from it !" 
 
 She seized his right hand, laid it under her 
 left breast, and said, " How it beats there ! — 
 there is hell — thou belongest there, Phara 
 mond !" She gnashed her teeth, aud looked 
 wildly around her. "Yes," continued she, 
 " thou art already in it ! but — like an evil angel." 
 Here she paused, and wept. " No," said she, 
 " not so, not so !" 
 
 During speeches of this kind, which were so 
 many daggers to the heart of poor Stilling, they 
 reached home. As she crossed the threshold, 
 Maria came out of the kitchen, and her mother 
 out of the parlour. Anna threw her arms round 
 her mother's neck, kissed her, and said, "Oray 
 dear mother! I am now become so good — as 
 good as an angel ; and thou, Maria, mayst say 
 what thou wilt (shaking her fist at her) ; thou 
 hast taken my shepherd from me ; and feedest 
 quietly in a good pasture. But dost thou know 
 the song : — 
 
 'A lambkin grazed near the flinty stone V " 
 
 She skipped into the parlour, and kissed all 
 she saw there. Madame Schmoll and Maria 
 wept aloud. "O what have I lived to see!" 
 said the good mother, and cried bitterly. Still- 
 ing meanwhile related every thing he had heard 
 from her aunt, and was heartily grieved for her. 
 His soul, which on all occasions was extreme- 
 ly susceptible, sank in profound sorrow ■ for he 
 now saw clearly how the misfortune had arisen, 
 and yet he did not dare to say a word of it to any 
 
 one. Maria perceived it aiso ; she reflected 
 herself in her s.ster, and gradually withdrew her 
 heart from Stilling, by giving ear to other wor- 
 thy young men who paid their court to her. 
 Poor Anna, meanwhile, was taken to an upper 
 room in the house, where an old woman was 
 placed with her, to attend her and watt upon 
 her. She sometimes became so insane, that 
 she tore every thing she could lay hold of ; the 
 schoolmaster was then called, because there 
 was no oiher man in the house, except the 
 man-servant ; he was soon able to tranquillize 
 her , — he had only to call her Lora, she then 
 called him Pharamond, and was as tauie as a 
 lamb. 
 
 Her customary pastime consisted in imitating 
 a shepherdess ; and this idea must have solely 
 proceeded Jrom the song above-mentioned, for 
 she had certainly read no shepherd's tales or 
 idyls, except a few songs of the kind, which 
 were current in Madame Schmoll's house. On 
 coming up into the room, she was tbund dressed 
 in a white shirt put over her clothes, and a 
 man's round hat upon her head. She had gird- 
 ed herself about the body with a green riband, 
 the long depending end of which she bound 
 about the neck of her shepherd's dog, whom 
 she called Philax, and who was none oilier than 
 her old attendant. The good old woman was 
 obliged to creep about on her hands and feet, 
 and to bark as well as she was able, when she 
 was urged to it by her mistress ; the barking 
 often did not suffice ; but she was obliged to 
 bite one or other in the leg. Sometimes the 
 woman was weary of acting the part of a dog, 
 but then she received hard blows, lor Anna had 
 constantly a long staff in her hand ; the good 
 old woman, however, was willing to let herself 
 be used in this manner, because she was thus 
 able to pacify Anna, and besides good eating and 
 drinking, was well paid for her trouble. 
 
 This wretched state of things lasted only a 
 few weeks. Anna came to hersell again ; she 
 lamented much the state in which she had been, 
 and grew more prudent and rational than be- 
 fore ; and Stilling revived again, particularly as 
 he now perceived that he had escaped two such 
 dangerous rocks. However no one in the fam- 
 ily ever discovered what had been the true rea- 
 son of Anna's indisposition. 
 
 Stilling continued to pay unwearied attention 
 to his school; yet, although he was diligent in 
 imparting knowledge to his scholars, there were 
 several of the peasantry who began to be very 
 hostile to him. The cause of this cannot be de- 
 veloped. Stilling was one of those characters 
 who are indifferent to no one — he was neces- 
 sarily either loved or hated ; those who loved 
 him looked at the goodness of his heart, and 
 willingly forgave him his faults; whilst those 
 who hated him, regarded his kind-heartedness 
 as stupid simplicity, his actions as fawning 
 flattery, and his abilities as ostentation. The 
 latter were implacably opposed to him, and the 
 more he sought, according to his character, to 
 gain them with kindness, the more bitter were 
 they against him ; for they believed it was mere 
 dissimulation, and therefore became only the 
 more his enemies. At length he committed an 
 imprudence, by which he entirely lost the Prei- 
 singen school, however well mean* the thing 
 was on his part. 
 
40 HEINRICH 
 
 He was unwilling to confine himself to the 
 old and customary method of teaching, but 
 sought out a variety of contrivances to amuse 
 himself and his scholars ; on which account he 
 was continually thinking of something new. 
 His inventive mind found a variety of ways of 
 amusingly conveying to the children what they 
 had to learn. Many of the peasants regarded 
 it as useful ; others considered it as childish- 
 ness, and himself as a complete fool. He began 
 something, in particular, which excited much 
 attention. He cut pieces of white paper, as 
 large as cards ; these he distinguished by num- 
 bers ; the numbers referred to those questions 
 in the Heidelberg catechism which answered to 
 them ; these leaves were shuffled by four or five 
 boys, or as many as would play together; the 
 cards were then dealt round and played ; the 
 greater numbers always won the less ; he who 
 at last had the highest number, needed only 
 learn the question which his number indicated ; 
 and if he had already previously learned it, he 
 learned nothing more till the following day ; but 
 the rest were obliged to learn whatever num- 
 bers they had lying before them, and their luck 
 consisted in knowing many of the questions 
 which fell to them in their numbers. Stilling 
 had occasionally seen cards played, and taken 
 his game from thence ; although he understood 
 nothing of gaming, yet such was the construc- 
 tion put upon it; and the whole affair was laid 
 before his relative, the Rev. Mr. Goldmann, in 
 its worst point of view. 
 
 This excellent man had a cordial affection 
 for Stilling, and his imprudence grieved him be- 
 yond measure ; he sent for the schoolmaster, 
 and took him to task on the subject. Stilling 
 frankly stated every thing to him, shewed him 
 the game, and convinced him of the utility he 
 had derived from it. But Mr. Goldmann, who 
 knew the world better, said to him, " My dear 
 cousin, we must not, in the present day, look 
 merely to the utility of a thing, but also always 
 duly consider whether the means to attain it 
 are approved of by the world ; otherwise we 
 shall earn reproach instead of thanks, and con- 
 tempt instead of reward. Thus it fares with 
 you at present ; for your peasantry are so en- 
 raged, that they will not retain you longer than 
 Michaelmas ; they intend, if you do not volun- 
 tarily resign, to inform the inspector of the 
 whole affair, and you know what kind of a man 
 he is. Now it would be a pity if the matter 
 were carried so far ; because you could then 
 never be a schoolmaster again in this country. 
 I therefore advise you to resign ; and tell your 
 people this very day, that you are weary of 
 keeping school, and that they may choose an- 
 other schoolmaster. You will then come off 
 honorably, and it will not be long before you 
 have a better school than this you are now keep- 
 ing. I shall in the meantime, continue my af- 
 fection for you, and take care to be of service to 
 you as much as I am able." 
 
 This speech penetrated Stilling through and 
 through ; he grew pale, and the tears stood in 
 his eyes. He had represented the matter to 
 himself as it was, and not as it might be con- 
 strued ; — however, he perceived that his rela- 
 tive was quite in the right ; he was now again 
 made wiser, and resolved in future to be ex- 
 tremely careful. However, he secretly lament- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 ed that the greater part of his brethren in of- 
 fice, with less ability and diligence, enjoyed 
 more rest and success than he ; and he began 
 lo cast a gloomy look into the future, with re- 
 spect to what his heavenly Father might have 
 in view for him. On coming home, he an- 
 nounced his resignation, with heartfelt grief, to 
 the congregation. The majority were aston- 
 ished ; but the baser sort were glad, for they 
 had already some one else whom they intended 
 to propose, who would suit their purpose better, 
 and now no one hindered them from attaining 
 their object. Madame Schmoll and her daugh- 
 ters found the most difficulty in being satisfied 
 with it ; for the former loved him, and the two 
 latter had changed their love into a heartfelt 
 friendship, which might easily, however, have 
 assumed its former fire, if he had acted more- 
 tenderly towards them, or if any other possibil- 
 ity had manifested itself of attaining the wished- 
 for aim. They all three wept and dreaded the 
 parting hour, which came, however, still too 
 soon. The girls were plunged in silent sorrow ; 
 but Madame Schmoll wept. Stilling staggered 
 like one intoxicated ; they pressed him to visit 
 them often, which he promised to do, and reel- 
 ed again northwards up the hill ; — from its sum- 
 mit, he looked once more towards his beloved 
 Preisingen, sat down and wept. " Yes," thought 
 he, " Lampe is quite in the right, when be 
 sings, • My life is but a pilgrimage.' This is 
 the third time I am obliged to return to my 
 trade ; when will it please God to make me at 
 length constantly happy, since my sole inten- 
 tion is to act uprightly and virtuously !" He 
 now commended himself to God, and walked 
 with his bundle towards Leindorf. 
 
 In the course of two hours, he arrived there. 
 Wilhelm looked angrily at him, as he entered 
 the door : this pierced him to the soul ; but his 
 mother did not once regard him ; — he sat down,, 
 and knew not what to think. At length his fa- 
 ther began : " Art thou there again, worthless 
 boy 1 I thought to have had nothing but joy 
 of thee ; what avail thee thy useless arts I 
 Thou hast taken a dislike to thy trade, and sit- 
 test there sighing and sighing ; and when thou 
 art schoolmaster, thou prosperest nowhere. At 
 Zellberg thou wast a child, and hadst childish 
 projects, therefore something was conceded 
 there. At Dorlingen thou wast a shoe black, 
 so little power and energy there is in thee ;. 
 here at Leindorf thou vexedst the people with 
 trifles, which were of no use either to thyself 
 or others ; and at Preisingen, thou wast obliged 
 to make thy escape, in order to save thy credit. 
 What wilt thou now do here 1 Thou must ap- 
 ply thyself regularly to thy trade and to farming, 
 or else I cannot employ thee." Stilling sighed 
 deeply, and answered, " Father, I feel within 
 my üouI that I am not to blame ; but I cannot 
 justify myself. God in heaven knows all ! I 
 must be satisfied with what He ordains concern- 
 ing me. But 
 
 " 'Eventually the happy year 
 
 Of wish'd-for liberty will come!' 
 
 " It would be dreadful, if God had implanted 
 impulses and inclinations in my soul, and his 
 providence refused during my whole life to sat- 
 isfy them 1" 
 
 Wilhelm was silent, and laid some work be- 
 fore him. He sat down and began to work ; 
 
STIL LING'S YOU 
 
 THFUL YEARS. 
 
 41 
 
 he possessed so much aptitude for it, that his 
 father often begain to doubt whether he was 
 not even destined by God to be a tailor. But 
 this idea was so intolerable to Stilling, that his 
 whole soul rose against it; he therefore said 
 sometimes, when Wilhelm expressed an idea 
 of the kind, " I do not believe that God has 
 condemned me to a continual hell in this life !" 
 
 It was now autumn, and the farming business 
 was principally over; he was therefore obliged 
 to labor almost incessantly at his trade, and 
 this he preferred; his limbs could endure it 
 better. His melancholy, however, soon re- 
 turned ; he felt as if he was in a strange land, 
 forsaken by all men. This suffering had some- 
 thing very peculiar and indescribable in it; the 
 only thing I have never been able to understand, 
 was this — as soon as the sun shone, he felt his 
 sufferings doubly ; whilst the light and shade 
 of autumn brought such an inexpressible feel- 
 ing into his soul, that he often thought he should 
 die of sorrow ; — on the contrary, when the 
 weather was rainy and stormy, he felt more at 
 ease ; it seemed to him as if he were sitting in 
 a dark cleft of a rock, and he then felt a secret 
 security, in which he was comfortable. Amongst 
 bis old papers, I have found a piece which he 
 wrote in the month of October of that autumn, 
 on a Sunday afternoon ; the following are ex- 
 tracts from it : — 
 
 " Yellow is the morning dress 
 
 Of the expiring season ; 
 
 Yellow is the sunny ray 
 •That shines obliquely from the south, 
 
 Reposing wearily 
 
 Along the field and on the hill: 
 
 The frigid shadows lengthen 
 
 Upon the faded grass, 
 
 Grey with the hoary frost. 
 
 The harsh and sharp eastwind 
 
 Casts down the withered leaves, 
 
 They rustle with the frost," &c 
 
 And in another place : — 
 
 " When in the night I wake, 
 I hear the hooting owl ; 
 The oak-tree whittles in the wind ; 
 The half-decayed hoards 
 Rattle against the walls; 
 And rudely roars the storm 
 Then in the gloom I feel at ease, 
 And taste a peace profound, 
 A melancholy sweet," &c. 
 
 When his father was more kindly disposed, 
 so that he could venture to disburden himself 
 to him a little, he sometimes complained to him 
 of his inward melancholy feelings. Wilhelm 
 then smiled, and said, "That is something with 
 which we Stillings are unacquainted, and which 
 thou hast inherited from thy mother. We have 
 always been good friends with nature, whether 
 she looks green, yellow, or white; we then 
 think there is a needs-be for it, and are satisfied 
 with it. But thy late mother skipped and 
 danced in the spring; in the summer she was 
 cheerful and busy ; in the beginning of autumn 
 she began to grieve ; she wept till Christmas, 
 and then she began to hope and to count the 
 days; but in March she was again half-alive." 
 Wilhelm smiled, shook his head, and said, 
 "These are strange things !" Heinrich then 
 often sighed in his heart, and said to himself. 
 u O that she were now alive ! — she would have 
 understood me better than any one." 
 
 Stilling sometimes found an hour which he 
 could apply to reading, and then it seemed to 
 him as if he still enjoyed a distant relish of 
 F 
 
 I the happy times that were past ; but it was 
 only a transitory enjoyment. He was surround- 
 ed entirely by frigid spirits ; he felt the contin- 
 ual operation of a hungry desire after money ; 
 and cheerful, quiet enjoyment had disappeared. 
 He wept over his youth, and mourned over it, 
 like a bridegroom for his deceased bride. Yet 
 all was in vain ; he did not dare to complain, 
 and his tears only caused him reproaches. He 
 had, however, an only friend at Leindorf, who 
 completely understood him, and to whom he 
 could utter all his complaints. This man's 
 name was Caspar, an iron-founder, who pos- 
 sessed a noble soul, warm in the cause of reli- 
 ffion, together with a heart full of sensibility. 
 There were still some beautiful days in No- 
 vember ; Caspar and Stilling therefore walked 
 out on the Sunday afternoons, on which occa- 
 sions their souls overflowed into each other. 
 Caspar, in particular, had a firm conviction in 
 his mind, that his friend Stilling was destined 
 by his Heavenly Father to something very dif- 
 ferent from keeping school, and the trade of a 
 a tailor ; this he was able to demonstrate so in- 
 controvertibly, that Stilling calmly and magnan- 
 imously resolved patiently to endure all that 
 might befall him. At Christmas, fortune again 
 smiled upon him. The wardens of Kleefeld 
 came, and appointed him to be their schoolmas- 
 ter : — now this was the best and finest parochial 
 school in the whole principality of Salen. This 
 quite revived him, and he thanked God uponr 
 his knees. On his departure, his father gave 
 him the most faithful admonitions ; and he him- 
 self made, so to speak, a vow, from that time 
 to devote all his ability and knowledge to obtain 
 the greatest celebrity that could be derived 
 from teaching. The wardens went with him to 
 Salen, and he was there confirmed in his office, 
 before the consistory, by the Inspector Mein- 
 hold. 
 
 With this firm determination, he entered 
 again into office, at the commencement of the 
 year 1760, in the twentieth year of his age, and 
 fulfilled its duties with such earnestness and 
 zeal that it was reported far and wide ; and all 
 his enemies and adversaries began to be silent, 
 whilst his friends triumphed. He maintained 
 this fidelity also as long as he was there ; but 
 notwithstanding this, continued his reading in 
 his leisure moments. The harpsichord and 
 mathematics were his principal occupations at 
 such times; however, poets and romances were 
 not forgotten. Towards the spring, he became 
 acquainted with a colleague in office, of the name 
 of Graser, who kept school up the valley, a good 
 half-league from Kleefeld, at the village of KJein- 
 hoven. This man was one of those who, with 
 a much-implying mien, are always silent, and 
 all they do is done in secret. 
 
 I have often had a desire to classify mankind ; 
 and then I would designate the class to which 
 Graser belonged, as the splenetic. The best of 
 thi-s class are silent observers without feeling — 
 the middling sort are dissemblers — and the- 
 worst, spies and traitors. Graser was friendly 
 towards Stilling, but not confidential ; Stilling^ 
 on the contrary, was both, and that pleased the 
 former; he gladly made his observations on 
 others in the light, but preferred remaining in 
 the dark himself. In order that he might make 
 a real friend of Stilling, he always spoke of 
 
42 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 great mysteries — that he understood how to 
 render magical and sympathetic powers sub- 
 servient to him ; and once he confided to Still 
 iug, under the seal of the most profound secre- 
 cy, that he was well acquainted with the first 
 material for procuring the philosopher's stone. 
 Gra*ser assumed, at the same time, as mysteri- 
 ous a look as if he really possessed the great 
 secret himself. Stilling supposed it was the 
 case; and Graser denied it in a manner which 
 fully convinced the former that he really pos- 
 sessed the philosopher's stone. To this must 
 be added, that Graser had always much money 
 — far more than his vocation could yield him. 
 Stilling was extremely pleased at having made 
 such an acquaintance ; nay, he even hoped 
 eventually, by the help of his friend, to become 
 an adept himself. Graser lent him the writings 
 of Basilius Valentinus. He read them very at- 
 tentively through, and when he came, at the 
 close, to the process with Hungarian vitriol, he 
 was no longer master of his feelings. He real- 
 ly believed that he himself could now make the 
 philosopher's stone. He reflected awhile with 
 himself ; but it occurred to him, that if the pro- 
 cess were so perfectly correct, any one would 
 foe able to make it who possessed the book. 
 
 I can assure the reader, that Stilling's inclina- 
 tion to alchymy never had the philosopher's 
 stone for its object ; — if he. had found it, it 
 would have afforded him pleasure, it is true ; 
 fout a principle in his soul, of which I have 
 hitherto said nothing, began to develope itself 
 in his maturer years — and that was an insatia- 
 ble hunger after an acquaintance with the first 
 principles of nature. (At that time, he was ig- 
 norant what name to apply to this science ; the 
 word " philosophy," appeared to him to signify 
 something different.) This wish is not yet ful- 
 filled ; neither Newton, nor Leibnitz, nor any 
 other has been able to satisfy him ; however, 
 he has confessed to me, that he has now found 
 the true track, and that in due time he will 
 bring it to light. 
 
 At that period, alchymy seemed to him the 
 way to arrive at it, and therefore he read all the 
 writings of that kind he could lay hold of. But 
 there was something in him, which continually 
 cried out, Where is the proof that it is true 1 
 He acknowledged only three sources of truth — 
 experience, mathematical demonstration, and 
 the Bible : and none of these three sources af- 
 forded him any light into alchymy ; he therefore 
 abandoned it, for the present, entirely. 
 
 He once visited his friend Graser on a Saturday 
 afternoon, when he found him sitting alone in 
 the school, where he was engraving something 
 that resembled a seal. Stilling said to him, 
 " What are you making there, colleague?' 
 
 Graser. — " I am engraving a seal." 
 
 Stilling. — " Let me see it ; the work is very 
 -fine !" 
 
 Graser. — " It belongs to Mr. Von N . 
 
 Hear me, friend Stilling; I would gladly assist 
 you, so as to enable you to maintain yourself 
 without keeping school or following the trade 
 of a tailor. I conjure you by all that is sacred, 
 that you do not betray me." 
 
 Stilling gave his hand upon it, and said, " I 
 will certainly not betray you." 
 
 Graser. — " Well, hear me, then. I have a 
 secret ; — I can change copper into silver. I will 
 
 take you into partnership with me, and give you 
 hall the gain ; however, you must sometimes 
 privately take a journey for a few days, and seek 
 to exchange the silver with certain people." 
 
 Stilling sat and reflected upon the matter ;— 
 the offer altogether did not please him ; for first, 
 his motive was not to gain money, but only to 
 attain an acquaintance with the truth, and with 
 the sciences, in order thereby to serve God and 
 his neighbour; and secondly, notwithstanding 
 his little knowledge of the world, the whole af- 
 fair appeared suspicious to him ; for the more 
 he looked at the seal, the more he was con- 
 vinced it was a stamp used for coining. He 
 therefore began to be alarmed, and sought an 
 opportunity to get loose from schoolmaster Gra- 
 ser, by telling him that he would go home and 
 consider the matter. 
 
 After some days, an alarm was spread through 
 the whole country. The thief-takers went in 
 the night to Kleinhoven, with the intention of 
 arresting Graser the schoolmaster, but he es- 
 caped, afterwards went to America, and was 
 never heard of more. But his accomplices were 
 imprisoned and punished as they deserved. He 
 himself had been the leader of the gang, and 
 would certainly have been rewarded with the 
 rope, if he had been caught. 
 
 Stilling was struck with the danger in which 
 he had been placed, and heartily thanked God 
 for having preserved him. 
 
 He now passed his life very pleasantly, and 
 thought that the season of his sufferings was 
 certainly at an end ; in the whole parish there 
 was not one that had said any thing to his pre- 
 judice. But what a storm followed this calm ! 
 He had been nearly three quarters of a year at 
 Kleefeld, when he received a summons to ap- 
 pear, the following Tuesday morning, at nine 
 o'clock, before the Consistory at Salen. He 
 was surprised at this uncommon occurrence, 
 though nothing unpleasant suggested itself to 
 him. "Perhaps," thought he, 41 some new 
 school regulations are agreed upon, with which 
 they intend to make me and others acquainted." 
 And therefore he went, very calmly, on the day 
 appointed, to Salen. 
 
 On entering the anteroom of the consistorial 
 chamber, he found two of the parishioners stand- 
 ing there, whom he had never imagined were 
 opposed to him. He asked them what was the 
 matter. They answered, " We have been sum- 
 moned, but know not why." They were then 
 all three ordered to appear. 
 
 At the upper end of the room, at the window, 
 stood a table ; on one side of it sat the president, 
 an able civilian, who was small of stature, of a 
 rather long and meagre countenance, but a man 
 of an excellent character, full of fire and life. 
 On the other side of the table sat Meinhold, the 
 Inspector, a corpulent man with a full oval face, 
 his large double chin resting very majestically 
 upon his fine well-smoothed and stiffened ruff, 
 that it, might not be easily disordered ; he had a 
 beautifully white and handsome wig on his head, 
 and a black silk cloak hung down his back ; his 
 eye-brows were lofty, and when he looked at 
 any one, he elevated* his lower eye-lids, so that 
 his eyes twinkled continually. The heels of 
 his shoes creaked when he trod upon them, and 
 he had accustomed himself, whether sitting or 
 standing, to tread by turns upon his heels, and 
 
STILLING'S YO 
 
 UTHFUL YEARS 
 
 43 
 
 make them creak. Thus sat the two gentlemen 
 tis the parties entered, whilst the secretary, 
 6eated behind a long table, looked over a heap 
 of papers. Stilling placed himself at the fuot 
 of the table, but the two men stood opposite by 
 the wall. 
 
 The Inspector cleared his throat, turned him- 
 self towards the men, and said, in a broad pro- 
 vincial accent, "Is that your schoolmaster"?" 
 
 The men. — " Yes, your reverence !" 
 
 Meinhold. — " So, right !— you are, therefore, 
 the schoolmaster of Kleefeld ?" 
 
 " Yes !" said Stilling. 
 
 Meinhold. — " You're a fine fellow, aren't you 1 
 and worthy to be horsewhipped out of the coun- 
 try!" 
 
 " Gently ! gently !" interrupted the president ; 
 " audiatur et altera pars /" 
 
 Meinhold. — " Mr. President, this affair belongs 
 <Ld forum ecclesiasticum, in which you have noth- 
 ing to say " 
 
 The president was vexed, but made no reply. 
 The Inspector looked at Stilling contemptuous- 
 ly, and said, "How he stands there, the mis- 
 creant !" 
 
 The men laughed sneeringly at him. Stilling 
 could not endure it at all ; he was on the point 
 of exclaiming, " Like Christ before the high- 
 priest," but he restrained himself, and said, 
 "What have I donel God is my witness, I 
 am innocent !" 
 
 The Inspector laughed sarcastically, and re- 
 plied, as if he himself didn't know what he had 
 committed, " Ask your own conscience !" 
 
 "Mr. Inspector, my conscience absolves me, 
 and He that judgeth righteously also : what will 
 take place here, I know not." 
 
 Meinhold. — " Peace, you wicked wretch ! — 
 Tell me, churchwarden, what is your accusa- 
 tion !" 
 
 The men. — " Your reverence, we have had it 
 protocoled a fortnight ago." 
 
 Meinhold. — " Right ! it's very true." 
 
 "And this protocol," said Stilling, "I must 
 have." 
 
 Meinhold.— " What will he? No! he shall 
 never have it !" 
 
 " Cest contre Vordre du prince I" rejoined the 
 president, and left the room. 
 
 The Inspector now dictated, and said, " Write, 
 
 secretary. ' This day appeared N N , 
 
 churchwarden of Kleefeld, and N N , 
 
 inhabitant of the same, contra, their schoolmas- 
 ter Stilling. Plaintiffs refer to the former pro- 
 tocol. The schoolmaster desired extractum pro- 
 tocolli, but which we, for sufficient reasons, have 
 refused.' " 
 
 The Inspector creaked a few times with his 
 heels, put his hands upon his sides, and said, 
 " You may now go home." All three depart- 
 ed. 
 
 This relation is most strictly true, and every 
 thing really occurred as stated above. It would 
 be a disgrace for me, were I to fabricate such a 
 character as belonging to the Protestant church ; 
 and it would be a shame for me to expose him, 
 if Meinhold had still possessed one good quality. 
 But let every young theologian reflect himself 
 in this example, and call to mind the words, 
 " He that will be the greatest among you, let 
 him be your servant." 
 
 Stilling was quite stunned ; he did not under- 
 
 I stand a single word of all that he had heard. 
 The whole scene was like a dream to him ; ho 
 arrived at Kleefeld without knowing bow. As 
 soon as he reached it, he went into the chapel, 
 and pulled 'the bell ; this was the signal for the 
 parishioners to assemble in all haste in extraor- 
 dinary cases of necessity. All the men imme- 
 diately came together on a green plot, near the 
 chapel. Stilling related to them circumstantial- 
 ly the whole affair. It was then plainly obvious 
 how the different dispositions of men manifest 
 themselves differently, from one and the same 
 cause — some raged, others were splenetic, oth- 
 ers again were grieved, whilst some felt elated 
 at the thing; these latter cocked their hats on 
 
 one side, and cried out, "The d himself 
 
 shall not take our schoolmaster from us !" In 
 the midst of this confusion a young man of the 
 name of Rehkopf stole away, and prepared a 
 letter of attorney at the inn ; with this paper in 
 his hand, he came to the door, and cried out, 
 "Whoever loves God and the schoolmaster, let 
 him come hither and sign his name!" On 
 which the whole troop, consisting of about a 
 hundred peasants, went in and signed. Reh- 
 kopf, that very same day, went with twenty of 
 the peasants to Salen, to the house of the In- 
 spector. 
 
 Rehkopf neither knocked nor rang at the door 
 of the parsonage, but went straight in, and the 
 peasants after him. The footman met them in 
 the hall : " Good people, where are you going 1" 
 he exclaimed; "wait, I will announce you." 
 Rehkopf replied, " Go and fill thy wine-bottles : 
 we can announce ourselves ;" and thus the 
 whole company marched up-stairs, and went 
 directly into the Inspector's room. The latter 
 was sitting in his arm-chair ; he had on a dam- 
 ask morning-gown, a cotton night-cap on his 
 head, and a fine Leyden cap over it ; he was 
 drinking, at the same time, his cup of chocolate 
 very comfortably. Alarmed, he put down his 
 cup, and said, " What now! — people, what d'ye 
 want!" 
 
 Rehkopf answered, "We wish to know 
 whether our schoolmaster is a murderer, an 
 adulterer, or a thief!" 
 
 Meinhold. — •" God forbid ! — who says he is 1" 
 
 Rehkovf. — " Sir, whether you say it or not, 
 you treat him as such ! You must either say 
 and prove that he is a criminal, and in that case 
 we will send him away ourselves, or you shall 
 give us satisfaction for the insult offered him, 
 and in this case we will retain him. Look, here 
 is our authority." 
 
 Meinhold.—" Let me see it." 
 
 The Inspector took it, and laid hold of it as if 
 he intended to tear it. Rehkopf stepped up to 
 him. took it out of his hand, and said, " Sir, let 
 that alone, or else I assure you you will burn 
 your fingers, and I also." 
 
 Meinhold. — " What ! do you insult me in my 
 own house t" 
 
 Rehkopf. — " As you take it, sir, insult or not." 
 
 The Inspector touched a gentler string, and 
 said, " Dear people, ye know not what a bad 
 man your schoolmaster is ; let me act !" 
 
 Rehkopf — "That is just what we want to 
 know, whether he is a bad man or not." 
 
 Meinhold. — "I have heard terrible things- 
 terrible things of the fellow !" 
 
 Rehkopf — " May be ! I have also heard that 
 
44 HEINRICH 
 
 Mr. Inspector got beastly drunk, when he lately 
 held visitation at Kleefeld." 
 
 Meinhold. — " What 1 — who says so 1 — will 
 ye—" 
 
 Rehkopf. — " Hush ! hush ! I have heard so ; 
 Mr. Inspector judges from hearsay, and so may 
 I." 
 
 Meinhold. — " Wait, I'll teach you — " 
 
 Rehkopf. — " Sir, you shall teach me nothing ; 
 and with regard to getting drunk, sir, I stood 
 by when you fell down on the other side of the 
 horse, after you had been lifted up upon it. We 
 hereby declare to you, in the name of the con- 
 gregation, that we will not let our schoolmaster 
 be taken from us, until he is convicted ; and so 
 good-bye to you !" 
 
 They then went home together. Rehkopf 
 walked in the streets all the evening, cougbing 
 and clearing his throat, so that all the village 
 might hear him. 
 
 Stilling now saw himself again involved in 
 the greatest labyrinth ; he was quite aware that 
 he would be obliged to remove, and what would 
 then await him 1 Meanwhile, however, he as- 
 certained the whole mystery of his persecution. 
 
 The previous schoolmaster of Kleefeld had 
 been universally beloved ; he had engaged to 
 marry a young woman there, and, in order the 
 better to support himself, had sought to obtain 
 a larger salary. Therefore, on receiving a call 
 to another place, he stated to the people that he 
 would withdraw unless his salary were in- 
 creased, feeling confident that they would not 
 let him depart for the sake of a little money. 
 But he was mistaken ; he was left at liberty to 
 go, and Stilling was chosen. 
 
 It is easy to suppose that the family of the 
 young woman now used every endeavour to 
 overthrow Stilling; and this they effected with 
 all secrecy, by loading the Inspector with valua- 
 ble presents the year through, so that he deter- 
 mined, without law or equity, to get rid of him. 
 
 Some days after this event, the president sent 
 to request him to come to him ; he went. The 
 president told him to sit down, and said, " Friend 
 Stilling, I pity you from my heart, and I have 
 sent for you to give you the best advice I know. 
 I have heard that your peasants have signed a 
 letter of attorney, in order to protect you ; how- 
 ever, it will not be of the smallest service to 
 you ; for the matter must be decided in the 
 Upper Consistory, which is formed entirely of 
 the Inspector's friends and relatives. You will 
 gain nothing by it, except that you will make 
 him more and more bitter against you, and your 
 native land too hot for you. Therefore, when 
 yon come before the Consistory, demand your 
 dismission." 
 
 Stilling thanked him for this faithful advice, 
 and added. "But my honor suffers from it!" 
 The president replied, " Let me take care of 
 that." The schoolmaster promised to follow 
 his advice, and went home ; but he told no one 
 what he intended to do. 
 
 When the Consistory again met, he was sum- 
 moned to appear with his opponents; hut Reh- 
 kopf went unbidden to Salen, and even into 
 the anteroom of the Consistory court. Stilling 
 came, and was first called up. The president 
 beckoned to him to make his statement; on 
 which the schoolmaster began as follows : — 
 "Mr. Inspector, I see that efforts are made to 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 I render my situation unpleasant to me ; I there- 
 fore request, from love to peace, my honorable 
 dismission." 
 
 The Inspector looked at him with a cheerful 
 smile, and said, "Very well, schoolmaster! — 
 that you shall have, and an attestation besides,, 
 which is incomparable." 
 
 " No, Mr. Inspector, no attestation ! Deep 
 in my soul there is an attestation and a justifi- 
 cation written, which neither death nor the fire 
 of the last day will erase, and which shall even- 
 tually blaze in the face of my persecutors enough 
 to blind them." Stilling said this with glowing, 
 cheeks and sparkling eyes. 
 
 The president smiled at him, and winked at 
 him with his eyes. But the Inspector appeared 
 as though he heard not, and read a document 
 or protocol. 
 
 " Now," said the president to the Inspector, 
 smilingly, " passing sentence belongs to you, 
 but the execution to me. Write, secretary : — 
 ' This day appeared schoolmaster Stilling of 
 Kleefeld, and desired, from love to peace, his 
 honourable dismission, which for this reason is 
 granted him ; yet with the condition that he 
 bind himself, in case he should again receive a 
 call, or be wanted for any other employment, 
 to apply his excellent talents for the good of his 
 country.' " 
 
 " Right !" said the Inspector. "Now, school- 
 master, that you may know who had a right to 
 reprove you, I tell you that you have prostituted 
 the holy sacrament. The last time you com- 
 municated, you laughed satirically after receiv- 
 ing it." 
 
 Stilling looked him in the face, and said, 
 "Whether I laughed or .not, I know not; but 
 this I know, that I did not laugh satirically." 
 
 Meinhold. — " No one ought to laugh on such 
 a sacred occasion." 
 
 Stilling answered, "Man sees that which is 
 outward ; but God looks at the heart. I cannot 
 say that I laughed, but I well know what prof& 
 natw sacrorum is, and have long known it." 
 
 The president now gave orders for his oppo- 
 nents to appear ; they came, and the secretary 
 was commanded to read to them the protocol 
 just dictated. They looked at each other and 
 were ashamed. 
 
 " Have you any thing more to say !" asked 
 the president. They answered "No." 
 
 "Well, then," continued the worthy man, "I 
 have still something to say. It belongs to the- 
 Inspector to confirm the choice of a schoolmas- 
 ter, when you have elected one ; but it is my 
 duty to take care that peace and order are pre- 
 served ; on which account I command you, on, 
 pain of a hundred guilders fine, not to choose 
 the former schoolmaster, but an entirely im- 
 partial one, in order that tranquillity may be 
 restored." 
 
 The Inspector was startled ; he looked at the 
 president, and said, " In that way, the people 
 will never be quiet." 
 
 " Mr. Inspector," replied the former, " that 
 belongs ad forum politicum, and does not con- 
 cern you." 
 
 Meanwhile, Rehkopf announced himself. He 
 was admitted. He desired, in the name of his 
 principals, to see the protocol. The secretary 
 was ordered to read him the one of that day. 
 Rehkopf looked at Stilling, and asked him if 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 45 
 
 that was right. Stilling answered, "A man 
 cannot always do what is right, hut must also 
 sometimes shut his eyes and do wh it he can, 
 and not what he will ; however, I thank you a 
 thousand times, my sincere friend ! God will 
 reward you !" Ilehkopf was silent awhile ; at« 
 length he began, and said, " I protest, therefore, 
 in the name of my constituents, against the 
 choice of the former schoolmaster, and desire 
 that this protest be entered in the protocol." 
 44 Good," said the president ; " it shall be done. 
 I have already forbidden it on pain of a hundred 
 guilders fine." They were then all sent home, 
 and ihe affair was terminated. 
 
 Stilling was thus again placed in painful cir- 
 cumstances ; he took a very sorrowful leave 
 of the dear people at Kleefeld, and did not go 
 tiome, hut to the Rev. Mr. Goldmann, and com- 
 plained to him of his situation. The latter 
 sympathised cordially with him, and kept him 
 all night at his house. In the evening they 
 conferred together, upon what would be the 
 most proper course for Stilling to undertake. 
 Mr. Goldmann perceived Charly, that he would 
 have little enjoyment at \M father's, and yet 
 he knew of no other step which he could take. 
 At length something occurred to him, which 
 seemed pleasing and advantageous, both to the 
 clergyman and to Stilling himself. 
 
 Ten leagues from Salen, lies a small town 
 called Rothhagen, and young Mr. Goldmann, a 
 son of the clergyman, was the magistrate there. 
 At Lahnburg, which is two leagues beyond that 
 place, Mr. Schneeberg was court-chaplain to 
 two noble princesses, and he was a cousin of 
 Mr. Goldmann. The worthy man thought, that 
 if he sent off Stilling with letters of recommend- 
 ation to these two persons, he could not fail of 
 being assisted. Stilling himself hoped, with 
 certainty, that every thing would turn out ac- 
 cording to his wish. The affair was therefore 
 thus decided, the letters of recommendation 
 were prepared, and Stilling set out the next 
 morning, in high spirits. 
 
 The weather was that day very cold and 
 rough ; besides which, travelling was rendered 
 very difficult, on account of the miry roads. 
 Stilling, however, went on his way much more 
 pleasantly than if he had been returning, in the 
 most beautiful weather in spring, to his father's 
 at Leindorf. He felt in his mind so profound a 
 peace, and such a consciousness of the good 
 pleasure of the Father of men, that he cheer- 
 fully pursued his journey, continually offered 
 up thanks and ardent ejaculations to God, al- 
 though he was wet to the skin by the rain. 
 He would scarcely have felt so comfortable if 
 Meinhold had been in the right. 
 
 At seven o'clock in the evening he arrived, 
 wet and weary, at Rothhagen. He asked for | 
 the house of Mr. Goldmann the magistrate ; it 
 was pointed out to him ; he went to it and an- 
 nounced himself. Mr. Goldmann came running 
 down the stairs, and exclaimed, •« Welcome, 
 cousin Stilling ! welcome to my house !" He 
 then led him up-stairs. His lady received him j 
 likewise in a friendly manner, and made ar- , 
 rangements for his changing his clothes, that 
 his own might be dried again ; after which they 
 sat down to supper. During supper, Stilling 
 was requested to relate his history ; — when he 
 had finished, Mr. Goldmann said, w Cousin, ! 
 
 there must be something in your deportment 
 which displeases the people ; otherwise it would 
 be impossible to be so unfortunate. I shall 
 soon perceive it, after you have been a few days 
 with me ; I will then inform you of it, and you 
 must endeavour to alter it." Stilling smiled, 
 and replied, " I shall be glad, cousin, il you will 
 tell me my faults ; but I know very well where 
 the difficulty lies, and I will solve it for you : — 
 I do not live in the vocation for which I am 
 born ; I do every thing by constraint, and there- 
 fore there is no blessing with it." 
 
 Goldmann shook his head, and answered, 
 "Ha, ha! — to what do you suppose yourself 
 born ? I believe, through the reading of ro- 
 mances, you have fixed impossible tilings in 
 your head. The fortunate events which the 
 imaginations of the poets invent for their heroes, 
 fix themselves firmly in the mind and heart, 
 and excite a hunger after similar wonderful 
 changes." 
 
 Stilling was silent awhile, and looked down ; 
 at length he regarded his cousin with a pene- 
 trating eye, and said emphatically, "No! — in 
 perusing romances, I feci merely; it seems to 
 me as if every thing happened to myself that I 
 read ; but I have no desire to experience such 
 adventures. It is something else, dear cousin. 
 I take delight in the sciences ; if I had only a 
 vocation in which I could gain my bread by 
 the labor of my head, my wishes would be ful- 
 filled." 
 
 Goldmann replied, " Well, then, examine this 
 impulse impartially. Are not fame and ambi- 
 tion connected with it? Have you not been 
 pleased with the idea of being able to appear in 
 a fine coat and the dress of a gentleman, when 
 the people will be obliged to bow themselves 
 before you and take off their hats to you, and 
 at the thought of becoming the pride and the 
 head of your family 1" 
 
 " Yes," answered Stilling, candidly ; " I cer- 
 tainly feel that, and it causes me many a happy 
 hour." 
 
 "Just so," continued Goldmann; "but are 
 you really in earnest to be a virtuous man in 
 the world — to serve God and man — and thus 
 be happy also in the life to come? Now do not 
 dissemble, but be sincere. Are you firmly re- 
 solved to be so !" 
 
 "O yes!" rejoined Stilling; "that is really 
 the polar star to which at length my spirit, after 
 many aberrations, points, like the needle to the 
 north." 
 
 "Now, cousin," replied Goldmann, "I will 
 cast your nativity, in which you may place con- 
 fidence. Listen to me. God abominates no- 
 thing so much as vain pride, and the ambitious 
 desire of seeing our fellow-creatures, who are 
 often better than we, low at our feet. But He 
 loves that man who, in quietness and conceal- 
 ment, labors for the good of mankind, and does 
 not wish to become known. By his gracious 
 guidance. He at length brings forward such an 
 individual and places him on high. The vir- 
 tuous man then sits there without the risk of 
 being cast down ; and because the burden of 
 such an elevation oppresses him, he regards all 
 about him as being equally good with himself. 
 See, cousin, this is real, ennobled, amended, or 
 regenerate human nature. I will now prophesy 
 to you, what will become of you. God, by a 
 
f. 
 
 46 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING 
 
 long and painful train of events, will seek to 
 sweep away all your vain desires ; if He suc- 
 ceeds, you will at length, after many severe 
 trials, become a great and happy man, and an 
 excellent instrument in the hands of God. But 
 if you do not follow his guidance, you will per- 
 haps soon soar on high, and experience a dread- 
 ful fall, which will make the ears of all that 
 hear it to tingle." 
 
 Stilling knew not what to think ; all these 
 words were as if Goldmann had read them in 
 his soul. He felt the truth of them in the cen- 
 tre of his heart, and said, with inward emo- 
 tion and clasped hands, " My dear cousin, 
 what you say is true ; I feel that such will be 
 my fate.'" 
 
 Gold mann smiled, and concluded the conver- 
 sation with the words, " I begin to hope you 
 will at length succeed." 
 
 The next morning, Justice Goldmann took 
 Stilling into his office, and set him to copy ; he 
 immediately saw that he would suit excellently 
 for such a station ; and if his lady had not been 
 a little miserly, he would directly have engaged 
 him as his clerk. 
 
 After a few days, he went to Lahnburg. The 
 chaplain was gone to the beautiful menagerie 
 adjacent. Stilling went after him, and sought 
 for him there. He found him walking in a 
 shady path ; he went up to him, presented him 
 the letter, and saluted him from the Messieurs 
 Goldmann, father and son. Mr. Schneeberg 
 knew Stilling as soon as he saw him, fur they 
 had once seen and spoken to each other at 
 Salen. After reading the letter, he requested 
 Stilling to walk with him till sunset, and mean- 
 while relate his whole history to him. He did 
 so with his wonted animation, so that the chap- 
 lain occasionally wiped his eyes. 
 
 In the evening, after supper, Mr. Schneeberg 
 said to Stilling, " My friend, I know of a situa- 
 tion for you, which it is to be hoped you will 
 not fail in obtaining. There is only one ques- 
 tion to answer, whether you feel confident of 
 being able to fill it with honour 1 
 
 44 The princesses have in the neighbourhood 
 a productive mine, with a smelting-house be- 
 longing to it. They must have a person there 
 who understands mining and smelting, and is, 
 at the same time, faithful and honest, and who 
 must watch over and attend to their Serene 
 Highnesses' interest on all occasions. The 
 present manager retires next spring, and it 
 would then be the time to enter upon this ad- 
 vantageous situation. You would there have 
 house, yard, garden, and ground free, besides 
 three hundred guilders yearly salary.* I have 
 therefore two questions to ask ; do you under- 
 stand mining and smelting sufficiently, and can 
 you trust yourself to undertake such a responsi- 
 ble situation 1" 
 
 Stilling could not conceal his heartfelt joy. 
 He answered, 44 With respect to the first, I 
 have been brought up amongst charcoal-burners, 
 miners and stnelters ; and that in which I may 
 be deficient, I can perfect myself in during 
 the approaching winter. In writing and ac- 
 counts, I shall not be wanting; with regard to 
 the second, that is a question to which my 
 
 * The value of a guilder is about twenty-pence in Eng- 
 lish money. 
 
 whole soul answers in the affirmative : I detest 
 all unfaithfulness, as I do Satan himself." 
 
 The chaplain replied, 44 1 willingly believe 
 that you will not be wanting in abundant abili- 
 ty ; of that I have already heard, when I was 
 • in Salen and the neighbourhood. But are yotf 
 so confident with respect to fidelity 1 This is 
 a point with which you are still unacquainted. 
 I allow that you hale every conscious act of in- 
 fidelity like Satan himself; but there is here a 
 peculiar kind of prudent faithfulness required, 
 with which you cannot be yet acquainted, be- 
 cause you have had no experience of it. For 
 instance, supposing you were placed in such a 
 situation, and all at once, you were out of mo- 
 ney ; you needed something for your house- 
 keeping, but had it not yourself, and knew not 
 how to obtain it ; would you not go, under such 
 circumstances, to your employer's cash, and 
 take what was needful?" 
 
 44 Yes," said Stilling ; 44 that I should do bold- 
 ly, as long äs I had any salary due to me." 
 
 44 1 agree to that, for the present," rejoined 
 Schneeberg; 44 but^uch a circumstance makes 
 the individual, wh^ often repeated, still bolder, 
 and he becomes accustomed to it ; the first 
 year, he is twenty guilders in arrear ; the sec- 
 ond, forty ; the third, eighty ; the fourth, two 
 hundred ; and so on, until he must either run 
 away, or else be treated as a rogue. Do not 
 think there is no fear of that! — Your disposi- 
 tion is kind — and you will be visited both by 
 high and low, who will soon perceive it. You 
 will not be able to do with a single bottle of 
 wine daily, and this article alone will take from 
 you yearly a hundred guilders, without inclu- 
 ding any other contingency ; the clothes for 
 yourself and your household another hundred. 
 Now, do you think you will be able to make 
 ends meet with the remaining hundred guild- 
 ers ?" 
 
 Stilling answered, 44 Going beyond that must 
 be avoided." 
 
 44 Yes," continued the chaplain, 44 that must 
 certainly he avoided ; but how will you accom- 
 plish it?" 
 
 Stilling replied, 44 1 would frankly say to the 
 people that visited me, 4 Gentlemen, or friends, 
 my circumstances do not permit me to offer 
 you wine ; with what else can I wait upon 
 you?' " 
 
 Mr. Schneeberg laughed. 44 Well," said he, 
 44 that would do ; however, it is more difficult 
 than you suppose. Hear me. I will tell you 
 something that will be useful to you all your 
 life long, whatever you may eventually be in 
 the world. Let your outward dress, and de- 
 portment in clothing, eating, drinking, and be- 
 haviour, be always moderate, and as a com- 
 moner; no one will then require more of you 
 than your appearance indicates. When I en- 
 ter a handsomely-furnished room, and find a 
 man in a costly dress. I do not ask long of what 
 rank he is, but expect a bottle of wine arid con- 
 fectionary ; bu-t if I come into a moderately- 
 furnished room, to a man in the dress of a com- 
 moner, I expect nothing more than a glass of 
 beer and a pipe of tobacco." 
 
 Stilling acknowledged the truth of this state- 
 ment; he laughed, and said, ,4 This is a lecture 
 1 shall never forget." 
 
 "And yet," continued the chaplain, 44 it is 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 47 
 
 more difficult to practise than is supposed. 
 The old Adam pleases himself so easily when 
 the individual gets some little honorable post. 
 O how difficult it is in such a case always to re- 
 main the old Stilling? He then takes pleasure 
 in being c.dled Mr. Stilling, would gladly have 
 also a little lace on his waistcoat; and this 
 gradually increases, until the man sticks fast, 
 and knows not how to help himself. Now my 
 friend — in one word, 1 will do what I can that 
 you may become steward of the mine." 
 
 Sidling could not skep the whole night for 
 joy. He already saw himself inhabiting a hand- 
 some house; beheld a number of fine books 
 standing in a room by themselves ; various beau- 
 tiful mathematical instruments ranged in or- 
 der — in short, his whole imagination was al- 
 ready occupied with his future happy situation. 
 
 He continued the next day at Lain. burg. The 
 chaplain gave himself all possible trouble to ob- 
 tain an assurance for Stilling with respect to the 
 employment in question, and he was successful. 
 The whole affair was, so to speak, conclu- 
 ded ; and Stilling returned to Mr. Goldmann at 
 Rothhagen intoxicated with joy. He related 
 the whole affair to him. Mr. Goldmann was 
 obliged to laugh heartily on hearing Stilling 
 speak with so much enthusiasm. After he had 
 finished, the justice began : " O cousin ! cousin ! 
 what will at length become of you 1 This is a 
 situation which God will give you in his wrath, 
 if you attain it ; this is just the way to ruin you 
 entiiely, which I will now prove to you. As 
 soon as you are there, all the courtiers will be- 
 gin to visit you and to make themselves merry 
 with you ; if you will not suffer that, they will 
 overthrow you as soon as they can ; and if you 
 give them 'their will, your income will not be 
 half sufficient.'' 
 
 Stilling was frightened at hearing his cousin 
 speak thus ; he afterwards told him all the good 
 advice the chaplain had given him. 
 
 " Preachers are seldom acquainted with these 
 things," said Mr. Goldmann; "they moralize 
 well, and a worthy preacher may also live mor- 
 ally well in his circle ; but we, laity, cannot act 
 in such a manner, nor do men tempt the clergy 
 so easily as other people. It is easy for them 
 to talk ! Hear me, cousin , all moral sermons 
 are not worth a pepper-corn ; the understanding 
 never determines our actions when the passions 
 are pretty strongly interested ; the heart always 
 hangs a cloak about the thing, and persuades 
 us that black is white. Cousin, I will tell you 
 a greater truth than friend Schneeberg : — to 
 him that docs not attain to a strong and ardent 
 lone to God % all moralizing is utterly of no avail. 
 The love of God alone enables vs to become mor- 
 ally good. Let this be a memento for you, 
 cousin Stilling; and now I beg yon to give Mr. 
 Steward of the mines his honourable dismission, 
 and welcome the poor needle with joy, until 
 God brings you forth to the light. You will 
 continue my dear cousin Stilling, even though 
 you are but a tailor Surnma. summarvm ! I will 
 reverse the winde affair as soon as I go to 
 Lahnburg." 
 
 Stilling from heartfelt emotion, could not re- 
 strain his tears. He feit inwardly so happy, 
 that he could not express it. " Oh," said he. 
 "cousin, that is true ! But from whom shall 1 
 obtain strength to resist my unholy pride! A 
 
 few days, or years, perhaps, and I am no more. 
 What will it then avail me to have been a great 
 and reputable man in the world! Yes, it is 
 true ? — my heart is the falsest creature on God's 
 earth ; I am always thinking that my intention 
 is merely to serve God and my neighbour with 
 my knowledge ; while in reality, it is not the 
 case. 1 only desire to be a great man, to climb 
 on high, in order solely that I may fall the deep- 
 er. O where shall I get strength to overcome 
 myself!" 
 
 Goldmann could no longer contain himself. 
 He wept, fell upon Stilling's neck, and said, 
 " Noble, noble cousin ! take courage ; God will 
 not forsake such a faithful heart. He will be 
 your father. Strength is obtained only by la- 
 bor ; — the smith can turn about a hundred- 
 weight of ir*>n under his hammer, as if it were 
 a light staff, which is impossible to either of 
 us ; and thus a man who has been exercised by 
 trial, can overcome more than a little darling 
 child that has always sucked the breast, and 
 has experienced nothing. Be encouraged, cous- 
 in ; rejoice when afflictions come, and believe 
 that you are then in God's university, who i3 
 willing to make something of you !" 
 
 Stilling set off therefore the next morning, 
 comforted and strengthened, on his return to 
 his native province. Parting from Mr. Gold- 
 mann cost him many tears ; he believed that 
 he was the most virtuous and upright man ho 
 had ever seen ; and I think, even now, that Stil- 
 ling was in the right. A man like this may well 
 be called Guldmann; — as he spoke, so he also 
 acted ; if he is still alive and reads this, he will 
 shed tears, and his feelings will be angelic. 
 
 On his journey, Stilling firmly resolved to con- 
 tinue quietly at his needle, and cherish no more 
 vain wishes ; but those hours when he would 
 be at ljberty, he would again devote to study. 
 However as he approached Leindorf, he felt his 
 melancholy again announce itself. He feared, 
 in particular, the reproaches of his father, so 
 that he entered the room very downcast. 
 
 Wilhelm sat at his needle with an apprentice, 
 at the table. He saluted his father and mother, 
 sat down, and was silent. Wilhelm was also 
 silent for awhile ; at length he laid down his 
 thimble, folded his arms together, and began : — 
 Heinrich, I have heard every thing that has 
 happened to thee at Kleefeld ; I will not reproach 
 thee ; but this I see clearly, that it is not God's 
 will thou shouldst be a schoolmaster. There- 
 fore go quietly to work as a tailor, and take 
 pleasure in it. There will still be many an 
 hour in which thou mayest proceed with thy 
 other affairs." 
 
 Stilling was much vexed at himself, and con- 
 firmed the resolution he had formed on the way. 
 He therefore said to his father. "Yes. you are 
 quite in the right ; I will pray that the Lord our 
 God would change my mind." So saying, he 
 look his seat, and applied himself to his needle. 
 Tl is took place a fortnight after Michaelmas 
 1760, after he had entered his twenty-first 
 year. 
 
 If he had had nothing more to do than to la- 
 bor at his needle, he would have been satisfied, 
 und have submitted to circumstances ; but his 
 father set him to thresh. The whole winter 
 through, he was obliged to rise from betl at two 
 o'clock in the morning, to go to the cold thresh- 
 
HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 48 
 
 mg floor. The flail was dreadful to him. His 
 hands were full of blisters, and his limbs trem- 
 bled from pain and weariness. This, however, 
 availed him nothing ; perhaps his father would 
 have had pity upon him, but his mother-in-law 
 would have every one in the house earn their 
 food and clothing. To this was added another 
 trying circumstance. Stilling could never sub- 
 sist on his pay as a schoolmaster, which is re- 
 -markabiy small in that country ; twenty-five rix 
 dollars* a year being the most that is given to 
 any one ; meat and drink are provided him by the 
 peasants in rotation. Hence the schoolmasters 
 all know a trade, which they follow out of school- 
 hours, in order the better to gain a subsistence. 
 But this was no system of Selling's ; he knew 
 how to employ his leisure time more agreeably ; 
 besides which, he sometimes bought a book or 
 some other article which suited his purpose ; — 
 be therefore fell into necessitous circumstances : 
 his clothes were mean and much worn, so that 
 he looked like one who aimed at what he was 
 not able to accomplish. 
 
 Wilhelm was careful, and his wife still more 
 so ; hut they had several children, one after 
 another, so that the father had trouble enough 
 to support himself and his family. He thought 
 his son was tall and strong enough to maintain 
 himself. Now, "as this did not succeed according 
 to his wish, the good man became melancholy, 
 and began to doubt whether his son would not 
 at length turn out a disorderly good-for-noth- 
 ing. He began to withdraw his affection from 
 him, treated him harshly, and compelled him to 
 do all kinds of work, whether it was painful to 
 him or not. This gave the last blow to poor 
 Stilling. He saw that he should not be able to 
 endure it long. He had a horror of his father's 
 house ; on which account, he sought opportu- 
 nity to work as journeyman with other master- 
 tailors, and this his father willingly permitted. 
 
 Cheerful moments, however, occasionally still 
 intervened. Johann Stilling, on account of his 
 great ability in geometry, mine-surveying, and 
 mechanics, as well as his fidelity to his country, 
 was made president of the board of commerce, 
 for which reason he transferred the land-meas- 
 uring business to his brother Wilhelm, who 
 thoroughly understood it. When he went there- 
 fore for some weeks into the Mark country to 
 measure and divide woods, hills, and estates, 
 he took his son with him ; and this was just 
 what Stilling;<liked. At such times he was in 
 his element, and his father rejoiced that his son 
 had superior ideas of the matter to himself. 
 This frequently gave occasion to a variety of 
 of discussions and projects which they inter- 
 changed in their solitude. However, all was 
 fruitless, and ended in mere words. People 
 who had much to do, often observed him, and 
 might have employed him occasionally ; but his 
 mean dress displeased everyone who saw him, 
 and they secretly judged him to be nothing bel- 
 ter than a ragamuffin. He saw this ; and it 
 caused him intolerable pain. He himself loved 
 a cleanly and decent looking coat beyond meas- 
 ure; but his father could not provide him with 
 one, and let him want. 
 
 These seasons were brief and transitory ; and 
 
 * A rix-dollnx is nbout four shillings and six-pence 
 English. 
 
 as soon as he returned home, his wretchedness 
 began again. Stilling then immediately sought 
 out some other master, in order to escape the 
 the yoke. His earnings, however, were by no 
 means sufficient to clothe him decently. 
 
 On one occasion, after being at work in a 
 neighbouring village, he returned home with the 
 intention of fetching something. He expected 
 nothing unpleasant, and therefore cheerfully en- 
 tered the room. His father jumped up as soon 
 as he saw him, and tried to throw him on the 
 ground ; but Stilling seized his father with both 
 his arms, held him so that he could not move, 
 and looked him in the face with an expression 
 of countenance enough to have rent a rock. 
 And, truly, if ever he felt the power of suffering 
 in all its violence upon his heart, it was at that 
 moment. Wilhelm could not bear this look — 
 he sought to tear himself loose, but could not 
 move ; the arms and hands of his son were like 
 iron, and convulsively closed. " Father," said 
 he, with a gentle, and yet piercing voice — 
 "father ! — your blood flows in my veins, and the 
 blood — the blood of a departed angel. Provoke 
 me not to anger ! — I honour you — I love you — 
 but — (here he let his father loose, sprang to the 
 window, and exclaimed,) I could cry out, till the 
 earth shook upon its axis, and the stars tremb- 
 led." He then stept nearer his father again, 
 and said, with a soft voice, " Father, what have 
 I done that is culpable !" Wilhelm put his hands 
 before his face, sobbed and wept; but Stilling 
 went into a remote corner of the house and sob- 
 bed aloud. 
 
 The next morning early, Stilling packed up 
 his bundle, and said to his father, "J will leave 
 the country, and travel as a journeyman tailor; 
 let me go in peace ;" and the tears again flowed 
 down his cheeks. " No," said Wilhelm, w I will 
 not let thee go at present," and wept also. Stil- 
 ling could not bear that, and therefore stayed. 
 This took place in the autumn of 1761. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, there was a master-tailor 
 at Florenburgh who desired to have Stilling to 
 work with him a few weeks. He went, and 
 helped the man at his trade. The Sunday fol- 
 lowing, he went to Tiefenbach, to visit his grand- 
 mother. He found her sitting in her wonted 
 place, behind the stove. She soon recognised 
 him by his voice, for she was stone blind, and 
 therefore could not see him. " Heinrich," said 
 she, "come, sit down here beside me." Stilling 
 did so. "I have heard," continued she, "that 
 thy father treats thee harshly ; is thy mother to 
 blame for if?" "No," said Stilling; "she is 
 not to blame, but the painful circumstances in 
 which I am placed." 
 
 " Listen to me," said the venerable woman ; 
 " it is outwardly dark around me, but so much 
 the lighter in my heart. I know that thy fate 
 will be like that of a travailing woman ; with 
 much pain, thou will bring forth that which thou 
 art to become. Thy late grandfather foresaw all 
 this. I shall never forget how we lay one even- 
 ing in bed, and could not sleep. On which 
 we began to talk of our children, and also of 
 thee, — for thou art my son, and I have brought 
 thee up. 'Yes, Margaret,' said Ebert, ' could I 
 but. live to see what would become of the boy! 
 I know not. —Wilhelm will yet fall into difficul- 
 ties ; religious as he now is, he will not perse- 
 i vere in it ; he will continue a pious and honest 
 
t 
 
 STILLING'S YOUT 
 
 man, but he will still have something to pass I 
 through ; for he loves to save, and is fond of 
 money and wealth. He will marry again, and 
 his infirm feet will then be unable to follow his 
 head. But the boy ! — -he has no desire for riches 
 but only loves books, and upon these a man can- 
 not live who is only a peasant. How the two 
 will agree together I know not ; but that the lad 
 will at length be successful, is certain. If I 
 make an axe, I mean to hew something with it 
 and in that for which the Lord creates man, He 
 wül also make use of him !' " 
 
 Stilling felt as though he was sitting in some 
 dark sanctuary, listening to an oracle ; it seemed 
 to him as if he were transported out of himself, 
 and from the gloomy sepulchre of his grandfaher 
 heard the well-known voice say, " Courage, 
 Heinrich ; the God of thy fathers will be with 
 thee !" 
 
 He continued to converse awhile with his 
 grandmother. She admonished him to be pa- 
 tient and magnanimous ; he promised to be so, 
 with tears, and took leave of her. On coming 
 before the door, he reviewed the old romantic 
 scenery around him. The autumnal sun shone 
 clearly and beautifully upon it ; and it being still 
 early in the day, he determined to visit all these 
 places once more and return by way of the 
 old castle to Florenburgh. He went therefore 
 up the court, and into the forest ; he still found 
 all the scenes where he had enjoyed so much 
 gratification ; but one bush was grown crooked, 
 and another pulled up ; and this grieved him. 
 He walked slowly up the hill to the castle ; — 
 even there, several of the walls were fallen 
 down which were still standing in his younger 
 days ; everything was changed, — only the elder- 
 tree on the wall to the west still retained its 
 place. 
 
 He stationed himself upon the highest point 
 between the ruins, from whence he had a com- 
 manding view all around. He surveyed the road 
 from Tiefenbach to Zellberg ; and all the charm- 
 ing mornings passed before his soul, with the 
 high enjoyment which he had felt all the way 
 up. He then looked northwards at the distance, 
 and saw a high blue hill ; he remembered that 
 this hill was near Dorlingen, and all the scenes 
 which took place there presented themselves 
 clearly to hi-s mind — what happened to him in 
 the smoke-room, and every thing else he had 
 suffered there. He now looked westwards, and 
 saw the Leindorf meadows in the distance. He 
 started, and a shudder pervaded every limb. 
 He saw southwards the hill of Preisingen, and 
 the heath where Anna sang her song. To- 
 wards the southwest, the plains of Kleefeld pre- 
 sented themselves to his eye ; and thus, at one 
 view, he took a retrospect of his short and pain- 
 ful life. He sank upon his knees, wept aloud, 
 and prayed ardently to the Almighty for mercy 
 and compassion. He then rose up, his soul 
 swimming in emotion and sensibility ; he sat 
 down near the elder-tree, took out his pocket- 
 book, and wrote : — 
 
 " Listen, all ye feather'd throng, 
 To your lovers' mournful song; 
 Shrubs and trees of every size, 
 Hear the hnguage of my sighs; 
 Wilher'd flowers, once so gay, 
 Listen to my parting lay ! 
 Mother-angel ! dost thou not 
 Hover o'er this verdant plot 1 
 
 FUL YEARS. 49 
 
 Or, whilst shines the moon's pale ray, 
 Radiant, near these grass seats, stay ; 
 Where thy heart so oft o'erflow'd, 
 Whilst thy blood within me flow'd ? 
 Does, perhaps, thy lucid eye 
 Mark the sun's declining beams 1 
 Or from out the azure sky, 
 Which with stars unnumber'd teems, 
 Sometimes cast a look on me, 
 When my joys and comforts flee 1 
 Hast thou not to soothe me press'd, 
 When my eyes with tears did melt ? 
 When, my heart with woe distress'd, 
 I a silent kiss have felt? 
 Then I drank, with heavenly zest, 
 Rapture from my mother's breast. 
 Now on Luna's gentle ray, 
 Grave and calm, thou soar'st away; 
 Past the stars thou tak'st thy flight, 
 Gain'st the lofty domes of light ; pi 
 And thy chariot, white and blue, 
 Turns to drops of purest dew. 
 Father Stilling's silver hair 
 Curls in the eternal breeze ; 
 And his star-bright eye so fair, 
 Doris, gently floating, sees, 
 Like a golden cloud along, 
 Far from this world's busy throng. 
 Tall his form, and firm his pace, 
 Now he hears his favorite's woes — 
 How to sorrow he gives place, 
 Nor from suffering finds repose. 
 Bending low, he then regards 
 What the priestly shield awards.* 
 Light and justice beam around ; — 
 Father Stilling sees with joy, 
 Though the trials may abound 
 Of his dear and darling boy. 
 Yet at length the sun will shed 
 Rays unclouded on his head." 
 
 Stilling now rose up pleased, and put his 
 pocket-book into his pocket. He saw that the 
 edge of the sun trembled on the seven hills. 
 Something shuddered around him ; he started, 
 and hastened away, nor has he ever returned 
 thither since that time. 
 
 During the few weeks he spent at Florenburgh, 
 his mind was in a very peculiar state. He was 
 melancholy; but it was a melancholy. mingled 
 with such delicate sweetness, that he could have 
 wished to be always melancholy in such a man- 
 ner. The cause of this singular state he could 
 never discover. I believe, however, the domes- 
 tic circumstances of his master contributed 
 much to it ; a peaceful harmony reigned in the 
 house; — what the one desired, the other desired 
 also. He had, besides, a grown-up and well- 
 educated daughter, who might justly have been 
 reckoned amongst the greatest beauties of the 
 whole country. She sang incomparably well, 
 and possessed a stock of many beautiful songs. 
 
 Stilling felt that he sympathised with this 
 girl, and she also with him, but without any in- 
 clination to marriage. They could sit hours to- 
 gether and sing, or tell each other tales, with- 
 out any feeling intervening of a more intimate 
 nature than a mere tender friendship. But what 
 might have resulted from it, if this intercourse 
 had lasted long, I will not investigate. Stilling, 
 however, enjoyed at that period many a pleasant 
 hour ; and this pleasure would have been com- 
 plete, if he had not needed to return to Leindorf. 
 
 One Sunday evening, Stilling sat at the table 
 with Lisette — for so the girl was called — and 
 
 * The author's idea is, that in the mansions of ihe 
 blessed, the will of God is made known to them by means 
 of a tablet, in a similar manner to the Urim and Thum- 
 inim in the breast-plate of the Jewish high-priest.— Abt« 
 of Uu TVanslatrr. 
 
50 HEINRICH 
 
 they sang together. Now whether the song 
 made an impression upon her, or something else 
 of a gloomy nature occurred to her, I know not ; 
 — hut she began to weep bitterly. Stilling asked 
 her what was the matter ; — she said nothing, 
 but rose up, and went away ; nor did she return 
 during the evening. From that period she con- 
 tinued melancholy, without Stilling's ever being 
 able to ascertain the cause. This alteration 
 disturbed him ; and on another occasion, when 
 they were again alone, he plied her so close, 
 that she at length began as follows : — " Hein- 
 rich, I cannot and dare not tell you what is 
 the matter with me ; but I will relate some- 
 thing to you. There was once a girl, who was 
 good and pious, and had no desire for a disso- 
 lute life ; but she had a tender heart ; she was 
 also handsome and virtuous. She stood one 
 evening at her bed room window ; the full 
 moon shone beautifully into the court ; it was 
 summer, and every thing outside was still. She 
 felt a wish to go out a little. She went, there- 
 fore, out of the back-door into the court, and 
 out of the court into a meadow adjoining. Here 
 she sat down under a hedge, in the shade, and 
 sang in a low voice, 
 
 Begone, tormenting thoughts !' 
 
 (This was the very song which Lisette sang 
 with Stilling, the Sunday evening when she be- 
 came so extremely melancholy.) After she had 
 sung a couple of verses, a youth, with whom 
 she was well acquainted, came to her, saluted 
 her, and asked her whether she would not walk 
 with him a little down the meadow. She was 
 at first unwilling ; but as he continued to urge 
 her strongly, she went with him. After they 
 had walked some little distance together, all at 
 once, every thing seemed to become strange to 
 the girl. She found herself in an entirely un- 
 known country ; the youth stood near her, tall 
 and white, like a corpse lying upon a bier, and 
 looked dreadfully at her. The young woman 
 grew mortally afraid, and prayed very heartily 
 that God would be gracious to her. The youth 
 now all at once turned her about with his arm, 
 and said, with a hollow voice, 4 See there, how 
 it will go with thee!' She saw a female stand- 
 ing before her, who much resembled her, or was 
 perfectly like her ; she had old rags hanging 
 about her instead of clothes, and a little child in 
 her arms, which appeared equally wretched. 
 ' Look,' continued the spirit, ' this is already the 
 third illegitimate child thou wilt have. 1 The girl 
 was horrified, and fell into a fit. On coming to 
 herself again, she found herself in bed, in an 
 agony of trepidation ; she however thought that 
 she had been dreaming. See, Heinrich, — this 
 is always on my mind, and therefore I am 
 melancholy." Stilling plied her hard with ques- 
 tions, whether this had not happened to her- 
 self ; but she constantly denied it, and affirmed 
 that it was a tale she had heard related. 
 
 The lamentable fate of this unfortunate per- 
 son has at length made it obvious that she must 
 have had this dreadful presentiment herself ; 
 and then it is easy to conceive why she became 
 so melancholy at that time. I pass by her his- 
 tory, for weighty reasons; and only mention, 
 that a year afterwards, she committed a trifling 
 and very excusable folly ; but this was the first 
 8*ep to her fall, and the cause of her subsequent 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 painful and grievous fate. She was a nob.e 
 soul, gifted with excellent bodily and mental 
 qualities ; but a tendency to tenderness, joined 
 with something of levity, was the remote cause 
 of her misfortunes. But I believe her Refiner 
 will sit, and purify her as gold in the fire ; and 
 who knows, whether she will not eventually 
 shine brighter than her judges, who forbade her 
 to marry, and then, when she brought into the 
 world a child by him to whom she was betroth- 
 ed, sentenced her to public exposure, with the 
 mark of an arch-strumpet ! Woe to the legis- 
 lators, who — but I must restrain myself: I shall 
 not mend the matter r but may make it worse. 
 Still another woe with a curse. — Woe to those 
 youths, who regard a -poor girl merely as an instru- 
 ment of lasciviousness ; and cursed be he before 
 God and man, who causes a good and pious maiden 
 to fall, and afterwards leaves her to perish in 
 misery ! 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Stollbein had meanwhile dis- 
 covered Stilling at Florenburgh, and sent for 
 him, the last week he was with his master. He 
 went. Stollbein was writing. Stilling presented 
 himself, with his hat under his arm. 
 
 "How goes it, Stilling V asked the preacher. 
 
 Stilling. — " It goes ill with me, your rev- 
 erence ; just like Noah's dove, which found no 
 rest for her foot." 
 
 Stollbein. — "Well then, go into the ark !" 
 
 Stilling. — " I cannot find the door." 
 
 Stollbein laughed heartily, and said, "That's 
 very probable. Your father and yourself cer- 
 tainly took it much amiss of me, when I said to 
 your uncle Simon that you must stick to your 
 needle ; for shortly afterwards, you went into 
 the Prussian territory, and would keep school, 
 in spite of the Rev. Mr. Stollbein. I have heard 
 how it has fared with you since. Now that you 
 have so long fluttered about, and cannot find the 
 door, it is again my turn to show you one." 
 
 " O sir," said Stilling, " if you can assist me 
 in obtaining a resting-place, I will love you as 
 an angel whom God has sent to my help." 
 
 Stollbein. — "Yes, Stilling; there is now a 
 situation vacant, to which I had destined you 
 from your youth up ; — this was the reason why 
 I was urgent that you should learn Latin, and 
 why I would so gladly have had you remain at 
 your needle, when you could no longer stay at 
 Zellberg. I was irritated because you were 
 with Krüger, since he certainly would have 
 drawn you gradually to his side, and away from 
 me ; but I could not tell you why I treated you 
 thus, although I meant well. If you had con- 
 tinued at your trade, you would now have had 
 clothes on your back, and as much money in 
 your pocket as you needed. And what loss 
 would you have sustained by it! It is still ear- 
 ly enough to be successful in the world. The 
 Latin school in this place is now vacant; — you 
 shall be the master of it; you have abilities 
 enough to enable you soon to acquire that in 
 which you may be still deficient, with respect to 
 knowledge and languages. 
 
 Stilling's heart expanded. He saw himself 
 translated, as it were, out of a dark dungeon in- 
 to a paradise. He could not find words suffi- 
 cient to thank the clergyman, although he felt 
 a secret horror at again entering upon the du- 
 ties of a schoolmaster. 
 
 Mr. Stollbein, meanwhile, continued . " There 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 5! 
 
 is only one difficulty to be removed. The ma- 
 gistracy of the place must be gained over for you. 
 I have already labored in secret, sounded the 
 people, and found them inclined. However, you 
 know how things stand here ; as soon as I only 
 begin to carry something useful into effect, they 
 resolve upon directly opposite measures, be- 
 cause I am the clergyman. We must therefore 
 dissemble a little, and see how the thing will 
 go. Only continue quietly at your trade, till I 
 tell you what you are to do." 
 
 Stilling acceded to all that was proposed, and 
 returned to his work. 
 
 Before Christmas, Wilhelm Stilling had many 
 clothes to make, and therefore took his son 
 home to help him. Scarcely had he been a few 
 days at Leindorf, when a respectable citizen of 
 Florenburgh, Bailiff Keilhof, entered the room. 
 A rose bloomed in Stilling's heart ; he forebo- 
 ded a happy change of circumstances. 
 
 Keilhof was Stollbein's greatest enemy ; he 
 had perceived that there was a secret move- 
 ment to choose Stilling to be the schoolmaster, 
 and this was just what he wished. Now as he 
 thought that the clergyman would certainly op- 
 pose them with all his might, he had already 
 taken his measures to carry the thing the more 
 effectually through. On this account he stated 
 the matter to Wilhelm and his son, and request- 
 ed that Stilling might remove to his house at 
 new-year, in order to undertake the private tu- 
 ition of his children in the Latin language. The 
 other inhabitants of Florenburgh would gradu- 
 ally send their children to him, and the thing 
 would then be linked together in such a manner, 
 that they would be able to effect their purpose, 
 even against Stollbein's will. 
 
 Their intention, however, was extremely un- 
 just; for the clergyman had the superinten- 
 dence of the Latin, as well as of all the other 
 schools in his parish ; and had therefore the 
 first vote at the choice of every schoolmaster. 
 
 Stilling, knowing the secret bearings of the 
 matter, rejoiced that all went on so well. Yet 
 he dared not mention the sentiments of the 
 clergyman, lest Mr. Keilhof should immediate- 
 ly change his purpose. The matter was there- 
 fore terminated as proposed. 
 
 Wilhelm and his son now firmly believed that 
 all his suffering was about to terminate ; for the 
 place was respectable and the salary conside- 
 rable, so that he might live decently, even were 
 he to marry. The mother-in-law herself began 
 to rejoice, for she really loved Stilling, only she 
 did not know what to make of him ; she was 
 always afraid he did not earn his board, much 
 less his clothes ; but with regard to clothes he 
 had never yet been troublesome to her, for he 
 had scarcely even what was needful. 
 
 He removed therefore at new-year, 1762, to 
 Mr. Keilhofs at Florenburgh, and began to give 
 instruction in Latin. After he had been there 
 some days, Mr. Stoilbein secretly sent him word 
 to come to him so that no one might be aware 
 of it. He therefore went one evening in the 
 twilight. The clergyman was heartily glad 
 that the matter had taken such a turn. "Ob- 
 serve," said he to Stilling; "when they are 
 once unanimous respecting you, and have 'ar- 
 ranged every thing, they must still come to me 
 to obtain my consent. Now, as they are al- 
 ways in the habit of doing foolish things, they 
 
 are accustomed to find me continually opposed 
 to them. How they will study to say biting 
 things ! — and when at length they hear that I 
 am of their sentiments, they will really be sorry 
 that they have chosen yon ; but then it will be 
 too late. Keep yourself quite quiet, and be on- 
 ly good and diligent, and it wUl fare well with 
 you." 
 
 Meanwhile the Florenburgh people began to 
 assemble in the evenings, after supper, at Bai- 
 liff Keilhof's, in order to consult together how 
 the thing might be conducted in the best man- 
 ner, that they might be prepared at all points to 
 battle with the clergyman. Stilling listened to 
 it all, and was often obliged to leave the room, 
 in order to give vent to his laughter. 
 
 Amongst those that came to Keilhofs, there 
 was a singular man, a Frenchman by birth, of 
 the name of Gayet. Now, as no one knew 
 whence he came, whether he was Lutheran 
 or Reformed, and why he wore woollen upper- 
 hose with buttons at the side in summer as well 
 as in winter, so they were likewise ignorant 
 which side he took. Stilling had already be- 
 come acquainted with this singular character, 
 when he went to the Latin school. Gayet 
 could not endure any one of an ordinary mind : 
 — the people with whom he chose to associate, 
 were such as possessed fire, energy, truth, and 
 knowledge ; and when he met with any one of 
 this character, he was open and confidential".. 
 But as he knew no one of this kind at Floren- 
 burgh, he took a pleasure in making fools of 
 them altogether, including the clergyman. Stif- 
 ling, however, had always pleased him ; and 
 now that he was grown up, and become tutor 
 at Mr. Keilhofs, he often came to visit him. 
 This Gayet was there also of an evening, and 
 and consulted with the rest ; he was, however, 
 never in earnest, but did it only to amuse him- 
 self. Once, as six or eight of them were con- 
 sidering the school affair very seriously, he be- 
 gan, " Hear me, neighbours ! I will tell you 
 something. At the time when I travelled from 
 door to door, with a pedlar's pack on my back, 
 and offered hats for sale, I came once by chance 
 into the kingdom ofSiberia, to Emugia, its me- 
 tropolis ; the king was just then dead, and the 
 States-General were about to choose another. 
 Now there was one circumstance on which ev- 
 ery thing depended ; the kingdom of Cross- 
 spider-land borders on Siberia, and both the 
 states have been continually at loggerheads to- 
 gether, ever since the time of the flood, solely 
 for the following reason. The Siberians have 
 long ears standing up aloft, like those of an ass ; 
 and the inhabitants of Cross-spider-land have 
 ears the flaps of which hang down to their shoul- 
 ders. Now there was always a strife between 
 the two nations; each maintaining that Adam 
 had ears like themselves. Therefore it was 
 necessary for each nation always to choose an 
 orthodox king, the best mark of which was, 
 when the individual had an implacable hatred 
 against the other nation. When I was there, 
 the Siberians had an excellent man in view, 
 whom they were desirous of making king, not 
 so much on account of his orthodoxy, as on ac- 
 count of his excellent endowments. Only he had 
 ears standing up aloft, and also ear lappets that 
 hung down ; he consequently halted between 
 two opinions ; — this did not satisfy many ; how- 
 
52 H E I N RICH 
 
 ever, he was chosen. The council of state 
 then determined, that the king with the well- 
 regulated high-eared army, should take the field 
 against the long-eared king ; this was accord- 
 ingly done. But what an uproar ensued ! — 
 Bpth kings met peaceably, gave each other the 
 hand, and called each other brother ! They 
 immediately deposed the king with the herma- 
 phrodite ears, cut his ears entirely away, and 
 turned him adrift !" 
 
 Burgomaster Scultetns took his long pipe out 
 of his mouth, and said, "Mr. Gayethas certain- 
 ly travelled far in the world." " That he has," 
 said another ; " but I believe he is aiming at 
 us ; he means to say by it, we are all asses to- 
 gether." But Bailiff Keilhof winked secretly 
 at Mr. Gayet, and whispered in his ear, " The 
 fools do not understand that you mean the par- 
 son and his consistory." Stilling, however, 
 who was a good geographer, and understood 
 the fable well besides, laughed heartily, and said 
 nothing. Gayet whispered into Keilhofs ear 
 in return, " You have guessed it half and half." 
 
 When they believed that they had made ev- 
 ery thing safe, they sent a deputation, on 
 Shrove-Tuesday, to the clergyman. Bailiff Keil- 
 hof went himself with the deputation, to act 
 as spokesman. The time seemed long to Stil- 
 ling till they returned, that he might hear how 
 the affair had terminated ; and he heard it word 
 for word. Keilhof was the speaker. 
 
 Keilhof. — " Sir, we have selected a Latin 
 schoolmaster for our school, and we are now 
 come to inform you of it." 
 
 Stollbein. — " But you have not first asked me, 
 whether I will also have him whom you have 
 chosen." 
 
 Keilhof. — " That is not the question ; the 
 children are ours, the school is ours, and also 
 the schoolmaster." 
 
 Stollbein. — " But who amongst you under- 
 stands so much Latin as to be able to exam- 
 ine such a schoolmaster, whether he is fitted 
 for his office 1" 
 
 Keilhof. — " We have people that are able to 
 do that." 
 
 Stollbein — " But the prince says, I am to be 
 the man who is to examine the schoolmaster 
 of this place, and confirm him in his office ; do 
 you understand me 1" v 
 
 Keilhof. — " It is for that reason we are come 
 hitber." 
 
 Stollbein. — " Well, then, to be brief, I have 
 selected one who is a good one, and that is — 
 schoolmaster Stilling, whom you knowl" 
 
 Keilhof and his people looked at each other, 
 but Stollbein stood and smiled triumphantly ; all 
 were t hen silent awhile, and did not utter a word. 
 
 Keilhof recovered himself at length, and said, 
 "Well, then, we are of one mind !" 
 
 Stollbein. — "Yes, Bailiff Headstrong ! we are 
 at length of one mind ! Bring your schoolmas- 
 ter hither ; I will confirm and install him in his 
 office." 
 
 Keilhof. — " We are not quite so far yet, your 
 reverence ! We will have a separate school- 
 house for him ; and divide the Latin school from 
 the German. (For the two schools were united, 
 each schoolmaster receiving half the salary, and 
 the Latin schoolmaster assisted the German 
 when he had finished.) 
 
 Stoilbem. — " God pardon me my sins ! There 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 the Devil is sowing his tares again. On what 
 is your schoolmaster to live 1" 
 
 Keilhof. — " That, too, is our affair, and not 
 yours." 
 
 Stollbein.—" Hear me, Bailiff Keilhof! You 
 are really a foolish fellow, a beast, as big as 
 any on God's earth — gel home with you !" 
 
 Keilhof — " What 1— You — you scold me ?" 
 
 Stollbein. — " Go, you great fool ! You shall 
 not have your Stilling, as true as I am a preach- 
 er." And with that he went into his closet, and 
 shut the door after him. 
 
 Before the baliff returned home, Stilling re- 
 ceived orders to attend at the vicarage ; he 
 went, expecting nothing else than that he should 
 now be installed as the schoolmaster. But how 
 was he dismayed, when Stollbein spoke to him 
 as follows : — 
 
 " Stilling, your affair is at an end ! If you do 
 not wish to plunge yourself into the greatest 
 misery, and into poverty and wretchedness, 
 have nothing to do with the Florenburghers." 
 
 On this, the clergyman related to him every 
 thing that, had passed. Stilling took leave of 
 him with the profoundest sorrow. " Be satis- 
 fied," said Mr. Stollbein ; " God will yet bless 
 and prosper you ; only continue at your trade, 
 till I can provide for you decently elsewhere." 
 
 The Florenburghers however were angry with 
 Stilling, because they imagined he had secretly 
 conferred with the clergyman. They forsook 
 him, therefore, and chose another. Mr. Stoll- 
 bein this time let them have their will; they 
 made a new schoolmaster, gave him a separate 
 house, and as they could not and dared not 
 withdraw the salary from the old German school, 
 and knew of no other means, they determined 
 to procure him sixty children to learn Latin, each 
 of whom should pay four rix-dollars yearly. 
 However, the honest man had the first quarter, 
 sixty ; afterwards forty ; at the end of the year, 
 twenty; and at length scarcely five; so that 
 with all the pains he took, he died at length of 
 poverty, sorrow, and misery ; and his wife and 
 children were obliged to beg. 
 
 After this event, Mr. Stollbein betook himself 
 to rest ; he began to be quiet, and to trouble 
 himself about nothing beyond the fulfilment of 
 his official duties, to which he attended with all 
 fidelity. His principal failing, which so often 
 misled him to act foolishly, was family pride. 
 His wife's relatives were people of consequence, 
 and he was gratified at ther elevation. He 
 himself also strove to attain authority and hon- 
 or. With this exception, he was a learned and 
 very kind-hearted man ; a poor man never so- 
 licited him in vain ; he gave as long as he had 
 anything, and assisted the wretched as much as 
 he was able. He was only irritated and impla- 
 cable when he saw that any one of inferior rank 
 made pretentions to aspire near him. For this 
 reason, he had always been hostile to Johann 
 Stilling. The latter, as mentioned above, was 
 president of commerce for the province of Salen ; 
 and as Stollbein was a great amateur of the 
 science of mining, he always let Mr. Stilling 
 perceive that he by no means acknowledged him 
 for that which he was ; and if the latter had 
 not been sufficiently discreet to yield to the old 
 man, hard thrusts would have been the conse- 
 quence. 
 
 Stollbein's example, however, shewed that up- 
 
STILLING'S YOUTHFUL YEARS. 
 
 53 
 
 lightness and goodness of heart never suffer 
 their possessor to die unamended. 
 
 Once, there was a general meeting to pass 
 the accounts of the works, so that the principal 
 miners in the land had to assemble at Mr. Stil- 
 lings, their president. The Rev. Mr. Stollbein 
 came also, as well as Bailiff Keilhof, with some 
 others of the Florenburgh people. Mr. Stilling 
 went up to the clergyman, took him by the hand, 
 and led him to a chair on his right hand. The 
 preacher, during the whole time, was exceed- 
 ingly friendly. After dinner he began as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 " My friends, and gentlemen, I am old, and 
 I feel that my powers are rapidly decaying ; it 
 is the last time that I shall be with you. I shall 
 not come hither again. Now, if there is any 
 one amongst you that has not forgiven me 
 wherein I may have offended him, I heartily de- 
 sire a reconciliation." 
 
 All present looked at each other, and were 
 silent. Mr. Stilling could not possibly endure 
 this. " Sir," said he, " this touches my heart ! 
 We are men, and all of us liable to err. I have 
 infinitely much to thank you for : — you have 
 instilled into me the principles of our religion, 
 and I have perhaps often given you occasion to 
 be angry with me. I am therefore the first that 
 requests your forgiveness from the bottom of my 
 soul, in whatever I may have given you offence." 
 The clergyman was so affected that the tears 
 ran down his cheeks ; he stood up. embraced 
 Stilling, and said, " I have often offended you ; 
 I regret it, and we are brethren." u No," said 
 Stilling, "you are my father! — give me your 
 blessing !" Stollbein still held him fast in his 
 arms, and said, " You are blessed, you and your 
 whole family, and that for the sake of that man 
 who has been so often my pride and my joy !" 
 
 This scene was so unexpected and affecting, 
 that most of those present shed abundance of 
 tears, but Stilling and Stollbein most of all. 
 
 The clergyman now stood up, and went down 
 to Baliff Keilhof and the rest of the Florenburgh 
 people, smiled, and said, u Shall we also balance 
 our accounts, # on this general reckoning-day?" 
 Keilhof answered, "We are not angry with you." 
 "That is not the question now," said Mr. Stoll- 
 bein ; " I solemnly ask forgiveness of you all, if 
 I have offended you in any thing !" " We will- 
 ingly forgive you," replied Keilhof ; " but you 
 must do this from the pulpit." 
 
 Stollbein felt all his fire again ; however, he 
 was silent, and sat down near Stilling ; but the 
 latter grew so warm, that his face glowed. " Mr. 
 Bailiff," he began, " you are not worthy that God 
 should forgive you your sins, as long as you 
 think so. His reverence is free, and has fulfill- 
 ed his whole duty. Christ enjoins love and a 
 forgiving spirit. He will repay your obstinacy 
 on your own head !" 
 
 Mr. Stollbein terminated this affecting scene 
 with the words, " That shall be done also ; I 
 will publicly ask forgiveness of my whole con- 
 gregation from the pulpit ; and prophesy to 
 them that one shall come after me who will re- 
 taliate upon them what they have done against 
 me." Both these things were fully accom- 
 plished. 
 
 Shortly after this event, Mr. Stollbein died in 
 peace, and was buried in the church at Floren- 
 burgh by the side of his wife. In his life he 
 
 was hated ; but after his death, lamented, hon- 
 oured and beloved. Heinrich Stilling, at least, 
 will revere his memory as long as he lives. 
 
 Stilling continued until Easter with Bailiff 
 Keilhof ; he then perceived that every one look- 
 ed sourly at him, and therefore became weary 
 of this mode of life also. 
 
 One morning, in bed, he revolved his circum- 
 stances over in his mind ; — the idea of return- 
 ing to his father was dreadful to him, for agri- 
 cultural labour would at length have entirely 
 worn out his constitution ; besides which, his 
 father only gave him meat and drink ; for what 
 he earned above that, he placed against the ad- 
 vances he had made him in former years, when 
 he could not subsist on his schoolmaster's pay ; 
 he therefore dared not think of clothes, although 
 these in the course of the year were worn out. 
 It was likewise painful to him to work with * 
 other masters, and he saw that he could not 
 save for himself by it ; for the weekly pay of 
 half-a-guilder did not bring him in so much in 
 the whole year as the most needful clothing re- 
 quired. Half distracted, he threw himself out 
 of bed, and exclaimed, "Almighty God ! what 
 must I dol" That very moment he felt as if 
 it was said to him in his soul, " Get thee out of 
 thy country, and from thy kindred, and from 
 thy father's house, into a land that 1 will shew 
 thee." He felt himself profoundly tranquillised, 
 and immediately determined to go into another 
 country. 
 
 This took place on the Tuesday before Easter. 
 That very day, his father visited him. The good 
 man had again heard of his son's fate, and it was 
 on this account he came to Florenburgh. Both 
 took their seats in a solitary room, and Wilhelm 
 began as follows: — "Heinrich, lam come to 
 take counsel with thee : I now see clearly that 
 thou hast not been to blame. God has certainly 
 not destined thee to keep school ; the tailor's 
 trade thou understandest, but thou art in cir- 
 cumstances in which it cannot yield thee what 
 is needful. Being with me is also not proper 
 for thee ; thou shunnest my house, nor is that 
 any wonder. I am not able to procure thee 
 what is needful, if thou canst not do the work 
 which I have to do; it is difficult for me to 
 maintain my wife and children. What dost 
 thou think'? Hast thou considered what thou 
 intendest to be]" 
 
 Heinrich. — " Father I have reflected upon it 
 for years together ; but it has only this morn- 
 ing become Clear to me what I ought to do ; I 
 must remove into another country, and see what 
 God intends to make of me." 
 
 Wilhelm. — " We are then of the same opinion, 
 my son. When we reflect upon the matter ra- 
 tionally, we shall find that His dealings with 
 thee, from the beginning, have aimed at driving 
 thee from thy native province ; and what hast 
 thou to expect here ? Thy uncle has children 
 himself, and he will first seek to provide for 
 them, before he helps thee ; meanwhile thy years 
 are passing away. But — then — when I reflect 
 — on thy earliest years — and the joy I promised 
 myself— from thee — and when thou art gone, 
 Stilling's joy is at an end !" He was unable to 
 say more, but held both his hands before his eyes, 
 writhing his bod# about, and weeping aloud. 
 
 This scene was too much for Stilling's feelings, 
 — he fainted away. On coming to himself again, 
 
HEINRICH 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 his father rose up, pressed his hand, and said, 
 " Heinrich, take leave of no one ; go where thy 
 Heavenly Father beckons thee. The holy an- 
 gels will accompany thee wherever thou goest ; 
 write to me often how it fares with thee." He 
 then hastened out of the door. 
 
 Stilling became firm, took courage, and com- 
 mended himself to God ; he felt that he was en- 
 tirely set at liberty from all his friends. No 
 further impediment remained ; and he waited 
 with desire for Easter-Monday, which he had 
 appointed for his departure :— he told no one of 
 his intention, nor visited any one, but remained 
 at home. 
 
 However, he could not refrain from going once 
 more into the church-yard. He was unwilling 
 to do so by day : he therefore went thither in 
 the evening before Easter-day, by the light of 
 the full moon, and visited faiher Stilling's and 
 Doris's grave, sat down a little while upon each, 
 and wept silent tears. His sensations were inex- 
 pressible. He felt something within him which 
 said, " Were these two still alive, it would fare 
 very differently with me in the world !" At 
 length he took a formal leave of both the graves, 
 and of the venerable remains which were de- 
 caying within them, and went his way. 
 
 The following Easter-Monday morning, which 
 was the twelfth of April, 1762, he settled his ac- 
 count with Bailiff Keilhof, from whom he re- 
 ceived something more than four rix-dollars. 
 This money he put into his pocket, went up into 
 his room, packed up his three ragged shirts, (the 
 fourth he had on,) a pair of old stockings, a 
 night-cap, together with his scissors and thim- 
 ble, in a portmanteau ; then put on his clothes, 
 which consisted of a pair of middling good shoes, 
 black woollen stockings, leather breeches, black 
 cloth waistcoat, a tolerably good brown coat of 
 coarse cloth, and a large hat after the fashion 
 of those days. He then turned up his straight 
 brown hair, took his long thorn-stick in his hand, 
 and walked to Salen, where he provided himself 
 with a travelling-pass, and went out of a gate 
 which lies towards the north-west. He fell into 
 a high road, without knowing whither it would 
 lead him ; he followed it, and it brought him in 
 the evening to a large village which lies on the 
 borders of the province of Salen. 
 
 He then went into an inn, and wrote a letter 
 to his father at Leindorf, in which he took a 
 tender leave of him, and promised him, as soon 
 as he should settle himself anywhere, to write 
 to him very circumstantially. Amongst the 
 various people who sat drinking in the house, 
 there were several carriers, a kind of persons 
 who are the most suitable for giving information 
 respecting the roads. Stilling asked them whith- 
 er that road led ; — they answered, to Schönen- 
 thal. Now he had heard much in his life-time of 
 this celebrated commercial town ; he therefore 
 determined to travel thither, and inquire the 
 names of the places upon the road, and their 
 distances from each other. All this he marked 
 down in his pocket-book, and betook himself 
 quietly to rest. 
 
 The next morning, after having drunk coffee 
 and eaten his breakfast, he commended himself 
 to God, and proceeded on his journey ; but it 
 was so foggy, that he could scarcely see more 
 than a few paces belbre him. On arriving there- 
 fore, at an extensive heath, where there wer© 
 many roads near each other, he always followed 
 that which seemed to him the most trodden. 
 But between ten and eleven o'clock, when the 
 fog dispersed, and the sun broke through, he 
 found that his path led towards the east. He 
 was much alarmed ; and walked on a little, un- 
 til he came to an eminence, from whence he saw 
 the village in which he had passed the night, 
 again before him. He therefore turned about; 
 and as the sky was clear, he found the high 
 road, which, in the course of an hour, led him 
 to a large hill. 
 
 Here he sat down on the green turf, and look- 
 ed towards the south-east. He there saw in the 
 distance the old Geisenberg castle, the Giller, 
 the Heights, and other well-known districts. A 
 deep sigh arose in his breast, and tears flowed 
 down his cheeks. He drew out his tablets and 
 wrote : — 
 
 "With melting eyes I look once more 
 To yonder well-known smiling hills ; 
 
 Oh, when I view the landscape o'er, — 
 T he rocks, the fields, the woods and rills, 
 
 The lofty heights, the light and shade, 
 
 Which paradise around me made. — 
 
 I feel, as when in pleasing dreams, 
 The purest zephyrs breathe around ; 
 
 As though I roved by Eden's streams, 
 And the first Adam near me found 
 
 As though I living water drank, 
 
 And by the brook unconscious sank. 
 
 My thoughts then, suddenly, again 
 Awake me, like the thunder's roar 
 
 Descending to the distant plain, 
 
 Whiht forked lightnings blaze all o'er. 
 
 Scared by the flash, the roe-buck starts, 
 
 And deep into the thicket darts. 
 
 My spirit sinks to grief's dark hole, 
 And looks for aid both neur and far ; 
 
 No light then penetrates my soul, 
 No longer shines a single star ; — 
 
 I call so loud, the rocks resound ; 
 
 A thousand echoes swell the sound. 
 
 At length there shines a gleam of light — 
 Mankind's great Father beckons me ; 
 
 Ye mountains, bloom in beauty bright, 
 Though you I never more may see 
 
 Till the last flash earth's centre shakes, 
 
 And one grand conflagration makes I 
 
 Then, with immortal verdure crown'd, 
 I'll seek your much-loved heights again 
 
 For father Stilling look around, 
 With Doris your tall summits gain; 
 
 And in those bowers she held so dear, 
 
 Clothed in white robes will I appear. 
 
 Farewell ! — T now direct my view 
 To hills and lands to me unknown 
 
 And look no longer back to you, 
 Until my earthly course is run. 
 
 My Saviour, guide me all the day, 
 
 Whilst walking on this unknown way!" 
 
 Stilling now rose up, wiped away his tears, 
 took his staff in his hand, his portmanteau on 
 his back, and wandered over the hill down into 
 the vale below. 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 55 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 As Heinrich Stilling descended the hill into 
 the valley, and lost sight of his native province, 
 his heart became lighter; he felt that all the con- 
 nections and relations in which he had hitherto 
 suffered so much, were at an end ; therefore he 
 breathed more freely, and was well contented. 
 
 The weather was incomparably beautiful ; at 
 noon he drank a glass of beer at an inn which 
 stood solitarily by the road-side, and ate a sand- 
 wich with it ^ he then proceeded on his way, 
 which led him through waste and desert places, 
 and brought him in the evening, after sunset, to 
 a miserable village, lying in the fens, in a nar- 
 row valley, amid the bushes; the dwellings 
 were all miserable huts, and stood more in the 
 earth than upon it. It had not been his intention 
 to pass the night at this place, but two leagues 
 beyond it; having, however, strayed from his 
 path in the morning, he could not proceed further. 
 
 He inquired at the first house he came to, 
 whether there was any one in the village that 
 lodged travellers. A house was pointed out to 
 him; he went thither, and asked whether he 
 could pass the night there. The woman an- 
 swered in the affirmative. He went into the 
 room, sat down, and laid aside his portmanteau. 
 Her husband now entered; some little children 
 collected round the table, and the woman brought 
 a lamp, which she hung up in the middle of the 
 room by a hempen string; every thing looked so 
 poor, and, to say the truth, so suspicious, that 
 Stilling began to feel apprehensive and afraid, 
 and would rather have slept in the open air; this, 
 however, was quite unnecessary, for he possess- 
 ed nothing that was worth stealing. Meanwhile 
 they brought him an' earthen dish with sour- 
 krout, a piece of bacon with it, and a couple of 
 eggs upon it. He ate it with a relish, and lay 
 down upon the straw which had been spread for 
 him in the room. He slept but little before mid- 
 night, chiefly from fear. The landlord and his 
 •wife slept also in the same room, in an alcove. 
 Towards twelve o'clock, he heard the woman 
 say to her husband, " Arnold, art thou asleep V 
 " No," answered he, " I am not asleep." Stilling 
 listened, but purposely drew his breath strongly, 
 that they might believe he was sleeping soundly. 
 
 "What kind of a man may this be?" said the 
 woman. Arnold replied, "God knows! I have 
 been thinking about it all the evening ; he did 
 not say much; dost thou think all is right with 
 him 7" 
 
 "Do not immediately think ill of people," an- 
 swered Trina; "he looks honest; who knows 
 how many troubles he may have already passed 
 through 1 I really pity him ; as soon as he enter- 
 ed the door, he seemed to me so melancholy; 
 may the Lord our God preserve him ! I can see 
 that he has something on his heart." 
 
 "Thou art in the right, Trina!" rejoined Ar- 
 nold ; " God forgive me for being suspicious ! I 
 was just thinking of the schoolmaster from the 
 province of Salen, who slept here two or three 
 years ago; he was dressed in the same manner, 
 and we heard, afterwards, that he was a coiner." 
 
 "Arnold," said Trina, "thou art quite unable 
 to know people by countenances. That man 
 looked so black, and had such a dark expression 
 
 j in his eyes, and dared not look at one; but this 
 J one appears kind and friendly; he has certainly 
 a good conscience." 
 
 "Well, well," concluded Arnold, "we will 
 commend him to the Lord our God, who will 
 take care of him, if he is pious." 
 
 The good people now fell asleep. Stilling 
 meanwhile was well satisfied upon his straw; 
 he felt the spirit of Stilling breathe around him, 
 and slept as sweetly till the morning as if he had 
 lain upon eider-down. On awaking, he saw that 
 his landlord and landlady were already dress- 
 ing; he looked smilingly at them both, and wish- 
 ed them a good morning. They asked him how 
 he had slept. He answered, "After midnight, 
 very well!" "You were certainly very tired 
 yesterday evening," said Trina; "you looked so 
 dejected." Stilling replied, "Dear friends, it 
 was not because I was so weary; but I have 
 suffered much in my life time, and on that ac- 
 count look more melancholy than I am ; besides 
 which, I must confess I was a little alarmed, lest 
 I should not be with pious people." " Yes," said 
 Arnold, "you are with those that fear God, and 
 would gladly obtain salvation; had you had 
 great riches with you, they would have been safe 
 with us." Stilling tendered him his right hand, 
 and said, with the most tender mien, " God bless 
 you! we are then of the same sentiments." 
 "Trina," continued Arnold, "make us a good 
 cup of tea; fetch some of the best cream, and 
 we three will breakfast together; we may per- 
 haps never meet again." The woman was ac- 
 tive and cheerful, and gladly did what her hus- 
 band told her. They then sat down to breakfast, 
 and all three were at home with each other. 
 Stilling overflowed with friendship and suscep- 
 tibility; it pained him to leave the good people, 
 and he shed tears on parting with them. Strength- 
 ened afresh, he proceeded on his way. 
 
 After travelling five leagues, he arrived, just 
 at noon, at a large village, which lay in a pleas- 
 ant country; here he inquired for a good inn, 
 and was shown one, by the road-side, into which 
 he went, entered the traveller's room, and asked 
 for something to eat. An old man was sitting 
 by the stove, the cut of whose clothes indicated 
 something respectable, but their present condi- 
 tion showed that he must have djscended far be- 
 low his former circumstances. There were be- 
 sides, two youths and a girl present, whose deep 
 mourning-dress indicated the loss of a near rela- 
 tive. The girl attended to the kitchen, and ap- 
 peared modest and cleanly. 
 
 Stilling took his seat opposite the old man; 
 whose attention his open countenance and friend- 
 ly deportment excited, so that he entered into 
 conversation with him. They soon became in- 
 timate, and Stilling related his whole history to 
 him. Conrad Brauer — for such was the old 
 man's name — was astonished at it, and prophe- 
 sied him many good things. The worthy man 
 in return was anxious to tell him his own fate 
 also, which he related to every one who express- 
 ed a desire to hear him; he accordingly did so 
 before, during, and after dinner. The young 
 people, who were his brother's children, had 
 probably heard it a hundred times over; they 
 therefore paid no particular attention to it, yet 
 occasionally confirmed anv thing that seemed in- 
 
56 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 credible. Stilling however listened the more at- 
 tentively, for narrating was peculiarly his fa- 
 vorite employment. Conrad Brauer began in 
 the following manner: 
 
 "I am the eldest of three brothers; the second 
 of them is a rich merchant of this place; and 
 the youngest was the father of these children, 
 whose mother died some years ago, but my broth- 
 er only a few weeks since. When I was young, 
 I devoted my attention to the manufacture of 
 woollen cloths ; and as we inherited nothing 
 from our parents, I instructed my two brothers 
 in the same trade. However, the youngest mar- 
 ried well, by which he came into possession of 
 this house; he therefore gave up the trade, and 
 became innkeeper. I and my second brother, 
 meanwhile, continued the manufactory. I was 
 fortunate, and with the blessing of God, became 
 prosperous in trade, so that I attained riches and 
 affluence. I let my second brother enjoy it rich- 
 ly. Yes, God knows I did ! 
 
 "My brother, meanwhile, commenced a sin- 
 gular courtship. There dwelt in the neighbour- 
 hood an old woman, who was at least sixty 
 years old, and besides that, uncommonly ugly; 
 so that, on account of her intolerable unclean- 
 liness, one would not, so to speak, have taken 
 hold of her with the tongs. This old virgin 
 was very rich; but at the same time, so covet- 
 ous, that she scarcely ate bread and water suf- 
 ficient to keep body and soul together. It was 
 commonly said, that she had put all her money 
 into a sack, which she had hidden in some very 
 secret place. My brother went to her, and tried 
 to rekindle the extinguished fire of this person ; 
 he succeeded according to his wish ; she fell in 
 love with him, and he with her, so that betroth- 
 ment and marriage soon .followed. But it was 
 long before he could discover the retreat of the 
 household god ; however, my worthy brother at 
 length succeeded in this also— he found it, and 
 joyfully carried it to a place of safety ; this 
 grieved my good sister-in-law to such a degree 
 that she fell into a consumption and died, to the 
 great joy of my brother. 
 
 " He held out faithfully during the usual time 
 of mourning ; but in the mean time privately 
 sought for a young lady, who might be about as 
 wealthy as he had so innocently become. In this 
 also he was successful ; and he began to lay out 
 his money to profit, and that too at my expense ; 
 for he traded in woollen cloth, and deprived me 
 of all my customers, by offering his goods al- 
 ways cheaper than I did. On this, I began to 
 go back, and my affairs grew worse every day. 
 He soon saw this, and, assuming a greater de- 
 gree of kindness towards me, promised to ad- 
 vance me as much money as I should require. 
 I was foolish enough to believe him. When he 
 thought it was time, he took away every thing 
 that I had in the world ; my wife grieved her- 
 self to death, and I am now living in misery, 
 penury, and sorrow. He devoured my late 
 brother, who dwelt in this house, in the same 
 manner." 
 
 " Yes. that is true," said the three children, 
 and wept. 
 
 Stilling listened to this tale with horror; he 
 said, " He must be one of the most detestable 
 men under the sun ; he will have to pay for it 
 dearly in the next world." 
 
 "Yes," said old. Brauer; "but such people 
 care little about that." 
 
 After dinner, Stilling went to a pianoforte, 
 which stood against the wall, and played and | 
 sang the hymn, 
 
 "He that lets God the Almighty rule." 
 
 The old man folded his hands, and sang most 
 heartily, so that the tears rolled down his cheeks ; 
 as did also the three young people. 
 
 Stilling, after paying for what he had consu- 
 med, gave his hand to each of them, and took 
 leave. All of them were friendly with him, and 
 accompanied him to the front-door, where they 
 all four again gave him their hands, and com- 
 mended him to the divine protection. 
 
 He proceeded forward on the road to Schö- 
 nenthal, and was heartily pleased with all the 
 good people he had hitherto met with. I will 
 call this village Holtzheim, for I shall be obli- 
 ged to revert to it in the sequel of my history. 
 
 From this place to Schönenthal, he had only 
 to travel five leagues; but having stayed so long 
 at Holtzheim, he was unable to reach it that 
 evening; he therefore remained a good league 
 on this side, during the night, in the little town 
 of Rasenheim. The people where he lodged 
 were not suitable company for him, and conse- 
 quently he continued silent and reserved. 
 
 The next morning he set out upon the road to 
 Schönenthal. On ascending the hill, and re- 
 viewing the incomparable town and the paradi- 
 siacal valley, he was delighted, and sat down on 
 the grass surveying the whole for awhile ; at the 
 same time the wish arose in his inmost soul, " O 
 God ! if I might but end my life there !" 
 
 He now began to consider what he intended 
 to do. Disgust at the trade of a tailor induced 
 him to think of a situation with some merchant ; 
 but as he knew no one at Schönenthal to whom 
 he could address himself, it occurred to him that 
 Mr. Dahlheim was preacher in the village of 
 Dornfeld, which lies three quarters of a league 
 up the valley, eastward of Schönenthal ; he 
 therefore immediately determined to go thither 
 and discover himself to him. He arose, went 
 slowly down the hill, in order to be able to take 
 a good view of every thing, until he reached the 
 town. 
 
 He immediately perceived what prosperity 
 and affluence manufactories and commerce may- 
 procure to a place; the sumptuous palaces of 
 the merchants, the neat houses of the tradesmen 
 and mechanics, together with the great degree 
 of cleanliness which manifested itself even in- 
 the clothes of the servant-women and the lower 
 classes, quite charmed him ; the place pleased 
 him exceedingly. He went through the whole 
 town, and up the valley, until he arrived at Dörn- 
 feld. He found Mr. Dahlheim at home, and 
 briefly stated his circumstances to him; but the 
 worthy clergyman knew of no situation for him. 
 Stilling had not yet much experience, otherwise 
 he might have easily thought that a person is 
 not taken in that manner from the road into mer- 
 cantile service; for Mr. Dahlheim, although he 
 was from the province of Salen, knew neither 
 Stilling nor his family. 
 
 He therefore returned to Schönenthal, and was 
 half willing to engage himself as a journeyman 
 tailor; but perceiving, as he passed by a tailor's 
 shop, that it was the custom there to sit cross- 
 legged upon the table, he was again deterred, for 
 he had never sat otherwise than in a chair before 
 the table. While he was thus walking up and 
 down the streets, he saw a horse with two bas- 
 kets upon its back, and a tolerably well-dressed 
 man standing by it, who was tying on the bas- 
 kets. As the man's appearance pleased him, 
 Stilling asked him whether he was leaving town 
 I that evening. The man said, "Yes; I am the 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 57 
 
 Schauberg carrier, and shall set off immediate- 
 ly." Stilling recollected that the young Mr. 
 Stollbein, the son of the preacher at Floren- 
 burgh, was minister there, and that several jour- 
 neymen-tailors from Salen resided in the same 
 place; he therefore resolved to go thither with 
 the carrier, to which the latter willingly assent- 
 ed. Schauberg lies three leagues to the south- 
 westward of Schönenthal. 
 
 Stilling sought on the way to become intimate 
 with his companion. If it had been the honest 
 "Carrier of Wandsbeck,"* the two would have 
 had an agreeable conversation together; how- 
 ever, he was not; although the Schauberg car- 
 rier might have been one of the most worthy 
 among many, for he took Stilling's portmanteau 
 on his horse without charging for it; so that al- 
 though he was no sentimental carrier, yet he 
 was a good, honest man, which is saying much. 
 
 As soon as they arrived at Schauberg, he re- 
 paired to the Rev. Mr. Slollbein's house ; the 
 latter had been well acquainted with his grand- 
 father, as well as his late mother; he also knew 
 his father, for they had been boys together. Stoll- 
 bein was heartily pleased at seeing his country- 
 man ; he advised him immediately to apply him- 
 self to his trade, that he might earn his liveli- 
 hood; and meanwhile, he would take pains to 
 procure him some decent situation. He sent in- 
 stantly for a journeyman tailor, of whom He in- 
 quired whether there was any employment to be 
 obtained in the town for the stranger. 
 
 " O yes!" answered the former; "he comes 
 as if he had been sent for; Mr. Nagel is in great 
 want of a workman." Stollbein sent the servant- 
 maid thither with Stilling, and he was joyfully 
 received and accepted. 
 
 In the evening, when he went to bed, he re- 
 flected upon his change of circumstances, and 
 the faithful providence of his heavenly Father. 
 Without purposing whither to go, he had left his 
 native province ; Providence had graciously 
 guided him during three days, and on the even- 
 ing of the third day he was again provided for. 
 It now became apparent to him, what a great 
 truth it was which his father had so often told 
 him, " a trade is a valuable gift of God, and has 
 a golden foundation." He was vexed at him- 
 self for being so much an enemy to this voca- 
 tion ; he prayed heartily to God, thanked him 
 for his gracious guidance, and laid himself down 
 to sleep. 
 
 He rose early in the morning, and placed him- 
 self in the workshop. Mr. Nagel had no other 
 journeymen besides him ; but his wife, his two 
 daughters, and two boys, all assisted in making 
 clothes. 
 
 Stilling's dexterity and uncommon ability in 
 his trade very soon' procured him the favor of 
 his master; and his affability and good disposi- 
 tion, the love and friendship of his wife and chil- 
 dren. Scarcely had he been three days there, 
 when he felt himself at home ; and as- he had 
 neither reproach nor persecution to fear, he was 
 for the time, so to speak, perfectly satisfied. 
 
 The first Sunday afternoon he devoted to let- 
 ter-writing, and informed his father, his uncle, 
 and other good friends, of his present circum- 
 stances, in order to set the minds of his family at 
 ease: for it maybe supposed that they were anx- 
 ious about him, until they knew he was earning 
 his bread. He soon received friendly answers 
 to these letters, in which he was exhorted to hu- 
 
 * A much-esteemed publication which bears that title. 
 
 H 
 
 mility and integrity, and warned against danger 
 from associating with unsafe people. 
 
 Meanwhile, he became known throughout 
 Schauberg. On the Sunday lbrenoon, when he 
 attended church, he always went up to the or- 
 gan-gallery; and as the organist was extreme- 
 ly old and inexpert, Stilling felt confident that 
 during the singing and on leaving church he 
 could play better ; for although he had never 
 learned to play on the piano scientifically, but 
 merely from his own reflection and practice, 
 yet he played church-music very correctly from 
 the notes, and perfectly in four parts; he there- 
 fore requested the organist to let him play ; the 
 latter was heartily glad of his as-istance, and 
 permitted him to perform on all occasions. 
 Now. as he was fond of continually touching 
 sixths and thirds in the preludes and interludes, 
 and of playing the softest and most pathetic keys, 
 by which the ear of the vulgar and of those who- 
 do not understand music is most affected; and 
 because, when the service was over, he always 
 played an harmonious vocal piece, which was 
 either tender or melancholy, and in which the 
 flute-stop with the tremulant was almost always 
 used — every one was attentive to the singular 
 organist ; and most of the people stood before the 
 church until he came down from the organ and 
 out of the church-door; when they laid their 
 heads together, and asked each other who it could 
 possibly be. At length it was generally known 
 that it was Mr. Nagel's journeyman. 
 
 When any one came to Mr. Nagel, particular- 
 ly respectable people, merchants, men in office, 
 or even learned men, who had any orders to give 
 respecting clothing, they entered into conversa- 
 tion with Stilling regarding his performance on 
 the organ; and one word led to another. At 
 that time, he mingled many scraps of Latin in 
 his discourse, particularly when conversing with 
 people whom he supposed to understand Latin ; 
 this was wont to astonish them all, not so much 
 because of his wondrous learning, as because he 
 sat at his needle, and yet spoke in such a man- 
 ner; which, united in one person, was something 
 unheard-of, particularly in Schauberg. All men, 
 whether high or low, who became acquainted 
 with him, loved him; and this was peculiarly 
 Stilling's element: where he was unknown, he 
 was silent, and where he was not loved, melan- 
 choly. Mr. Nagel and his whole family honor- 
 ed him in such a manner that he Avas more the 
 master than the journeyman in the house. 
 
 The Sunday afternoon was a most agreeable 
 season to them all. At such times they went to 
 a beautiful room in the upper part of the house, 
 the prospect from which was truly delightful ; 
 Stilling there read to them out of a book which 
 Madame Nagel had inherited ; it was an old 
 folio, with many wood-cuts; the title page was 
 lost. It treated" of the history and wars of the 
 Netherlands, under the government of the Duch- 
 ess of Parma, the Duke of Alba, the great Corn- 
 meter, &c, together with the wonderful adven- 
 tures of Prince Maurice of Nassau. Stilling 
 acted, at the same time, the part of a professor 
 who reads lectures; he explained, he related cir- 
 cumstances between whiles, and his auditory 
 were all attention. Narrating had always been his 
 delight, and practice at length makes the master. 
 
 Towards evening, he went with his master, 
 or rather his friend Nagel, to take a walk about 
 the town ; and as it is situated on an eminence 
 scarcely five leagues from the Rhine, the prom- 
 enade was incomparable, on account of the 
 
58 HEINRICH 
 
 beautiful prospect. Towards the west, this mag- 
 nificent stream was seen for a considerable dis- 
 tance in the rays of the evening sun, hastening 
 majestically to the Netherlands; round about 
 lay a thousand bushy hills, where either flourish- 
 ing farms, or the sumptuous residences of mer- 
 chants peeped forth from between the green 
 trees. On these occasions Nagel's and Stirling's 
 conversation was cordial and intimate; they 
 poured out their souls to each other, and Stilling 
 went to bed as well pleased as he had formerly 
 done at Zellberg. 
 
 The Rev. Mr. Stollbein was exceedingly grat- 
 ified that his countryman Stilling was so gener- 
 ally beloved, and gave him hopes that in time 
 he should be able to provide for him respectably. 
 
 Thus pleasantly passed thirteen weeks; and 
 I can affirm, that Stilling, during that time, was 
 neither ashamed of his trade, nor had any par- 
 ticular desire to forsake it. At the end of that 
 time, about the middle of June, he was passing 
 one Sunday afternoon through a street in the 
 town of Schauberg; the sun shone pleasantly, 
 and the sky was partially covered with light 
 clouds; he was neither meditating deeply, nor 
 ■had he any thing else of a particular nature in 
 his thoughts. He accidentally looked upwards, 
 and with this look an unknown power penetrated 
 his soul ; he felt inwardly happy, his whole body 
 trembled, and he could scarcely keep himself 
 from sinking to the ground. From that time, he 
 felt an invincible inclination to live and die en- 
 tirely for the glory of God and the good of his 
 fellow-men; his love to the Father of men, and 
 to the divine Redeemer, as well as to all men, 
 was at that moment so great, that he would 
 gladly have sacrificed his life, had it been re- 
 quired. He felt, at the same time, an irresisti- 
 ble impulse to watch over his thoughts, words, 
 and works, that they might all be useful, agree- 
 able, and acceptable to God. He made upon the 
 spot a firm and irrevocable covenant with God, 
 to resign himself henceforth entirely to his gui- 
 dance, and cherish no more vain wishes; but 
 that if it should please God that he should con- 
 tinue a tradesman all his lifelong, he would will- 
 ingly and joyfully assent to it. 
 
 He therefore turned about, and went home, 
 and told no one of this circumstance ; but con- 
 tinued as before, except that he spoke less, and 
 more cautiously, which made him still more be- 
 loved. 
 
 This circumstance is a real truth. I leave it 
 to men of genius, philosophers, and psychologists 
 to make what they please of it ; I am well aware 
 what it is that thus converts a man, and so en- 
 tirely changes him. 
 
 Three weeks after this took place. Stilling 
 went on the Sunday afternoon to church; after 
 service, it occurred to him at the church-door, to 
 pay a visit to the schoolmaster of the place; he 
 was astonished at himself that he had not done 
 so before; he therefore went directly to him. 
 The latter was a worthy and respectable man ; 
 he was already acquainted with Stilling, and 
 was glad to see him ; they drank tea together, 
 and afterwards smoked a pipe of tobacco. At 
 length, the schoolmaster began, and asked wheth- 
 er he would not like to enter upon a good place. 
 His desire for it was instantly again as great as 
 it had ever been. "O yes!" answered he; <; I 
 should be heartily glad to do so." The school- 
 master continued. " You come as if you had been 
 sent for: I have received a letter to-day from a 
 wealthy merchant, who lives half a league be- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 yond Holtzheim, in which he requests me to 
 point out to him a good domestic tutor. I did 
 not think of you, until you had entered ; it now 
 occurs to me, that you would be the man for 
 him; if you will accept the situation, there is 
 no doubt you will obtain it." Stilling was heart- 
 ily glad of it, and believed firmly that the hour 
 of his deliverance was come ; he therefore said, 
 it had always been his aim to serve God and 
 his neighbour with his few talents, and that he 
 should seize this opportunity with both hands, 
 because it might tend to his advancement. 
 " There is no doubt of that," rejoined the school- 
 master; " it depends solely upon your behaviour, 
 and in time you will certainly prosper, and ob- 
 tain preferment; I will write next post-day to. 
 Mr. Hoch berg, and you will soon be sent for." 
 
 After some further discourse, Stilling returned 
 home. He immediately related this event to Mr. 
 Stollbein, as also to Mr. INagel and his family. 
 The clergyman was glad, but Mr. Nagel and his 
 household were sorry ; they employed all their 
 eloquence to retain him with them, but it was in 
 vain ; his trade was again odious to him, and the 
 time seemed tedious until he reached his desti- 
 nation. However, he now felt something with- 
 in him which continually opposed such an en- 
 gagement; this "unknown something" convin- 
 ced him in his mind that his present inclination 
 again proceeded from the old corrupt motive. 
 His new conscience, if I may so speak, had 
 awoke in him only since the Sunday above 
 mentioned, when he experienced such a power- 
 ful inward change. This conviction pained 
 him; he felt that it was true — but his inclina- 
 tion was too strong, he could not resist it; be- 
 sides this, a species of serpent, had insinuated 
 itself into him, which sought to help itself by the 
 aid of reason, suggesting to him as follows: 
 " Hath God indeed determined that thou shouldst 
 remain eternally sitting at the needle, and bury 
 thy talents 1 By no means ! thou must lay out 
 thy talent to usury the first opportunity; do not 
 let thyself be persuaded to the contrary; it is a 
 mere hypochondriacal phantom." Conscience 
 then again whispered, " But how often hast thou 
 been desirous of laying out thy talent in the in- 
 struction of youth, and how has it then fared 
 wiih thee'?" The serpent knew how to object to 
 this by replying, "Those were purifications, in- 
 tended to fit thee for important employments." 
 Stilling gave credence to the serpent, and con- 
 science was silent. 
 
 The following Sunday, a messenger came 
 from Mr. Hochberg to fetch Stilling. All wept 
 at his departure ; but he left them with joy. On 
 arriving at Hollzheim, they went to old Brauer, 
 who had related his history to Stilling on his 
 first passing through the village; he told the 
 honest old man his renewed good-fortune; but 
 the latter did not, as it seemed, particularly re- 
 joice at it; however, he said, "This is, for you, 
 a good beginning." Stilling imagined the man 
 might have his reasons for saying so. 
 
 After proceeding half a league further, they 
 reached Mr. Hochberg's house. It lay in a lit 
 tie pleasant, valley by a beautiful brook, not fai 
 from the hi^h-road by which Stilling had travel- 
 led. On entering the house, Madame Hochberg 
 came out of the parlour. She was splendidly 
 dressed, and a lady of uncommon beauty. She 
 saluted Stilling in a friendly manner, and told 
 him to go into the parlour. He went in, and 
 found an excellently furnished and beautifully- 
 papered apartment. Two fine-looking boys en- 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 59 
 
 tered, with a pretty girl; the boys were dressed 
 in scarlet clothes, in the hussar fashion ; but the 
 girl quite in the style of a princess. The good 
 children came, in order to pay their respects to 
 their new tutor ; they made their obeisances as 
 they had been taught, and stepped towards him 
 to kiss his hand. Now such a thing had never 
 before happened to Stilling in his whole life; he 
 knew neither how to act nor what to say; they 
 seized his hand, but as he held the hollow of it 
 to them, they were obliged to take the trouble of 
 turning it about, in order to press their little 
 mouths upon the back of it. Stilling now per- 
 ceived how he had to behave on the occasion ; 
 • but the children skipped away again, and were 
 glad that they had finished their task. 
 
 Mr. Hochberg and his old father-in-law were 
 gone to church, while his lady was occupied in 
 making her domestic arrangements in the kitch- 
 en. Stilling was therefore alone in the room; 
 he clearly saw what was requisite here, and that 
 he was defective in two essential things, in order 
 to be private tutor at Mr. Hochberg's. He was 
 entirely ignorant of the science of politeness; 
 for although he had not been brought up in stu- 
 pid rudeness, yet he had never made a bow in 
 all his life — every thing had been hitherto ver- 
 bal salutation, and a shake of the hand. His 
 language was his native dialect, in which, at the 
 most, he could only honor a person with the lit- 
 tle word "You." And secondly, his clothes 
 were not fashionable, nor even good, but coarse 
 and much worn. He had earned, it is true, 
 eight guilders at Mr. Nagel : s, but what was that 
 in such want of every thing! For two guilders 
 he had purchased a pair of new shoes, a hat for 
 two more, a shirt for two, and two he had in his 
 pocket. But all this outlay was scarcely visible 
 upon him ; he immediately felt that he would be 
 daily ashamed; he had also hourly to learn, by 
 attention, a more polite behaviour, and to en- 
 deavour by his faithful diligence, ability, and 
 good conduct, to gain the favor of his employers, 
 so that they might gradually help him out of his 
 necessities. 
 
 Mr. Hochberg, at length, also made his ap- 
 pearance, for it was noon. He united in one 
 person every thing that can be called dignity and 
 mercantile respectability. He was a good-look- 
 ing man, tall, and rather corpulent; he had a 
 very round face, of a brown complexion, with 
 large jet-black eyes, and rather thick lips ; and 
 when he spoke, two rows of teeth like alabaster 
 always showed themselves; his gait and pos- 
 ture were perfectly Spanish, but I must at the 
 same time confess there was nothing affected in 
 it, but all was natural to him. On entering the 
 room, he looked at Stilling, just as great prin- 
 ces are wont to look at any one. This look pen- 
 etrated Stilling through and through, perhaps as 
 forcibly as that did which he nine years after- 
 wards felt in the presence of one of the greatest 
 princes of Germany ; and his knowledge of the 
 world at that time, was probably in the same pro- 
 portion as Hochberg with this excellent prince. 
 
 After this look, Mr. Hochberg nodded at Still- 
 ing, and said, " Serviteur, monsieur!" 
 
 Stilling immediately collected himself, bowed, 
 as well as he could, and said, " Your servant, 
 worthy sir!" 
 
 To confess the truth, he had studied for an 
 hour over this compliment; but as he could not 
 know before-hand what Hochberg would say 
 further, there was an end to it, as well as to his 
 dexterity. Mr. Hochberg paced the room a few 
 
 limes ; he then looked at Stilling again, and said, 
 "Are you resolved to serve with me as a pre- 
 ceptor'?" 
 
 Staling.—" Yes." 
 
 Hochberg. — <: Do you understand languages V 
 
 Stilling. — " Latin, pretty well." 
 
 Hochberg. — " Bon, monsieur! You do not in- 
 deed require it, but the connoissance of it is most 
 essential in orthography. Do you understand 
 arithmetic also 1" 
 
 Stilling.— 11 1 have exercised myself in geom- 
 etry, for which arithmetic is requisite; 1 have 
 also studied a little in dialling and mathemat- 
 ics." 
 
 Höchberg. — " Eh bien I that's clever ; that pleas- 
 es me. I will give you, together with board and 
 lodging, twenty-five guilders a year." 
 
 Stilling was satisfied with it, although it seem- 
 ed to him rather too little; he therefore said, " I 
 shall be content, with what you may add to it; 
 and I hope you will give me what I may de- 
 serve." 
 
 Hochberg. — " Oui; your conduile will deter- 
 mine how I may act in that respect." 
 
 They now went to dinner. Stilling saw here 
 also how much he had still to learn before he 
 could bring meat and drink to his mouth a la 
 mode. But notwithstanding all these difficulties, 
 he felt within him a secret joy, on being at length 
 elevated from the dust, and introduced into the 
 circle of respectable people, for which he had so 
 much longed. All that he saw, which apper- 
 tained to propriety of behaviour and good man- 
 ners, he observed most minutely; he even exer- 
 cised himself in making proper obeisances, when 
 he was alone in his chamber, when no one could 
 see him. He regarded his present situation as 
 a school, where the opportunity was afforded 
 him of learning decorum and politeness. 
 
 The next day he began to attend to the tuition 
 of the two boys and the girl ; he had great pleas- 
 ure in the children, for they were well brought 
 up, and particularly very obliging towards their 
 teacher, and this sweetened all his labor. A few 
 days after, Mr. Hochberg set off for the fair. 
 His departure grieved Stilling, for he was the 
 only one that could converse with him ; the rest 
 spoke always upon such subjects as were en- 
 tirely indifferent to him. 
 
 Thus passed some weeks very pleasantly, 
 without Stilling's having any thing to wish for, 
 except that he might at length be provided with 
 better clothes. He wrote an aceount of this 
 change in his circumstances to his father, and 
 received a pleasing reply. 
 
 Mr. Hochberg returned at Michaelmas. Still- 
 ins: was glad of his arrival ; but this joy was not 
 of long duration. A total change gradually took 
 place, which rendered his situation painful to 
 him. Mr. and Mrs. Hochberg had thought that 
 their preceptor had still clothes at Schauberg. 
 But when they saw, at length, that he had really 
 brought all he' had with him, they began to think 
 meanly of him, and to mistrust him ; they lock- 
 ed everything up in his presence, were reserved, 
 and he perceived from their conversation that 
 they looked upon him as a vagabond. Now 
 there was nothing in the world more repugnant 
 to Stilling than to be suspected of the slightest 
 breach of trust, and therefore this circumstance 
 was quite intolerable to him. It is likewise in- 
 conceivable how the good people could fall upon 
 such a satanic idea. However, it is most prob- 
 able that some one of the servants was unfaith- 
 ful, who sought to transfer the suspicion to him, 
 
60 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 behind his back ; and the worst of it was, they 
 did not openly make any charge against him, 
 which deprived him of all opportunity of defend- 
 ing himself. 
 
 By degrees, they made his duties more diffi- 
 cult. As soon as he arose in the morning, he 
 went down into the parlour; they then drank 
 coffee, which was over by seven o'clock, and he 
 was obliged immediately to accompany the chil- 
 dren into the school-room, which consisted of a 
 little chamber, four feet wide and ten feet long; 
 he did not come out of it till between twelve and 
 two o'clock, when he was called to dinner; and 
 directly after that, he went in again until four, 
 when they drank tea; immediately after tea it 
 was said again, "Now, children, to school!" 
 and then he did not leave it again before nine 
 o'clock, when supper was served; after which 
 he went to bed. 
 
 In this manner, he had not a moment for him- 
 self, except on Sundays ; and these he also spent 
 sorrowfully, because, on account of his want of 
 clothes, he could no longer go to the door, much 
 less to church. If he had continued at Schau- 
 berg, Mr. Nagel would by degrees have suffi- 
 ciently provided for him, for he had, in fact, made 
 remote preparations for so doing. 
 
 A three-headed monster was now really let 
 loose upon poor Stilling. The\ most extreme 
 poverty, a continual incarceration or imprison- 
 ment, and thirdly, an insufferable mistrust, and 
 the extreme contempt for him which resulted 
 from it. 
 
 Towards Martinmas, all his susceptibilities 
 awoke, his eyes opened, and he saw the blackest 
 melancholy approaching him Hkß a legion of 
 devils. He called aloud to God so that it might 
 have been heard from pole to pole, but there was 
 no longer any feeling of consolation ; he could 
 not even once think of God so that his heart 
 might have participated in it ; and this dreadful 
 torment he had never before been acquainted 
 with, even by name, much less ever experienced 
 the least of it. Besides this, he had not about 
 him a single faithful soul to whom he could com- 
 municate his circumstances; nor had he clothes 
 to seek for such a friend— they were torn, and 
 time was not even allowed him to repair them. 
 
 He thought at the very commencement, that 
 he would not long be able to hold out under such 
 circumstances; and yet they daily grew worse. 
 His master and mistress, and every one else, 
 troubled themselves as little about him as if he 
 had not been in the world, although they were 
 well satisfied with his tuition. 
 
 As Christmas drew near, his painful situa- 
 tion increased. The whole of the day he was 
 qiyte stiff and reserved; but in the evening, 
 about ten o'clock, when he retired to his chamber, 
 his tears began to flow, he trembled and shook 
 like a malefactor who is about to be broken on 
 the wheel; and when he was lying in bed, he 
 struggled in such a manner with his mental tor- 
 ment, that the whole bed, and even the glass in 
 the windows shook, till he fell asleep, it was 
 still very fortunate for him that he was able to 
 sleep; but when he awoke in the morning, and 
 the sun shone upon his bed, he was horrified, 
 and was again stiff and cold; the beautiful sun 
 .seemed to him nothing else than the wrathful 
 eye of God, which, like a flaming world, threat- 
 ened to hurl down thunder and lightning upon 
 him. But all the day long the heavens appeared 
 red to him, and he started at the sight of every 
 living being, as if it had been a ghost; while, 
 
 on the contrary, it would have been a joy and \ 
 refreshment to him to have watched in some 
 gloomy abyss/ between corpses and terrible ob- 
 jects. 
 
 At length he found time, during the holidays, 
 to give his clothes a thorough repair; he turned 
 his coat, and put every thing to rights as well as 
 he could. Poverty is the motheMMjfvention ; 
 and he covered his deficiencies in thorn a manner 
 that he could at least go a few times to church 
 at Holtzheim, without being ashamed; but he 
 had become, so pale and thin that he could no 
 longer cover his teeth with his lips; the features 
 of his face were dreadfully disfigured by sorrow, 
 his eyebrows were raised up very high, and his 
 forehead was full of wrinkles ; his eyes lay wild, 
 deep, and dark in his head ; his upper lip, with 
 the nostrils, had drawn itself upwards, and the^ 
 corners of his mouth sank down with the skinny*^ 
 cheeks ; every one who saw him considered him 
 fixedly, and turned away from him with appre- 
 hension. 
 
 On Sunday, after new-year, he went to church. 
 There was no one of all the people who spoke 
 to him, except the Rev. Mr. Brück: he had ob- 
 served him from the pulpit, and when the sermon 
 was over, the worthy man hastened out of the 
 church, sought for him among the people who 
 stood at the door, seized him by the arm, and 
 said, " Come with me, tutor ! you shall dine with 
 me, and spend the afternoon with me." It is in- 
 expressible what an effect these kind words had 
 upon his mind; he could scarcely refrain from 
 weeping and crying aloud ; the tears flowed in 
 streams down his cheeks ; he could not answer 
 the preacher a word, and the latter asked him no 
 further questions, but conducted him directly to 
 his house ; his lady and the children were shock- 
 ed at his appearance, and heartily pitied him. 
 
 As soon as Mr. Brück had unrobed, they sat 
 down to table. The clergyman immediately be- 
 gan to speak of his situation, and that so power- 
 fully and emphatically, that Stilling did nothing-. ( 
 but weep aloud, and all that sat at table wept 
 with him. This excellent man read in his soul 
 what was the matter with him; he impressively 
 asserted that all the sufferings he had hitherto 
 endured had been only purifying fires, by which 
 eternal love sought to put away his pride, and 
 to make him meet for some peculiar purpose — 
 that his present painful situation had been allot- 
 ted him for the same reason, and it would not be 
 long before the Lord would graciously deliver 
 him ; and similar consolations of the kind, which 
 refreshed the parched soul of poor Stilling like 
 a cool dew. But this consolation did not last 
 I long; he was obliged to return in the evening to 
 j his prison, and the pain, after this refreshment, 
 j was only the more intolerable. 
 : These dreadful sufferings continued from Mar- 
 j tinmas to the 12th of April, 1762, consequently 
 ; nineteen or twenty weeks. This day was there- 
 j fore the happy epoch of his deliverance. He 
 j rose early in "the morning with the very same 
 painful sufferings with which he had lain down 
 to sleep ; he went down as usual to breakfast, 
 drank coffee, and from thence to the school-room. 
 At nine o'clock, as he was sitting at the table in 
 his prison, and quite retired within himself, en- 
 during the fire of his sufferings, he suddenly felt 
 his state completely changed : all his melancholy 
 and pain had wholly disappeared ; he felt such a 
 delight and profound peace in his soul, that he 
 knew not what to do for joy and felicity. He 
 bethought himself, and perceived that he was 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 61 
 
 willing to go away ; he had taken this resolution 
 without being conscious of it; he therefore rose 
 up the same moment, went up to his bedroom, 
 and reflected upon his circumstances. How 
 many tears of joy and gratitude flowed there, 
 those alone- can comprehend who have been 
 themselve|iin a similar situation. 
 
 He nowMacked his- few remaining rags to- 
 gether, böuml up his hat with them, but left his 
 slick Ibehind. This bundle he threw out of a 
 window into the yard behind the house, then 
 went down again, and walked, with perfect in- 
 difference, out of the gate, went behind the house, 
 took his bundle, and walked as fast as he could 
 up the field, and pretty far into the thicket. He 
 there put on his worn out coat, his hat, and put 
 his old chamois-frock, which he wore in the 
 week days, into his bundle, cut a stick on which 
 he supported himself, and wandered northwards 
 over hill and dale without any certain path. 
 His mind was now quite tranquil; he tasted the 
 sweetness of liberty in all its fulness ; but he 
 was still so stupifiedand almost insensible, that 
 he did not reflect upon his situation, and was 
 incapable of thinking. Alter walking onwards 
 for almost an hour through waste places, he hit 
 upon a high road, and then saw, about a league 
 before him, a little town upon a hill, to which 
 this road led; he followed it involuntarily, and 
 about eleven o'clock arrived at the gates. He 
 there asked the name of the.town, and was told 
 it was Waldstatt, which he had sometimes heard 
 mentioned. He went in at one gate, directly 
 through the town, and out of the other. There 
 he found two roads, which sejmed to him equally 
 trodden; he chose one of them, and went, or 
 rather ran forwards upon it. After travelling 
 scarcely half a league, he found himself in a 
 wood, the road disappeared, and he saw no fur- 
 ther trace of it. He sat down, for he had tired 
 himself with running. All his mental faculties 
 now returned ; he recollected himself, and found 
 that he had not a single farthing of money in his 
 pocket, having demanded little or nothing of his 
 salary from Mr. Hochberg; besides which, he 
 was hungry, he was in a wilderness, and did 
 not know a single individual, far and wide, that 
 was acquainted with him. 
 
 He now began to say to himself, " I have at 
 length ascended the highest summit of abandon- 
 ment; nothing more is left me but to beg or die. 
 This is the first day in my life in which I know 
 of no dinner provided for me ! Yes, the hour is 
 come, when that great promise of the Redeem- 
 er is put to the highest test, as it respects me, 
 ' Not a hair of your head shall perish !' If this 
 be true, I must have immediate aid; for to this 
 moment I have trusted in Him, and believed his 
 word. 1 belong to those eyes that wait upon the 
 Lord, that He may give them their meat in due 
 season, and satisfy them with his good pleasure ; 
 I am his creature, at least as much as any bird 
 that sings in the trees, and always finds it's food : 
 when it requires it." Selling's heart, at these 
 words, was in a state similar to that of a child ' 
 when by severe correction it melts at length like i 
 wax, and the father turns away to hide his tears. ' 
 O God! what moments are these, when it is i 
 manifest how the bowels of the Father of men j 
 yearn over them, and when, from compassion, 
 He can no longer restrain himself. ] 
 
 While reflecting thus, his mind was suddenly 
 at ease, and it seemed to him as if some one I 
 whispered to him, "Go into (he town and seek i 
 a master!" He turned about the same moment, ; 
 
 and feeling in one of his pockets, he found that 
 he had his scissors and thimble with him, with- 
 out knowing it. He returned, therefore, and 
 went in at the gate. He found a person stand- 
 ing before his door, whom he saluted, and asked 
 where the best master-tailor in the town lived. 
 The man called a child, and said to it, "Take 
 this person to Mr. Isaac." The child ran before 
 Stilling, and conducted him to a small house, in 
 a remote corner of the town ; he went in, and en- 
 tered the parlour. Here he found a pale, thin, 
 but civil and cleanly woman, who was spread- 
 ing the cloth, in order to dine with her children. 
 Stilling saluted her, and asked her whether he 
 could have work there. The woman looked at 
 him. and considered him from head to foot. 
 "Yes," said she, in a modest and friendly man- 
 ner ; " my husband is at a loss for a journey- 
 man ; where are you from V Stilling answer- 
 ed, " From the province of Salen." The woman 
 j brightened up, and said, "My husband is also 
 from that part; I will send for him." He was 
 gone to work at a house in the town, with a 
 journeyman and apprentice; and she sent one 
 of the children thither to fetch him. In a few 
 minutes Mr. Isaac entered the hou%e ; his wife 
 told him what she knew, and he made further 
 inquiries regarding what he wished to know; 
 he then willingly took him into his employ. 
 His wife now invited him to sit down with them, 
 and thus his dinner had been already prepared 
 for him, while he was wandering in the wood 
 and reflecting whether God would that day 
 grant him his necessary food ! 
 
 Mr. Isaac stayed and dined with them. After 
 dinner, he took him to work with him at a bail- 
 iff's, whose name was Schauerof; this man 
 was a baker, a tall, thin personage. After Mr. 
 Isaac and his new journeyman had sat down, 
 and began to work, the bailiff came also, with 
 his long pipe, sat down with the tailors, and 
 commenced a conversation with Mr. Isaac, 
 where they had probablv previously left off. 
 
 "Yes," said the bailiff; "the idea that I form 
 to myself of the Spirit of Christ is, that of an 
 omnipresent power, which every where seeks 
 entrance into the hearts of men, in order to 
 change every soul into its own nature; now, 
 the further any one is from God, the more 
 estranged is he from this Spirit. What dost 
 thou think of it, brother Isaac.'?" 
 
 " I view the matter much in the same man- 
 ner," rejoined the latter; "it chiefly depends 
 upon the will of man ; the will makes him sus- 
 ceptible of it." 
 
 Stilling could now no longer restrain himself; 
 he felt that he was with pious people ; he began 
 all on a sudden to weep aloud, behind the table, 
 and exclaim, "O God, I am at home! 1 am at 
 home !" All who were present started, and 
 were astonished ; they knew not what was the 
 matter with him. Mr. Isaac looked at him, 
 and said, "What is the matter, Stillingl" (for 
 he had told him his name.) Stilling answered, 
 " It is long since I have heard this language ; and 
 as I now see that you are people who love God, 
 I was unable to contain myself for joy." Mr. 
 Isaac continued, "Are you then a friend of re- 
 ligion and true godliness V 
 
 " Oh yes," rejoined Stilling, " from my very 
 heart !" 
 
 The bailiff laughed for joy, and said, "We 
 have therefore one brother more." Mr. Isaac 
 and bailiff Schauerof shook him by the hand, 
 and were much pleased. In the evening, after 
 
62 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 supper, Ihe journeyman and apprentice went 
 home; but the bailiff, Isaac, and Stilling, con- 
 tinued long together, conversing in an edifying 
 manner on religious subjects. 
 
 Heinrich Stilling now lived again content- 
 edly at Waldstatt; after so much suffering and 
 imprisonment, peace and liberty tasted so much 
 the sweeter. He had not written one word con- 
 cerning his distresses to his father, in order that 
 he might not grieve him; but now, having left 
 Mr. Hochberg's and living again at his trade, 
 he wrote him much, but not all. The answer 
 which he received, was a reiteration of what he 
 had often told him, that he was not destined for 
 the instruction of youth. 
 
 Alter Stilling had been some days with Mr. 
 Isaac, the latter once began, while they were at 
 work together, during the absence of the other 
 journeyman and apprentice, to speak to him re- 
 specting his clothes, and inquired minutely con- 
 cerning every thing he had. After Isaac had 
 heard all, he immediately rose up, and fetched 
 some beautiful violet-coloured cloth for a coat, 
 a fine new hat, black cloth for a waistcoat, stuff 
 for an under-waistcoat and trowsers, and a pair 
 of good fine stockings; the shoemaker had or- 
 ders to measure him for a pair of shoes, and his 
 wife made him six new shirts ; all this was ready 
 in a fortnight. His master then put one of his 
 walking-sticks into his hand ; and Stilling was 
 now better clothed than ever he had been in his 
 life; besides which, every thing was according 
 to the fashion, and now he was not ashamed to 
 be seen. 
 
 This was the last enemy that was to be over- 
 come. Stilling could not sufficiently express 
 his heartfelt gratitude to God and his benefac- 
 tor; he wept for joy, and was completely com- 
 fortable and happy. But blessed be thy ashes, 
 thou friend of Stilling, where thou liest and re- 
 posest ! When once the words shall resound 
 over a flaming world, "J was naked, and ye 
 clothed me!" then shalt thou also lift up thy 
 head, and thy glorified body will shine seven 
 times more brilliantly than the sun on a sum- 
 mer's morning ! 
 
 Stilling's inclination to rise higher in the 
 world was for this time, so to speak, completely 
 torn up by the roots; and he was firmly and ir- 
 revocably resolved to remain a tailor, until he 
 should be clearly convinced that it was the will 
 of God he should begin something else. In a 
 word, he solemnly renewed the covenant with 
 God, which he had made the previous summer, 
 on the Sunday afternoon, in the street of Schau- 
 berg. His master was also so satisfied with 
 him that he treated him in every respect as his 
 companion ; but his wife loved him as tenderly 
 as a sister; and the children likewise were fond 
 of him, so that he again lived in his proper ele- 
 ment. 
 
 His fondness for the sciences, indeed, still re- 
 mained what it had been; however, it rested 
 under the ashes — he had no longer a passion for 
 them, and he let them rest. 
 
 Mr. Isaac had a large acquaintance with pi- 
 ous and awakened people for five leagues round 
 Waldstatt. Sunday was appointed for visiting; 
 he therefore went, early on the Sunday morning, 
 with Stilling, to the place they had resolved 
 upon, and after spending the day with their 
 friends, returned home in the evening. Or if 
 they intended to go far, thev set out together on 
 the Sunday afternoon, and returned on ihe Mon- 
 day morning. It afforded joy to Stilling's soul 
 
 to become acquainted with so many virtuous 
 characters ; and he was particularly pleased 
 that all these people had nothing enthusias- 
 tic, but simply sought to exercise love to God 
 and man, and to imitate Christ, their Head, in 
 their walk and conversation. This fully ac- 
 corded with Stilling's religious system, and 
 therefore he united with all these people in sin- 
 cere and fraternal affection. And in reality, 
 this connexion had an excellent effect upon, 
 him. Isaac continually admonished him to 
 watch and pray, and always fraternally remind- 
 ed him when he was not sufficiently careful in 
 his conversation. This manner of life was be- 
 yond measure useful to him, and prepared him r 
 more and more, for what God intended to make 
 of him. 
 
 In the middle of May — I believe it was near 
 Whitsuntide — Mr. Isaac determined to visit 
 some very pious friends in the province of Mark, 
 about six leagues from Waldstatt ; they dwelt in 
 a little town, which I will here call Rothenbeck. 
 He took Stilling with him : it was most delightful 
 weather, and the way thither led through a charm- 
 ing part of the country ; at one time across a mead- 
 ow; at another through a green thicket filled with 
 nightingales ; sometimes up a field covered with 
 flowers; at others, over a bushy hill; sometimes 
 on a heath, where the scenery around was para- 
 disiacal; then into a large wood; afterwards 
 along a cool and murmuring brook, and thu» 
 continually changing as they proceeded. Our 
 two pilgrims were healthy and well, without 
 care or sorrow ; they had peace both within and 
 without, loved each other as brethren, saw and 
 experienced every where the goodness and near- 
 ness of the Father of all things in nature, and 
 possessed a number of good friends in the world, 
 and few or no enemies. They walked, or rath- 
 er ran, hand-in-hand, along their way, spoke 
 quite confidentially on all kinds of subjects, or 
 sang some edifying hymn, until they arrived, to- 
 wards evening, without w r eariness or difficulty,, 
 at Rothenbeck. They took up their residence 
 with a very worthy and affluent friend, to whom 
 they therefore proved the less burdensome. The 
 name of this friend was Glöckner, who was a 
 tradesman, and dealt in a variety of wares^ 
 This man and his wife had no children. They 
 both received the strangers with cordial affec- 
 tion ; and though they were not yet acquainted 
 with Stilling, yet they were very friendly to- 
 wards him, on Isaac's assuring them that he was 
 of the same will and sentiments with them all. 
 
 During supper, in the evening, Glöckner re- 
 lated a very remarkable tale regarding his broth- 
 er-in-law Freymuth, which was to the following 
 effect: — Madame Freymuth was Glöckner's 
 wife's sister, and of one mind with her concern- 
 ing religion; the two sisters therefore came fre- 
 quently together, with other friends, on the Sun- 
 day afternoon, when they recapitulated the 
 morning's sermon, read in the Bible, and sang 
 hymns. Freymuth could not bear this at all \ 
 he was an arch enemy to such things, notwith- 
 standing he went diligently to church and sacra- 
 ment, but that was all ; horrible oaths, drinking, 
 gamin?, licentious conversation, and fighting, 
 were his most gratifying amusements, in which 
 he passed his time afier his business was fin- 
 ished. When he came home in the evening, 
 and found his wife reading the Bible, or some 
 other edifying book, he began to swear in a 
 dieadful manner, and to say to her, " Thou cant- 
 ing, pietistic d . knowest thou not that I wilt 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 C3 
 
 not have thee read V He then seized her by the 
 hair, dragged her about upon the ground, and 
 beat her till the blood gushed from her nose and 
 mouth; however," she did not say a word, but 
 when he left off, she embraced his knees, and 
 besought him, with many tears, to be converted 
 and change his course of life ; he then kicked 
 her away from him with his feet, and said, " That 
 I will not, thou wretch ! J will be no hypocrite, 
 like thee." He treated her in the same manner 
 ■when he knew that she had been in company 
 with other pious people. In this way he had 
 acted, ever since his wife had been of different 
 sentiments to himself. But now, only within 
 the last few days, Freymulh had become entire- 
 ly changed, and that in the following manner:— 
 
 Freymuth took his departure for the fair at 
 Frankfort. During this time, his wife was en- 
 tirely at liberty to live as she pleased ; she not 
 only went to visit other friends, but also occa- 
 sionally invited a considerable number of them 
 to her house ; this she did, also, last Easter fair. 
 Once, when many of them were assembled in 
 Freymuth's house on a Sunday evening, and 
 were reading, praying, and singing together, it 
 pleased the mub not "to suffer this; they came, 
 and first of all broke all the windows within 
 their reach, and as the house-door was fastened, 
 they bust it open with a strong pole. The com- 
 pany in the parlour were alarmed and terrified, 
 and every one sought to hide himself as well as 
 he could. Madame Freymuth alone remained; 
 and on hearing the house-door broken open, she 
 stepped out with a light in her hand. Several 
 of the mob had already burst in, whom she met 
 in the hall. She smiled at the people, and said 
 good-humouredly, "Neighbours ! what is it you 
 want?" Immediately it seemed as though they 
 had received a beating, they looked at each oth- 
 er, were ashamed, and went quietly home again. 
 The next morning, Madame Freymuth sent for 
 the glazier and carpenter, in order to restore ev- 
 ery thing to its proper state ; this was done, and 
 scarcely was all finished when her husband re- 
 turned from the fair. 
 
 He immediately observed the new windows, 
 and therefore asked his wife how it had hap- 
 pened 1 She told him the pure truth, circum- 
 stantially, and concealed nothing from him; but 
 6ighed at the same time, in her mind, to God for 
 assistance ; for she expected nothing else but 
 that she would be dreadfully beaten. Freymuth, 
 however, did not think of that; but was mad at 
 the outrage of the mob. His intention was to 
 take cruel revenge upon the villains, as he called 
 them; he therefore commanded his wife, with 
 threats, to tell him who they were that had com- 
 mitted the outrage, for she had seen and recog- 
 nized them. 
 
 "Yes, dear husband," said she, "I will tell 
 thee ; but I know a still greater sinner than they 
 all together; for there was one who for the very 
 same reason beat me most dreadfully." 
 
 Freymuth did not understand this as it was 
 meant; he flew into a passion, beat upon his 
 
 breast, and roared out, "May the d fetch 
 
 him and thee too, if thou dost not this moment 
 tell me who it was." "Yes," answered Ma- 
 dame Freymuth, "I will tell thee; revenge thyself 
 upon him as much as thou wilt; thou art the man 
 that did it, and art therefore worse than the peo- 
 ple who only broke the windows." Freymuth 
 was mute, and stood as if struck by lightning; 
 he was silent awhile: at length he began, "God 
 in heaven, thou art in the right ! I have certainly 
 
 been a real villain ! I am wishing to revenge my- 
 self on people who are better than I ! Yes, wife I 
 I am the most wicked wretch upon earth !" He 
 jumped up, ran up stairs to his bed-room, lay 
 there three days and three nights, flat upon the 
 ground, ate nothing, and only occasionally took 
 something to drink. His wife kept him com- 
 pany as much as she could, and helped him in 
 prayer, that he might obtain favour with God, 
 through the Redeemer. 
 
 On the morning of the fourth day, he rose with 
 his mind at ease, praised God, and said, " I am 
 now assured that my grievous sins are forgiven 
 me!" From that moment he has been quite 
 another man, as humble as he was proud before, 
 as meek as he had been previously wrathful and 
 daring, and as heartily pious as he had before 
 been impious. 
 
 This man would have been a subject for my 
 friend Lavater. The expression of his counte- 
 nance was the maddest and wildest in the world; 
 it needed only a single passion — for instance, 
 anger — to be excited, and the animal spirits re- 
 quired only to extend every muscle of his face, 
 and he would have appeared raging mad. But 
 now he is like a lion turned into a lamb. Peace 
 and serenity are impressed upon every muscle 
 of his countenance, and this gives him an aspect 
 as pious as it was previously brutal. 
 
 After supper, Glöckner sent his servant to 
 Freymuth's house, to say that friends had ar- 
 rived to visit him. Freymuth and his wife came 
 immediately, and welcomed Isaac and Stilling. 
 The latter made his observations, all the even- 
 ing, upon the two people, and at one time ad- 
 mired the meekness of the lion, and at another 
 the courage of the lamb. All the six were very 
 happy together, edified each other as well as 
 they were able, and went late to bed. 
 
 Our -two friends continued a couple of days 
 longer at Rothenbeck, visiting and receiving 
 visits. The schoolmaster there, who was also 
 a Stilling, and from the province of Salen, be- 
 longed likewise to the society of the pious at 
 Rothenbeck ; him they visited also. He became 
 particularly fond of Stilling, especially on hear- 
 ing that he had been a long time schoolmaster. 
 The two Stillings made a covenant with each 
 other, that one should write to the other as long 
 as they lived, in order to maintain the friendship 
 then formed. 
 
 At length they travelled back again from 
 Rothenbeck to Waldstatt, and betook themselves 
 to their occupation, during which they passed 
 their time in all kinds of pleasing conversation. 
 
 There dwelt, about a league from Waldstatt, 
 a considerable merchant, of the name of Span- 
 ier. This man had seven children, of whom the 
 eldest was a daughter of about sixteen, and the 
 youngest a girl of a year old. There were in 
 all, three sons and four daughters. He had a 
 very large iron-foundry, which consisted of sev- 
 en forges, of which four were near his house, 
 and three lay at the distance of a league and a 
 half, not far from Mr. Hochberg's house, where 
 Stilling had formerly resided. He possessed, 
 besides, a great many estates, houses, gardsns, 
 and all that belongs to them, together with a 
 number of domestics, footmen, servants, and 
 grooms; for he had several horses for his own use. 
 
 When Mr. Spanier had collected together suf- 
 ficient employment for the tailor, he sent for Mr. 
 Isaac with his journeyman to work for some 
 days at his house, in order to repair his own and 
 his people's clothes. 
 
HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 After Stilling had been twelve weeks with Mr. 
 Isaac, it happened that they were sent for to work 
 at Mr. Spanier's. They went thither early in 
 the morning. On entering the room-door, Mr. 
 Spanier was sitting alone at the table, drinking 
 coffee out of a little pot that had been filled for 
 him alone. He turned himself slowly about, 
 looked Stilling in the face, and said, "Good 
 morning, Mr. Tutor." 
 
 Stilling blushed deeply, and knew not what to 
 say ; however, he soon recovered himself, and 
 said, " Your servant, Mr. Spanier." The latter 
 remained silent, and continued to drink his cof- 
 fee. But Stilling betook himself to his work. 
 
 Some hours afterwards, Mr. Spanier walked 
 tip and down the room, but without speaking a 
 word; at length he stood still before Stilling, 
 looked at him awhile, and said, 
 
 "You succeed as well in that, Stilling, as if 
 you had been born to be a tailor; but that you 
 are not." 
 
 " How so %" asked Stilling. 
 
 "For this very reason," rejoined Spanier; 
 " because I will have you for tutor to my chil- 
 dren." 
 
 Mr. Isaac looked at Stilling, and smiled. 
 
 "No, Mr. Spanier!" replied Stilling; "that 
 will not be the case. I have irrevocably deter- 
 mined to teach no more. I am now quiet and 
 comfortable at my trade, and I will not depart 
 from it." 
 
 Mr. Spanier shook his head, laughed, and 
 continued, "I will teach you something differ- 
 ent to that; I have levelled so many a mount- 
 ain in the world, that if I were unable to bring 
 you to another way of thinking, I should be 
 ashamod of myself." 
 
 He said nothing more upon the subject that 
 day; but Stilling entreated nis master to let him 
 go home the same evening, in order to escape 
 Mr. Spanier's snares. However, Mr. Isaac 
 would not permit it; Stilling, therefore, armed 
 himself in the best manner, in order to be able 
 to resist Mr. »Spanier with the most weighty ar- 
 guments. 
 
 The next day it again happened that Mr. Span- 
 ier walked up and down the room, and began to 
 speak to Stilling as follows: — 
 
 " Hear me, Stilling. If I were t» let a fine 
 coat be made for me, and then hang it upon a 
 nail, without ever putting it on — should I not be 
 thought a fool?' 
 
 "Yes," replied Stilling; "first, if you needed 
 it, and, secondly, if it fitted well. But supposing 
 you let such a coat be made without requiring 
 it, or if you put it on, and found it was every 
 where too tight for you, what would you do then?" 
 
 " I will tell you what I would do with it," an- 
 swered Spanier; "I would give it to some one 
 else, whom it fitted." 
 
 "But," rejoined Stilling, "if you had given 
 it to seven, and each of them returned it to you, 
 and said, 'It does not fit me,' how would you 
 then act?' 
 
 Spanier replied, "I should still be a fool if I 
 suffered it to hang up for the moths to devour; I 
 would give it to the eighth, and say, 1 Alter it till 
 it fits you.' But supposing the eighth was per- 
 fectly willing to take the coat as it was, and not 
 to require more of it than it was made for, I 
 should be committing a sin if I did not give it to 
 him!" 
 
 "You are in the right there," rejoined Stilling; 
 "however, notwithstanding all this, I entreat 
 you, Mr. Soanier *br God's sake, leave me at 
 my trade." 
 
 "No," answered he, "that I will not; you 
 shall and must become my domestic tutor, and 
 that on the following tCrms : You are unac- 
 quainted with the French language, but with me 
 it is necessary, for many reasons, that you un- 
 derstand it; therefore look out for a language- 
 master wherever you please; remove to him, 
 and learn the language; I will gladly pay what- 
 ever it may cost. Further, I give you, notwith- 
 standing, full liberty to return to Mr. Isaac as 
 soon as you are tired of living with me; and 
 finally, you shall have all that you need as to 
 clothing, &c, as long as you continue with me. 
 But then I have also a right, on the contrary, to 
 demand this of you — that you will not enter upon 
 any other situation, as long as I require you, un- 
 less it be to provide yourself for life." 
 
 Mr. Isaac was touched with this proposal. 
 "Now," said he to Stilling, "you will commit a 
 sin, if you do not consent. This comes from 
 God, and all your previous engagements from 
 yourself." 
 
 Stilling examined himself closely, and found 
 within him no passion or ambitious feeling, but 
 felt, on the contrary, a hint in his conscience, 
 that this situation was pointed out to him by God. 
 
 After a short pause, he began: "Yes, Mr. 
 Spanier, I will venture upon it once more, but I 
 do it with fear and trembling." 
 
 Mr. Spanier rose up, gave him his hand, and 
 said, " God be thanked! I have now made this 
 mountain into a plain. But you must immedi- 
 ately betake yourself to a language-master; the 
 sooner the better." 
 
 Stilling was quite willing to do so, and even 
 Mr. Isaac said, "The day after to-morrow is 
 Sunday; you may then set off in God's name." 
 This was therefore agreed upon. 
 
 I must confess/now that Stilling is again be- 
 come another man, that however happy he ima- 
 gined himself to be, he had still a discordant 
 string, which he never dared to touch. As soon 
 as it occurred to him, what he had read and at- 
 tained to in the mathematics and other sciences, 
 his heart was pained ; however, he expelled it 
 from his mind again ; hence he felt very different 
 on being conscious that he was about to enter 
 into his proper element. 
 
 Although Isaac was pleased at his good for- 
 tune, yet it grieved him much that he was so 
 soon to part with him; and it pained Stiiling to 
 the soul, that he was obliged to take leave of the 
 most upright man in the world, and the best 
 friend he ever had, before he was able to repay 
 him for his clothes by his earnings; on this ac- 
 count, he secretly spoke with Mr. Spanier, and 
 told him what Mr. Isaac had done for him. The 
 tears came into Mr. Spanier's eyes, and he said, 
 "Excellent man! I will reward him; he shall 
 never want !" He then gave Stilling some 
 louis-d'ors, with the intimation to pay Isaac 
 with part, and economize with the remainder; 
 when it was expended, he should have more, 
 only he must give a proper account how he had 
 spent it. 
 
 Stilling rejoiced above measure; he had nev- 
 er yet met with such a man. He therefore paid 
 Mr. Isaac with the money; and the latter then 
 confessed that he had really borrowed the money 
 for all the clothes. This went to Stilling's 
 heart; he could not refrain from weeping, and 
 thought within himself, if ever a man deserved a 
 marble monument, this man does — not for hav- 
 ing made whole nations happy, but because he 
 would have done so if he could. 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 Once more ! Blessed be thy ashes, my friend ! 
 who wast one of a thousand, where tfiou liest 
 and sleepest; these sacred tears bedew thy grave, 
 ■thou true follower of Christ! 
 
 Stilling, therefore, took leave, on Sunday, of 
 his friends at Waldstatt, and proceeded by way 
 of Rasenheim to Schönenthal, in order to seek a 
 good language-master. On approaching that 
 place, he recollected that a year and some weeks 
 before, he had first travelled that road; he re- 
 volved in his mind all that had befallen him in 
 that short period, and then again, his present 
 condition ; he fell down upon his knees, and 
 thanked God heartily for his severe but sacred 
 guidance, at the same time beseeching Him to 
 cause the sunshine of his favor to beam upon 
 him. On ascending the eminence, from whence 
 he could survey all Schönenthal, and the extent 
 of the beautiful valley, he felt poetically inspired, 
 sat down under the bushes, drew out his tablets, 
 and wrote : 
 
 " I feel a soft emotion flow, 
 
 A peace celestial and profound ; 
 While pure delights within me glow, 
 
 And cooling breezes breathe around. 
 The clouds along the placid sky, 
 Fringed with light, serenely fly. 
 
 11 The rushing of the distant rill 
 
 Floats hither, as on gentle wings : 
 I listen ! — all beside is still. 
 
 Save where the lark aspiring sings, 
 Or, warbling from some secret nook, 
 Joins with the murmurs of the brook. 
 
 " Now, joyfully, my eyes L raise 
 
 To every well-known lofty hill ; 
 Then downwards on my path I gaze, 
 
 And my appointed course fulfil; 
 For ever from my breast expel 
 The foul, tormenting fiend of hell. 
 
 " Once more I look, with feelings bold, 
 
 Down, into sorrow's gloomy vale, 
 And with a placid eye behold 
 
 The place where heart and flesh did fail. 
 I hear a dreadful ocean roar, 
 And waves terrific lash the shore. 
 
 " Like some pale ghost, which feebly roams 
 Through halls and mansions lone and drear, 
 Or sadly flitting o"er the tombs, 
 
 Fills the night-wanderer with fear, 
 While laboring hard a word to say, 
 Which might its suffering state convey — 
 
 " So did I totter on the brink 
 
 Of the dread gulf of black despair ; 
 And every moment saw me sink 
 
 Deeper into the infernal snare. 
 Loudly below the dragons growl'd, 
 While high above black thunders roll'd. 
 " I went, and saw, with sad dismay, 
 
 Angels of death around me wait ; 
 While forked lightnings mark'd the way ; 
 
 Until I 'spied a little gate— 
 J hasten'd through, in spite of foes, 
 And found the end of all my woes. 
 " Onwards I crept, in silent shade : 
 
 It still was twilight all around ; 
 I felt my powers and senses fade, 
 
 Arid bent in weakness towards the ground ; 
 Fainting, I felt my eyelids close, 
 Ami sank, unconscious of my woes. 
 "I sank as when on friendship's breast 
 
 Some deadly-wounded warrior falls, 
 While sursfic aid, with influence bless'd, 
 
 The ebbing tide of life recalls ; 
 I was revived, refresh'd, restored, 
 And through my frame new strength was pour'd. 
 " In Isaac's hospitable dome 
 
 I tasted pure and sweet repose ; 
 'Twas there I found a blissful home, 
 
 There s >ngs of thankfulness arose ; 
 To God wo chanted hymns of praise, 
 The Author of our happy days." 
 
 Stilling now hastened down the hill to Schön- 
 enthal; he ascertained, however, that the lan- 
 
 guage-masters there would not suit his purpose, 
 because, on account of their being much occupied 
 in going from one kouse to another, they would 
 have little time to spare for him. As he was in 
 haste, and would gladly accomplish his object 
 soon, he was obliged to seek an opportunity 
 where he could learn much in a little time. At 
 length he heard that a very able language-mas- 
 ter resided at Dornfeld, where Mr. Dahlheim 
 was the minister; and as this place was only 
 three quarters of a league from Schönenthal, he 
 the more readily determined to go thither. 
 
 He arrived at Dörnfeld at three o'clock in the 
 afternoon. He immediately inquired for the 
 language-master, went to him, and found a very 
 strange, original man, whose name was Hees- 
 feld. He was sitting in a dark room ; he had on 
 a dirty morning-gown of coarse camblet, girded 
 about him with a band of the same stuff; on his 
 head was a cap with flaps to it; his visage was 
 as pale as that of a man who had been some 
 days in the grave, and, compared with the 
 breadth, much too long. His forehead was 
 beautiful ; but beneath a couple of jet-black eye- 
 brows, lay two small black eyes deep in the 
 head ; his nose was small and long, his mouth 
 regular, but his chin was flat, and projected 
 far forwards, and his extremely black hair was 
 curled round about ; in other respects, he was 
 thin, tall, and well-made. 
 
 Stilling was in some measure startled at his 
 singular countenance; however, he showed no 
 symptoms of it, but saluted him, and stated his 
 intention. Mr. Heesfeld received him in a 
 friendly manner, and said, " I will do what I can 
 for you." Stilling next looked out for a lodging, 
 and commenced his study of the French" lan- 
 guage, which he did in the following manner. 
 In the forenoon, from eight till eleven o'clock, 
 he attended the regular school, as also in the af- 
 ternoon, from two to five. He sat, however, at 
 the same table with Heesfeld, conversing and 
 passing the time with him; but when the school 
 was over they took a walk together. 
 
 Strange as Heesfeld was in his appearance, 
 he was just as peculiar in his life and conversa- 
 tion. He belonged to the class of the Splenetics, 
 as did Gräser also; for he never told any one 
 what he thought ; no one knew whence he was, 
 and they were equally ignorant whether he was 
 poor or rich. Perhaps he never loved any one 
 in his life more tenderly than Stilling; and yet 
 the latter only ascertained after his death whence 
 he came, and that he had been a rich man. 
 
 His peculiar mode of thinking appeared also 
 from his always concealing his abilities, and 
 only letting so much of them be perceived as 
 was necessary. It was every day manifest that 
 he understood French perfectly ; but that he was 
 also an excellent Latin scholar was only first ap- 
 parent when Stilling came to him, with whom 
 he commenced his instruction on the principles 
 of the,, Latin grammar, and daily made Latin 
 verses with him, which were incomparably beau- 
 tiful. He understood drawing, dancing, physic, 
 and chemistry, in a hi^h degree; and only two 
 days before Sailing's departure, it happened that 
 the latter was playing on the harpsichord in his 
 company, and Heesfeld was listening. When 
 Stilling ceased, he sat down to it; and acted, at 
 first, as if he h:ul never touched an instrument 
 in his life; but in less than five minutes he be- 
 gan a voluntary, so sweetly and dreadfully mel- 
 ancholy, that it was enough to make a man's 
 hair stand on end. In short, he showed himself 
 
66 HEINRICH 
 
 a complete master of the art, and knew how to 
 touch every responding chord in the human 
 frame in such a manner, that Stilling was ready 
 to melt at his affecting mode of playing, and ad- 
 mired the man beyond measure. 
 
 Heesfeld, in his youth, had entered into the 
 military service. On account of his abilities, he 
 was taken by an officer of high rank into his 
 particular service, who had him instructed in 
 every thing he desired. He travelled through 
 the world with this gentleman, who, twenty 
 years afterwards, died, and left him a handsome 
 sum. Heesfeld, at that time, was forty years 
 old; he returned home — not, however, to his 
 parents and friends — but took the name of an- 
 other family, went to Dörnfeld as French lan- 
 guage-master, and although his parents and his 
 two brothers lived only two leagues from him, 
 yet they knew nothing of him, but believed he 
 had died in a foreign land. On his deathbed, 
 however, he made himself known to his broth- 
 ers, stated his circumstances to them, and left 
 them a rich inheritance ; which, according to his 
 system, was then quite early enough. 
 
 Now whether this be termed a failing or a 
 virtue, he had, with all this, a noble soul. His 
 philanthropy had risen to a great height, but 
 he acted in secret; even those to whom he did 
 good were not permitted to know it. Nothing 
 delighted him more, than to hear that people did 
 not know what to make of him. 
 
 When he went out to walk with Stilling, they 
 conversed together upon the arts and sciences. 
 Their path always led them into the wildest sol- 
 itudes. Heesfeld then ascended some waving 
 tree, which would bend easily, sat down in the 
 top, held fast with his hands, and weighing him- 
 self down with it to the ground, then laid him- 
 self a while in the branches, reposing. Stilling 
 imitated him, and thus they lay and chatted to- 
 gether; when they were tired of this, they rose 
 up, and the trees resumed their perpendicular 
 position; this was an amusement to Heesfeld; 
 he was wont to say, " How beautiful are air- 
 beds ! when we rise, they ascend towards heav- 
 en." Sometimes he gave a person an enigma to 
 solve, and asked, " What kind of beds are those, 
 which fly up into the air when one rises V 
 
 Stilling lived very happily at Dornfeld. Mr. 
 Spanier sent him money enough, and he studied 
 very diligently, for he had finished in nine 
 weeks. It is incredible, but certainly true ; in 
 two months he understood this language suffi- 
 ciently; he could read the French journals in 
 German, as if they had been printed in the latter 
 language; he was also already able to write a 
 French letter without a grammatical error, and 
 read correctly ; he only required exercise in 
 speaking. He was sufficiently acquainted with 
 the whole of the syntax, so that he could boldly 
 begin to give instructions himself in the lan- 
 guage. 
 
 Stilling therefore determined to take leave of 
 Mr. Heesfeld, and to remove to his new patron. 
 Both wept on separating from each other. Hees- 
 feld accompanied him the distance of a league; 
 and when they were taking leave of each other, 
 he embraced him, and said, "My friend, if you 
 are ever in want of any thing, write to me, and 
 1 will do to you what one brother ought to do to 
 another. My life is a hidden one, but I wish to 
 work like our mother nature; her sources are 
 not seen, but the individual drinks his fill at her 
 clear brooks." Stilling felt it hard to part from 
 him ; at length they tore themselves from each 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 other, and each went his way, without once 
 
 looking behind him. 
 
 Stilling therefore returned on foot to Mr. Span- 
 iens, and arrived at his house in the evening, 
 two days before Michaelmas, 1763. Mr. Span- 
 ier rejoiced not a little on seeing Stilling return 
 so soon. He immediately treated him as a 
 friend; and Stilling felt convinced that he was 
 now with people with whom he could be happy. 
 
 The next day, he began his tuition, the ar- 
 rangement of which was regulated by Spanier ia 
 the following manner. The children and their 
 teacher were with him in his room; he could 
 therefore observe and direct them himself, as 
 well as speak continually with Stilling on a va- 
 riety of subjects. At the same time, Mr. Span- 
 ier gave his family-preceptor time enough to 
 read also for himself. The tuition lasted the 
 whole day ; but was so convenient and amusing, 
 that it could not be tedious or burthensome to 
 any one. 
 
 Mr. Spanier, however, had designed that Still- 
 ing should be not merely the tutor of his chil- 
 dren, but he had also another favorable inten- 
 tion respecting him — he purposed employing 
 him in his business ; but this he did not com- 
 municate to him until the day when he commit- 
 ted a part of his iron-works to his charge. He 
 thought, by so doing, to make an agreeable 
 change in Stilling's situation, and to preserve 
 him from melancholy. 
 
 All this was attended with perfect success. 
 After he had been engaged a fortnight in teach- 
 ing, Mr. Spanier transferred to his care his three 
 forges, and the estates which lay a league and a 
 half from his house, not far from the residence 
 of Mr. Hochberg. Stilling had to go thither 
 every three days, in order to fetch away the ar- 
 ticles which were ready, and to look after every 
 thing. 
 
 He had also to purchase the raw material, 
 and to go for this purpose to the distance of three 
 leagues on the high-road, two or three times 
 every week, whither the carriers came with the 
 iron ore, in order to buy of them what was neces- 
 sary. When he returned much fatigued, a few 
 days' rest did him good ; he then read for him- 
 self, and taught at the same time. 
 
 But the pleasing intercourse which Stilling 
 had with Mr. Spanier, was his principal enjoy- 
 ment. They were very intimate together, and 
 conversed cordially on all sorts of subjects. 
 Spanier was, in particular, an able and excel- 
 lent agriculturist and merchant ; so that Stilling 
 often used to say, "Mr. Spanier's house was my 
 academy, where I had an opportunity of study- 
 ing farming, agriculture, and commerce, in their 
 very essence." 
 
 Stilling's manner of life, as here described, 
 continued, without the intervention of a single 
 gloomy hour, for seven whole years together; I 
 will say nothing further respecting it, than that 
 during the whole of this time, he made consider- 
 able progress in his knowledge of the world, in 
 good breeding, and the above-mentioned domes- 
 tic sciences. He instructed his pupils, during 
 this period, in the Latin and French languages, 
 by which he attained to still greater expertness 
 in both ; as well as in reading, writing, and arith- 
 metic ; and in the principles of the reformed re- 
 ligion. 
 
 His own reading consisted, in the beginning, 
 of a variety of poetical works. He first read 
 Milton's Paradise Lost, then Young's Night 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 G7 
 
 Thoughts, and afterwards Klopstock's Messias 
 —three books which truly harmonized with his 
 soul ; for as he had been previously of a san- 
 guine and tender temperament, he had assumed, 
 after his dreadful sufferings at Mr. Hochberg's, 
 a soft and tender melancholy, which will prob- 
 ably adhere to him till his death. 
 
 He did not, at that time, do much more in 
 mathematics, but applied himself, on the con- 
 trary, seriously to philosophy ; he read the whole 
 of Wolf's German writings, as also Gottsched's 
 Compendium of Philosophy, and Leibnitz's The- 
 odicee. He demonstrated the whole of Bau- 
 meister's Minor Logic and Metaphysics; and 
 nothing was more agreeable to him than exer- 
 cising himself in these sciences; but still he felt 
 a void within, and a mistrust of these systems; 
 for they really stifled every childlike feeling of 
 the heart towards God. They may be a series 
 of truths; but we do not yet possess the true 
 philosophical chain, to which all things are ap- 
 pended. Stilling expected to find this, but he 
 found it not; he then set about searching further, 
 partly by his own reflection, and partly in other 
 writings; but hitherto he walks mournfully upon 
 this path, because he sees no outlet. 
 
 Mr. Spanier was also originally from the prov- 
 ince of Salen, for his father was born not far 
 from Kleefeld, where Stilling had kept his last 
 parochial school. On this account, he had oc- 
 casionally business in that place; and for this 
 he made use of Stilling by preference, particu- 
 larly because he was known there. After he 
 had been a year with his patron, and consequent- 
 ly nearly two years and a half away from home, 
 he began his first journey, on foot, to his native 
 province. He had twelve leagues to travel from 
 Mr. Spanier's to his uncle Johann Stilling's, and 
 thirteen to his father's. This journey he pur- 
 posed accomplishing in one day. He therefore 
 set off early in the morning, at daybreak, and i 
 travelled onwards very agreeably; but he took! 
 a nearer road than that by which he had former- 
 ly come. At four o'clock in the afternoon, he 
 gained the summit of a hill on the borders of the 
 province of Salen, from whence he could see all 
 the well-known heights; his heart melted, he sat 
 down, shed tears of sensibility, and thanked God 
 for his painful, but very uncommon guidance. 
 He reflected how poor and wretched 1 had 
 gone forth from his native province, and that 
 now he had money in abundance, fine clothes, 
 and all that he needed. This softened him so 
 much, and made him so grateful to God, that he 
 could not refrain from weeping. 
 
 He now proceeded on his journey, and arri- 
 red in the course of an hour at his uncle's at 
 Lichthausen. The joy they felt oh seeing him 
 was unspeakable ; he "was grown tall, and of a 
 good figure; had on a fine dark-blue coat, and 
 fine white linen ; his hair was powdered, and 
 rolled up round about, and he looked, at the same 
 time, cheerful and blooming, because tltirgs 
 went well with him. His uncle embraced and 
 kissed him, whilst the tears ran down his cheeks. 
 Meanwhile his aunt, Maria Stilling, came also; 
 she had been married since his departure, and 
 had removed to Lichthausen ; she fell upon his 
 neck, and kissed him repeatedly. 
 
 He remained that night with his unri j ; the 
 next morning, he proceeded to Leindorf to his 
 father's. How the worthy man jumped up, on 
 seeing him come so unexpectedly ! but he sank 
 back "again, whilst Stilling ran towards him, em- 
 braced and kissed him. Wilhelm held his hands 
 
 before his eyes, and wept ; his son likewise shed 
 tears. The mother then came also, shook him 
 by the hand, and wept aloud for joy, on seeing 
 him again in health. 
 
 Stilling now related to his parents all that had 
 happened to him, and how comfortably situated 
 he was at present. Meanwhile, the report of 
 Stilling's arrival spread itself through the whole 
 village. The house was filled with people; old 
 and young came to see their former schoolmas- 
 ter, and the village was full of joy on his account. 
 
 Towards evening, Wilhelm took his son with 
 him to walk in the fields. He spoke much with 
 him on his past and future fate, just in the man- 
 ner of old Stilling; so that his son was penetra- 
 ted with reverence. At length Wilhelm said, 
 " Hear me. my son : thou must visit thy grand- 
 mother; she suffers much from the rheumatism, 
 and will not live much longer. She very oftea 
 speaks of thee, and wishes to converse with thee 
 once more before her end." The next morning, 
 therefore, Stilling rose, and went to Tiefenbacb. 
 How he felt, when he saw the old castle, der 
 hitzige Stein, the Giller, and the village itself! 
 His sensations were inexpressible ; he com- 
 menced a self-examination, and found, that if he 
 were able, he would gladly exchange his present 
 state for that of his youth. He arrived in a short 
 time at the village; all the people ran out, so 
 that he came, as it were, in a crowd, to the ven- 
 erable house of his fathers. He felt a thrill per- 
 vade him as he entered, just as if he had been 
 crossing the threshold of some ancient temple. 
 His aunt Elizabeth was in the kitchen; she ran 
 to him, gave him her hand, and led him joyfully 
 into the parlour; there lay his grandmother, 
 Margaret Stilling, in a neat little bed by the 
 wall, near the stove; her chest was drawn up- 
 wards, the joints in her hands were swollen, and 
 her fingers stiff and turned inwards. Stilling 
 ran to her, took hold of her hand, and said, with 
 tears in his eyes, " How are you, my dear grand- 
 mother'? It rejoices my soul to see you again.'* 
 She strove to raise herself up, but sank power- 
 less back again. "Ah!" cried she, "I can still 
 hear and feel thee, before my end. Come nearer 
 to me, that I may feel thy face !" Stilling bent 
 himself towards her; she felt his forehead,, his 
 eyes, nose, and mouth, his chin and cheeks.. In 
 doing this, her stiff fingers came in contact with, 
 Iiis hair, and she felt the powder. " Soj" said 
 she, "thou art the first of our family that has 
 worn powder; but be not the first to forget in- 
 tegrity and the fear of God! Now," continued 
 she, " I can form an idea of thee, as though I 
 saw thee ; tell me how it has fared with thee, 
 and how it now goes with thee." Stilling re- 
 lated every thing briefly and pointedly. When 
 he had finished, she began as follows: "Lis- 
 ten to me, Heinrich ! Be humble and devout, 
 and it will go well with thee; never be ashamed 
 of thy descent, and thy poor friends, however 
 great thou mayest be in the world. He that is 
 low may become great by humility, and he that 
 is high may become low by pride ;*when I an» 
 once dead, it is all one what I have been in the 
 world, if I have oniyiived as a Christian." 
 
 Stilling was obliged solemnly to promise this, 
 both by word, and by giving her his hand; and 
 after he had conversed with her for some time 
 longer, he took a hasty leave of her. His heart 
 pained him, for he knew that he should not see 
 her again in this life. She was on the borders , 
 of the grave; but she took him by the hand, hel«t- 
 him fast, and said, "Thou art in haste— God be 
 
68 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 with thee, my child ! I shall see thee again be- 
 fore the throne of God!" He pressed her hand 
 and wept. She perceived it, and continued, 
 "No! weep not over me! it is well with me. 
 I heartily commend thee into the fatherly hands 
 of God ; may He bless thee, and preserve thee 
 from all evil ! Now go, in God's name ! ' Still- 
 ing tore himself loose, hurried out of the house, 
 and has never returned thither since. Some 
 days after, died Margaret Stilling; she lies bu- 
 ried at Fiorenburgh with her husband. 
 
 Stilling now fell as if he had no longer any 
 attachment to his native province ; he took leave 
 of his relatives, hastened his departure, and ar- 
 rived again at Mr. Spanier's after an absence of 
 five days. 
 
 I will not expatiate upon Stilling uniform 
 mode of life and occupations, during the first four 
 years; but pass over to more important mat- 
 ters. He had now been for a considerable time 
 employed in tuition, and Mr. Spainer's affairs; 
 his years increased, and the idea began to occur 
 to him, what would at length become of him 1 
 There was now a complete end to his trade; he 
 had not attempted it for some years, and the tui- 
 tion of children was also disagreeable to him ; 
 he was heartily tired of it, and he felt that he was 
 not formed for il, for he was of a busy and active 
 turn of mind. A mercantile life also did not 
 please him, for he was very conscious that he 
 would be unfit for continual occupation with 
 such things, and this vocation was opposed to 
 his inward impulse; he was, however, neither 
 disturbed nor melancholy, but waited to see what 
 the Lord intended concerning him. 
 
 One mornin? in the spring of the year 17G8, he 
 was sitting at the table after breakfast, whilst the 
 children were running about in the court for a 
 little while; he stretched out his hand behind 
 him for a book, and caught hold of " Reitz's 
 History of the Regenerate." He turned it 
 over a little, without intention or reflection; 
 when the history of a man met his eye, who had 
 travelled into Greece, in order to search after 
 the remains of the first Christian churches there. 
 He read the narrative solely to pass the time. 
 When he came, in the course of reading, to the 
 place where the man, on his deathbed, testified 
 the great pleasure he still took in the Greek lan- 
 guage, and particularly, what a pleasing feeling 
 he had at the word Eilikrineia — it seemed to 
 Stilling as if he were awaking out of a profound 
 sleep. The word Eilikrineia stood before him, 
 as if surrounded with radiance; he felt, at the 
 same time, an irresistible impulse to learn the 
 Greek language, and a strong and latent attrac- 
 tion to something with which he was still unac- 
 quainted, nor could he tell what it was. He 
 recollected himself, and thought, " What shall I 
 do with the Greek language'? What an im- 
 mense labor would it be for me to learn so diffi- 
 cult a language, which I cannot even read, in 
 my twenty-eighth year!" However, all the ob- 
 jections of reason were entirely fruitless ; his im- 
 pulse towards it was so great, and his inclina- 
 tion so powerful, that the time seemed tedious to 
 him before he could commence it. He mention- 
 ed rll this to Mr. Spanier; the latter reflected a 
 little, and at length he said, " If vou mu-l learn 
 Greek, learn it!" Stilling immediately prepared 
 to set out; and went to WakNtait, to a certain 
 ftxcell^nt theologian, who was a good friend of 
 his, and to whom he made known his intentions. 
 The good man was much pleased, gave him en- 
 
 couragement, and even recommended him to 
 study divinity; however, Stilling felt no incli- 
 nation to the latter, and his friend was also sat- 
 isfied with his sentiments; but advised him to 
 pay close attention to the Divine guidance, and 
 as "soon as he was conscious of it, to follow it 
 implicitly. He then gave him the books neces- 
 sary for learning the Greek language, and wish- 
 ed him the Divine blessing. From thence he 
 went likewise to the preachers, and mentioned 
 his purpose to them; they were also in favor of 
 it, particularly Mr. Seelburg, who promised him 
 every assistance and necessary instruction, for 
 he came to Mr. Spaniel's house twice every 
 week. 
 
 Stilling now began to learn Greek. He ap- 
 plied himself to it with all his powers, and troub- 
 led himself little about the scholastic mode of in- 
 struction ; but sought only to penetrate, with his 
 understanding, into the genius of the language, 
 in order rightly to understand what he read. In 
 short, in five weeks, he translated the first five 
 chapters of the gospel of Matthew into the Latin 
 language, without making a fault, and at the 
 same time, analyzed every word. The Rev. 
 Mr. Seelburg was astonished, and knew not 
 what to say; this worthy man instructed him 
 only in the pronunciation, and this he caught 
 very rapidly. On this occasion, he also attempt- 
 ed the Hebrew; and in a short time made such 
 progress in it, that he could proceed with the 
 help of a lexicon ; Mr. Seelburg did his best for 
 him in this also. 
 
 Whilst he thus occupied himself with aston- 
 ishing industry and labour in these languages, 
 Mr. Spanier continued entirely silent on the sub- 
 ject, and let him do as he pleased : no one knew 
 how the matter would end; and he himself did 
 not know it, but the majority believed that he 
 would become a preacher. 
 
 At length, the whole affair developed itself all 
 at once. One afternoon in June, Mr. Spanier 
 walked up and down the room, as he was wont 
 when reflecting upon some important affair, 
 whilst Stilling was engaged with his languages 
 and tuition. At length Mr. Spanier began: 
 "Preceptor! it all at once occurs to me what 
 you ought to do; you must study medicine." 
 
 I cannot express how Stilling felt at this prop 
 osition ; he could scarcely keep on his feet, s6 
 that Mr. Spanier, being alarmed, seized hold of 
 him, and said, "What is the matter with youT 
 "O Mr. Spanier," replied Stilling, "what shall 
 I say— what shall I think'? I am certain that is 
 my vocation. Yes, T feel in my soul, that this 
 is the great object which has been so long hid- 
 den from me, which 1 have so long sought, and 
 been unable to find ! For this my Heavenly Fa- 
 ther has been so long designing to prepare me, 
 by severe and painful trials, from my youth up. 
 Blessed be the merciful God, that has at length 
 made known to me his will! I will boldly fol- 
 low his guidance." 
 
 On this, he ran up to his bed-room, fell upon 
 his knees, thanked God, and besought the Fa- 
 ther of men to lead him the shortest way to the 
 attainment of his object. He reflected upon all 
 the way in which Providence had led him, and 
 now clearlv perceived why he had enjoyed such 
 a peculiar education ; why he had been o' liged 
 to learn the Latin language so early; the reason 
 of his innate impulse for the mathematics, and 
 the knowledge of the occult powers of nature; 
 why he had leen renrlerrd pliant and fir, bv his 
 many sufferings, to serve his fellow-creatures; 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS 
 
 why, for some time past, his inclination to phi- 
 losophy had so much increased, as to impel him 
 to study logic and metaphysics ; and, lastly, why 
 he had felt such an inclination for the Greek 
 language. He now knew his destiny ; and from 
 that hour, he determined to study for himself, 
 and to collect materials, until it should please 
 God to send him to the university. 
 
 Mr. Spanier now gave him permission to take 
 a few hours in the evening for himself, and did 
 not employ him any longer so much in his busi- 
 ness, in order that he might have time to study. 
 Stilling applied himself with all his powers to 
 the languages, and began to make himself ac- 
 quainted with anatomy, from books. He read 
 Kriiger's System of Nature, and made all that 
 he read his own ; he sought also to form a plan 
 for himself with regard to the prosecution of his 
 .studies, in which he was assisted by some emi- 
 nent physicians, with whom he corresponded. 
 In one word, he went through all the discipline 
 of the art of medicine for himself, as much as 
 was possible at the time, in order that he might 
 at least obtain a general idea of all its parts. 
 
 This important news he immediately commu- 
 nicated to his father and uncle. His father re- 
 plied to this, that he resigned him entirely to the 
 guidance of God ; he must not, however, hope for 
 any assistance on his part, and be careful not to 
 plunge himself into a new labyrinth. But his 
 mother was quite displeased at him; and believ- 
 ed to a certainty, that he was actuated only by a 
 Jove of novelty, which would assuredly turn out 
 ill. Stilling did not let this disturb him in the 
 least, but cheerfully prosecuted his studies, leav- 
 ing it to the paternal providence of God to pro- 
 vide the means. 
 
 The following spring, when he had already- 
 studied a year, his master's business again obli- 
 ged him to travel into the province of Salen. 
 This delighted him uncommonly; for he hoped 
 the better to convince his friends, by word of 
 mouth, that it was really the will of God respect- 
 ing him that he should study medicine. He set 
 off, therefore, early in the morning, and arrived 
 in the afternoon at his uncle's at Lichthausen. 
 This worthy man, immediately after welcoming 
 him, began to dispute with him respecting his new 
 plan. The whole question was, " Where shall 
 the large sum come from that is requisite for 
 such an extensive and expensive study 3" Still- 
 ing always answered with his motto, "Jehovah 
 Jireth" (the Lord will provide). 
 
 The next morning, he went to his father's, 
 who had also his apprehensions, and feared he 
 might surfer shipwreck in the important under- 
 taking; however, he did not dispute with him, 
 but left him to his fate. 
 
 After he had finished his business, he went 
 again to his father's, took leave of him, and af- 
 terwards proceeded to his uncle's; but the latter 
 had entirely changed his mind, within a few 
 days. Stilling was astonished at it, but still 
 more so when he heard the reason of it. " Yes," 
 said Johann Stilling, "you must study medicine ; 
 I now know that it is the will of God." 
 
 In order to comprehend this matter in its ori- 
 gin, I must make a little digression, which has 
 reference to Johann Stilling. He was acquaint- 
 ed, before he became land-measurer, with a sin- 
 gular man, a Catholic priest, who was a very 
 able oculist, and celebrated far and near. Now 
 Johann Sailing's wife had very sore eyes, for 
 which reason her husband went to Molitor, to 
 fetch something for them. The priest soon ob- 
 
 served that Johann had an intelligent mind, and 
 he therefore encouraged him to apply himself 
 diligently to geometry. Molitor's intentions to- 
 wards him were kind; he had the prospect of 
 becoming steward to a very rich and honorable 
 baronet, and this employment he preferred to his 
 clerical office. This baronet was a great admi- 
 rer of geometry, and desirous of having plans 
 made of all his estate. This was what Molitor 
 designed for Johann Stilling, and the plan suc- 
 ceeded admirably. As long as the old baronet 
 lived, Molitor, Johann Stilling, and sometimes 
 Wilhelm Stilling, were supported by him ; but 
 when the latter died, Molitor was dismissed, and 
 there was also an end to the land-measuring. 
 
 Molitor, in his old age, was made vicar in a 
 little town which lies four leagues to the north 
 of Lichthausen. His principal occupation con- 
 sisted in chemical operations, and cures of the 
 eyes, in which he was still the most celebrated 
 man in that part of the country. 
 
 Just at the time that Heinrich Stilling was 
 about his master's business in the province of 
 Salen, old Mr. Molitor wrote to Johann Stilling, 
 informing him that he had most faithfully and 
 circumstantially copied out all his ophthalmic 
 arcana, both with respect to their application 
 and preparation, as also an explanation of the 
 principal diseases of the eye, with the method 
 of cure. Now, as he was old and near his end, 
 he wished to see this valuable manuscript in 
 good hands — and in consideration of the firm 
 and intimate friendship that had uninterruptedly 
 subsisted between ihem, notwithstanding their 
 difference of religion, he requested him, as a 
 friend, to inform him, whether there was not 
 some worthy individual in his family who had 
 a desire to study the art of medicine; that if 
 there were, he might be sent to him; and pro- 
 fessed himself ready to commit the manuscript 
 to him, together with other valuable medicinal 
 matters, immediately and gratuitously, with the 
 sole condition, that he must pledge himself to 
 benefit poor sufferers with it at all times without 
 any charge. But it ought to be some one who 
 intended to study medicine, in order that the 
 things might not fall into a bungler's hands. 
 
 This letter had entirely changed Johann Still- 
 ing's mind with respect to his nephew. That he 
 should just arrive at that period, and that Mr. 
 Molitor should fall upon this idea at the very 
 time when his nephew intended to study medi- 
 cine, seemed to him a most convincing proof 
 that God had his hand in the matter; he there- 
 fore said to Stilling, "Read this letter, nephew? 
 I have nothing more to object to your plan. I 
 see it is the finger of God!" 
 
 Johann Stilling therefore immediately wrote 
 a very friendly and grateful letter to Mr. Moli- 
 tor, and most warmly recommended his nephew 
 to him. With this letter Stilling walked the 
 next morning to the little town where Molitor 
 lived. On arriving there, he inquired for the 
 gentleman, and was shown a pretty little house. 
 Stilling rang lhe bell, and an aged female open- 
 ed the door to him, and asked who he was. He 
 answered, "My name is Stilling, and I wish to 
 speak with the "clergyman." She went up-stairs, 
 and the old man himself came down, welcomed 
 his visitor, and led him up into his little cabi- 
 net. Here he presented his letter. After Moli- 
 tor had read it, he embraced Stilling, and inqui- 
 red into his circumstances and intentions. The 
 latter continued with him the whole day, looked 
 at his pretty laboratory, his convenient surgery, 
 
70 HEINRICH 
 
 and his little library. " All this," said Mr. Mo- 
 litor, " I will leave you in my will, before I die." 
 Thus they spent the day very pleasantly together. 
 
 Early the next morning, Molitor delivered up 
 the manuscript to Stilling, with the condition, 
 however, that he should transcribe it, and return 
 him the original. Molitor, on the other hand, 
 solemnly pledged himself that he would give it 
 to no one else, but would conceal it, so that no 
 body should be able to find it again. Besides 
 this, the worthy old man had laid aside several 
 books, which he promised to send Stilling forth- 
 with; the latter, however, packed them up in 
 his portmanteau, took them upon his back, and 
 set out. Molitor accompanied him beyond the 
 gates; he then looked up to heaven, took Still- 
 ing by the hand, and said, " The Lord, the Holy 
 One, the Omnipresent, make you, by his Holy 
 Spirit, the best of men, the best of Christians, 
 and the best of doctors !" On which they kissed 
 each other, and parted. 
 
 Stilling shed tears at this separation, and 
 thanked God for this excellent fri'end. He had 
 to travel ten leagues to Mr. Spanier's; this he 
 accomplished the same day, and arrived at home 
 in the evening, heavily laden with books. He 
 related the recent occurrence to his patron, who 
 admired with him the singular leadings and gui- 
 dance of Cod. 
 
 Stilling now set himself to the work of trans- 
 cribing the manuscript; and notwithstanding his 
 other business, he finished it in four weeks. He 
 therefore packed up a pound of good tea, a pound 
 of sugar, and some other things, in his portman- 
 teau, together with the two manuscripts, and set 
 off again early one morning, to visit his friend 
 Molitor, and return him his manuscript. He 
 arrived in the afternoon, rang at the door of the 
 house, waited a little, and then rang again; but 
 no one opened to him. A woman who was 
 standing at the door of a house opposite, asked 
 him whom he wanted. Stilling answered, " The 
 Rev. Mr. Molitor." The woman said, " He has 
 been in eternity above a week I" Stilling was so 
 struck, that he turned pale; he went to an inn, 
 where he inquired into the circumstances of Mo- 
 litor's death, and who was executor to his will. 
 He there heard that he had died suddenly of an 
 apopletic fit, and that no will had been found. 
 Stilling therefore turned about with his portman- 
 teau, and went back four leagues, where he spent 
 the night at a little town, with a good friend of 
 his, so that he was at home again early the next 
 day. He could not refrain from weeping the 
 whale of the way, and would gladly have wept 
 on Molitor's grave, had not the entrance to his 
 tomb been closed. 
 
 As soon as he came home, he began to prepare 
 Mr. Molitor's medicines. Now Mr. Spanier had 
 a man-servant, whose son, a lad of twelve years 
 of age, had for a long time had very sore eyes. 
 Stilling made his first attempt upon this boy. 
 which succeeded admirably, so that he was cured 
 in a short time ; hence he soon came into regular 
 practice, so that he had much to do ; and towards 
 autumn, the fame of his cures extended itself 
 for leagues round, even as far as Schönenlhal. 
 
 Mr. Isaac, the tailor of Waldstatt, saw his 
 friend's progress and success, and rejoiced heart- 
 ily over him; nay, he swam in pleasure, in an- 
 ticipation of eventually visiting Doctor Stilling, 
 and delighting himself with him. But God drew 
 a stroke through this calculation, for Mr. Isaac 
 fell ill. Stilling visited him constantly, and uer- 
 ceived with sorrow his approaching end. The 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 day before his decease, Stilling was sitting at his 
 friend's bed-side; Isaac raised himself up, took 
 him by the hand, and said, " Friend Stilling, I 
 shall die, and leave behind me a wife and lour 
 children ; I am not anxious about their mainte- 
 nance, for the Lord will provide for them; but 
 whether they will walk in the Lord's ways or 
 not, I know not, and therefore I commit the over- 
 sight of them to you ; assist them, in word and 
 deed; the Lord will reward you." Stilling cor- 
 dially promised to do so, as long as he could 
 possibly take charge of them. Isaac continued, 
 " When you remove from Mr. Spanier's, I ab- 
 solve you from your promise. But now I beg 
 of you always to remember me with affection, 
 and live in such a manner that we may be eter- 
 nally united in heaven." Stilling shed tears, and 
 said, "Pray for grace and strength for me." 
 "Yes." said Isaac, "that I will do, when I have 
 finished my course; I have now enough to do 
 wilh myself." Stilling did not suppose his end 
 was so very near; he there/ore went away, and 
 promised to come again the next day; however, 
 he died the same night. Stilling acted as chief 
 mourner at his funeral, because he had no rela- 
 tions ; he wept over his grave, and lamented him 
 as a brother. His wife died not long after him ; 
 but his children are all well provided for. 
 
 After Stilling had been nearly six years in 
 Mr. Spanier's service, during which he contin- 
 ued to practise as an oculist, it occasionally hap- 
 pened that his master spoke with him concern- 
 ing a convenient place for the regulation of his 
 studies. Mr. Spanier proposed to him to con- 
 tinue some years longer with him. and to study 
 for himself; he would then give him a couple of 
 hundred rix-dollars, that he might be able to 
 travel to a university, pass the usual examina- 
 tion, and take his degree; and in the course of 
 a quarter of a year, return, and continue to re- 
 side with Mr. Spanier. What further intentions 
 he had respecting him, I know not. 
 
 Stilling was quite satisfied with this plan at 
 one time, but not at another. His object at the 
 university was to study medicine thoroughly; 
 and he did not doubt but that God, who had call- 
 ed him to it, would put ways and means into his 
 hands to enable him to accomplish it. But Mr. 
 Spanier was not satisfied with this, and, there- 
 fore, they were both at length entirely silent on 
 the subject. * 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1769, when Stilling 
 had just entered his thirtieth year, and had been 
 six years with Mr. Spanier, he received a letter 
 from a merchant at Rasenheim, a league on this 
 side of Schönentha!, whose name was Frieden- 
 bersr, in which the latter requested him to come 
 to Rasenheim as soon as possible, because one 
 of his neighbours had a son who had been troub- 
 led for some years with sore eyes, and was in 
 danger of becoming blind. Mr. Spanier urged 
 him to go immediately ; he, therefore, did so, 
 and after a three hours' walk, arrived in the 
 forenoon at Mr. Friedenberg's, at Rasenheim. 
 This man dwelt in a neat and beautiful house, 
 which he had had built for him a short time be- 
 fore. The part of the country where he dwelt 
 was extremely agreeable. When Stilling enter- 
 ed the house, and perceived that order, cleanli- 
 ness, and neatness without magnificence pre- 
 vailed in every part of it, he was pleased, and 
 felt that he could live there. But on entering 
 the parlour, and seeing Mr. Friedenberg him- 
 self, with his consort, and nine handsome well- 
 made children, who presented themselves, one 
 
SELLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 71 
 
 after the other, in neat and elegant, but not ex- 
 pensive clothing, every face beaming with truth, 
 integrity, and cheerfulness — he was quite in ec- 
 stasy, and wished in reality to dwell for ever 
 with these people. There was no bustle nor 
 hurry to be seen, but an efficient activity, the re- 
 sult of harmony and good-will. 
 
 Mr. Frieden berg, in a friendly manner, offer- 
 ed him his hand, and invited him to dinner. 
 Stilling accepted the offer with pleasure. On 
 conversing with these people, he immediately 
 perceived an inexpressible harmony of spirit ; 
 all of them immediately became fond of Stilling, 
 and he also loved them all exceedingly. His 
 conversation with Mr. and Mrs. Friedenberg 
 was entirely upon religion and true godliness, 
 which was the chief and sole concern of these 
 people. 
 
 After dinner, Mr. Friedenberg accompanied 
 him to the patient, whom he attended to, and 
 then went back with his friend to drink coffee. 
 In a word, these three spirits, Mr. and Mrs. 
 Friedenberg and Stilling, united firmly together, 
 and became intimate friends, without venturing 
 to express it. In the evening, the latter returned 
 to his place; but after this visit, he felt, in some 
 measure, a void ; he had never met with such a 
 family since the days of his youth, and would 
 gladly have resided nearer Mr. Friedenberg, in 
 order to associate more with him and his family. 
 
 Meanwhile, the patient at Rasenheim began to 
 recover, and there were several in that part, and 
 even in Schönenthal itself, who desired his aid; 
 he, therefore, resolved, with the consent of Mr. 
 Spanier, to go every fortnight, on the Saturday 
 afternoon, to visit his patients, and return on the 
 Monday morning. He arranged it so, that he 
 arrived on the Saturday evening at Mr. Frieden- 
 berg's, then went about on the Sunday morning 
 visiting his patients, even as far as Schönenthal, 
 ana returned back to Rasenheim on the Sunday 
 evening, from whence he went home again on 
 the Monday morning. Through these repeated 
 vi; its, his intimate connexion with Mr. Fried- 
 enberg and his family became more and more 
 strengthened ; he acquired also a pleasing ac- 
 quaintance with many pious people in Schönen- 
 thal, who alternately invited him on Sundays to 
 dine with them, and. conversed with him on re- 
 ligion and other good subjects. 
 
 Things continued thus until the February of 
 the following year, 1770, when Mrs. Frieden- 
 berg was delivered of a daughter. Mr. Frieden- 
 berg not only informed Stilling of this pleasing 
 event, but even requested him to stand sponsor, 
 the following Friday, at the christening of his* 
 child. This caused Stilling extreme pleasure. 
 Mr. Spanier, however, could not comprehend 
 how a merchant should come to ask the clerk of 
 another merchant to be godfather to his child ; 
 but Stilling was not astonished at it, for Mr. 
 Friedenberg and he no longer knew of any dif- 
 ference of rank — they were brothers. 
 
 Stilling, therefore, went, at the time appoint- 
 ed, to assist at the baptism. Now Mr. Frieden- 
 berg had a daughter, who was the eldest of his 
 children, and about that time in her twenty-first 
 year. This young lady had loved quietness and 
 retirement from her youth, and she was, there- 
 fore, reserved towards all strangers, particular- 
 ly when they were better dressed than she was 
 accustomed to. Although this circumstance, as 
 it regarded Stilling, was not an obstacle, yet she 
 avoided him as much as she could, so that he j 
 saw her very seldom. Her whole occupation, t 
 
 from her youth up, had consisted in those do- 
 mestic employments which were suited to her 
 sphere of life, and the necessary instruction of 
 the Christian religion according to the evangel- 
 ical Lutheran confession, together with reading 
 and writing; in a word, she was a pretty, agree- 
 able young girl, who had never mixed with the 
 world, so as to be able to live according to the 
 fashion, but whose good disposition richly rec- 
 ompensed for the want of all these insignificant 
 trifles in the estimation of a man of integrity. 
 
 Stilling had not particularly remarked this 
 young lady in preference to the other children of 
 his friend; he felt within him no impulse to do 
 so, nor did he venture to think of such a thing, 
 because it was necessary, previously, that obsta- 
 cles of a stupendous kind should be removed out 
 of the way. 
 
 This amiable girl was called Christina ; she 
 had been for some time very ill, and all the phy- 
 sicians doubted of her recovery. Now when 
 Stilling came to Rasenheim, he inquired after 
 her, as the daughter of his friend ; but as no one 
 gave him an opportunity of visiting her in her 
 apartment, he did not think of it. 
 
 That evening, however, after the christening 
 was over, Mr. Friedenberg filled his long pipe, 
 and said to the new sponsor, " Will it afford you. 
 pleasure for once to visit my sick daughter! I 
 wish to know what you will say of her. You 
 have already more knowledge of diseases than 
 many." Stilling consented, and they went up- 
 stairs into the invalid's chamber. She lay in 
 bed, weak and poorly ; yet still she had much 
 cheerfulness of spirit. She raised herself up, 
 gave Stilling her hand, and asked him to sit 
 down. Both sat down, therefore, at the table, 
 near the bed. Christina did not now feel asha- 
 med in the presence of Stilling, but conversed 
 with him on a variety of religious topics. She 
 became very cheerful and sociable. She was 
 often subject to attacks of a serious nature; so 
 that some one was obliged to sit up with her all 
 night ; another reason for which was, because 
 she could not sleep much. When they had sat 
 awhile with her, and were about to leave her, 
 the sick damsel requested her father's permission 
 for Stilling to sit up with her that night, along 
 with her elder brother. Mr. Friedenberg will- 
 ingly consented, but with the condition that 
 Stilling had no objection to it. The latter was 
 glad to show this piece of friendship to the pa- 
 tient as well as to the family. He betook him- 
 self, therefore, in the evening, with the eldest son, 
 about nine o'clock, to her chamber; they both 
 sat down at the table near the bed, and spoke 
 with her on a variety of subjects in order to pass 
 the time ; they also read aloud to her at intervals. 
 
 About one o'clock in the morning, the invalid 
 requested her two companions to be quiet a little 
 while, as she thought she should be able to sleep. 
 Accordingly they were so. Young Mr. Fried- 
 enberg, meanwhile, stole down stairs, in order 
 to prepare some coffee; but continuing absent 
 some time, Stilling began to nod in his chair. 
 About an hour after, the patient again began to 
 move. Stilling drew the curtains a little asun- 
 der, and asked her how she had slept? She an- 
 swered, " I have lain in a kind of stupor. 1 will 
 tell you something, Mr. Stilling! I have receiv- 
 ed a very lively impression On my mind, respect- 
 ing a subject which, however, I must not men- 
 tion to you till another time.-"' At these words, 
 Stilling' was powerfully struck; he felt from 
 head to foot a trepidation he had never before 
 
72 HEINRICH 
 
 experienced, and all at once a beam of light pen- 1 
 etrated through his soul like lightning. It was 
 evident to his mind, what the will of God was, 
 and what the words of the sick maiden signified. 
 With tears ii> his eyes he arose, bent over the 
 bed, and said, " I know, dear miss, what impres- 
 sion you have received, and what the will of God 
 is." She raised herself up, stretched out her 
 hand, and replied, " Do you know it V Stilling 
 put his right hand into hers, and said, " May 
 God in heaven bless us ; we are eternally uni- 
 ted !"» She answered, " Yes ! eternally so !" 
 
 Her brother now came and brought the coffee, 
 placed it upon the table, and all three partook of 
 it. The invalid was quite as tranquil as before ; 
 she was neither more joyful nor more sorrowful 
 — just as if nothing particular had happened. 
 But Stilling was like one intoxicated; he' knew 
 not whether he was waking or dreaming; he 
 could neither think nor reflect upon this un- 
 heard-of event. However, he felt in his soul an 
 indescribably tender inclination towards the dear 
 invalid, so that he could joyfully have sacrificed 
 his life for her, if it had been requisite; and this 
 pure flame was as if, without being kindled, a 
 fire had fallen from heaven upon his heart ; for 
 certainly, his Christina had, at that time, neither 
 charms, nor the will to charm; and he himself 
 was in such a situation that he shuddered at 
 the thought of marrying. But as aforesaid, he 
 was stupified, and could not reflect upon his sit- 
 uation until the following morning, while he 
 was returning home. He previously took a 
 tender leave of Christina, on which occasion he 
 expressed his fears; but she was quite confident 
 in the matter, and added, "God has certainly 
 commenced this affair, and he will as certainly 
 finish it!" 
 
 On the way, Stilling began to reflect upon his 
 situation, and the whole affair appeared dread- 
 ful to him. He was convinced that Mr. Span- 
 ier, as soon as he was made acquainted with 
 the step he had taken, would immediately with- 
 draw his assistance from him and dismiss him; 
 consequently he would be out of bread, and be 
 placed in his former circumstances. Besides 
 this, he could not possibly imagine that Mr. 
 Friedenberg would be pleased with him ; for to 
 betroth himself with his daughter while in a 
 situation in which he was unable to maintain 
 himself, much less support a wife and children 
 —nay, even while requiring a large sum him- 
 self—this was in reality a miserable return for 
 his friendship; it might rather be looked upon 
 as a dreadful abuse of it. These reflections 
 caused Stilling heartfelt anxiety, and he feared 
 being placed in still more difficult circumstances 
 than he had ever experienced before. He felt 
 like one who has climbed up a high rock by the 
 sea-side, and cannot come down again without 
 the danger of being dashed to pieces; but ven- 
 tures, and leaps into the sea, in the hope of sav- 
 ing himself by swimming. 
 
 Stilling knew not what to do; he cast himself 
 with his Christina into the arms of the paternal 
 providence of God, and was then tranquil ; but he 
 resolved, notwithstanding, to mention nothing of 
 this event, either to Mr. Spanier or to any one else. 
 
 Mr. Friedenberg had given Stilling permis- 
 sion to consign to him all the medicines for his 
 patients in that part of the country, to be for- 
 warded to them ; he therefore sent off a packet 
 of physic to him on the following Saturday, 
 which was eight days after his betrothment, and 
 this he accompanied by a letter, which flowed 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 entirely from his heart, and which pretty clearly- 
 revealed what was passing in it; nay, what was 
 still more, he even inclosed in it a sealed letter 
 to Christina ; and he did all this without consid- 
 ering or reflecting what might result from it ; but 
 when the packet was despatched, he began to 
 consider what the consequences might be. His 
 heart beat, and he could scarcely contain him- 
 self. 
 
 Never had he found a journey more laborious 
 than his customary one to Rasenheim, which he 
 took the week following, on the Saturday even- 
 ing. The nearer he came to the house, the more 
 his heart palpitated. He entered the parlour: 
 Christina had recovered a little; she was there,, 
 with her parents, and some of the children. He 
 went up to Mr. Friedenberg with his usual 
 pleasant look, gave him his hand, and the latter 
 received him with his wonted friendship, as did 
 also Mrs. Friedenberg, and last of all, Christina. 
 Stilling then left the room, and went into his 
 bed-chamber, in order to lay down a few things 
 he had with him. His heart was already light- 
 er; for his friend had either perceived nothing, 
 or else was satisfied with the whole affair. He 
 now went down again, expecting what further 
 would take place. On arriving at the bottom of 
 the stairs, Christina, who was standing at the 
 door of a room opposite the palour, beckoned to 
 him to enter; she closed the door after him, and 
 both sat down together. Christina then began : 
 "Oh how much you terrified me by your letter! 
 my parents know all. Listen, and I will tell you 
 every thing as it occurred. When the letters 
 came, I was in the parlour with my father, but 
 my mother was on the bed in her chamber. My 
 father broke open the letter; he found another in 
 it for me, and handed it to me, with the words, 
 ' There is also a letter for thee.' I blushed, took 
 it, and read it. My father also read his, some- 
 times shook his head, stood, considered, and then 
 read further. At length, he went into the cham- 
 ber to my mother; I could hear all that was 
 said. My father read the letter to her. When 
 he had finished, my mother laughed, and said, 
 1 Dost thou understand what the letter means ? 
 he has a mind to our daughter.' My father an- 
 swered, 'That is not possible; he was only one 
 night with her, with my son ; besides which, she. 
 is ill ; and yet the letter seems to me to imply 
 something of the kind.' 'Yes, yes,' said my 
 mother; 'do not think otherwise; it is so.' My 
 father then went out, and said nothing more. 
 My mother immediately called out to me, and, 
 said, 'Come, Christina, lie down a little by me; 
 thou art certainly weary of sitting.' I went to 
 her, and lay down by her. ' Hear me,' she be- 
 gan; 'has our friend Stilling an inclination for 
 thee V I boldly said, ' Yes, he has.' She con- 
 tinued, 'You have not, however, promised mar- 
 riage to each other'?' 'Yes, mother,' I answer- 
 ed, ' we are betrothed ;' and I was then obliged 
 to weep. 'Indeed!' said my mother; 'how did 
 that happen "? for you have not been alone to- 
 gether!' I then related to her every thing cir- 
 cumstantially, as it had occurred, and told her 
 the plain truth. She was astonished at it, and 
 said, 'Thou art involving thyself in difficulties. 
 Stilling must first study, before you can live to- 
 gether; how wilt thou bear than Besides, thou 
 art but weak in mind and body.' I answered, 
 that I would do as well as I was able — the Lord 
 would assist me ; that I must marry him ; yet if 
 my parents forbade it, 1 would obey them ; but I 
 would never take another. ' Thou hast nothing 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 73 
 
 lo fear,' rejoined my mother. As soon as my 
 parents were again alone in the room, and I in 
 the parlour, she related every thing to my lather, 
 just as 1 had told her. He was long silent; but 
 at length he said, 'I have never heard of such a 
 thing before ; 1 can say nothing to it.' Thus the 
 matter still stands ; my lather has not said a 
 word to me, -either good or bad. But it is now 
 our duty to ask our parents this very evening, 
 and obtain their full consent. Just as you went 
 up-stairs, my father said to me, 1 Go with Still- 
 ing into the other room alone ; thou hast proba- 
 bly something to say to him.'" 
 
 Stilling's heart leaped for joy. He felt that 
 the matter would terminate favorably. He 
 conversed some time longer with his beloved, 
 and they bound themselves once more, in a close 
 embrace, to inviolable fidelity, and an upright 
 deportment before God and man. 
 
 After supper in the evening, when all besides 
 in the house were asleep, Mr. and Mis. Fried- 
 enberg, together with Christina and Stilling, 
 continued sitting in the parlour. The latter 
 then began, and faithfully related the whole 
 event in all its minutest details, and concluded 
 with these words : " Now I ask you sincerely, 
 if you are heartily willing to receive me into the 
 number of your children'? I will faithfully, with 
 the help of God, fulfil every filial duty, and I sol- 
 emnly protest against all help and assistance 
 towards my studies. I request your daughter 
 alone; yes, I take God to witness, that it is the 
 most dreadful thought I could have, were I to 
 imagine you perhaps might think I had any 
 mean intention in this connection." 
 
 Mr. Frieden berg sighed deeply, and a few 
 tears ran down his cheeks. " Yes," said he, 
 " my dear friend, I am satisfied, and willingly 
 accept you for my son ; for 1 see that the finger 
 of God is at work in the matter. I cannot say 
 any thing against it; besides, I know you, and 
 am well aware that you are too honorable to 
 have such unchristian intentions ; but this I 
 must candidly add, that I am not at all in a sit- 
 uation to bear the expense of your studying at 
 the university." He then turned to Christina, 
 and said, " But hast thou sufficient confidence 
 in thyself to be able to bear the long absence of 
 thy friend'?" She answered, "Yes; God will 
 give me strength for it." 
 
 Mr. Friedenberg now rose up, embraced Still- 
 ing, kissed him, and wept on his neck; after 
 him, Mrs. Friedenberg did the same. The sen- 
 sations which Stilling experienced are inexpres- 
 sible; it seemed to him as if he were translated 
 into paradise. He did not trouble himself in the 
 least whence the money for the prosecution of 
 his studies was to come from. The words, 
 " The Lord will provide," were so deeply engra- 
 ven on his soul, that he could not feel anxious. 
 
 Mr. Friedenberg advised him to continue that 
 year with Mr. Spanier, and to betake himself to 
 the university the following autumn. This was 
 just what Stilling wished, and had also been his 
 intention. Finally, they all resolved to keep the 
 matter a profound secret, in order to prevent the 
 misjudgings of others ; and then by fervent pray- 
 er on all sides, entreated the blessing of God on 
 this important undertaking. 
 
 Stilling therefore still continued in his situa- 
 tion with Mr. Spanier, as well as his customary 
 walks to Rasenheim and Schönenthal. A quar- 
 ter of a year before Michaelmas, he announced 
 his intention to Mr. Spanier, in a polite and 
 friendly manner, and besought him not to take 
 K 
 
 this step amiss, since, being in the thirtieth year 
 of his age, it was at length time for him to pro- 
 vide for himself. To all this, Mr. Spanier did 
 not answer a word, but remained perfectly si- 
 lent; from that time, however, his heart was en- 
 tirely turned away from Stilling, so that the last 
 three months were not a little painful to him — 
 not because any one threw any difficulty in his 
 way, but because friendship and familiarity had 
 wholly disappeared. 
 
 Four weeks before the Frankfort auturftnal 
 fair, Stilling took leave of his former dear pa- 
 tron, and the whole household. Mr. Spanier 
 wept bitterly, but did not say a word, either good 
 or evil. Stilling wept also ; and thus he left his 
 last school or situation as tutor, and removed to 
 his friends at Rasenheim, after having quietly 
 spent seven entire and pleasant years in one 
 place. 
 
 Mr. Spanier had never communicated his true 
 intentions with regard to Stilling. It was im- 
 possible for the latter to enter into his plan of 
 becoming a doctor merely as regards the title, 
 without possessing sufficient knowledge; and as 
 Mr. Spanier did not fully communicate to him 
 the rest of his plan, Stilling could not be ac- 
 quainted with it, much less depend upon it. 
 Besides ail this, Providence led him, as it were, 
 with might and power, without his cooperation; 
 so that he was obliged to follow its guidance, ■ 
 even though he had resolved upon something 
 different for himself. But the most disadvan- 
 tageous circumstance for Stilling was, that hav- 
 ing never made any certain agreement with Mr. 
 Spanier with regard to salary, the worthy man 
 gave him only what was sufficient for his neces- 
 sities. But as he had been in the habit of pur- 
 chasing books and other requisites — which, ta- 
 ken altogether, made something considerable 
 yearly — Mr. Spanier gave him nothing at his 
 departure; so that he arrived at Mr. Frieden- 
 berg's, at Rasenheim, without money. The lat- 
 ter, however, immediately advanced him a hun- 
 dred rix-dollars to procure what was most ne- 
 cessary for his journey, and the remainder he 
 was to take with him ; whilst his Christian 
 friends at Schönenthal presented him with a new 
 coat, and offered their further assistance. 
 
 Stilling continued four weeks with his in- 
 tended and her family, during which time he 
 made preparations for removing to the universi- 
 ty. He had not yet made choice of one, but 
 waited for an intimation from his Heavenly Fa- 
 ther; for since he intended to study simply from 
 faith, it was necessary he should hot follow his 
 own will in any thing. 
 
 At the end of three weeks, he went once more 
 to Schönenthal to visit his friends there. On 
 his arrival, a very dear and valued friend asked 
 him whither he intended to go. He replied, he 
 did not know. " Oh," said she, " our neighbour, 
 Mr. Troost, is going to Strasburg to spend a 
 winter there ; go with him." This touched Still- 
 ing's heart; he felt that this was the intimation 
 he had waited for. Meanwhile, Mr. Troost 
 himself entered the room. Stilling's friend im- 
 mediately began to speak to him concerning 
 him. The worthy man was heartily pleased at 
 having him for a companion, for he had already- 
 heard something of him. 
 
 Mr. Troost was, at that time, a man of about 
 fortyyears of age, and still unmarried. He had 
 already practised for twenty years, with much 
 celebrity, as a surgeon in Schönenthal; but be- 
 ing no longer satisfied with his knowledge, he 
 
74 HEINRICH 
 
 determined once more to study anatomy thor- 
 oughly, at Strasburg, and attend other surgical 
 lectures, in order to return furnished with new 
 powers, that he might be able to serve his neigh- 
 bours the more effectually. He had already 
 spent some years at this celebrated university 
 in his youth, and there laid the foundation of 
 his knowledge. 
 
 Now this was just the proper man for Stilling. 
 He had the best and noblest of hearts, composed 
 entirely of philanthropy and friendship ; and 
 possessed, besides this, an excellent character, 
 much religion, and the virtues resulting from it. 
 He knew the world, and was well acquainted 
 with Strasburg; and certainly it was a very pa- 
 ternal guidance of Providence, that Stilling be- 
 came acquainted with him just at that time. 
 He therefore immediately made friends with 
 Mr. Troost. They agreed to travel to Frank- 
 fort with merchants proceeding to the fair, and 
 from thence to Strasburg by a return-chaise; 
 they also decided upon the day of their depart- 
 ure, which was fixed for that day week. 
 
 Stilling had already communicated to his fa- 
 ther and uncle, in the province of Salen, his fur- 
 ther and singular guidance ; they were terrified 
 and astonished; they feared, hoped, and confess- 
 ed that they must resign him entirely to God, 
 and merely stand at a distance, and contemplate 
 his aspiring flight with fear and trembling ; 
 meanwhile they wished him every imaginable 
 blessing. 
 
 Stilling's situation was now, in every respect, 
 dreadful. Let any rational man imagine him- 
 self in his place, and feel ! He had betrothed 
 himself with a tender, pious, susceptible, but at 
 the same time sickly young woman, whom he 
 loved more than his own soul, and who was 
 pronounced by all the physicians to be consump- 
 tive, so that he had great reason to fear when he 
 took leave of her that he should see her no more. 
 Besides this, he felt all the painful sufferings 
 which her tender and affectionate heart would 
 have to endure for such a length of time. The 
 whole of his future welfare depended solely on 
 his becoming a complete physician, and for this 
 purpose a thousand rix dollars at least were re- 
 quisite, of which he could not tell where in the 
 whole world to raise a hundred ; consequently 
 his situation was critical, even in this respect; 
 if he failed in the latter point, he would fail in 
 every thing. 
 
 Yet, although Stilling placed all this before 
 him in a very lively manner, he nevertheless 
 fixed his confidence firmly on God, and drew 
 this inference: "God begins nothing without 
 terminating it gloriously. Now it is most cer- 
 tainly true, that He alone has ordered my pres- 
 ent circumstances, entirely without my coopera- 
 tion : consequently, it is also most certainly true, 
 that he will accomplish every thing regarding me 
 in a manner worthy of him." 
 
 This conclusion frequently rendered him so 
 courageous, that he smilingly said to his friends 
 at Rasenheim, " I wonder from what quarter my 
 Heavenly Father will provide me with money !" 
 However, he did not communicate his peculiar 
 situation to any other individual, and especially 
 not to Mr. Troost, for this tender friend would 
 have hesitated much to take him with him ; or 
 he would at least have had to endure much anx- 
 iety on his account. 
 
 At length, the day of his departure approach- 
 ed; Christina swam in tears, and occasionally 
 fainted away, and the whole house was troubled. 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 The last evening, Mr. Friedenberg and Still- 
 ing sat together alone. The former could not 
 refrain from weeping. He said with tears to 
 Stilling, "My dear friend, I am heartily con- 
 cerned about you; how gladly would I provide 
 you with money, if I were able! I began my 
 business and manufactory with nothing, and I 
 am now just in a situation to maintain myself 
 respectably; but were I to bear the expense of 
 your studies, I should quite lose ground again. 
 Besides this, 1 have ten children ; and what I do 
 for the first, I owe to all." 
 
 " Hear me, my dear friend," answered Still- 
 ing, with a cheerful courage and a joyful mien ; 
 " I do not wish for a farthing from you ; believe 
 assuredly, that He who was able to feed so many 
 thousand people in the desert with a little bread, 
 lives still, and to Him I commit myself. He will 
 certainly find out means. Do not you therefore 
 be anxious — ' The Lord will provide.' " 
 
 He had already sent off his books, clothes, 
 and luggage to Frankfort; and the next morn- 
 ing, after having breakfasted with his friends, 
 he ran up to the chamber of his Christina, where 
 she sat and wept. He took her in his arms, 
 kissed her, and said, " Farewell, my angel ! — 
 the Lord strengthen thee, and preserve thee in 
 health and happiness, till we see each other 
 again !" So saying, he ran out of the door. 
 He then took leave of every one, hastened 
 away, and wept copiously on the road. Chris- 
 tina's elder brother accompanied him to Schön- 
 enthal. The latter then turned back sorrow- 
 fully, and Stilling repaired to his travelling com- 
 panion. 
 
 I will say nothing respecting his journey to 
 Frankfort. They all arrived there in safety, 
 with the exception of having suffered a violent 
 fright in the neighbourhood of Ellefeld on the 
 Rhine. 
 
 Forty rix-dollars was the whole of Stilling's 
 property on setting out from Rasenheim. They 
 were compelled to remain eleven days at Frank- 
 fort, waiting for an opportunity to proceed fur- 
 ther; indeed, Mr. Troost could not leave soon- 
 er ; his money consequently melted away in 
 such a manner, that two days before his depart- 
 ure for Strasburg, he had only a single rix-dollar 
 left, and this was all the money he had in the 
 world. He said nothing of it to any one, but 
 waited for the assistance of his Heavenly Fa- 
 ther. However, notwithstanding his courage, 
 he was still uneasy, he walked about, and pray- 
 ed inwardly to God. Meanwhile, he happened 
 to reach the Römerberg, and there met with a 
 merchant from Schönenthal, who knew him 
 well, and was also a friend of his; I will call 
 him Liebmann. 
 
 Mr. Liebmann saluted him in a friendly man- 
 ner, and asked him how it fared with him. He 
 answered, " Very well." " I am glad of it," re- 
 joined the other; "come this evening to my 
 apartment, and sup with me on what I have. 
 Stilling promised to do so, and Mr. Liebmann 
 then showed him where he was lodging. 
 
 In the evening he went to the place appointed. 
 After supper, Mr. Liebmann began as follows : 
 " Tell me, my friend, who furnishes you with 
 money to enable you to study 1" Stilling smi- 
 led, and answered. " I have a rich Father in heav- 
 en ; He will provide for me." Mr. Liebmann 
 looked at him, and continued, "How much have 
 you at present V Stilling answered, " One rix- 
 dollar— and that is all." "So!" rejoined Lieb- 
 mann; " I am one of your Father's stewards; I 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 75 
 
 will therefore now act the paymaster." On this 
 he handed over thirty-three rix-dollars to Still- 
 ing, and said, " I cannot at present spare more ; 
 you will find assistance everywhere. If you are 
 subsequently able to return me the money, well ! 
 if not, it is no matter/' Stilling felt warm tears 
 in his eyes. He thanked him heartily for his 
 kindness, and added, " I am now rich enough. 
 I do not wish to have more." This first trial 
 made him so courageous, that he no longer doubt- 
 ed that the Lord would certainly help him through 
 every difficulty. He also received letters from 
 Rasenheim, from Mr. Friedenberg and Christi- 
 na. The latter had taken courage, and stead- 
 fastly determined to wait patiently. The former 
 wrote to him in the most tender language, and 
 commended him to the paternal providence of 
 God. He answered the two letters likewise 
 with all possible tenderness and affection. How- 
 ever, he mentioned nothing of this first trial of 
 his faith, but merely wrote that he had abun- 
 dance. 
 
 Two days after Mr. Troost met with a return- 
 chaise to Manheim, which he hired for himself 
 and Stilling, in company with an honest mer- 
 chant from Lucerne, in Switzerland. They 
 then took leave of all their acquaintances and 
 friends, took their seats in the chaise, and pro- 
 ceeded on their way. 
 
 In order to pass the time pleasantly, each re- 
 lated what he knew. Their Swiss companion 
 became so sociable that he opened his whole 
 heart to our two travellers. Stilling was affect- 
 ed by it; and he related his whole life, with all its 
 particulars, so that the Swiss gentleman often 
 shed tears of sympathy. Mr. Troost also had 
 never heard it before ; he was likewise much 
 moved by it, and his friendship for Stilling be- 
 came so much the greater. 
 
 At Manheim they again took a return-chaise 
 to Strasburg. On entering the great forest be- 
 tween Speyer and Lauterburg, Stilling alighted. 
 He was unaccustomed to riding, and" could not 
 well bear the motion of the chaise, particularly 
 in sandy roads. The Swiss gentleman alighted 
 also, but Mr. Troost remained in the carriage. 
 While the two travellers were thus walking to- 
 gether, the Swiss asked Stilling whether he would 
 not part with Molitor's manuscripts, since he pos- 
 sessed a copy of it, for five louis-d'ors. Stilling 
 regarded this again as a hint from God, and 
 therefore promised it to him. 
 
 They at length got into the chaise again. 
 Whilst conversing on a variety of subjects, Mr. 
 Troost, very mal-apropos, began to speak of the 
 manuscript above-mentioned. It was his opin- 
 ion, that when Stilling had once finished his 
 studies, he would put little value on such se- 
 crets and quackery, because they were never 
 what they pretended to be. This made the Swiss 
 gentleman prefer his five louis-d'ors to the manu- 
 script. Had Mr. Troost been aware of what 
 had passed between the two, he would certainly 
 have been silent on the subject. 
 
 Our travellers arrived safe and well at Stras- 
 burg, and took up their quarters with counsellor 
 Blesig, at the sign of the Axe. Stilling, as well 
 as his friend, wrote home, and announced their 
 safe arrival to their several friends. 
 
 Stilling could not rest until he had viewed the 
 beautiful cathedral, both externally and inter- 
 nally. He was so much delighted with it, that 
 he publicly said, "The sight of it alone was 
 worth the journey; it is well it was built by a 
 German." The next day they inscribed them- 
 
 selves as members of the university ; and Mr. 
 Troost, who was known there, sought for a con- 
 venient apartment for them both. This he found 
 also according to his wish ; for in the most con- 
 venient place for them dwelt a rich and respect- 
 able merchant, of the name of R , whose 
 
 brother had resided in Schönenthal, and he there- 
 fore showed kindness to Mr. Troost and his com- 
 panion. This gentleman let them an excellent- 
 ly-furnished room on the first floor, for a moder- 
 ate price, of which they accordingly took pos- 
 session. 
 
 Mr. Troost next went in search of a good eat- 
 ing-house ; and this he likewise found close at 
 hand, where there was an excellent dinner-club. 
 Here he agreed for himself and Stilling by the 
 month. The latter, meanwhile, inquired about 
 the lectures, and attended as many of them as 
 were held. Physics, chemistry, and anatomy 
 were his chief objects, and these he immediately- 
 entered upon. 
 
 The next day at noon, they went, for the first 
 time, to the table-d'hote to dine. They were the 
 first there, and their places were pointed out to 
 them. About twenty persons dined at this table, 
 and they saw them enter one after another. In 
 particular, there came one into the room, very 
 briskly, with large bright eyes, beautiful fore- 
 head, and handsome figure. This person attract- 
 ed the eyes of Mr. Troost and Stilling ; the for- 
 mer said to the latter, " What a fine-looking 
 man !" Stilling was of the same opinion ; how- 
 ever, he thought that they would both have much 
 trouble with him, because they looked upon him 
 as a wild young fellow; this he inferred from 
 the freedom of manner assumed by the student; 
 however, Stilling was mistaken. Meanwhile 
 they heard that this remarkable individual was 
 called " Goethe." 
 
 There were also two other students of medi- 
 cine ; the one from Vienna, the other from Al- 
 sace. The name of the first was Waldberg. 
 He showed, in his whole deportment, that he 
 possessed ability ; but at the same time, a heart 
 full of ridicule against religion, and full of licen- 
 tiousness in his manners. The one from Alsace 
 was called Melzer, and was rather foppish ; he 
 had a good disposition, but unfortunately was 
 inclined to be irascible and mistrustful. He had 
 his seat next to Stilling, and soon became very 
 friendly with him. Then came a student of di- 
 vinity of the name of Lerse, one of the most ex- 
 cellent of men ; he was Göethe's favourite, and 
 this partiality he justly merited; for his abilities 
 were great, he was a good divine, and had be- 
 sides the rare gift of uttering the most striking 
 satirical things in the presence of persons of 
 vicious habits. His temper was extremely rib- 
 ble. Another came who took his place near 
 Goethe; I will say nothing more of him, than 
 that he was a good daw in peacock's feathers. 
 
 A very worthy Strasburger sat also at table. 
 His place was the uppermost, and would have 
 been so, if it had been behind the door. His 
 modesty does not permit me to panegyrize him ; 
 it was Mr. Saltzmann the registrar. If my read- 
 ers can imagine to themselves a man possessing 
 the most thorough and sentimental philosophy, 
 combined with the most genuine piety — they 
 will form an idea of Saltzmann. Goethe and 
 Saltzmann were cordial friends. 
 
 Mr. Troost said in a low voice to StUling, 
 " We shall do best to be silent here for the first 
 fortnight." The latter recognized the truth of 
 this remark ; they therefore said nothing, nor did 
 
76 HEINIt CH 
 
 any one take particular notice of them, except 
 that Goethe sometimes rolled his eyes upon 
 them; he sat opposite Stilling, and had the pres- 
 idency of the table, without seeking it. 
 
 Mr. Troost was very useful to Stilling; he 
 knew (he world better, and could therefore lead 
 him safely through; without him, Stilling would 
 have stumbled a hundred times. Thus kind 
 was his Heavenly Father towards him, so that 
 he even provided him with a guardian, who 
 could not only assist him in word and deed, but 
 from whom he could also receive instruction and 
 direction in his studies; for certainly Mr. Troost 
 was an able and experienced surgeon. 
 
 Stilling having now made all his arrange- 
 ments, pursued his course heroically ; he was 
 in his element; he eagerly attended to every 
 thing he heard; but he neither transcribed lec- 
 tures nor any thing else, but transferred every 
 thing into general ideas. Happy is he who 
 knows how to practise this method well; but it 
 is not given to every one. His two professors, 
 the celebrated Messieurs Spielmann and Lob- 
 stein, soon observed him, and became fond of 
 him, particularly because he conducted himself 
 in a grave, manly, and retired manner. 
 
 But his thirty-three rix-dollars had now melt- 
 ed down again to a single one; on which ac- 
 count, therefore, he began again to pray fervent- 
 ly. God heard and answered him; for just at 
 the time of need, Mr. Troost began to say to him 
 one morning, "You have, I believe, brought no 
 money with you ; I will lend you six Carolines 
 (about five pounds) until you receive a remit- 
 tance." Although Stilling knew as little where 
 a remittance as money was to come from, yet 
 he accepted this friendly offer, and Mr. Troost 
 paid him six louis-d'ors. Who was it that exci- 
 ted the heart of his friend to make this offer, at the 
 very moment when it ivas needed ? 
 
 Mr. Troost was dressed neatly and fashion- 
 ably; Stilling likewise pretty much so. He had 
 on a dark-brown coat, with velveteen trowsers ; 
 he had, however, still a round wig, which he 
 wished to wear by turns with his bag-wigs. He 
 put this on, on one occasion, and appeared with 
 it at the dinner-table. No one troubled himself 
 about it, except Mr. Waldberg from Vienna. 
 The latter looked at him, and as he had already 
 heard that Stilling was inclined to be very reli- 
 gious, he began by asking him, whether Adam 
 wore a round wig in paradise - ? All laughed 
 heartily, except Sallzmann, Goethe, and Troost 
 — they did not laugh. Sailing's anger pervaded 
 every limb, and he answered, "You ought to be 
 ashamed of such ridicule. Such a common- 
 place idea is not worth a laugh !" But Goethe 
 interrupted him, and added, "Try a man first, 
 whether he deserves to be ridiculed. It is dev- 
 ilish to make a jest of a worthy man, who has 
 offended no one." From that time, Goethe took 
 Stilling's part, visited him, became fond of him, 
 made an alliance of friendship and fraternity 
 with him, and labored on every occasion to 
 show him kindness. It is lamentable that so 
 few persons know the heart of this excellent 
 man. 
 
 After Martinmas, lectures on midwifery were 
 announced, and those who were desirous of at- 
 tending them were invited. This was a princi- 
 pal thing with Stilling: he therefore presented 
 himself, on the Mondav evening, with others, in 
 order to subscribe. He had no idea but that 
 these lectures would be paid for, like the others, 
 after thev were ended ; but how was he dismay- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 ed, when the doctor announced that the gentle- 
 men would please pay six louis-d'ors each for 
 the lectures, the following Thursday evening! 
 There was, therefore, an exception in this case, 
 and that for a good reason. Now if Stilling 
 did not pay on the day fixed, his name would be 
 struck out. This would have been disgraceful, 
 and would have weakened the credit which Still- 
 ing absolutely required. He was therefore at 
 a loss what to do. Mr. Troost had already ad- 
 vanced him six louis-d'ors, and there was still 
 no prospect of being able to return them. 
 
 As soon as Stilling entered his apartment, and 
 found it empty — for Mr. Troost was gone to at- 
 tend a lecture — he shut the door after him, threw 
 himself down in a corner, and wrestled earnest- 
 ly with God for aid and compassion. The 
 Thursday evening however arrived, without 
 any thing of a consoling nature manifesting it- 
 self. It was already five o'clock ; and six was 
 the time that he ought to have the money. Still- 
 ing's faith began almost to fail ; he broke out 
 into a perspiration with anxiety, and his whole 
 face was wet with tears. He felt no more cour- 
 age or faith, and therefore he looked forward to 
 the future as to a hell with all its torments. 
 Whilst he was pacing the room occupied with 
 such ideas, some one knocked at the door. He 
 called out, "Come in!" It was their landlord. 
 
 Mr. R . He entered the room, and after the 
 
 customary compliments, he began, " 1 am come 
 to see how you are, and whether you are satis- 
 fied with your lodging." (Mr. Troost was still 
 not there, and knew nothing of Stilling's present 
 struggles.) Stilling answered, "Your inquiries 
 after my health do me much honor; I am well, 
 thank God ! and your apartment is quite accord- 
 ing to the wish of both of us." 
 
 Mr. R rejoined, " I am very glad of it, 
 
 particularly as I see you are such well-behaved 
 and worthy people. But I wished particularly 
 to ask you one thing : have you brought money 
 with you. or do you expect bills ?' Stilling now 
 felt like Habakkuk, when the angel took him by 
 the hair of his head to carry him to Babylon. 
 He answered, " No, I have brought no money 
 with me." 
 
 Mr. R stood, looked at him fixedly, and 
 
 said, " For God's sake, how will you be able to 
 proceed 1" 
 
 Stilling answered, " Mr. Troost has already 
 lent me something." " But he requires hi* 
 
 money himself," rejoined Mr. R . " I will 
 
 advance you money, as much as you need ; and 
 when you receive your remittance, you need 
 only give the bill to me. that you may have no 
 trouble in disposing of it. Are you in want of 
 any money at present 1" Stilling could scarce- 
 ly refrain from crying out ; however, he restrain- 
 ed himself, so as not to show his feelings. 
 "Yes," said he, "I have need of six louis-d'ors 
 this evening, and I was at a loss." 
 
 Mr. R was shocked, and replied, "Yes, 
 
 I dare say you are ! 1 now see that God has 
 sent me to your assistance," and went out of the- 
 room. 
 
 Stilling felt at this moment like Daniel in the 
 lion's den, when Habakkuk brought him his 
 food ; he was overpowered by his feelings, and 
 was scarcely aware of Mr. R 's reenter- 
 ing the room. This excellent man brought 
 eight louis-d'ors, handed them to him, and went 
 away. 
 
 In the sphere in which Stilling now moved, 
 he had dailv temntations enough to become a 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 77 
 
 sceptic in religion. He heard, every day, new 
 reasons against the Bible, against Christianity, 
 and against the principles of the Christian reli- 
 gion. Ali the proofs he had ever collected, and 
 which had always hitherto tranquillized him, 
 were no longer sufficient to satisfy bis inflexible 
 reason ; the trials of faith alone", of which he 
 had already experienced so many in the deal- 
 ings of Divine Providence with him. made him 
 quite invincible. He therefore concluded as 
 follows : " He who so obviously hears the pray- 
 ers of men, and guides their destinies so won- 
 derfully and visibly, must, beyond dispute, be 
 the true God, and his doctrine the word of Cod. 
 Now 1 have ever adored and worshipped Jesus 
 Christ, as my God and Saviour. He has heard 
 me in the hour of need, and wonderfully sup- 
 ported and succoured me. Consequently Jesus 
 Christ is incontestably the true God, his doctrine 
 is the word of God and his religion, as He has 
 instituted it, the true religion." 
 
 Th^is inference, indeed, was of no value to 
 others, but it was perfectly sufficient for himself, 
 to delend him from all doubts. 
 
 As soon as Mr. R was gone, Stilling fell 
 
 on the floor, thanked God with tears, and cast 
 himself anew into His paternal arms, after 
 which he went to the college, and paid as well as 
 the best. 
 
 Whilst this was passing in Strasburg, Mr. 
 Liebmann of Schönenthal paid a visit, on one 
 occasion, to Mr. Friedenberg, at Rasenheim, for 
 they were very good friends. Liebmann knew 
 nothing of Selling's alliance with Christina, al- 
 though he was well aware that Frieden berg was 
 his cordial friend. 
 
 Whilst they were sitting together, the conver- 
 sation turned upon their friend at Strasburg. 
 Liebmann was never weary in relating how Mr. 
 Troost commended Stilling's industry, genius, 
 and good success in his studies. Friedenberg and 
 his family, particularly Christina, were heartily 
 delighted at it. Liebmann could not comprehend 
 whence he had his money, any more than Fried- 
 enberg. " W ell," continued Liebmann, " I wish 
 some friend would join with me; we would re- 
 mit him, for once, a considerable sum." 
 
 Mr. Fridenberg perceived this leading of Prov- 
 idence, and he could scarcely refrain from tears. 
 But Christina ran up-stairs into her room, cast 
 fcerself before God, and prayed. Friedenberg 
 replied, " I will join with you in it." Liebmann 
 rejoiced, and said, " Well then, do you count out 
 one hundred and fifty rix-dollars; 1 will add as 
 many more to them, and send off the bill to him.''' 
 Friedenberg willingly did s.o. 
 
 A fortnight after the severe trial of faith which 
 Stilling had endured, he received, quite unex- 
 pectedly, a letter from Mr. Liebmann, together 
 with a bill for three hundred rix-dollars. He 
 laughed aloud, placed himself against the win- 
 dow, cast a joyful look towards heaven, and said, 
 "This is only possible with thee, thou Almighty 
 Father! — may my whole life be devoted to thy 
 praise!" 
 
 He now paid Mr. Troost, Mr. R , and 
 
 others to whom he was indebted, and retained 
 enough to enable him to get through the winter. 
 His manner of life at Strasburg was so remark- 
 able, that the whole university spoke of him. 
 Philosophy had been, from the first, the science 
 to which his spirit most peculiarly inclined. In 
 order to exercise himself in it the more, he re- 
 solved to read a public lecture in his apartment, 
 in the evenings, from five to six o'clock, at which 
 
 hour he was at leisure. For as he had a good 
 natural gift of eloquence, he the more readily 
 resolved to do this, partly to rehearse what he 
 had heard, and exercise himself further in it, and 
 partly also to attain an ability for speaking in 
 public. As he demanded nothing for it, and as 
 this lecture was regarded as a repetition, he suc- 
 ceeded in it, without any one objecting to it. He 
 obtained a number ol' hearers, and in conse- 
 quence, many acquaintances and friends. 
 
 His own lectures he never neglected. He 
 prepared his own studies in anatomy with pleas- 
 ure and delight; and what he had prepared, he 
 demonstrated publicly, so that both professors 
 and students were astonished at him. Professor 
 Lobstein, who, as is well known, occupied this 
 department with the greatest celebrity, grew very 
 fond of him, and spared no pains to instruct him 
 thoroughly in the science. He also visited, that 
 winter, the sick in the hospitals, with Professor 
 Ehrmann. He there observed the diseases, and 
 > in the dissecting-room, their causes. In a word, 
 he took all possible pains in order to attain a 
 thorough knowledge of the science of physic. 
 
 Goethe gave him another direction in refer- 
 ence to polite literature. He made him ac- 
 quainted with Ossian, Shakspeare, Fielding, 
 and Sterne; and in this manner, Stilling made a 
 transition out of nature into nature. There was 
 also a society of young people at Strasburg, who 
 called themselves the Society of the Belles Let- 
 tres, to which he was invited, and received as a 
 member; here he became acquainted with the 
 best works, and the present slate of polite litera- 
 ture in the world. 
 
 During that winter Herder came to Stras- 
 burg; Sfilling was made acquainted with him 
 by Goethe and Troost. He never in his life ad- 
 mired any one so much as this man, of whom it 
 has been said, " Herder has only one idea, and 
 that is a whole world." He furnished Stilling 
 with a sketch of all things in one, — 1 cannot call 
 it otherwise; and if a spirit ever received an im- 
 petus to an eternal movement, Stilling received, 
 it from Herder, and this because he harmonised 
 with this excellent genius, with respect to natu- 
 ral disposition, more than with Goethe. 
 
 The spring approached, and Mr. Troost made 
 preparations for his departure. Though Stilling 
 deeply felt the separation from such a worthy 
 man, yet he had now the best acquaintance in 
 Strasburg, and besides this, he hoped in the 
 course of a year to be with him again. He gave 
 him letters to carry with him ; and as Mr. Troost 
 had discovered that he was betrothed, Stilling 
 besought him to go to Rasenheim, the first op- 
 portunity, and relate to his friends personally 
 every particular respecting his present position. 
 
 Thus this worthy man set off again, in April, 
 for the Low-lands, after having once more gone 
 through the studies of the sciences he most re- 
 quired, with the greatest industry. But Stilling 
 courageously continued his academical course. 
 
 The Tuesday before Whitsuntide was fixed 
 for the marriage of the son of one of the Profes- 
 sors, on which account there were no lectures. 
 Stillins: therefore determined to spend the day in 
 his own apartment, and study for himself. At 
 nine o'clock, a sudden panic seized him; his 
 heart beat like a hammer, and he knew not what 
 was the mailer with him. He rose up, paced 
 the room, and felt an irresistible impulse to set 
 off home. He started at this idea, and consider- 
 ed the loss he might sustain both with regard to 
 money and with respect to his studies. He at 
 
78 HEINRICH 
 
 length believed it was only a hypochondriacal 
 chimera ; he therefore strove to repel it from his 
 mind by force, and sat down again to his studies. 
 But the uneasiness he felt was so great, that he 
 was obliged to rise up again. He was now re- 
 ally troubled ; there was something in him which 
 powerfully urged him to return home. 
 
 Stilling knew not whither he should look for 
 counsel or comfort. He represented to himself 
 what people might think of him, were he to trav- 
 el fifty German miles at a venture, and perhaps 
 ünd every thing at home in the best situation. 
 But as his anxiety and the impulse he felt still 
 continued, he betook himself to prayer, and be- 
 sought the Lord, if it were His will that he 
 should travel home, to give him an assurance 
 respecting the cause of it. Whilst praying thus 
 
 within himself, -Mr. R 's clerk entered the 
 
 room, and brought him the following letter: — 
 
 " Rasenheim, 9th May, Uli. 
 "My dearly beloved Friend, 
 " I doubt not that you have duly received the 
 letters from my wife, son, and Mr. Troost. You 
 must not be alarmed when I inform you, that 
 your dear Christina is rather poorly. She has 
 been, for the last two days, so extremely ill, that 
 she is now very — very weak. My heart is so 
 affected by it, that floods of tears run down my 
 cheeks. However, I must not write much of 
 this: I might be saying too much. I sigh and 
 pray most heartily ihr the dear child ; and also 
 for ourselves, that we may filially resign our- 
 selves to God's holy will. May the Eternal and 
 Most Merciful be gracious unto all of us ! Your 
 dear Christina is pleased at my writing to you 
 on this occasion, for she is so weak that she can- 
 not say much. I must cease writing a little; 
 may the Almighty God put it into my heart what 
 to write ! I will go on in God's name ; and must 
 tell you that your beloved Christina, according to 
 human appearance — be firm, my dearest friend! 
 — has not many days to spend here, before she 
 will enter her eternal rest; however, I write ac- 
 cording as we men view the matter. Now, my 
 beloved friend — I think my heart will melt ; I 
 cannot write much more to you. Your dear 
 Christina would gladly see you once more in 
 this world; but what shall I say to, or advise 
 you 1 I can write no further, for the tears flow 
 so rapidly upon the paper. O God, thou know- 
 est me, and that I will gladly pay the expenses 
 of the journey; — but I dare not advise you : ask 
 advice of the true Counsellor, to whom I hearti- 
 ly commend you. Myself, my wife, your be- 
 trothed, and the children, salute you a thousand 
 times. 
 
 "I am, eternally, 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 
 "Peter Friedenberg." 
 
 Stilling threw himself like a madman from 
 one side of the room to another; he did not sob 
 nor weep, but looked like one who despaired of 
 his salvation ; at length he recollected himself 
 so far as to throw off his morning-gown, put on 
 his clothes, and then ran, as well as he was able, 
 with the letter, to Goethe. As soon as he enter- 
 ed his room, he exclaimed, in the agony of his 
 soul, " I am lost ! — there, read the letter !" Göethe 
 read it, started up, looked at him with tears in 
 his eyes, and said, "Thou poor Stilling!" He 
 then went back with him to his lodging; an- 
 other true friend, to whom Stilling related his 
 misfortune, also accompanied them. Göethe 
 and this friend packed up what was needful in 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 his portmanteau, another inquired for an oppor- 
 tunity for him by which he might take his de- 
 parture; which was soon found, for a vessel lay 
 ready on the Preusch, that would set sail at noon 
 for Mayence, the captain of which readily took 
 Stilling with him. The latter, meanwhile, wrote 
 a few lines to his friends, to announce his speedy 
 arrival. After Goethe had packed his portman- 
 teau, he ran to procure some provisions for his 
 friend, and carried them on board the vessel. 
 Stilling went with him, prepared for his journey. 
 Here they took leave of each other with many 
 tears. Stilling set sail in reliance on Divine 
 protection ; and after commencing his journey,, 
 felt his mind more at ease, and he had the pre- 
 sentiment that he would find his Christina still 
 alive, and that she would get better; however, 
 he took several books with him, in order to con- 
 tinue his studies at home. It was just the most 
 convenient time for him to travel; for most of 
 the lectures had ceased, and the most important 
 'had not yet recommenced. 
 
 Nothing remarkable occurred on the voyage 
 to Mayence. He arrived there on the Friday 
 evening, at six o'clock, paid for his passage, took 
 his portmanteau under his arm, and ran to the 
 Rhine bridge, in order to find a conveyance tc* 
 Cologne. He there heard that a large covered 
 barge had left two hours before, which would 
 stop the night at Bingen. A boatman imme- 
 diately stepped up to him, and promised Stilling 
 to take him thither in three hours, ibr four guild- 
 ers, although it is six leagues from Mayence to 
 Bingen. Stilling agreed with him. Whilst the 
 boatman was making ready to depart, a smart 
 little fellow of about fifteen years of age, with a 
 small portmanteau, came up to Stilling, and ask- 
 ed whether he would permit him to travel with 
 him to Cologne. Stilling consented ; and as he. 
 promised the boatman two guilders more, the: 
 latter was also satisfied. 
 
 The two travellers, therefore, entered the three- 
 boarded boat. Stilling was not pleased with it 
 from the first, and expressed his apprehensions, 
 but the two boatmen laughed at him. They 
 then set off. The water came within two fin- 
 gers' breadth of the edge of the boat ; and when 
 Stilling, who was rather tall, moved a little, he 
 thought it would have upset, and then the water 
 really came into the boat. 
 
 This sort of conveyance was dreadful to him* 
 and he wished himself heartily on terra firma: 
 however, in order to pass the time, he entered 
 into conversation with his little fellow-traveller. 
 He heard, with astonishment, that this youth 
 was the son of a rich widow in H , and in- 
 tended, just as he sat with him, to travel quite 
 alone to the Cape of Good Hope, in order to 
 visit his brother there. Stilling was astonished 
 above measure, and asked him whether his 
 mother had consented to his journey 7 " By n©> 
 means," answered the boy; " [ went away frem-. 
 her secretly; she had me arrested at Mayence, 
 but I entreated her, until she permitted me to 
 travel, and sent me a bill for eleven hundred 
 guilders. I have an uncle at Rotterdam, to 
 whom I am addressed, and who will assist me 
 further." Stilling was now at ease with respect 
 to the young man, for he did not doubt that this 
 uncle would have secret orders to detain him by 
 force. 
 
 During this conversation, Stilling felt a cold- 
 ness at his feet, and on looking down, found that 
 the water was forcing itself into the boat, and 
 that the boatman behind him was bailing it out 
 
STILLING'S WANDERINGS. 
 
 79 
 
 as last as he could. He now became seriously 
 alarmed, and requested peremptorily to be set on 
 shore on the Bingen side, saying that he would 
 gladly give them the money agreed upon, and 
 walk to Bingen on foot; however, the boatmen 
 refused to do so, and continued rowing. Stilling 
 therefore also betook himself to baling, and with 
 his companion, had enough to do to keep the 
 boat empty. Meanwhile, it grew dark ; they ap- 
 proached the rocks, the wind rose, and a storm 
 seemed coming on. The youth began to tremble 
 in the boat, and Stilling fell into a deep melan- 
 choly, which was increased on perceiving how 
 the boatmen spoke to each other by signs, so that 
 they certainly intended something evil. 
 
 It was now quite dark; the storm approached, 
 the wind blew tempestuously, and it lightened, 
 so that the boat rolled about, and its destruction 
 appeared more certain every moment. Stilling 
 turned inwardly to God, and earnestly prayed 
 that he might be preserved, particularly if Chris- 
 tina should be still alive; lest by the dreadful 
 news of his unfortunate end, she should breathe 
 out her soul in sorrow. But if she had already 
 entered into her rest, he resigned himself cheer- 
 fully to the will of God. Whilst immersed in 
 these reflections, he looked up, and saw, a little 
 way before him, the mast of a yacht; he called 
 out with a loud voice for help, and in a few mo- 
 ments, one of the sailors was on deck with a lan- 
 tern, and a long boat-hook. The boatmen row- 
 ed with all their might in a contrary direction ; 
 but they could not succeed, for as they were 
 rowing towards the shore, the wind and the 
 stream drove them to the yacht, and before they 
 were aware, the hook was in the boat, and the 
 boat along-side the yacht. Stilling and his com- 
 panion were on deck with their portmanteaus, 
 before the villains of boatmen perceived it. The 
 sailor held the lantern to them, and began to ex- 
 claim, " Ha, ha ! are you the wicked rascals 
 that drowned two travellers down yonder a few 
 weeks ago 1 Only wait till I come again to 
 Mayence." Stilling threw them their full pay 
 into the boat, and let them go. How happy was 
 he, and how did he thank God, after escaping this 
 danger! They then went down into the cabin. 
 The men were from Coblentz, and honest people. 
 They all supped together; and the two travel- 
 lers lay down on the luggage that was there, and 
 slept quietly until day-break, when they found 
 themselves before Bingen; they gave the sailors 
 a handsome gratuity, left the vessel, and saw the 
 barge in which they wished to sail to Cologne, 
 moored there to a post. 
 
 Not far from the shore was an inn, into which 
 Stilling went with his comrade, and entered a 
 room, the floor of which was strewed with straw. 
 In one corner lay a man of a pleasing and re- 
 spectable appearance; at a little distance from 
 him, a soldier; a step further, a young man, 
 who looked as like a drunken student as one egg 
 does to another. The first had on a cotton cap 
 drawn over his ears, and a cloak hanging over 
 his shoulders, whilst his Russian frock-coat was 
 wrapped round his feet. The second had bound 
 his pocket-handkerchief about his head, and 
 thrown his soldier's coat over him, and was sno- 
 ring aloud. The third lay with his bare head in 
 the straw, with an English frock across him ; he 
 raised himself, stared strangely about him, like 
 one who has looked too deeply, the previous 
 evening, into the dram-glass. Behind, in the 
 corner, lay something, which it was impossible 
 to say what it was, until it began to move, and 
 
 look forth from between clothes and cushions; 
 Stilling then perceived that it was some sort of 
 a female. Stilling contemplated this excellent 
 'group awhile with pleasure; at length he be- 
 gan, "Gentlemen, I wish you all a happy morn- 
 ing, and a pleasant journey !" All three raised 
 themselves, gaped, rubbed "their eyes, and made 
 other such motions as are usual on awaking; 
 they looked, and saw a tall, smiling man, and a 
 lively boy standing by him ; they then all sprang 
 up, returned the compliment, each after his fash- 
 ion, and thanked him in a friendly manner. 
 
 The principal gentleman was a person of dig- 
 nified and noble aspet ; he stepped up to Stilling, 
 and said, " Whence come you, so early V Still- 
 ing related briefly what had happened to him. 
 With a noble mien the gentleman rejoined, 
 " You are certainly not in business ; at least you 
 do not seem to me to be so." Stilling was sur- 
 prised at this speech ; he smiled, and said, " You 
 must understand physiognomy well; I am not a 
 merchant, but am studying medicine." The 
 strange gentleman looked at him gravely, and 
 said, "You are therefore studying in the midst 
 of your days; you must previously have had 
 great obstacles to surmount, or else you made 
 your choice very late." Stilling replied, " Both 
 was the case with me. I am a child of Provi- 
 dence; without its particular guidance, I should 
 either have been a tailor, or a charcoal-burner." 
 Stilling spoke this with emphasis and emotion, 
 as he always does when on this subject. The 
 unknown gentleman continued, "You will, per- 
 haps, relate your history to us, on the way." 
 "Yes," said Stilling, "most willingly." 
 
 The former now clapped him on the shoulder, 
 and said, " Be you who you may, you are a man 
 after my own heart." 
 
 You that scourge my brother Lavater so se- 
 verely, whence came it, that this noble stranger 
 became fond of Stilling at first sight 1 — and what 
 is the language, and which are the letters that 
 he knew how to read and study so ably? 
 
 The student by this time had recovered his^ 
 senses ; he had become sober, and greeted Still- 
 ing, as did also the soldier. Stilling asked 
 whether the gentlemen would take breakfast? 
 "Yes," said they all, "we will drink coffee." 
 "So will I," rejoined Stilling; and he hastened 
 out of the room, and ordered it. On returning, 
 he said, "Can I have the honor of your agreea- 
 ble society to Cologne, with my companion V 
 They all immediately said, "Yes, it will cause 
 us much pleasure." Stilling made an obei- 
 sance. They then all dressed themselves ; and 
 the lady behind, very shamefacedly, also put on 
 one garment after another. She was house- 
 keeper to a clergyman at Cologne, and conse- 
 quently very careful in the company of strange 
 men; which, however, was quite unnecessary 
 for she was too ugly to be an object of their at- 
 tentions. 
 
 ( ffee was now brought in ; Stilling placed 
 himself at the table, drew the coffee-pot towards 
 him, and began to pour out the beverage; he 
 was cheerful, and inwardly pleased ; but where- 
 fore, I know not. The strange gentleman placed 
 himself near him, and clapped him again on the 
 shoulder; the soldier sat down on the other side, 
 and :Jappe 1 him upon the other shoulder ; whilst 
 the two young people seated themselves on the 
 opposite side of the table, and the lady sat be- 
 hind, and drank her coffee alone. 
 
 After breakfast, they went on board the barge, 
 and Stilling observed that no one knew the 
 
80 HEINRICH 
 
 strange gentleman. The latter urged Stilling to 
 relate the history of his life. As soon as they 
 had passed the Bingen lock, he began it, and re- 
 lated every thing, without concealing the small- 
 est circumstance; he even stated with sincerity 
 the particulars of his betrothment, and the reason 
 of his present journey. The unknown gentle- 
 man occasionally dropped a tear, as did also the 
 soldier, and both wisiied heartily to hear where 
 and in what state he had met with his Christi- 
 na. Both were now intimate with him; and the 
 soldier then began to relate as follows: "I was 
 born of mean parentage in the duchy of Zwei- 
 brücken, but was kept diligently at my learning, 
 in order, by knowledge, to make up for what 
 was wanting in property. After I left school, a 
 person in office employed me as a writer. I was 
 with him some years; his daughter was kind to 
 me, and we became such good friends, that we 
 betrothed ourselves inviolably to each other, and 
 bound ourselves never to marry, if any obstacles 
 were laid in our way. My employer soon dis- 
 covered it, and I was sent away; however, I 
 still found half-an-hour to converse with my 
 sweetheart alone, on which occasion we bound 
 ourselves to each other still more firmly. I then 
 went to Holland, and enlisted for a soldier; I 
 very often wrote to the young lady, but never re- 
 ceived an answer, for every letter was intercept- 
 ed. This rendered me so desperate that I often 
 sought death, but still I had always an abhor- 
 rence of suicide. 
 
 " Our regi ment was soon after sent off to Amer- 
 ica; the cannibals had commenced war against 
 the Dutch ; I was therefore obliged to go with it. 
 "We arrived at Surinam, and my company was 
 stationed at a very remote fort. I was still 
 grieved to death, and wished nothing so much as 
 that a ball might at length strike me dead; all 
 that I was afraid of, was being taken prisoner; 
 for who likes being devoured! I therefore con- 
 tinually entreated our commander to give me a 
 few men to make inroads upon the cannibals; 
 this he did, and as we were always fortunate, he 
 made me serjeant. 
 
 "Once I commanded fifty men; we ranged 
 through a wood, and went to a considerable dis- 
 tance from the fort; all of us having our mus- 
 kets cocked, under our arms. Meantime, a shot 
 was fired at me; the ball whistled by my ear. 
 After a short pause, it occurred again. I looked 
 about, and saw a savage reloading his gun. I 
 called out to him to halt, and pointed my mus- 
 ket at him. He was close to us; he stood still, 
 and we took him. This savage understood 
 Dutch. We forced him to betray their chief to 
 us, and take us to his retreat, which was not far 
 from where we were. Here we found a troop 
 of savages reposing. I had the good fortune to 
 take their chief prisoner myself. We drove as 
 many of them before us as we could keep to- 
 gether; many, however, escaped. 
 
 " In consequence of this affair, the scuffle with 
 these people was at an end. I was made lieu- 
 tenant at sea, and returned with my regiment to 
 Holland. I obtained a furlough, and travelled 
 home, where I found the young lady as I had 
 left her. Beinc? furnished with both money and 
 honor, [ found no further opposition ; we were 
 married, and have now five children." 
 
 This tale delighted the company. The lieu- 
 tenant, as well as Stilling, would now gladly 
 have learned the unknown g?ntlemnn'< circum- 
 stances, hut he smiled, and said, " Excuse me at 
 present, gentlemen. I dare not." 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 Thus the day passed away in the most agreea- 
 ble conversation. Towards evening, a storm 
 came on, and they therefore landed at Leiders- 
 dorff, not far from Neuwied, where they passed 
 the night. The dissolute young man they had 
 with them, was from Strasburg, and had run 
 away from his parents. He soon made ac- 
 quaintance with the youth who was passenger 
 with them. Stilling warned the latter, very se- 
 riously, in particular, not to shew the bill of ex- 
 change: but it was of no avail. He af terwards 
 heard that the boy had lost all his money, and 
 the Strasburger had disappeared. 
 
 In the evening, cn retiring to rest, it was 
 found that there were only three beds for five 
 persons. They cast lots which should sleep to- 
 gether, when it fell out that the two youths were 
 to be in one bed, the lieutenant in another, and 
 the strange gentleman and Stilling were to have 
 the best. Stilling now perceived the costly valua- 
 bles of his bedfellow, which indicated something 
 very dignified. He could not make this mode 
 of travelling agree with such elevated rank, and 
 began to suspect all was not right ; however, as 
 he observed that the stranger was truly devout, 
 he was ashamed of his suspicions, and was sat- 
 isfied. They fell asleep, after much confidential 
 conversation; and the next morning, they again 
 pursued their voyage, and arrived in the even- 
 ing, safe and well, at Cologne. The stranger 
 began to be busy there; persons of consequence 
 went and came to him with all secrecy. He 
 provided himself with a couple of servants, and 
 purchased a quantity of jewellery and other 
 things of the kind. They all lodged together, 
 at the same inn ; and although there were beds 
 enough in the house, yet the stranger requested 
 to sleep again with Stilling, to which he readily 
 assented. 
 
 In the morning, Stilling hastened to take his 
 departure. He and the stranger embraced and 
 kissed each other. The latter said to him, " Your 
 company, sir, has afforded me uncommon pleas- 
 ure. Go on as you have begun, and you will 
 rise high in the world. I shall never forget you." 
 Stilling once more expressed his desire to know 
 with whom he had travelled. The stranger 
 smiled, and said, "Read the newspapers atten- 
 tively when you arrive at home, and when you 
 find the name of * * * remember me." 
 
 Stilling now set out on foot ; he had still eight 
 leagues to walk, before he reached Rasenheim. 
 On the way, he reflected on the stranger's name; 
 it was known to him, and yet he knew not who 
 he was. A week after, he read in the Lippstadt 
 journal the following article : 
 
 "Cologne, 19th May.— M. von * * *, ?mbas- 
 sador of the court of* * * to * * », passed through 
 this place, in the strictest incognito, on his way 
 to Holland, in order to transact important busi- 
 ness." 
 
 In the afternoon of Tuesday after Whitsuntide, 
 Stilling arrived at Rasenheim ; he was received 
 with a thousand demonstrations of joy. But 
 Christina was not mistress of herself; when 
 Stilling went to her, she pushed him away, for 
 she knew him not. He went for a little while 
 into another room, and in the meantime she re- 
 covered herself, and it was told her that Stilling 
 was arrived She could now no longer contain 
 herself. He was called, and came to her. The 
 most lender salutations which can be conceived 
 took place; but it cost Christina dear; she fell 
 into the most violent convulsions, so that Still- 
 ing, in the extremity of grief, awaited the mortal 
 
S T I L L I N GS W ANDERING S. 
 
 SI 
 
 blow at her bed-side, for three days and three 
 nights. Contrary to all expectation, she recov- 
 ered again ; and in a fortnight was so much bet- 
 ter, that she sometimes rose fur a little while du- 
 ring the day. 
 
 Selling's alliance with Christina was now 
 generally known. Their best friends advised 
 Friedenberg to let them be married. This was 
 assented to ; and after the customary formali- 
 ties, the marriage ceremony was performed, on 
 the 17th of June, 1771, at the bedside of his 
 Christina. 
 
 There dwelt in Schönenthal an excellent phy- 
 sician, a man of great learning, and active per- 
 severance in the study of nature; he was at the 
 same time devoid of jealousy, and possessed the 
 best heart in the world. This worthy man had 
 heard part of Stilling's history from his friend 
 Troost. Stilling had visited him several times 
 on this occasion, and requested his friendship 
 and instruction. His name was Dinkier, and 
 his practice was extensive. 
 
 Mr. Dinkier, therefore, and Mr. Troost were 
 present at Stilling's marriage; and on this occa- 
 sion, they both proposed to him to settle at Schön- 
 enthal, particularly because a physician had 
 just died there. Stilling again awaited the Di- 
 vine direction, and therefore said he would think 
 upon it. His two friends, however, gave them- 
 selves much trouble in order to find out a house 
 for him in Schönenthal; and they succeeded in 
 doing so, even before Stilling took his departure 
 again ; the doctor also promised to visit his 
 Christina during his absence, and to take care 
 of her health. 
 
 Mr. Friedenberg now likewise found a source 
 from whence he might procure money; and 
 after every thing was arranged, Stilling prepared 
 to depart again for Strasburg. The evening be- 
 fore the melancholy day, he went up to his wife's 
 chamber. He found her lying on her knees, 
 with folded hands. He stepped up to her, and 
 looked at her ; but she was stiff as a log of wood. 
 He felt her pulse, which beat quite regularly. 
 He lifted her up, spoke to her, and at length 
 brought her to herself. The whole night was 
 spent in continual mourning and conflict. 
 
 The next morning Christina continued lying 
 upon her face in the bed. She took her husband 
 round the neck, and wept and sobbed incessant- 
 ly. At length he tore himself forcibly from her. 
 His two brothers-in-law accompanied him to 
 Cologne. The next day, before he took his seat 
 in the diligence, a messenger arrived from Ra- 
 senheim, and brought the news that Christina 
 had become tranquil. 
 
 This encouraged Stilling; he felt much re- 
 lieved, and did not doubt but that he would again 
 meet his dear and faithful Christina in good 
 health. He commended her and himself into 
 the paternal hands of God, took leave of his 
 brothers-in-law, and set off. 
 
 In seven days he again arrived at Strasburg, 
 safe and well, without danger, and without meet- 
 ing with any thing remarkable. His first visit 
 was to Goethe. The noble young man started 
 up on seeing him, fell upon his neck, and kissed 
 him. "Art thou here again, my good friend!" 
 exclaimed he; "and how is thy intended?" 
 Stilling answered, " She i> my intended no long- 
 er; she is now my wife." "Thou hast done 
 well," replied the former; "thou art an excellent 
 fellow." They spent the remainder of the day 
 entirely in cordial conversation, and in narrating 
 what had occurred 
 L 
 
 The well-known and gentle Lenz had also ar- 
 rived there. His pleasing writings have render- 
 ed him celebrated. Goethe, Lenz, Lerse, and 
 Stilling, now composed a kind of circle, in which 
 every one felt happy who was able to feel what 
 is good and beautiful. Stilling's enthusiasm in 
 the cause of religion did not prevent him from 
 cordially loving such men as thought more freely 
 than himself, if they were only not scoffers. 
 
 He now prosecuted his medical studies with 
 all diligence, and omitted nothing which belongs 
 to that science. The following autumn, Goethe 
 disputed publicly, and then set off home. He 
 and Stilling entered into a mutual and indisso- 
 luble bond of friendship. Lerse also took his 
 departure for Versailles, but Lenz remained at 
 Strasburg. 
 
 The following winter, Stilling, with the per- 
 mission of Professor Spielmann, read a lecture 
 upon chemistry, completely finished his anatom- 
 ical studies, went through some things a second 
 time, and then wrote his Latin treatise lor ex- 
 amination without the assistance of any one. 
 This he dedicated, by special permis ion, to His 
 Serene Highness the Elector of the Palatinate, 
 his gracious prince; he then passed his exam- 
 ination, and prepared for his departure. 
 
 Here much money was again requisite, and 
 Stilling wrote home on the subject. Mr. Fried- 
 enberg was startled at it; at the dinner-table, 
 he thought he would put his children to the test. 
 They were all present, great and small. The 
 father began: "Children, your brother-in-law 
 requires still so much money; what think you, 
 would you send it to him if you had it 1" They 
 ail answered unanimously, " Yes ! even were we 
 to take off our clothes and pledge them !" This 
 moved the parents, even to tears; and Stilling 
 vowed them eternal love and fidelity, as soon as 
 he heard of it. In one word, a remittance arri- 
 ved at Strasburg, which was sufficient. 
 
 Stilling now disputed with credit and ap- 
 plause. Mr. Spiel mann acted as dean on the 
 occasion. On giving him the license, after the 
 disputation was ended, he broke out into com- 
 mendations of him, and said, " That it was long 
 since he had given the license to any one with 
 greater pleasure than to the present candidate; 
 for he had done more, in such a short time, than 
 many others in five or six years," &c. Stilling 
 was still upon the rostrum, and the tears stream- 
 ed down his cheeks. His soul overflowed with 
 thankfulness towards Him who had brought him 
 out of the dust, and given him a vocation in 
 which, in accordance with his own inclinations, 
 he could live and die to the honor of God and 
 the benefit of his neighbours. 
 
 On the 24th of March, 1772, he took leave of 
 all his friends at Strasburg, and set off home. 
 At Manheim he had the honor of presenting his 
 Latin Treatise to his Serene Highness the Elec- 
 toral Prince, as well as to all his ministers. He 
 became on this occasion, correspondent of the 
 Palatinate Society of Sciences, and then travel- 
 led to Cologne, where Mr. Friedenberg met him 
 with every expression of joy ; his brothers-in- 
 law also met him on the way, on horseback. On 
 the 5th of April he arrived, in the company of 
 the friends above-mentioned, at Rasenheim. His 
 Christina was up-stairs in her room. She lay 
 with her face upon the table, and wept aloud. 
 Stilling pressed her to his breast, embraced, and 
 kissed her. He asked her why she wept. "Oh," 
 answered she, "I am weeping because I have 
 not power sufficient to thank God for all his 
 
82 HEINRICH 
 
 goodness." " Thou art in the right, my angel !" 
 rejoined Stilling; "but our whole life, in time 
 and in eternity, shall be made up of thanksgiv- 
 ing. However, rejoice now, that the Lord has 
 helped us hitherto." 
 
 On the 1st of May, he removed, with his 
 spouse, into the house taken for him at Schönen- 
 thal, and began to exercise his vocation. Doc- 
 tor Dinkier and Mr. Troost were the faithful com- 
 panions of his life and labours there. 
 
 On the first medical promotion at Strasburg, 
 he received, through a notary, his doctor's di- 
 ploma, and this was the conclusion of his aca- 
 demical course. His family, in the province of 
 Salen, heard all this with rapturous joy ; and 
 Wilhelm Stilling wrote, in his first letter to him 
 at Schönenthal, "It is enough that my son Jo- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 seph liveth ; I must go down and see him before 
 I die." 
 
 Unto the tnrone of Majesty supreme, 
 
 With grateful heart I now draw near ; 
 And mingle with the seraph's lofty theme 
 
 My humble song of praise and prayer. 
 Although but dust, and form'd of earthly clay — 
 
 Although I feel both sin and death — 
 Yet to a seraph's height aspire I may, 
 
 Since Christ for me resigned his breath. 
 Words are not thanks — no, such like noble deeds 
 
 As Christ's own precedent approves, 
 Mingled with sufferings' and afflictions' seeds, 
 
 An incense, which th' Almighty loves ; * 
 Be these my thanks ; and may my stedfast will 
 
 Each hour be dedicate to Thee ; 
 And grant, I always may this wish fulfil, 
 
 E'en till I reach eternity ! 
 
 HEINRICH STILLIN 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 On the 1st of May, 1772, in the afternoon, 
 Stilling proceeded with his Christina on foot to 
 Schönenthal, and Mr. Friedenberg accompanied 
 them. All nature was still, the sky was serene, 
 the sun shone over hill and dale, and its warm 
 and genial rays unfolded herbs, and leaves, and 
 flowers. Stilling contemplated his present cir- 
 cumstances and prospects with delight, and felt 
 assured that his sphere of operation would be- 
 come wide and comprehensive. Christina in- 
 dulged the same hope ; whilst Mr. Friedenberg 
 sometimes walked on alone, or lingered behind, 
 smoking his pipe ; and when anything relating 
 to domestic economy occurred to him, he ex- 
 pressed it briefly and emphatically, believing 
 that such practical maxims would be useful to 
 them, as they were now about to keep house. 
 On arriving at the eminence from which they 
 could survey the whole of Schönenthal, an in- 
 describable sensation thrilled through Stilling 
 which he could not account for ; inwardly sor- 
 rowful and joyful by turns, he prayed in spirit, 
 and descended the hill with his companions in 
 silence. 
 
 This town lies in a very pleasant valley, which 
 runs in a straight line from east to west, and is 
 intersected by a small river called the Wupper. 
 In summer, the whole valley, for the space of 
 two leagues, to the borders of the Mark, is seen 
 covered with linen-yarn, as with snow, whilst 
 the bustle of a busy and prosperous population 
 is indescribable. This valley is filled with iso- 
 lated houses ; one garden and orchard borders 
 on another, and. the walk up the valley is en- 
 chanting. Stilling dreamed of future happiness ; 
 and thus dreaming, he entered the noisy town. 
 
 In a few minutes, his father-in-law conducted 
 him to the house which Dinkier and Troost had 
 selected and hired for him ; it stood back a lit- 
 tle from the high-road, near the Wupper, and 
 had a small garden attached to it, with a beau- 
 tiful prospect of the southern hills. The servant 
 girl, who had preceded them a few days, had 
 cleaned every thing thoroughly, and arranged 
 their little stock of household furniture. 
 
 After sufficiently surveying and giving his 
 opinion upon every thing, Mr Friedenberg took 
 his leave with many cordial wishes for their 
 happiness, and walked back again to Rasen- 
 
 G'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 heim. The young married couple then stood! 
 and looked at each other with tearful eyes. 
 .Their whole stock of furniture was very limit- 
 ed ; six wooden chairs, a table and bed for them- 
 selves, and one for the servant, a couple of dish- 
 es, six pewter plates, a few pans for cooking, 
 &c, together with the most needful linen, and 
 a very bare supply of clothes, was all that could 
 be found in the house, though large ; this furni- 
 ture was divided hither and thither, and yet the 
 apartments seemed all indescribably empty. 
 The third story was never thought of ; it was 
 void, and continued so. 
 
 And then the cash ! Their funds consisted 
 altogether of five rix-dollars in ready money, 
 and that was all ! Really, really, it required 
 great confideace in the paternal providence of 
 God in order to sleep quietly the first night ; 
 and yet Stilling and his consort slept well, for 
 they did not doubt for a moment that God would 
 provide for them. His reason, however, occa- 
 sionally tormented him much ; but he gave no 
 ear to it, and simply believed. The next day he 
 paid his visits ; but Christina paid none, for her 
 intention was to live as unknown and privately 
 as propriety would permit. Stilling now found 
 a great difference in the behaviour of his future 
 fellow-citizens and neighbours. His pietistic 
 friends, who had formerly received him as an 
 angel of God, and embraced him with the warm- 
 est salutations and blessings, stood at a dis- 
 tance, merely bowed, and were cold ; but this 
 was no wonder : for he now wore a wig with a 
 bag to it ; formerly it was only round, and pow- 
 dered a little ; besides, he wore ruffles to his 
 shirt, at the neck and hands, and was therefore 
 become a gentleman, and a man of the world. 
 They attempted occasionally to speak with him 
 on religion, in their usual way ; but he express- 
 ed himself in a friendly and serious manner, to 
 the effect that he had talked long enough about du- 
 ties; he would now be silent and practise them ; and 
 as he no longer attended any of their meetings, 
 they regarded him as a backslider, and spoke of 
 him on every occasion in an unkind and lament- 
 ing tone. How much is this mode of proceed- 
 ing to be deprecated in such characters, other- 
 wise so worthy and excellent ! I willingly con- 
 fess that some of the most upright people and 
 the best of Christians are to be found amongst 
 them ; but thev ruin every thing by their love 
 
STIRLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 83 
 
 of judging. He that is not precisely of one 
 mind with them, nor trifles, and affects religious 
 sensibility with them, is of no value in their 
 eyes, and is regarded as unregenerate ; they do 
 not reflect that the mere profession of religion 
 is unavailing, and that the individual must let 
 his light shine by his good works. In short, 
 Stilling was not only entirely forsaken by his 
 > old friends, but even calumniated; nor did they 
 scarcely ever employ him as a physician. The 
 majority of the rich merchants received him 
 merely with politeness, as a man who had no 
 property, and whom it was necessary, at first 
 sight, to impress with the idea, " Never have 
 the heart to ask money, help, or support from 
 me ; I will reward thy services as they deserve, 
 and nothing more." However, he likewise found 
 some worthy men, and true philanthropists, 
 whose looks bespoke a noble mind. 
 
 All this had a depressing effect upon Stilling ; 
 hitherto he had dined at a table well provided 
 by others, or else had been able to pay for it 
 himself ; the world around him had had little 
 reference to him ; and, with all his sufferings, 
 his sphere of operation had been inconsiderable. 
 But now, he saw himself all at once placed in 
 a vast, splendid, low-bred, avaricious, mercan- 
 tile world, with which he did not harmonize in 
 the least, where the learned were only esteem- 
 ed in proportion to their wealth — where sensi- 
 bility, reading, and learning, were ludicrous — 
 and where he alone was honored who made 
 much money. Hence, he was like a very small 
 light, at which no one would think of lingering, 
 much less of warming himself. Stilling there- 
 fore began to feel melancholy. 
 
 Meanwhile, two days, and even three days, 
 passed, before any one came who needed his 
 assistance ; and the five rix-dollars melted away 
 rapidly. But on the morning of the fourth day, 
 a woman came from Dornfeld, a small town 
 that lies about three-quarters of a league to the 
 east of Schönenthal. On entering the door, she 
 cried out, with tears in her eyes, " Oh, doctor, 
 we have heard that you are a very able man, 
 and know a good deal ; a very, very great mis- 
 fortune has happened at our house, and we have 
 employed all the doctors far and near, but none 
 of them can do any thing for him : I am there- 
 fore come to you ; — Oh, help my poor child !" 
 
 " Gracious heaven !" thought Stilling to him- 
 self ; " the first patient I get has put to shame 
 all the experienced physicians ; what shall I, 
 who am so inexperienced, be able to effect ?" 
 He asked, however, what was the matter with 
 the child. 
 
 The poor woman related, with many tears, 
 the history of her sick child, of which the fol- 
 lowing were the principal circumstances : — 
 
 The boy was eleven years old, and had had 
 the measles about a quarter of a year before ; 
 through the carelessness of his nurse, he had 
 been exposed too soon to the cold air ; the in- 
 flammatory matter had retired into the brain, 
 and produced very singular results. For the 
 last six weeks, the patient had lain in bed with- 
 out consciousness or feeling; he did not move 
 a limb of his whole body, with the exception of 
 his right arm, which, day and night, incessantly 
 vibrated, like the pendulum of a clock ; his life 
 had been hitherto supported by the injection of 
 thin soups, but no medicine had been able to 
 
 produce any effect. The woman concluded her 
 copious account with expressing her suspicion 
 whether the child might not possibly be be- 
 witched. 
 
 "No," answered Stilling, "the child is not 
 bewitched ; I will come and see him." The 
 woman wept again, and said, " Oh, doctor, do 
 come !" and with that she went away. 
 
 Doctor Stilling paced his room with rapid 
 strides. "Who can do any thing in such a 
 case 1 ?" thought he. "There is no doubt that 
 all possible means have been used (for the peo- 
 ple were wealthy); what remains, therefore, 
 for a beginner like myself!" With these mel- 
 ancholy thoughts, he took up his hat and stick, 
 and set out for Dornfeld ; praying to God, the 
 whole way, for light, and blessing, and power. 
 He found the child exactly as its mother had 
 described ; its eyes were closed, it fetched 
 breath regularly, and the right arm moved, as 
 though it beat time, from the breast towards the 
 right side. He sat down, looked and consider- 
 ed, inquiring into all the circumstances ; and 
 on going away, ordered the woman to come to 
 Schönenthal to him in an hour, telling her he 
 would reflect upon this strange case during the 
 time, and prescribe something. On his way 
 home, he thought of what he could order that 
 might be useful ; at length it occurred to him, 
 that Mr. Spielmann had commended " Dippel's 
 animal oil" as a remedy for convulsions ; he 
 was the more glad of this medicament, for he 
 felt assured that none of the physicians had 
 used it, because it was no longer in fashion. 
 He therefore decided upon it ; and as soon as 
 he came home, he prescribed a mixture, of 
 which this oil was the basis ; the woman came 
 and fetched it. Scarcely had two hours elapsed, 
 when a messenger arrived, who requested Still- 
 ing to return immediately to his patient ; he 
 hastened to him, and on entering the house, he 
 saw the boy sitting up in the bed, happy and 
 well ; and was told that scarcely had the child 
 swallowed a teaspoonful of the mixture, before 
 he opened his eyes, awoke, and asked for some- 
 thing to eat, and the arm had become still and 
 just like the other. It is impossible to describe 
 how the good doctor felt on this occasion ; the 
 house was full of people, desirous of seeing the 
 miracle ; every one regarded him with delight 
 as an angel of God. Every one blessed him ; 
 but the child's parents wept tears of joy, and 
 knew not what they should do for the able phy- 
 sician. Stilling thanked God inwardly in his 
 heart, and his eyes were filled with tears of de- 
 light ; however, he was heartily ashamed of the 
 praise bestowed upon him, which he had so lit- 
 tle merited ; for the whole cure was neither the 
 result of plan nor reflection, but mere accident, 
 or rather Divine and paternal providence. 
 
 When reflecting on the whole affair, he could 
 scarcely refrain from laughing aloud at hearing 
 them speak of his stupendous ability, being con- 
 scious how little he had done in the matter ; 
 however, prudence required him to be silent, 
 and to take every thing for granted, although 
 without ascribing vain glory to himself ; he 
 therefore prescribed purgatives and tonic med- 
 icines, and healed the child completely. 
 
 Here I cannot restrain the impulse of my 
 heart from communicating to young physicians 
 a warning and an admonition, which is the re- 
 
84 HEINRICH 
 
 suit of much experience, and which may be like- 
 wise useful to the public, who are obliged to 
 confide themselves to such inexperienced per- 
 sons. When the young man goes to the uni- 
 versity, his first idea is, to finish as soon as pos- 
 sible ; for studying costs money, and he would 
 gladly soon be able to support himself. The 
 most needful auxiliary sciences, such as the 
 knowledge of the Greek and Latin languages, 
 Mathematics, Physics, Chemistry, and Natural 
 Philosophy, are neglected, or, at least, not suf- 
 ficiently studied ; while, on the contrary, the 
 time is spent in a variety of subtle and sophisti- 
 cal anatomical disquisitions ; the individual then 
 attends the other lectures mechanically, and im- 
 mediately hastens to the sick-bed. There, how- 
 ever, every thing is found to be very different ; 
 the man knows little or nothing of the secret 
 course of nature, and yet ought to know every 
 thing ; the young doctor is ashamed to confess 
 his ignorance ; he therefore talks a great deal 
 of high-sounding nonsense, which makes the 
 ears of the experienced practitioner to tingle; 
 then sits down, and prescribes something, ac- 
 cording to his fancy. Now, if he is still in any 
 degree conscientious, he makes choice of rem- 
 edies which, at least, cannot injure ; but how 
 often is the most important crisis by this means 
 neglected, in which a beneficial effect might 
 have been produced ! and besides all this, the 
 individual often thinks he has prescribed some- 
 thing of a harmless nature, not considering that 
 injury may nevertheless be done by it, because he 
 is ignorant of the real character of the disease. 
 
 It is therefore imperative upon young stu- 
 dents, after attaining a perfect knowledge of 
 the auxiliary sciences, to study Surgery to the 
 very bottom ; for the latter contains the most 
 certain principles of knowledge, from whence, 
 by analogy, internal diseases may be ascertain- 
 ed. They ought then to study nature at a sick- 
 bed, with the professor of practical medicine, 
 who should, however, himself be a good physi- 
 cian ; and then, at length, enter upon this high- 
 ly important office ; but mark ! only under the 
 superintendence of an able practitioner ! Alas ! 
 where is there a greater deficiency, than in the 
 arragements of the medical establishment, and 
 in the regulations appertaining to it] 
 
 This first cure made a great noise ; the blind, 
 the lame, the crippled, and incurables of every 
 kind, now came for his assistance ; but Dippel's 
 Oil did not avail for all, and Stilling had not yet 
 found any such specific for all diseases. The 
 concourse of people to him therefore diminish- 
 ed ; but he came into a regular practice, which 
 procured him a bare subsistence. Meanwhile, 
 his competitors began to attack him; for they 
 looked upon the cure as a piece of quackery, and 
 made the public suppose that he was, and would 
 be, a mere charlatan. This unfounded report 
 reached the medical board at Rüsselstein, and 
 caused the members of it to entertain prejudi- 
 cial ideas of him ; he was required to appear 
 before them for examination, and was rather 
 severely handled ; however, he stood firm, not- 
 withstanding all the attempts at chicanery, so 
 that no one could establish any thing against 
 him; he obtained therefore the diploma of a 
 privileged physician. 
 
 In the beginning of that summer, Stilling 
 made it known that he would read a lecture on 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 Physiology to young surgeons. Messieurs Dink- 
 ier and Troost attended the lecture diligently, 
 and from that time he has read lectures almost 
 without interruption. When he spoke in pub- 
 lic, he was in his element ; in speaking, his 
 ideas developed themselves so fast that he oft- 
 en could not find words enough to express them 
 all ; his whole existence felt reanimated, and 
 became life and delineation. I do not say this 
 for the sake of boasting ; God knows, it was He 
 who gave him the talent ; Stilling had done 
 nothing towards it. His friends often foreboded 
 he would become a public lecturer; at which 
 predictions he sighed within himself, and wish- 
 ed it might be so ; but saw no way before him 
 how to ascend that step. 
 
 Scarcely had Stilling spent a few weeks in 
 such occupations, when all at once the heavy 
 hand of the Almighty again drew forth the rod, 
 and wounded him severely. Christina begarv 
 to grow melancholy and ill ; by degrees her 
 dreadful fits returned in all their violence ; she 
 became subject to tedious and painful convul- 
 sions, which often lasted for hours together, 
 and contracted her poor weak body in such a 
 manner, that it was pitiful to behold. The con- 
 vulsions often threw her out of bed ; during 
 which she shrieked so dreadfully that she might 
 have been heard to the distance of several 
 houses in the neighbourhood. This lasted for 
 some weeks, when her state became evidently 
 more dangerous. Stilling looked upon her as 
 perfectly hectic, for she had really all the symp- 
 toms of a consumption ; he now began to de- 
 spair, and to wrestle with God ; all his powers 
 succumbed, and this new species of sorrow — 
 that of losing a wife whom he so tenderly loved 
 — inflicted deep wounds on his heart. To this 
 were joined daily new cares respecting his 
 maintenance in a place of trade, like Schönen- 
 thal ; he had no credit ; besides which, every 
 thing was very dear, and the manner of living 
 expensive. Every morning, on awaking, the 
 question recurred to him with redoubled force, 
 M How shall I find subsistence this day]" for 
 the case was very rare that he had money 
 enough for two days. His experience and his 
 trials of faith, indeed, stood before his eyes ; 
 but then he daily saw stiL' more pious people, 
 who struggled with the bitterest want, and had 
 scarcely bread enough to satisfy their hunger ; 
 therefore, what else could console him, but an 
 unconditional surrender of himself to the mercy 
 of his heavenly Father, who would not suffer 
 him to be tempted beyond his ability] 
 
 To this was added another circumstance ; he 
 had adopted the maxim, that every Christian, 
 and particularly a physician, ought to be benev- 
 olen' without reflection, merely in confidence 
 upon God ; in consequence of this, he committed 
 the great mistake of frequently having medicine 
 made up at the apothecary's on his own account, 
 for those he visited, who were unable to pay ; by 
 which he plunged himself into debt, which sub- 
 sequently caused him much sorrow ; nor was he 
 careful, on such occasions, to reserve the mon- 
 ey he had been receiving. I cannot say that in 
 such instances an inward benevolent impulse 
 alone guided his actions. No ; there was also a 
 certain thoughtlessness and disregard for money 
 connected with it, of which weakness of char- 
 acter Stilling at that time was ignorant, but at 
 
"'Si ILLINGS DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 85 
 
 length became sufficiently acquainted with it, 
 through many grievous trials. It is no wonder 
 that in this manner his practice became very 
 extensive ; he had more than enough to do, but 
 his labors brought him in very little. Christina 
 also felt grieved at it, for she was very careful ; 
 and he said nothing to her when he gave away 
 any thing, lest she should reproach him ; for he 
 felt assured that God would bless him for it in 
 some other way. In other respects, they were 
 both very moderate in food and raiment ; and 
 contented themselves with that which the ex- 
 treme of propriety required. 
 
 Christina grew worse, and Stilling thought he 
 should certainly lose her. One forenoon, as he 
 sat by her bed and waited upon her, her breath 
 all at once began to cease — she stretched out 
 her arms towards her husband, gave him a 
 piercing look, and breathed out the words, 
 44 Farewell — angel — Lord, have mercy upon me 
 — I am dying !" With that her eyes became 
 fixed, all the appearance of death showed itself 
 in her face, her respiration ceased, she was con- 
 vulsed, and Stilling stood like a poor criminal 
 before his executioner. At length he threw 
 himself upon her, kissed her, and spoke conso- 
 ling words into her ear ; but she was insensi- 
 ble. The moment, however, that Stilling was 
 about to call for help, she came again to her- 
 self; she was much better, and evidently re- 
 lieved. Stilling had not yet by any means suf- 
 ficient medical experience to know all the parts 
 which this dreadful hysteric evil is wont to act 
 in such a weakly and irritable frame ; hence it 
 was, that he was so often alarmed and terrified. 
 Christina did not die under this attack, but she 
 remained dangerously ill, and the dreadful par- 
 oxysms continued ; hence his life was a con- 
 stant torture, and every day had new torments 
 in readiness for himself and his consort. 
 
 Just in this severe time of trial, there came a 
 messenger, from a place which was five leagues 
 distant from Schönenthal, to conduct him to a 
 rich and respectable individual, who was con- 
 fined by a lingering illness. Painful as it was 
 to him to leave his own wife in such a melan- 
 choly condition, yet he felt as deeply the du- 
 ties of his office ; and as the state of the pa- 
 tient above-mentioned was not dangerous, he 
 sent the messenger away again, promising to 
 come the next day. He therefore arranged his 
 affairs so as to be able to be absent for a day. 
 At seven o'clock in the evening, he sent out the 
 servant-girl to fetch a bottle of Malaga wine, 
 which was intended for Christina's refreshment; 
 if she took only a few drops of it, she felt her- 
 self invigorated. Christina's younger sister, a 
 girl of thirteen years of age, was at that time 
 residing with them on a visit to her sister, and 
 she went out with the servant to fetch the 
 wine. Stilling seriously enjoined the latter to 
 return immediately, because there were still 
 several things to do, and he had to prepare for 
 his journey on the morrow ; however, she did 
 not do so ; the fine summer evening seduced 
 the thoughtless girl to take a walk ; and it was 
 nine o'clock before she came home. Stilling 
 had consequently his wife's bed to make, and 
 other things to do himself. Both were there- 
 fore justly irritated. As the girl entered the 
 door, Stilling began, in a gentle but serious tone, 
 to admonish her, and remind her of her duty ; 
 
 the girl was silent, and went down-stairs with 
 Miss Friedenberg into the kitchen. After a lit- 
 tle while, they both heard a hollow, terrible, and 
 dreadful sound, and at the same time, the sis- 
 ter calling out for help. The gloom of the twi- 
 light, together with this appalling noise, produ- 
 ced such an effect, that Stilling himself grew 
 cold through his whole frame, while his sick 
 wife shrieked out with terror. Meanwhile, 
 Stilling ran down stairs, in order to see what 
 was the matter. He found the servant-girl 
 standing by the sink, with dishevelled hair, and, 
 like a lunatic, emitting this horrible sound, 
 whilst foaming at the mouth, and looking like 
 a fury. 
 
 Stilling now felt exasperated ; he seized the 
 girl by the arm, turned her about, and said to 
 her, energetically, 44 What now ! what are you 
 doing 1 what Satan impels you to trouble me 
 thus, in my distressing circumstances? have 
 you no human feeling]" But this was pouring 
 oil into the fire ; she shrieked convulsively, tore 
 herself from him, and fell into the most dread- 
 ful epileptic fit. At the same moment, he heard 
 Christina likewise screaming dreadfully ; he 
 ran up-stairs, and found, in the twilight, his 
 wife in the most appalling condition ; she had 
 thrown off all the bed-clothes and bedding, and 
 was writhing convulsively in the straw beneath ; 
 all recollection was fled, she gnashed her teeth, 
 and the convulsions drew her head backwards to 
 her heels. The waves of affliction now rolled 
 over his head ; he ran out to his next neigh- 
 bours and old friends, and called aloud for help 
 most piteously. Persons of both sexes came, 
 and exerted themselves to bring the two suffer- 
 ers again to themselves ; they succeeded first 
 with the servant-girl ; she came to herself 
 again, and was taken to bed ; but Christina re- 
 mained for a couple of hours in the same mel- 
 ancholy condition. She then became quiet ; 
 her bed was made, and she was put into it, 
 where she lay like one asleep, entirely without 
 consciousness, and unable to move. The day 
 now dawned ; two females from the neigh- 
 bourhood, together with the sister, continued 
 with Christina ; and Stilling rode, with the 
 heaviest heart in the world, to visit his patient. 
 On returning in the evening, he found his wife 
 in the same state of stupefaction, and she only 
 came to herself again the next morning. 
 
 He now sent away the malicious servant, and 
 hired another. The storm passed over for this 
 time ; and Christina got well again. The fol- 
 lowing autumn, she was again troubled with an 
 ulcerated breast, which was the cause of many 
 painful occurrences ; though, with this excep- 
 tion, she was very well and cheerful. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Stilling's domestic life had commenced pain- 
 fully and sorrowfully in every respect. There 
 was nothing pleasing in his whole situation, ex- 
 cept the tenderness with which Christina treat- 
 ed him ; both loved each other cordially, and 
 their intercourse was a pattern to married peo- 
 ple. However, the excessive affection of his 
 wife sometimes occasioned him very bittpr mo- 
 ments, for it frequently degenerated into jeal- 
 
 • 
 
86 HEINRICH 
 
 ousy ; but this weakness entirely vanished in 
 the course of a year or two. In other respects, 
 Stilling's whole state resembled that of a wan- 
 derer travelling by night through a wood full of 
 robbers and ravenous beasts, who hears them, 
 from time to time, rustling and roaring around 
 him. He was continually tormented by care 
 respecting his daily support ; he had little suc- 
 cess in his vocation, little love in the circle in 
 which he moved, and consequently little com- 
 fortable society. No one encouraged him ; for 
 those who could have done it, did not know 
 him, nor he them ; and those that observed and 
 were acquainted with him and his circumstan- 
 ces, either despised him, or were indifferent to 
 him. If he occasionally went to Rasenheim, 
 he did not dare say any thing of his condition, 
 lest he should cause anxiety, for Mr. Frieden- 
 berg had become security for the amount his 
 studies had cost ; he was compelled to hide his 
 sorrow from his Christina, for her tender mind 
 would have been unable to have borne it with 
 him ; he was even obliged to encourage her, and 
 hold out to her the most pleasing hopes. 
 
 It was, on the whole, a singular affair with 
 reference to Stilling's vocation and attending 
 the sick. As long as he labored, unobserved, 
 amongst the poor and the lower class, her per- 
 formed excellent cures, and was successful in 
 almost every case ; but no sooner had he to 
 attend one of the higher class, to whom many 
 eyes were directed, than all was in vain ; his 
 sphere of action, therefore, continued limited to 
 people who could pay him but little. This cir- 
 cumstance, although it seemed strange, is ea- 
 sily understood : his whole soul was system ; 
 in his ideas it was requisite that every thing 
 should be according to rule; hence he had no 
 disposition for the refined and allowed charla- 
 tanry, which is so needful to the practical phy- 
 sician who wishes to gain something for himself ; 
 therefore, when he visited a patient, he inquired 
 into his case, then formed a plan, and acted 
 according to it. If it did not succeed, he was 
 vanquished ; his labors then became disagree- 
 able to him, and yet he was unable to help him- 
 self. With common and robust constitutions, 
 in which nature works more regularly and sim- 
 ply, his method was most successful ; but where 
 luxury, delicate nerves, perverted sensibility, 
 and imagination, were in full play, and where 
 his attention to the patient had to consist of a 
 hundred different kinds of seemingly important 
 employments, Stilling did not feel at home. 
 
 All this gradually inspired him with a pro- 
 found repugnance to the medical profession ; 
 and only the idea that God had designed him to 
 be a physician, and would therefore gradually 
 render him successful in his vocation, supported 
 his soul, and kept him in unwearied activity. 
 For this reason he formed, the very first sum- 
 mer, the gigantic resolution to study and inves- 
 tigate, until he had attained to mathematical cer- 
 tainty in his vocation. In this tedious underta- 
 king, he hit upon several important tracks, and 
 discovered many new philosophical truths ; but 
 the further he sought, the more he found that 
 his misfortunes would increase, the more ground 
 and foundation he discovered in his profession ; 
 for he perceived very clearly that the physician 
 can do very little, and consequently can earn 
 very little. This weakened his hopes, and his 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 prospects became dark, just like a wanderer on 
 an unknown and dangerous path, who is over- 
 taken by a thick fog, so that he cannot see ten 
 steps before him. He therefore cast himself 
 unreservedly into the paternal arms of God, 
 hoped, where nothing was to be hoped for, and 
 proceeded in a very melancholy manner on his 
 pilgrimage. 
 
 Dare I tell you, friends and readers, that Still- 
 ing, notwithstanding all this, was a happy man ! 
 What is the object of human life, but a perfect- 
 ing of existence, in order to be able to spread 
 happiness around us? Similarity to God alid 
 to Christ is the brilliant aim which beams upon 
 a mortal, like the morning radiance, from his 
 youth up ; but where is the boy, the youth, or 
 the man, in whom religion and reason have so 
 much the ascendency over sensuality, as to pre- 
 vent him from wasting his life in gratifying 
 himself, and from forgetting his exalted destiny % 
 It is therefore an invaluable blessing, when art 
 individual is instructed, from his youth up, to 
 place an entire reliance upon God ; and is then, 
 placed by Providence in a situation where he is 
 compelled to exercise that confidence. His soul, 
 by this means, becomes pliant, humble, resign- 
 ed, patient, and unceasingly operative ; it strug- 
 gles through doing and suffering, and overcomes 
 every thing ; no adversary can essentially in- 
 jure it, for it strives against them with the 
 weapons of love, which no one effectually re- 
 sists : nay, even Deity itself may be overcome 
 by love ! This was Stilling's case. The wis© 
 man must therefore esteem him happy, although 
 scarcely any one would wish himself in his 
 place. 
 
 Towards the autumn of' the year 1772, the 
 two excellent brothers Vollkraft, of Rüsselstein, 
 came to Schönenthal. The eldest was court- 
 chamberlain, and a noble, upright, excellent 
 man ; he had a commission to execute at the 
 latter place, which detained him some weeks. 
 His brother, a sentimental, tender, and well- 
 known poet, and at the same time, a man of the 
 best, noblest, and most upright sentiments, ac- 
 companied him, in order to be with him in a 
 place which was so entirely destitute of food 
 for his soul. Doctor Dinkier was very well ac- 
 quainted with these two worthy characters. At 
 the first visit, he described Stilling to them so 
 advantageously that they were desirous of be- 
 coming acquainted with him. Dinkier gave him 
 a hint, and he hastened to visit them. He went 
 to them for the first time one evening ; when, 
 the chamberlain entered into conversation with, 
 him, and was so taken with him, that he saluted 
 and embraced him, and favored him with his en- 
 tire love and friendship; the same was the case 
 also with the other brother. Both understood 
 him, and he them ; their hearts overflowed into 
 each other, and a conversation arose, such as 
 is not understood by every one. 
 
 Stilling's eyes were continually filled with 
 tears on this occasion. His deep sorrow sought 
 alleviation ; but he never mentioned any thing 
 of his situation, for he knew how humbling it is 
 to confess one's need even to friends. He there- 
 fore bore his burden alone ; which, however, 
 was much lightened from having met with those 
 who understood him, and were confidential and 
 open to him. Besides this, Stilling was of low 
 birth ; he had been accustomed, from his youth 
 
STILLING'S DO 
 
 MESTIC LIFE 
 
 87 
 
 up, to regard persons of rank, and even rich 
 and reputable people, as beings of a superior 
 kind ; hence he was always timid and reserved 
 in their presence. This was often construed 
 into stupidity, ignorance, and adherence to his 
 low descent : in a word, he was despised by 
 persons of the common sort, who were destitute 
 of refined feelings : but the brothers Vollkraft 
 were of a very different stamp ; they treated 
 him confidentially ; he revived in their society, 
 and was able to shew himself in his true col- 
 ours. 
 
 Friedrich Vollkraft, for so was the chamber- 
 lain called, asked him, at his first visit, if he 
 had written any thing. Stilling answered that 
 he had ; for he had sent his history, in lectures, 
 by piecemeal, to the Society of Belles Lettres 
 at Strasburg, which existed at that time, and 
 had received the copy of it back again. The 
 two brothers much wished to read it ; he brought 
 it, therefore, at the next visit, and read it to 
 them. The style, as well as the declamation, 
 was so unexpected, that they exclaimed aloud, 
 "That is beautiful — incomparable!" They 
 therefore encouraged him to write more, and 
 induced him to furnish something for the " Ger- 
 man Mercury," which was then commencing. 
 He did so, and wrote " Aseneitha, an Oriental 
 Tale," which appeared in the first part of the 
 third and the first part of the fourth volume of 
 that periodical work, and gave general satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 Through this acquaintanceship, Vollkraft be- 
 came a support to Stilling, which much relieved 
 him on a very painful occasion. He had now a 
 lodging and a friend when he travelled to Rüs- 
 selstein, who imparted to him, by his corre- 
 spondence, many a refreshing ray of" light. This 
 connection, however, made him still more hated 
 by his fellow-townsmen, and particularly by the 
 Pietists : for in Schönenthal, a rigid adherence 
 to systems of religion universally prevails, and 
 he that varies from them in the smallest degree, 
 as was the case with the brothers Vollkraft.was 
 regarded as Anathema and Maranatha ; so that 
 if a person writes any thing, if it be a poem that 
 is not spiritual, or a romance however moral, 
 he is in their eyes already tainted with irreli- 
 gion, and becomes odious. It is true that all 
 the inhabitants of Schönenthal do not think 
 alike, of which proofs will be given in the se- 
 quel ; these are, however, the sentiments of the 
 majority, and it is this which gives the ton. 
 
 Doctor Stilling continued to live thus circum- 
 stanced, amidst a variety of changes. At the 
 close of the year 1772, he made a calculation of 
 his expenses ; he balanced receipts and pay- 
 ments—or rather, income and expenditure — 
 and found, to his great sorrow, that he was two 
 hundred dollars deeper in debt ; the reason of 
 which was as follows. It is the custom in 
 Schonenthal, to carry every thing that is earn- 
 ed to account ; therefore, as no money came in, 
 none could go out ; consequently, what is want- 
 ed is fetched from the tradespeople, and placed 
 to account. At the end of the year, the bills 
 are made out and sent, and thus accounts are 
 received and paid. Now, although Stilling had 
 earned as much as he had spent, yet his de- 
 mands were scattered about in such trifling 
 sums that he could not possibly collect them all ; 
 he was therefore at a stand ; and thus, the 
 
 shopkeepers not being paid, his credit sank still 
 more ; his grief, on this account, was inexpres- 
 sible. He met his daily ready-money expenses 
 by what he received from patients in the coun- 
 try; but this resource was so limited, that he 
 had barely sufficient for mere necessaries, and 
 was frequently put to the severest tests ; in 
 which, however, Providence never forsook him, 
 but came to his aid, as formerly, in a visible 
 and wonderful manner. The following is an 
 instance amongst many. 
 
 In Schönenthal, coals alone are used, both in 
 the kitchen and the parlour stoves ; all these 
 coals are brought from the neighbouring prov- 
 ince of Mark. Stilling had also his coalman, 
 who from time to time brought him a horse- 
 load, which, however, he was obliged to pay for 
 on the spot ; for the carrier required the money 
 to buy more, and he had been hitherto always 
 provided with the needful. On one occasion, 
 this coalman drove up to the docjr, in the after- 
 noon ; the coals were wanted/ and the man 
 could not be sent away. Stilling had not half- 
 a-guilder in the house, and he did not feel him- 
 self at all at liberty to go and borrow of his 
 neighbour. Christina wept, while he prayed 
 ardently to God. All that was required was a 
 couple of Convention dollars ; but to him that 
 does not possess them, the payment of two dol- 
 lars is as difficult as to one who has to pay a 
 thousand, and does not possess a hundred. 
 Meanwhile, the carrier unloaded his coals ; and 
 when that was done, he washed his hands, in 
 order to receive the money ; Stilling's heart 
 beat, and he wrestled with God. All at once, 
 a man came to the door with his wife ; the good 
 people were from Dornfeld ; Stilling had healed 
 the man of a painful disease some weeks be- 
 fore, and had charged him, in his account, for 
 the end of the year. After the customary salu- 
 tations, the man began : " I have just been re- 
 ceiving money ; and as I was "passing your door, 
 it occurred to me, that I had no need to let my 
 account stand over till next year ; I therefore 
 wish to settle it now. You, perhaps, may be 
 able to make use of the money." " Very weil," 
 replied Stilling; so saying, he went and fetched 
 the book, made out the account, and received * 
 ten rix-dollars. 
 
 Stilling frequently met with examples of this 
 kind, by which he was much strengthened in 
 his faith, and encouraged to persevere. 
 
 On the 5th of January, 1773, Christina bore 
 him a daughter ; and although every thing pass- 
 ed over in the ordinary course of nature, yet 
 there was again a dreadful period of six hours' 
 continuance, in which the fury, Hysteric, used 
 her claws in a terrible manner ; the poor wom- 
 an writhed about like a worm ; and such times 
 were always a penetrating and purifying fire for 
 Stilling. 
 
 The following spring, after riding, one Satur- 
 day, to a neighbouring village, which lies at the 
 distance of a league and-a-half from Schönen- 
 thal, in order to visit the sick, and spending the 
 whole day in going from house to house, and 
 from cottage to cottage, there came in the even- 
 ing, a poor, young, well-made female, across 
 the street, who was blind, and was obliged to 
 be led by the hand. Stilling was still eminent 
 for curing diseases of the eye ; he stood at the 
 door of the inn, near his horse, and was just 
 
88 HEINRICH 
 
 about to mount, when the poor woman called 
 out, " Where is the Doctor 1" 
 
 Stilling. — " Here ! What do you want, good 
 woman t" 
 
 Woman. — " Oh, sir, look at my eyes ! I have 
 been blind some years ; I have two children, 
 whom I have never seen, and my husband is a 
 day-lahourer ; I helped formerly, by spinning, 
 to maintain our family, but I cannot do so now ; 
 and though my husband is very industrious, yet 
 he cannot support us alone, and therefore we 
 are badly off. Oh look, sir, and see whether 
 you can do any thing for me !" 
 
 Stilling looked at her eyes, and said, " It is a 
 cataract ; you might, perhaps, be healed of it, 
 if you met with an able man who could perform 
 the operation." 
 
 Woman. — " Do not you understand it, Doc- 
 tor 1" 
 
 Stilling. — " Yes, I understand it, it is true ; 
 but I have never yet tried it on any living be- 
 ing." 
 
 Woman. — "Oh, then, try it upon me !" 
 
 Stilling. — " No, good woman ! that I will not ; 
 I am too much afraid of it ; it might not suc- 
 ceed, and then you would always continue 
 blind ; it would be afterwards impossible to 
 cure you." 
 
 Woman. — " But now, if I will run the risk 1 
 You see I am blind, and shall not be blinder 
 than I am now ; perhaps the Lord will give his 
 blessing with it, and make it successful : per- 
 form the operation upon me !" 
 
 At these words, Stilling was seized with a fit 
 of trembling ; operations were not his business ; 
 he therefore threw himself on horseback, and 
 said, " Let me alone ! — I cannot — I cannot — 
 perform the operation." 
 
 Woman. — "Doctor, you must; it is your 
 duty ; God has called you to help the poor and 
 the needy, whenever you can ; now you can 
 operate for the cataract ; I will be the first to 
 take my chance, and I will accuse you at the 
 day of judgment, if you do not help me !" 
 
 These words were daggers in Stilling's heart; 
 he felt that the woman was in the right, and 
 yet he had an invincible dread and dislike to all 
 operations on the human body ; for he was, on 
 the one hand, too tender and too susceptible, 
 and, on the other, too conscientious, also, to 
 risk the happiness of any one in such a man- 
 ner. He therefore made no further reply, but 
 rode off ; he struggled with himself on the way, 
 but the result was the same— a resolution not 
 to perform the operation. However, the poor 
 woman did not let the matter rest there ; she 
 went to her minister — why should I not name 
 him'? — the worthy man, who was one of a thou- 
 sand — the late Theodore Müller. He was the 
 father, the counsellor of all the members of his 
 church ; the prudent, gentle, unweariedly active 
 servant of God, without being a pietist ; in short, 
 he was a disciple of Jesus in the full sense of 
 the word. His Master soon called him away, 
 assuredly to make him ruler over much. La- 
 vater sang his death, the poor wept over him, 
 and the sick lamented him. Blessed be thy re- 
 mains, thou seed for the day of retribution ! 
 
 The poor blind woman came to this worthy 
 man to tell her sorrows, and, at the same time, 
 accused Doctor Stilling. Müller therefore wrote 
 him a pressing letter, in which he represented 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 to him all the happy results which this opera- 
 tion would occasion, in the event of its succeed- 
 ing ; and, on the other hand, the inconsiderable 
 consequences in the event of its being unsuc- 
 cessful. Stilling ran, in the distress of his 
 heart,-to his friends Dinkier and Troost. Both 
 advised him seriously to undertake the opera- 
 tion ; and the former even promised to accom- 
 pany him and assist him. This encouraged him 
 in some measure, and he resolved upon it with 
 fear and trembling. 
 
 There was another circumstance to be added 
 to all this. Stilling had been particularly in- 
 structed at Strasburg, by Professor Lobstein, in 
 the extraction of the cataract, and had also pro- 
 cured from Bogner the instruments for it ; for 
 it was his intention, at that time, to unite this 
 excellent and beneficial method of healing to 
 his other ophthalmic remedies. But, on becom- 
 ing a practical physician himself, and being 
 grieved to see all the misery that resulted from 
 unsuccessful medical attendance, he grew ex- 
 tremely timid, and did not dare to venture on 
 such operations ; he consequently lost all de- 
 sire to operate for the cataract ; and this was 
 one of the principal reasons why he could not 
 perform as much — or, at least, did not appear 
 to accomplish as much — as others of his col- 
 leagues, who undertook every thing, labored on, 
 and though they often made miserable falls, 
 gathered themselves up again, and notwith- 
 standing all, got forward better than he. 
 
 Stilling wrote, therefore, to Müller, that he 
 would come on a certain day, with Doctor 
 Dinkier, to perform the operation on the poor 
 woman. Accordingly, both set off, on the day 
 appointed, and walked to the village ; Dinkier 
 gave Stilling every possible encouragement, but 
 it was of little avail. At length they arrived at 
 the village, and went to Müller's house ; the 
 latter comforted him, and the woman was then 
 sent for, together with the surgeon, who had to 
 hold her head. When every thing was ready, 
 and the woman had taken her seat, Stilling 
 placed himself before her, took the instrument, 
 and introduced it into the eye at the proper 
 place. But as the patient, as is natural, moved 
 a little on taking breath, Stilling drew the in- 
 strument out again ; consequently the watery 
 humour flowed out of the wound, down the 
 cheek, and the anterior eye closed. Stilling, 
 therefore, took the curved scissors, and pene- 
 trated into the wound with the one blade, and 
 then regularly cut the semi-circle below, as cus- 
 tomary ; but on looking closely, he found that 
 he had also cot the coat of the iris ; he was 
 alarmed ; — but what was to be done 1 He was 
 silent, and sighed. That moment the lens fell 
 through the wound, down upon the cheek, and 
 the woman exclaimed, in the greatest transport 
 of joy, " O Doctor, I can see your face ! I see 
 the black in your eyes !" All present rejoiced. 
 Stilling then bound up the eye, and healed it 
 successfully ; she saw extremely well with one 
 eye. Some weeks after, he performed the op- 
 eration upon the other eye, with the left hand ; 
 all was done regularly, for he had now more 
 courage : this was also healed, and the wom- 
 an was perfectly restored to sight. This was 
 noised abroad, so that several blind people 
 came, on whom he successfully performed the 
 operation ; it was seldom that he did not sue- 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 89 
 
 ceed. Nevertheless, it was singular, that these 
 important cures rarely yielded him any emolu- 
 ment. Most of the individuals being poor, he 
 performed the operation on them gratuitously ; 
 and it was seldom that any one came who was 
 able to pay any thing; his circumstances were 
 consequently little improved by his success. 
 Many even took occasion from it to class him 
 with operators and quack-doctors. " Only pay at- 
 tention," said they ; "he will soon begin to travel 
 from place to place, and enter into some order." 
 
 In September of the following autumn, the 
 lady of one of the principal and most wealthy 
 merchants, or, rather, men of property, who was, 
 at the same time, a very worthy man, was con- 
 fined for the first time. The case was a very 
 painful and protracted one, and Dinkier, as phy- 
 sician to the family, proposed to call in the as- 
 sistance of Stilling, who was therefore sent for. 
 After having sufficiently convinced himself that 
 the child was dead, to assist the mother, he 
 opened its head, and pressed it together. Every 
 thing afterwards went on well, and the lady 
 soon became convalescent. But the heartfelt 
 anxiety, tears, struggles, and sympathy which 
 such employments occasioned our susceptible 
 Stilling, cannot be described. However, he felt 
 it his duty, and was obliged to go whenever he 
 was sent for. He started, therefore, so that 
 his heart beat, on hearing a knock at his door 
 during the night; and this has interwoven it- 
 self so firmly into his nerves that, to the present 
 moment, he shudders whenever any one knocks 
 at his door in the night-time, although he is 
 well aware that he is no longer sent for to act 
 on such occasions. 
 
 This affair gained him, for the first time, the 
 esteem of all the inhabitants of Schönenthal ; 
 he now saw a number of friendly faces. But 
 this pleasant state of things did not last long ; 
 for about three weeks afterwards, there came 
 an order from the medical board at Rüsselstein, 
 enjoining him to abstain, for the time being, 
 from acting as accoucheur, and to appear before 
 the board to be examined regarding that depart- 
 ment. Stilling stood as if thunder-struck ; he 
 did not comprehend a word of it, until, at length, 
 he learned that some one had sent a very unfa- 
 vorable account of his professional aid in the 
 above-mentioned case. 
 
 He thefetore set out for Rüsselstein, where 
 he took up his abode with his friend Vollkraft, 
 his worthy lady, who is equalled only by few, 
 and his excellent sisters ; and he needed this 
 recreation in his painful circumstances. He 
 then waited upon one of the members of the 
 medical board, who received him very scornful- 
 ly, with the words, " I hear you put out people's 
 eyes." " No," answered Stilling ; " but I have 
 cured several of the cataract." 
 
 " That is not true," said the man, insolently ; 
 " you say false." " No !" rejoined Stilling, with 
 fire in his eyes, and burning cheeks, " I do not 
 speak falsely ; I can bring witnesses to prove 
 it incontestably ; and were I not aware of the 
 respect I owe you, sir, as one of my superiors, 
 I would answer you in the same tone. A grad- 
 uated person, who seeks every where to do his 
 duty, deserves the esteem, even of his superi- 
 ors." The member of the medical board laughed 
 in his face, and said, "Is it doing your duty to 
 destroy children 1" 
 M 
 
 Dimness now obscured Stilling's sight ; he 
 turned pale, stepped nearer, and rejoined, " Sir, 
 do not say that again !" He felt, however, at 
 the same time, all the horrors of his situation, 
 and his dependence upon this horrible man. 
 He therefore sank back into a chair, and wept 
 like a child ; but this produced no effect, except 
 to excite more scorn ; he therefore rose up, and 
 went away. In order that his grief might not 
 be too much perceived by the Vollkrafts, he 
 walked awhile up and down the rampart ; and 
 when he entered the house, he seemed more 
 cheerful than he was. The reason why he did 
 not relate all his grievances to Mr. Vollkraft lay 
 in his nature ; for, open-hearted as he was with 
 respect to every prosperous circumstance, he 
 was just as silent regarding all he had to suffer. 
 One cause of this was a great degree of self- 
 love, and a wish to spare his friends. He was 
 ready, however, to say every thing and reveal 
 every thing, to certain people, who had passed 
 through similar situations ; but this phenome- 
 non had a still deeper foundation, which he did 
 not perceive till long after. Rational and acute- 
 thinking people could not, like him, regard every 
 thing as the result of Divine guidance ; no one 
 doubted that Providence was specially leading 
 him to some exalted aim ; but whether much 
 that was human had not intervened in the case 
 of his marriage, and in other circumstances that 
 had befallen him, was another question, to which 
 every philosophical -reasoner would loudly an- 
 swer, "Yes!" Stilling, at that time, could not 
 bear this at all ; he thought he knew better, and 
 this was the real cause of his silence. The se- 
 quel of this history will show how far these 
 people were right or wrong. But I return to 
 my subject. 
 
 The medical board fixed a time for his exam- 
 ination in Midwifery, and for deciding respect- 
 ing his treatment of the Schönenthal lady. In 
 his examination, the most captious questions 
 were put to him, and it was decided, that "though 
 he was pretty correct in the theory, yet he had 
 entirely fallen short in the practice ;" he was, 
 therefore, only permitted to assist in cases of 
 the utmost extremity. 
 
 Notwithstanding all these vexatious circum- 
 stances, Stilling could not refrain from laughing 
 aloud on reading this, and the public laughed 
 with him ; he was forbidden to practise as an 
 accoucheur, as an unfit person ; but an excep- 
 tion was made in extreme cases, in which the 
 assistance of this unfit person was permitted. 
 With respect to the case of labor above-men- 
 tioned, Stilling was declared to have been the 
 cause of the child's death, but the punishment 
 was spared him ; a great favor for the poor doc- 
 tor — to be allowed to murder unpunished ! 
 
 This decision, however, pained him to the 
 soul; and he therefore rode, the same after- 
 noon, to Dulsberg, in order to bring the whole 
 affair before the medical faculty there, the head 
 of which, at that time, was the venerable Leide- 
 frost. There he was declared perfectly inno- 
 cent, and received a responsum which entirely 
 restored his credit. The husband of the lady 
 that had been delivered, published this document 
 himself at the Schönenthal town-house. But 
 the estimation of the cure suffered much by the 
 course the matter had taken ; and Stilling's en- 
 emies took occasion from it to calumniate him. 
 
'SO HEINRICH 
 
 Selling's success in curing the cataract had 
 however caused much sensation ; and a certain 
 friend even inserted an account of it in the 
 Frankfort newspaper. Now there was at the 
 university of Marburg a very worthy and able 
 professor of Jurisprudence, of the name of Sor- 
 ber, who had been three years blind of the cat- 
 aract, to whom this account in the newspaper 
 was read. He instantly felt impelled to take 
 the long journey to Schönenthal, in order to 
 have the operation performed by Stilling, and 
 to place himself under his care. He therefore 
 arrived at the end of April, 1774, with his lady 
 and two daughters, and Stilling successfully 
 performed the operation in the beginning of 
 May ; his patient recovered so satisfactorily 
 that he perfectly regained his sight, and still 
 continues to fill his situation in an honorable 
 manner. During this time, Christina was 
 brought to bed a second time, and bore a son. 
 With the exception of dreadful hysterical fits 
 from the milk-fever, every thing went on fa- 
 vorably. 
 
 There was still one thing which lay at Still- 
 ing's heart. He wished to see his father again, 
 after so long a lapse of time. As Doctor, he 
 had not yet spoken to him, and his consort was 
 still entirely unacquainted with him ; but 
 though he had frequently invited the worthy 
 man, and Wilhelm had often promised to come, 
 yet he always postponed his visit. Stilling now, 
 however, did his utmost. * He wrote to him to 
 say that he would ride on a certain day to 
 Meinerzhagen, which was half-way, to meet 
 him, and would fetch him from thence. This 
 produced the desired effect. Wilhelm Stilling 
 set out at the proper time, and they met at the 
 appointed inn, at Meinerzhagen. They ran to 
 each other's arms, and the feelings which as- 
 sailed the hearts of both were unspeakable. 
 Wilhelm in unconnected ejaculations expressed 
 his joy, that his and Doris's son had now attain- 
 ed the object for which he was designed ; he 
 wept and laughed alternately ; and his son took 
 good care not to give him the slightest hint rel- 
 ative to his painful sufferings, his doubtful suc- 
 cess, and the difficulties of his profession ; for 
 by this he would have spoiled all his father's 
 joy. He nevertheless felt his grief the more 
 deeply ; it pained him not to be so happy as his 
 father imagined him to be, and he doubted also 
 that he ever should be thus happy ; for he al- 
 ways regarded himself as one whom God had 
 destined to the medical profession, and that he 
 must continue in this vocation, although he had 
 for some time taken a dislike to it ; because, on 
 the one hand, he found so little real encourage- 
 ment in this science ; and on the other, because 
 if he proceeded with it in an honest manner, it 
 was not sufficient to support him, much less to 
 prove the basis of the prosperity of his family. 
 
 The next morning, he placed his father on 
 the horse, and acted the pedestrian at his side 
 on the path; and thus they travelled nine 
 leagues that day, conversing in a most agreea- 
 ble manner, until they reached Rasenheim, 
 where he introduced his father to the whole of 
 his Christina's family. Wilhelm was received 
 in a manner worthy of him ; he shook every 
 one by the hand ; and his honest, characteris- 
 tic Stilling's-face, inspired every one with rev- 
 Terence. The Doctor now let his father walk on 
 
 STILLING 
 
 before, accompanied by one of his brothers-in- 
 law, whilst he remained a few minutes longer, 
 in order to give free vent to his feelings in the 
 bosom of Mr. Friedenberg' s family ; he wept 
 aloud, thanked God, and then hastened after his 
 father. He had never travelled the road from 
 Rasenheim to Schönenthal with such heartfelt 
 delight as on the present occasion ; and Wil- 
 helm likewise rejoiced in his God. 
 
 On entering the house, Christina flew down- 
 stairs to meet the worthy man, and fell upon 
 his neck with tears. Such scenes must be wit- 
 nessed, and the spectator of them must possess 
 the requisite organs of sensibility, in order to be 
 able to feel them in all their force. 
 
 Wilhelm remained a week with his children ; 
 and Stilling again accompanied him as far as 
 Meinerzhagen, from whence each pursued his 
 way in peace. 
 
 Some weeks after, Stilling was sent for early 
 one morning to an inn, and was told that a 
 strange gentleman, who was sick, desired to 
 speak with him. He therefore dressed himself, 
 went thither, and was conducted into the cham- 
 ber of the stranger. He found his patient with 
 a large cloth wrapped round his neck, and his 
 head enveloped in clothes. The stranger 
 stretched his hand out of bed, and said, with a 
 weak and hollow voice, "Doctor, feel my pulse ! 
 I am very weak and poorly." Stilling felt it, 
 and found the pulse very regular and healthy ; 
 he expressed himself therefore to that effect, 
 and declared he found nothing wrong, for the 
 pulse went regularly. Whilst saying this, Go- 
 ethe took him round the neck. Stilling's joy 
 was indescribable, and he took him home with 
 him. Christina was also happy to see this 
 friend, and made preparations for dinner. 
 Meanwhile he led Goethe to an eminence out 
 of the town, in order to show him the charming 
 view of the town and the extensive valley. 
 
 Just at that time, the brothers Vollkraft were 
 again in Schönenthal on business. They had 
 a friend with them, who has rendered himself 
 celebrated by his beautiful writings, but whom 
 Stilling did not like, because of his satirical and 
 sarcastic humour ; he therefore seldom visited 
 his friends, for Juvenal (as I will for the present 
 call the man) continually ridiculed him on ac- 
 count of his attachment to religion. During 
 the time that Stilling was taking a walk with 
 Goethe, Mr. Vollkraft the chamberlain rode up 
 to Stilling's door on horseback, and called out 
 to the servant, to tell her master that he had 
 suddenly set off for Rüsselstein, because Goethe 
 was there. Christina was not present at the 
 moment to inform him of the true state of the 
 case. Vollkraft therefore trotted off in haste ; 
 when Goethe and Stilling returned home, and 
 the servant related the occurrence to them, they 
 both regretted the mistake, but it was then too 
 late to alter it. 
 
 The peculiar occasion of this journey of Go- 
 ethe's was the following : Lavater had been 
 visiting the baths at Ems, from whence he trav- 
 elled to Muhlheim on the Rhine, to visit a friend 
 there. Goethe had followed him to Ems ; and 
 in order to see every thing of a remarkable na- 
 ture, and to visit some eminent characters, he 
 had accompanied him to Muhlheim. Goethe 
 then left Lavater behind him, and made an ex- 
 cursion, by way of Rüsselstein, to Schönenthal, 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 91 
 
 in order likewise to visit his old friend Stilling, 
 promising Lavater to return to Muhlheim at a 
 certain time, and accompany him hack again. 
 However, during Goethe's absence, Lavater 
 was under the necessity of likewise proceeding 
 to Rüsselstein, and from thence to Schönenthal ; 
 but of this, Goethe did not know a syllable ; 
 consequently, after dining with Stilling, he set 
 out on horseback on the way to Rüsselstein, 
 with the above-mentioned Juvenal, in order to 
 meet the Vollkrafts there. Scarcely were they 
 • gone, when Lavater came driving up the street, 
 accompanied by the two Vollkrafts, the cele- 
 brated Hasenkamp of Duisburg, and the very 
 remarkable, pious, and learned Doctor Collen- 
 busch. Stilling being informed of this, hastened 
 after the two horsemen, and brought them back 
 again. 
 
 Lavater and his attendants, meanwhile, had 
 turned in at a well-known and pious merchant's. 
 Stilling, Goethe, and Juvenal hastened thither 
 also. Never, perhaps, had a more singularly 
 mixed company met together, than that which 
 now surrounded the large oval table, which, ac- 
 cording to the Schönenthal fashion, was at the 
 same time loaded with refreshments. It is 
 worth the while for me to give even a rude 
 sketch of these guests. 
 
 Lavater's fame for practical godliness had at- 
 tracted thither, amongst others, an old adhe- 
 rent of Tersteegen's ; he was in every respect 
 a venerable man : unmarried, according to the 
 principles of pure mysticism ; extremely partic- 
 ular in the choice of his company ; very friend- 
 ly ; grave ; of a soft-featured countenance, com- 
 posed look, and careful in all his expressions ; 
 all his words were weighed, as it were, in gold 
 scales ; in short, he was an excellent man, if I 
 except the single peculiarity, which all persons 
 of this kind so easily assume — that of being in- 
 tolerant towards all who differ frorn them in 
 opinion. This venerable man, with his round 
 and lively face, round bob-wig and black small- 
 clothes, sat towards the head of the table ; he 
 looked about him with a kind of friendly anxi- 
 ety, and now and then privately dropped mon- 
 itory hints, for he scented spirits of very differ- 
 ent sentiments. 
 
 Next to him sat Vollkraft the chamberlain, 
 in a fashionable riding-dress, a refined man of 
 the world equalled only by few ; his lively dis- 
 position shot forth sparks of wit, and his high- 
 ly-rectified philosophical feeling judged always 
 according to the balances of propriety, of recti- 
 tude, and of justice. 
 
 After him followed his brother, the poet ; 
 from whose whole being streamed gentle, pleas- 
 ing feeling, and benevolence towards God and 
 man, let them think and believe as they would, 
 if they were only good and worthy people ; his 
 grey flock-hat lay behind him in the window, 
 and his form'was covered with a light summer 
 frock. 
 
 The landlord sat next him ; he had on his 
 nead a coal-black wig with a bag, and a brown 
 chintz morning-gown, girded about with a green 
 silk sash ; his large prominent eyes started 
 forth from beneath his broad and lofty forehead ; 
 his chin was pointed, and the face, on the whole, 
 triangular and meagre, but full of traits of un- 
 derstanding ; he loved rather to hear than to 
 speak; and when he spoke, every thing was 
 
 previously considered and decreed in the cham- 
 ber of his brain ; certainly his dove-like simpli- 
 city was not unaccompanied by the wisdom of 
 the serpent. 
 
 Lavater was next in order ; his apostle John's 
 face forcibly attracted every heart with venera- 
 tion and love ; and his cheerful and pleasing 
 wit, combined with a lively and amusing hu- 
 mour, made all present its own, who did not 
 think they sinned by wit and humour. Mean- 
 while his physiognomical feelers were secretly 
 and constantly at work ; for here there was no 
 want of objects. He had an able drawing-mas- 
 ter with him, who also did not sit with his hands 
 in his bosom. 
 
 Near Lavater sat Hasenkamp, a man of about 
 forty years of age ; a little bent, thin, and hec- 
 tic, with rather a long face, remarkable physi- 
 ognomy, and an aspect which inspired venera- 
 tion. Every word was a paradox, exciting re- 
 flection and pleasure, though seldom systemat- 
 ic ; his spirit sought for liberty, and struggled in 
 its tabernacle after truth, until, having soon 
 burst it, he soared aloft with a loud hallelujah 
 to the Source of light and truth. His detached 
 pieces cause orthodox and heterodox Christians 
 to shake their heads ; but he required to be 
 known ; he constantly walked with his per- 
 spective glass in his hand, up and down the 
 land of shadows, and looked over into the re- 
 gion of the plains of light, the dazzling rays of 
 which occasionally dimmed his sight. 
 
 Collenbusch followed next, a theological phy- 
 sician, or medical divine. His countenance was 
 remarkably singular — a face which shook Lava- 
 ter's whole system ; it contained nothing disa- 
 greeable, nothing bad ; but, at the same time, 
 nothing of all that on which he builds greatness 
 of soul. A secret and serene majesty, howev- 
 er, beamed forth through his features, which 
 were disfigured by the small-pox, but so slightly 
 as only to be gradually discovered in associating 
 with him. His eyes, which were struggling with 
 the cataract and the gutta serena, and his ever- 
 open mouth, showing two rows of beautiful 
 white teeth, seemed as if they would attract the 
 truth through worlds of space ; and his very 
 pleasing and agreeable language, connected with 
 a high degree of politeness and modesty, fetter- 
 ed every heart that approached him. 
 
 Juvenal then followed. Let the reader ima- 
 gine to himself a little, young, round-headed, 
 mannikin, the head inclining a little to one 
 shoulder, with bright and roguish eyes, and an 
 ever-smiling countenance — he said nothing, but 
 made his observations in silence ; his whole at- 
 mosphere was an impenetrable power, which re- 
 pelled every thing that sought to approach him. 
 
 Close to him sat a worthy young Schönen- 
 thal merchant, a friend of Stilling, full of reli- 
 gion without pietism, and glowing with a hun- 
 ger after truth— a man who has few that are like 
 him. 
 
 Now followed Stilling ; he sat there, with a 
 profound and secret grief on his brow, which 
 Circumstances for the moment dispelled ; he 
 spoke occasionally, and sought to show each 
 one his heart as it was. 
 
 Some inconsiderable physiognomies, merely 
 to fill up the vacant space, completed the circle. 
 Goethe could not sit still ; he danced about the 
 table, made faces, and showed every where, in 
 
92 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 his way, how royally the circle of men delighted 
 him. The Schönenthal people thought to them- 
 selves, " Good heaven ! the man cannot be right 
 in his head !" but Stilling and others, who knew 
 him and his ways better, thought they should 
 burst with laughter, when some one regarded 
 him with a fixed, and as it were compassionating 
 eye, and he would confound him with a full and 
 piercing look. 
 
 This scene lasted, rather tumultuously, scarce- 
 ly half-an-hour ; when Lavater, Hasenkamp, Col- 
 lenbusch, the young merchant, and Stilling, rose 
 up, and wandered forth in the clear evening 
 sunshine, up the lovely valley, in order to visit 
 the excellent Theodore Müller above-mentioned. 
 Stilling will never forget that walk ; Lavater 
 became acquainted with him, and he with La- 
 vater ; they spoke much together, and became 
 attached to each other. On arriving at the vil- 
 lage, Stilling returned to Schönenthal with his 
 friend ; in the mean time, Goethe and Juvenal 
 had set off for Russelstein, Lavater came next 
 morning to visit Stilling, had his portrait taken 
 for his work on Physiognomy, and then pursued 
 his journey further. 
 
 It was necessary to touch upon this remarka- 
 ble period of Stilling's life circumstantially ; for 
 although it made no alteration in his situation, 
 yet it laid the foundation for a variety of impor- 
 tant changes in his future course of life. One 
 thing more I have forgotten to observe ; Goethe 
 took with him the manuscript of Stilling's life, 
 in order to be able to read it at home, at his lei- 
 sure; we shall find, in the sequel, the excellent 
 use which Providence made of this apparently 
 trifling circumstance, and of Goethe's visit. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 In the autumn ofthat year, 1772, a Schönenthal 
 merchant brought with him from the Frankfort 
 fair a merchant of the name of Bauch, from 
 Sonnenburg in Saxony, in the hope that Stilling 
 would be able to cure him. Stilling looked at 
 his eyes ; the pupils were broad, but still in 
 some degree moveable ; though there was the 
 commencement of the cataract, yet the patient 
 was much too blind for it to proceed solely from 
 this trifling obscurity. Stilling saw clearly that 
 the beginning of the gutta Serena was the' chief 
 cause of the evil; he mentioned this; but his 
 friends all advised him to attempt the operation, 
 particularly because the patient was otherwise 
 incurable, and therefore would lose nothing by 
 the operation; whilst, on the other hand, duty re- 
 quired that every means should be tried. Still- 
 ing therefore suffered himself to be prevailed 
 upon, for the patient himself requested that the 
 attempt might be made, and expressed himself 
 to the effect that this last remedy must be also 
 tried ; the operation was successfully performed, 
 and the cure commenced. 
 
 The step was very inconsiderate, and Stilling 
 found sufficient cause to repent of it. The cure 
 did not succeed; the eyes inflamed, suppurated 
 strongly, and the sight was not only irreparably 
 lost, but the eyes had now also an ugly appear- 
 ance. Stilling wept in solitude, and prayed to 
 God on his face for this man, that he might be 
 healed; but he was not heard. To this, other 
 circumstances were added; Bauch learned that 
 
 Stilling was needy, and hence he began to be- 
 lieve that he had performed the operation mere- 
 ly in order to gain money. Now though the 
 merchant, his landlord, who had brought him 
 with him, was Stilling's friend, and sought to 
 divest him of his suspicions, yet there were oth- 
 ers, who visited the patient, who insinuated dis- 
 trust enough concerning Stilling's poverty, de- 
 ficiency in knowledge, and limited abilities. 
 Bauch therefore travelled back to Frankfort un- 
 happy, and full of vexation and mistrust of Still- 
 ing's integrity and attainments; he remained 
 there some weeks, in order to make new attempts 
 with his eyes, and after that to return home. 
 
 During this time, a very worthy and respect- 
 able Frankfort patrician, Mr. Von Leesner, 
 heard how Professor Sorber of Marburg had 
 been cured by Stilling. He himself had been 
 blind for some years ; he therefore sent to Sor- 
 ber for the requisite information, and received 
 the most satisfactory reply. Mr. Von Leesner 
 consequently had his eyes inspected by several 
 physicians, and as all of them agreed that the 
 cataract might be cured, he committed the mat- 
 ter to his family-physician, the respectable and 
 worthy Doctor Hoffmann, that he might corre- 
 spond with Stilling upon the subject, and induce 
 him to proceed to Frankfort ; because, being old, 
 blind, and infirm, he did not think himself able 
 to undertake such a journey. Leesner promised 
 to pay Stilling a thousand guilders, whether the 
 operation proved successful or not. These thou- 
 sand guilders dazzled Stilling's eyes in his afflict- 
 ed circumstances; and Christina, however intol- 
 erable her husband's absence might seem to her, 
 advised him, very seriously, not to neglect this 
 establishment of his reputation ; the Friedenberg 
 family, and all his friends, also advised him to 
 go. Theodore Müller alone was entirely oppo- 
 sed to it : he said, " Friend, you will repent of it, 
 and the thousand guilders will cost you dear. I 
 forebode a melancholy result ; remain here; let 
 him that will not come to you, stay away. Lees- 
 ner has money and time; he will come when he 
 sees that you will not undertake the journey." 
 However, all his advice was fruitless; Stilling's 
 former impulse to run before Providence again 
 got the ascendancy ; he therefore determined to 
 set off for Frankfort, and accordingly promised 
 Mr. Von Leesner that he would come. 
 
 Stilling now dreamed of future prosperity and 
 the end of his sufferings. With the thousand 
 guilders, he expected to be able to pay the most 
 urgent demands upon him; and he likewise saw 
 clearly, that the successful cure of such an in- 
 dividual would excite great attention, and pro- 
 cure him an extensive and lucrative practice 
 from far and near. Meanwhile it seemed that 
 Bauch, who was still residing at Frankfort, 
 would ruin the whole affair again; for as soon 
 as he heard that Von Leesner intended to place 
 himself under Stilling's care, he seriously warn- 
 ed him, and depreciated Stilling as much as he 
 could, on account of his needy circumstances 
 and mean acquirements ;— however, it was of 
 no avail ; Von Leesner persisted in his inten- 
 tion. No one could, in reality, blame Bauch 
 for acting thus, for he had no other knowledge 
 of Stilling, and his object in warning Von Lees- 
 ner against misfortune was not ignoble. 
 
 Goethe, who was still residing at Frankfort 
 with his parents, rejoiced at the prospect of hav- 
 ing his friend Stilling with him for a time; his 
 parents invited him, during his abode there, to 
 dine at their table, and hired a handsome apart- 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 93 
 
 ment for him in their neighbourhood. Goethe 
 also inserted an advertisement in the newspa- 
 pers, in order that other sufferers might be ben- 
 efited by him ; and thus the whole affair was 
 regulated and agreed upon. Stilling's few friends 
 rejoiced and hoped, others were anxious; and 
 the greater part of those who knew him wished 
 he mignt not succeed. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1775, in the first 
 week of January, Stilling mounted a hired horse, 
 took a guide with hira, and rode one afternoon, 
 in dreadf ully rainy weather, to Waldstatt ; there 
 he remained the night. The day following the 
 heavens seemed willing to pour a new deluge 
 over the earth ; all the brooks and streams were 
 immensely swollen, and Stilling more than once 
 was in the utmost danger of his life. However, 
 he arrived safely at Meinerzhagen, where be 
 passed the night. The third morning he set out 
 again upon his way ; the sky w r as now pretty 
 clear, large clouds flew over his head, and the 
 sun occasionally shot its gentle rays through 
 them upon his face; all nature reposed; the for- 
 ests and bushes were grey and leafless, the fields 
 and meadows half-green, the streams murmured, 
 the storm-wind whistled from the west, and not 
 a single bird animated the scene. 
 
 Towards noon, he came to a solidary inn, in a 
 beautiful and pretty valley called Rosedale; 
 here he saw, with astonishment and terror, on 
 riding down the hill, that the stream, which was 
 furnished with a strong arched bridge from one 
 hill to the other, had overflowed the whole val- 
 ley ; so that he imagined he saw the Rhine be- 
 fore him, except that here and there a bush peep- 
 ed forth. Stilling and his companion mutually 
 expressed their sorrow; he had also promised 
 his Christina to write from Leindorf, where his 
 father lived ; for his way led him directly through 
 his native province. He knew that Christina 
 would expect letters on the day appointed, and 
 there was no opportunity of sending them from 
 the place where he was; he was therefore obli- 
 ged to proceed, or be under the apprehension 
 that from anxiety she would be seized with fits, 
 and become dangerously ill again. 
 
 In this dilemma he perceived that the balus- 
 trade, which conducted from the road to the 
 bridge, still projected a foot high above the wa- 
 ter; this gave him courage; and he determined 
 to take his attendant behind him on the horse, 
 and endeavour to ride along the paling to the 
 bridge. 
 
 It was dinner-time when he reached the inn ; 
 here he met with several carriers, who awaited 
 the falling of the water, and all advised him not 
 to venture; it was in vain, — his active and ar- 
 dent spirit was not disposed for waiting, where 
 working or resting depended solely upon him; 
 he therefore took his attendant up behind him, 
 entered the flood, and struggled successfully 
 through. 
 
 A couple of hours after, Stilling gained the 
 eminence, from which he saw before him the 
 mountains and plains of his native province. 
 There lay the lofiy Kindelsberg, south-west- 
 ward before him; eastward, at its foot, he saw 
 the smoke of the chimneys of Lichthausen, and 
 soon discovered which of them belonged to Iiis 
 uncle Johann Stilling; a sweet thrill pervaded 
 all his limbs, and all the scenes of his youth 
 passed before his soul; they seemed to him to 
 be golden times. What have I now attained V 
 thought he to himself; "nothing but splendid 
 misery ! I am indeed become a man that ex- 
 
 cels all his forefathers in honor and respectabil- 
 ity; but what avails all this'?— a painted sword 
 hangs by a silken thread over my head ; it only 
 need fall, and every thin? would vanish like an 
 empty bubble! My debts are growing more 
 and more heavy, and I have reason to fear that 
 my creditors will lay hands on me, take the lit- 
 tle I have, and then leave me naked in the street ; 
 and besides, I have a delicate wife, who could 
 not bear this, and two children, that would cry 
 for bread." The idea was dreadful ! — it torment- 
 ed Stilling unceasingly for hours together, so 
 that he could not enjoy a single happy moment. 
 At length he recovered himself again ; the great 
 experience he had of the paternal fidelity of God, 
 and the important prospects of his present jour- 
 ney, inspired him with renewed courage, so that 
 he trotted cheerfully and joyfully into the vil- 
 lage of Lichihausen. 
 
 He rode first to the house of the son-in-law of 
 Johann Stilling, who was an innkeeper, and had 
 therefore accommodation for his horse. He was 
 received by the friend of his youth and her hus- 
 band with great rejoicing; he then walked, with 
 trembling joy and a beating heart, to his uncle's 
 house The report of his arrival had already 
 spread through the whole village; every window 
 was full of heads, and as he opened the house- 
 door, the two brothers, Johann and Wilhelm, 
 came to meet him ; he embraced one after the 
 other, wept on their necks, and the two grey- 
 heads also shed large tears. " Bless you, bless 
 you, my dear nephew !" began that truly great 
 man, Johann Stilling; "our joy is unspeakably 
 great on seeing you at the summit of your wish- 
 es ; — you have ascended to it gloriously, on the 
 footsteps of honor; you have outreached us all; 
 you are the pride of our family," &c. Stilling 
 answered nothing more than, " It is solely and 
 wholly God's work; He has done it!" He 
 would gladly have also added, "And still I am 
 not happy ; I feel on the brink of a precipice ;" 
 however, he kept his troubles to himself, and 
 went without further ceremony into the parlour. 
 
 Here he found all the chairs and benches fill- 
 ed with neighbours and peasants from the vil- 
 lage, the greater part of whom stood crowded to- 
 gether. All of them had known Stilling when 
 a boy ; but as he entered, every hat and cap was 
 thrust under the arms of the wearers, and every 
 one regarded him with respect. Stilling stood 
 and looked around; with tears in his eyes, and 
 a faltering voice, he said, "Welcome, welcome, 
 dear people, and friends ! God bless every one 
 of you ! Be all of you covered, or I will imme- 
 diately leave the room;— what I am, is the work 
 of God, and to Him alone be the glory !" A 
 murmur of joy now arose; all of them admired 
 and blessed him. The two old men and the 
 Doctor then sat down amongst the good people, 
 and every eye was fixed upon his deportment, 
 and every ear was directed to his words. What 
 Father Stilling's sons then felt, cannot be descri- 
 bed. 
 
 But how came it that Doctor Stillingexcitcd so 
 much attention ?— and what was the reason that 
 his elevation to the rank of Doctor of Medicine, 
 which was in no respect any thing so very won- 
 derful, should excite such astonishment'? There 
 were many sons of peasants, in his native prov- 
 ince, who had become learned and worthy men; 
 and yet no one troubled himself about it. "When 
 we consider the thing in its true point of view, 
 we shall find it verv natural. Stilling, only nine 
 or ten years before, had been schoolmaster 
 
94 HEINRICH 
 
 amongst them ; he had been universally regard- 
 ed as a poor and hopeless youth; — he had then 
 gone upon his travels; what occurred to him 
 abroad, he had communicated to his uncle and 
 his father ; report had exalted every thing that 
 was natural into something wonderful, and that 
 which was wonderful into something miracu- 
 lous ; and hence it was, that they sought to see 
 him as a curiosity. But he humbled himself 
 inwardly before God; he knew his situation and 
 circumstances better, and regretted that so much 
 was made of him ; however, it still caused him 
 pleasure that he was not here so mistaken as it 
 was his daily lot to be in Schönenthal. 
 
 The next morning, he set out with his father 
 on the way to Leindorf. Johann Stilling lent 
 his brother Wilhelm his own saddle-horse, and 
 went beside him on foot; he would not have it 
 otherwise. Before reaching the village, whole 
 groups of youths and men from Leindorf, who 
 had formerly been his scholars, came about a 
 league to meet him ; they surrounded his horse, 
 and accompanied him. The rest of the popula- 
 tion of Leindorf stood in the meadow by the wa- 
 ter, and the cries of welcome resounded from a 
 distance. He rode with his father in silence, 
 and deeply abased and affected, into the village. 
 His uncle Johann then returned home. At his 
 father's house, Stilling's mother received him 
 very timidly, but his sisters embraced him with 
 many joyful tears. Father Stilling's daughters 
 came also from Tiefenbach with their sons ; 
 people ran together from all sides, so that the 
 house was filled from top to bottom, and the 
 whole day and the following night it was impos- 
 sible to think of repose. Stilling let himself be 
 seen on every side ; he spoke little, for his sen- 
 sations were too powerful ; they continually af- 
 fected his heart, and he therefore hastened his 
 departure. The next morning, he mounted his 
 horse, surrounded by a hundred people, and rode 
 off in the midst of the shouts and cries of a man- 
 ifold and oft-reiterated farewell ! Scarcely had 
 he left the village, when his attendant told him 
 that his father was running after him ; he there- 
 fore turned about : " I have not yet taken leave, 
 my dear son !" said the old man; he then took 
 his left hand into his two hands, wept, and stam- 
 mered out, " The Almighty bless thee !" 
 
 Stilling was now again alone, for his attend- 
 ant was on the foot-path at one side. He then 
 began to weep aloud ; all his feelings streamed 
 forth in floods of tears, and gave vent to his 
 heart. Pleasing as the universal applause and 
 the affections of his friends, relatives, and coun- 
 trymen were to him, yet it deeply grieved him 
 in his soul, that all their rejoicing was founded 
 on false appearances. " I am not happy ! I 
 am not the man I am taken to be ! I am no- 
 thing wonderful in the science of medicine ! — 
 no physician made so by God, for I seldom cure 
 anyone: if it happen, it is a mere chance! I 
 am just one of the most every-day kind, and the 
 • most inexpert of my profession ! And what at 
 best have I become, that is so great 1 I am Doc- 
 tor of Medicine, a graduated person ; — well, I 
 am therefore one of the middle class ! — no great 
 light, that excites attention, and deserves such 
 a reception!" These we^e Stilling's loud and 
 perfectly true thoughts, wnich continually burst 
 forth like a flame of fire from his breast, until at 
 length he perceived the town of Salen before 
 him, and composed himself. Stilling did not 
 now strive for honor ; he thought his station suf- 
 ficiently respectable; it was only his disgust at 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 his profession, his necessities, and the contempt 
 in which he lived, which made him unhappy, 
 
 At Salen, Doctor Stilling kept himself incog- 
 nito ; he merely dined there, and rode to Dillen- 
 burg, where he arrived rather late in the even- 
 ing, and took up his quarters with his honest 
 and worthy cousin Johann Stilling's second son, 
 who was surveyor of the mines there. Both 
 were of the same age, and had been cordial 
 friends from their youth up ; it is therefore easy 
 to suppose how he was received. After a day's 
 rest, he set out again, and travelled by way of 
 Herborn, Wetzlar, Butzbach, and Friedberg, to 
 Frankfort, where he arrived in the evening, and 
 took up his abode with Goethe's family, who 
 received him in the most friendly manner. 
 
 The following morning, he received Mr. Von 
 Leesner, and found him to be an excellent old 
 man, full of pleasing politeness, united with en- 
 lightened religious sentiments. His eyes were 
 fit for the operation, so that Stilling was enabled 
 to give him the best hopes ; and the day was 
 fixed for extracting the cataract. Stilling made 
 likewise some other important acquaintances; 
 he visited the old and celebrated Doctor Burgraf, 
 who had grown old, grey, and infirm in the most 
 extensive and successful practice. After this 
 excellent man had observed Stilling awhile, he 
 said, " Sir, ydti are in the right way. I heard, 
 of your invitation hither, and imagined to my- 
 self a man who would visit me dressed in the 
 height of the fashion, and would, as is common- 
 ly the case, appear like a charlatan ; but I find 
 you just the contrary to this ; you are modest in 
 your behaviour and in your dress, and are there- 
 fore such a one as he ought to be who has to ad- 
 minister aid to those who sigh under the rod of 
 the Almighty. The Lord bless you ! It causes 
 me pleasure still to find, at the end of my days, 
 men who give every hope of becoming what 
 they ought to be." Stilling sighed, and thought 
 to himself, " Would to God I were that which 
 this great man takes me to be !" 
 
 He then visited the Rev. Mr. Kraft; his whole 
 soul harmonized with this worthy man, and an 
 intimate friendship arose between them, which 
 will continue beyond the present life. 
 
 Meanwhile, the time for performing the oper- 
 ation drew near. Stilling performed it quietly, 
 without saying any thing to any one, except a 
 couple of surgeons and physicians, who were 
 present on the occasion, in order that he might, 
 in every case, have experienced men as wit- 
 nesses. Every thing succeeded according to his 
 wish: the patient saw and recognized all his 
 friends after the operation ; the fame of it spread 
 through the whole city; friends wrote to friends 
 at a distance, and Stilling received letters of 
 congratulation from Schönenthal, before he could 
 have answers to his own. The Prince of L^w- 
 enstein Wertheim, the Duchess of Courland, 
 born princess of Waldeck, who was at that time 
 residing in Frankfort, all the noble families 
 there, and, generally speaking, all those of the 
 higher class, inquired respecting the result of 
 the operation, and sent every morning to know 
 how the patient was. 
 
 Stilling was never more satisfied than at pres- 
 ent; he saw how much attention this cure would 
 excite, and what celebrity, applause, respect, 
 and resort, it would cause him ; and people 
 began already to talk of presenting him with 
 the freedom of Frankfort, in order to induce 
 him to remove thither. In this expectation the 
 good doctor rejoiced beyond measure ; for he 
 
STILLIN G'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 95> 
 
 thought that there his sphere of operation would 
 be greater, and the public opinion less narrow- 
 minded than in Schönenthal ; that there the con- 
 course of strangers and persons of rank was un- 
 interrupted and great ; and that there he could 
 earn something, and then become the man he 
 had desired to be from his youth up. 
 
 Just at that time, some other blind persons ar- 
 rived. The first was Doctor Hut, physician and 
 counsellor of state in Wiesbaden, who, by taking 
 cold, had become entirely blind of one eye in one 
 night; he lodged with his brother, counsellor 
 and advocate Hertz, of Frankfort. Stilling per- 
 formed the operation, and healed him success- 
 fully. This was universally made public, and 
 that very worthy man became thereby his con- 
 stant friend ; particularly, also, because they 
 were of the same sentiments. 
 
 The second was a Jewish Rabbi, dwelling in 
 the Jews'-street at Frankfort ; he had been long 
 blind of both eyes, and requested Stilling to come 
 to him. The latter went, and found an old man 
 of sixty-eight years of age, with a snow-white 
 beard hanging down to his girdle. On hearing 
 that the doctor was there, he rose from his chair 
 with a tottering step, strove to find him, and said, 
 "Doctor, look at my eyes!" He then made a 
 grinning face, and pulled both his eyes wide 
 open. Meanwhile, a multitude of Jewish faces 
 of all kinds crowded into the room, and here and 
 there a voice was heard, exclaiming, " Silence ! 
 what will he sayl" Stilling looked at his eyes, 
 and declared that, with the help of God, he should 
 be able to assist him. 
 
 " Blessings on the gentleman !" resounded from 
 all sides; " may he live a hundred years !" 
 
 The Rabbi now began : " Hush ! — hear me, 
 doctor; only one eye — only one! — for if it does 
 not succeed — only one !" 
 
 "Well," answered Stilling, " I will come the 
 day after to-morrow; and, as you wish, it shall 
 be only one." 
 
 The next day Stilling performed the operation 
 on a poor woman in the Jews' hospital, and the 
 , following morning on the Rabbi. The same day, 
 being at Mr. Von Leesner's, he was called to the 
 house-door ; he there found a poor beggar Jew, 
 of about sixty years of age, who was completely 
 blind of both eyes, and therefore sought help ; he 
 was led by his son, a good-looking youth of six- 
 teen years of age. The poor man wept, and said, 
 " Ah, dear doctor, I and my wife have ten living 
 children ; 1 was an industrious man, have travel- 
 led about much, and maintained them honestly ; 
 but now, alas llama beggar, and all my chil- 
 dren beg ; and you know how it is with us Jews." 
 Stilling was inwardly affected; with tears in his 
 eyes, he seized his two hands, pressed them, and 
 said, "With the Lord's help, you shall have 
 your sight again." The Jew and his son wept 
 aloud, and would have fallen upon their knees, 
 but Stilling did not suffer them, and continued, 
 " Where will you take up your quarters 1 I will 
 take nothing from you, but you must stay here 
 a fortnight." " Ah, good heaven !" answered he, 
 " that will be a difficult matter; many rich Jews 
 reside here, but they do not receive strangers." 
 Stilling rejoined, " Come to-morrow, at nine 
 o'clock, to the Jews' hospital ; I will there speak 
 with the managers." 
 
 Accordingly, whilst Stilling was binding up 
 the poor woman's eyes, the blind man arrived 
 with his son; the whole room was filled with 
 Jews, both high and low mingled together. The 
 blind man now pleaded his case most piteously, 
 
 but he found no hearing; these hard-hearted 
 people had no feeling for the extreme wretched- 
 ness of their brother. Stilling was silent until 
 he perceived that begging and praying were of 
 no avail; but he then began to speak seriously ; 
 he sharply reproved them for their unmerciful- 
 ness, and solemnly affirmed before them, that he 
 would immediately abandon the Rabbi and the 
 patient he had in hand, and do nothing more for 
 them, unless the poor man was regularly and 
 conveniently lodged for a fortnight, and duly 
 supported. This had its effect; for in less than 
 two hours the poor Jew had all that he needed, 
 in an inn near the Jews'-street. 
 
 Stilling now paid him a visit. The Jew, 
 though pleased by the hope of cure, showed an 
 extraordinary degree of apprehension of the op- 
 eration, so that Stilling began to fear it might 
 prove prejudicial to the cure; he therefore took 
 other measures, and said, " I will postpone the 
 operation for a few days ; but to-morrow I must 
 rub and brighten the eyes a little; this will not 
 give you pain; we will afterwards see what is 
 to be done;" with which the poor man was well 
 satisfied. 
 
 The next morning, therefore, he took the sur- 
 geon and some friends with him. The Jew was 
 in good spirits, sat down, and opened his eyes 
 widely. Stilling took the instrument, and oper- 
 ated on one of his eyes ; as soon as the lens was 
 extracted, the Jew exclaimed, " I believe the 
 gentleman has done the job ! O heaven ! I see T 
 I see every thing! Joel, Joel (for so his son 
 was called), go and kiss his feet!" Joel cried 
 aloud, fell down, and would have kissed them j 
 but he was not permitted. 
 
 " Well, well !" continued the Jew, " I would I 
 had a million of eyes ; I would have them 
 couched, one after the other, for sixpence each !" 
 In short, the Jew regained his sight perfectly j 
 and on taking his departure, he ran through the 
 streets, with his arms stretched out, and over fhev 
 Saxonhäuser bridge, exclaiming incessantly, " O 
 good people, thank God for me ! I was blind, 
 and am now able to see ! God grant long life to 
 the doctor, that he may be able to cure many 
 blind people !" Stilling performed the operation 
 on seven other persons besides Mr. Von Lees- 
 ner, and all received their sight ; however, none 
 of them were able to pay him any thing, except 
 Doctor Hut, who richly rewarded him for his 
 trouble. 
 
 But now began all at once the most dreadful 
 period of Stilling's life, which lasted uninter- 
 ruptedly for more than seven years. Notwith- 
 standing all his efforts, Mr. Von Leesner did not 
 recover his sight; his eyes began to inflame and 
 suppurate; several physicians came to his as- 
 sistance, but all was unavailing; pain, and the 
 fear of incurable blindness, dashed every hope to 
 the ground. 
 
 Stilling thought it impossible to survive this • 
 he wrestled with God for help, but all in vain • 
 every friendly countenance vanished, all drew 
 back, and Stilling continued alone in his sorrow. 
 His friend Goethe and his parents sought to en- 
 courage him, but it was of no avail; he saw 
 nothing before him but horrors ; sympathy from 
 his friends, which could render him no service ; 
 and, on the contrary, abundance of scorn and 
 contempt, by which all his further practice would 
 be rendered difficult. He now began to doubt 
 whether God had called him to the medical pro- 
 fession; he feared he had still perhaps followed 
 his own impulse, and would have to drudge du- 
 
96 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 ring his whole life at a vocation which was ex- 
 tremely repugnant to him. His needy circum- 
 stances presented themselves again, in a lively j 
 manner, to his soul; he trembled, and only a 
 secret confidence in the paternal providence of 
 God, which was almost imperceptible to him- 
 self, supported him, so that he did not entirely 
 fall to the ground. 
 
 As he was once sitting with Mr. Von Leesner, 
 and lamenting, with tears, the unsuccessful re- 
 sult of the operation, the worthy man said, "Be 
 satisfied, dear doctor; it was good lor me, and 
 therefore also the will of God, that 1 should remain 
 blind; but it was necessary I should undertake 
 the thing, and pay you the thousand guilders, 
 that other poor people might be healed." Still- 
 ing personally received the thousand guilders; 
 he took them sorrowfully, and after a residence 
 of eight weeks, returned to Schönenthal. Every 
 thing was tranquil there; all his friends com- 
 passionated him, and avoided speaking of the 
 matter as much as possible. The worthy The- 
 odore Müller, who had counselled him so faith- 
 fully, had during the time, to his great sorrow, 
 entered the eternal world; but the generality of 
 people, and particularly the lower class, scoffed 
 at him unceasingly; "I well knew," said they, 
 t( how the thing would terminate; the fellow has 
 learnt nothing, and yet he is always striving to 
 rise above others; the coxcomb is rightly served, 
 by thus running his head against the wall." 
 
 Now though Stilling was desirous of setting 
 himself above all this, yet it aided in preventing 
 any more resort to him. The families he previ- 
 ously attended had, during his absence, provided 
 themselves with other physicians, and no one 
 seemed inclined to return to him. In a word, 
 Selling's practice became very small ; people 
 began to forget him; his debts increased, for the 
 thousand guilders were insufficient to discharge 
 them, and his grief in consequence was un- 
 bounded. He concealed it, indeed, from the 
 whole world, as much as he was able, but it 
 was so much the more difficult for him to bear. 
 Even the Friedenberg family began to be cold to 
 him, for his own father-in-law began to believe 
 that he could not be a good housekeeper. He 
 was obliged to listen to many a grave admoni- 
 tion ; and was often reminded that the sum of 
 fifteen hundred dollars, which had been expended 
 on his studies, and in instruments, necessary 
 books, and the most requisite household furni- 
 ture, and for which Mr. Friedenberg had become 
 security, must soon be paid. Stilling had not 
 the smallest prospect of this; it pained him to 
 his inmost soul, trial he who gave him his child 
 whilst he was still without a vocation, and even 
 without bread, who with him had unreservedly 
 trusted Providence, should now begin to totter. 
 Christina also felt this change in her father se- 
 verely; but she began to exhibit an heroic cour- 
 age, which was really remarkable : and this 
 was quite requisite, for without this uncommon 
 strength she must, as one of the weaker sex, 
 have succumbed under her trials. 
 
 Notwithstanding the desperate situation of 
 his affairs, however, what was needful never 
 failed him; Stilling had never any thing before- 
 hand, but, when it was required, it was there. 
 This strengthened the faith of both ; so that they 
 were enabled still to bear up under their suffer- 
 ings. 
 
 In the spring of 1775, Christina again bore a son, 
 who, however, died four weeks afterwards. She 
 suffered extremely in this confinement. One 
 
 morning Stilling saw her lying in a state of pro- 
 found siupor; he was terrified, and asked her what 
 was the matter. She answered, "According to 
 circumstances, I am well ; but I have a dreadful 
 conflict within; let me alone, until I have over- 
 come." He waited with the greatest anxiety for 
 the time of explanation upon this point. Af- 
 ter two melancholy days, she called him to 
 her, fell upon his neck, and said, -"Dear hus- 
 band, I have now overcome, and I will tell thee 
 all! I have struggled for two days with God 
 and myself for my dissolution, and have fer- 
 vently entreated Him to take me to himself, 
 in order that thou mayest be able to marry an- 
 other wife, that shall be more suitable for' thee 
 than I." This scene pierced his very soul. 
 "No, my dear wife," said he, while pressing 
 her to his beating heart, " thou shalt not struggle 
 on this account, much less pray for thy death; 
 live, and be only of good courage." 
 
 The following summer, Stilling received a let- 
 ter from his friend Doctor Hoffmann, of Frank- 
 fort, in which it was mentioned in confidence, 
 that Mr. Von Leesner deeply felt his incurable 
 blindness, and sometimes expressed distrust re- 
 specting his oculist. Now as he had been paid 
 in such a princely manner, it would be setting 
 the crown upon his good fame, if he would 
 pay Mr. Von Leesner another visit at his own 
 expense, in order that nothing might be left un- 
 tried. Meanwhile, he, Mr. Hoffmann, would 
 again insert his intended visit in the newspa- 
 pers, and perhaps the expense would be richly 
 repaid him. Stilling felt the nobleness of the 
 plan, if it could be accomplished; even Chris- 
 tina advised him to undertake the journey, but 
 no one besides; every one was against the prop- 
 osition. However, he followed merely his feel- 
 ing of justice and propriety; he found a friend 
 who advanced him a hundred dollars for the 
 journey ; and thus he travelled by the stage once 
 more to Frankfort, where he again took up his 
 residence with Goethe. 
 
 Mr. Von Leesner was extremely affected by 
 this unlooked-for visit, and it had the desired 
 effect. Several individuals, also, who were suf- 
 fering from the cataract, presented themselves, 
 on all of whom Stilling performed the operation ; 
 some recovered their sight, others did not; but 
 none of them were in a condition to repay his 
 expenses. This journey, therefore, plunged him 
 a hundred dollars deeper in debt; he resided, 
 also, this time, eight melancholy weeks in Frank- 
 fort. 
 
 During this period, Stilling committed an im- 
 prudence of which he often repented, and which 
 caused him much vexation. He found at a 
 friend's house, " The Life and Opinions of Ma- 
 gister Sebaldus Nothanker." He took the book 
 and read it through. The bitter satire, the rid- 
 icule cast upon the pietists, and even upon truly 
 pious men, pained him to the soul. Although 
 he himself was not satisfied with the pietists, 
 and had to suffer many things from them, yet he 
 could not bear them to be ridiculed ; for it was 
 his opinion, that faults in religion must be wept 
 over and lamented, but not held up to scorn and 
 contempt, because in this manner religion itself 
 is ridiculed. These sentiments were certainly 
 very correct; but the step which Stilling ventu- 
 red to take was not less hasty. He wrote from 
 the impulse of the moment "The Sling of a 
 Shepherd's Boy against the scornful Philistine, 
 the author of Sebaldus Nothanker;" and with- 
 out even once going through the manuscript 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 97 
 
 coolly again, he gave it, glowing hot, to Eichen- 
 berg the publisher. His friend Kraft strongly 
 advised him not to print it ; but it was of no 
 avail, — it was published. 
 
 Scarcely had he returned to Schönenthal, be- 
 fore he repented of the step he had taken. He 
 now reflected on what he had done, and what 
 weighty enemies he had made himself by this 
 means ; besides, he had not sufficiently devel- 
 oped his principles, and he was afraid that the 
 public might regard him as stupidly orthodox. 
 He therefore wrote a little tract under the title of 
 " The great Panacea for the disease of Infidel- 
 ity," which was also printed by the same pub- 
 lisher. In the mean time a defender of Sebal- 
 dus Nothanker appeared ; for a certain mer- 
 chant in the Netherlands wrote against " The 
 Sling." This occasioned Stilling to seize the 
 pen once more, and publish " The Shepherd- 
 boy's Theory, in rectification and defence of his 
 Sling." In this work he acted gently ; he begged 
 pardon of the author of-Nothanker lor his vio- 
 lence, without however recanting the least of his 
 principles; he then sought to impart correct 
 ideas of his sentiments to his opponent the 
 Netherlands merchant, avoiding at the same 
 time all bitterness, as much as was possible, 
 with the exception of a little innocent raillery : 
 with this the whole affair terminated. 
 
 About this time, two institutions were estab- 
 lished in Schönenthal, in which Stilling took a 
 prominent part. A number of worthy and en- 
 lightened men formed a private society, which 
 met on the Wednesday evenings, in order mutu- 
 ally to improve themselves by the perusal of 
 useful writings, and by conversation on a vari- 
 ety of subjects. He that had the desire and abil- 
 ity, was also at liberty to read lectures. By 
 means of fixed subscriptions, a library of select 
 books was gradually collected, and the whole in- 
 stitution rendered generally useful. It still ex- 
 ists and flourishes, and is become since that 
 time still more numerous and prosperous. 
 
 Stilling, who was one of its first members, to- 
 gether with his constant friends, Troost and 
 Dinkier, had here an opportunity of displaying 
 his talents, and of making himself better ac- 
 quainted with the most excellent of his fellow- 
 townsmen. In the meetings of this private so- 
 ciety, he read a lecture upon Physics, in which 
 he took " Euler's Letters to a German Princess" 
 as the basis : by this he recommended himself 
 uncommonly; all the members became fond of 
 him, and supported him in a variety of ways. 
 It is true, his debts were not by this means di- 
 minished; on the contrary, the absence of prac- 
 tice increased them daily ; they would, howev- 
 er, have been still greater, if Stilling had pur- 
 chased all that was presented him by these wor- 
 thy men. 
 
 The second institution had reference to a min- 
 eral spring, which had been discovered in the 
 vicinity of Schönenthal. Dinkier, Troost, and 
 Stilling, carried on the affair; and the latter was 
 appointed physician to the establishment by the 
 magistracy. He received, indeed, no salary; 
 but his practice was in some degree increased, 
 though not to such an extent as to enable him to 
 meet his regular expenditure, much less to pay 
 his debts. 
 
 His participation in these two institutions ir- 
 ritated the pietists against him still more. They 
 saw that he associated more and more with the 
 people of the world, and there was therefore no 
 end to their reasonings and their calumnies. It 
 N 
 
 is lamentable, that this otherwise worthy class 
 of people so little observe the great precept of 
 Jesus, whom they so highly honor in other re- 
 spects — "Judge not, that ye be not judged." All 
 their good qualities are thereby destroyed; and 
 their judgment, on the great day, like the judg- 
 ment of the pharisees, will be severe. I here 
 solemnly except the noble and upright amongst 
 them, who are the salt of the earth; they are de- 
 serving of respect, love, and forbearance ; and 
 may my end be like theirs ! 
 
 In the spring of the year 1776, Stilling was 
 under the necessity of removing to another hab- 
 itation, because his landlord wished to occupy 
 his house himself. Mr. Troost therefore sought 
 and found one for him ; it lay at the lower end 
 of the town, on the way to Rüsselstein, near a 
 number of gardens; it wasenchantingly beauti- 
 ful and convenient. Stilling rented it, and made 
 preparations for removing into it. But here he 
 had a dreadful trial to sustain ; he had hitherto 
 been able to pay the seventy dollars house-rent 
 regularly every year; but he had not at that time 
 a single farthing in hand, and, according to the 
 law, he was not permitted to remove until the 
 rent was duly paid. The want of credit and 
 money likewise rendered him timid in requesting 
 his landlord to have a little patience ; there was, 
 however, no other remedy. Oppressed with ex- 
 treme sorrow, he therefore went to him, and be- 
 sought his landlord, who was a worthy and up- 
 right merchant, but punctual and severe, to al- 
 low him a little more time. The merchant re- 
 flected a little, and said, " Remove, if you choose ; 
 but with the condition that you pay in a fort- 
 night." Stilling, firmly confiding in the Divine 
 aid, promised to settle every thing by that time, 
 and removed into his new habitation. The 
 cheerfulness of the house, the prospect of the 
 beauties of nature, the convenient accommoda- 
 tion, and in short, every circumstance, certainly 
 contributed much to alleviate his painful feel- 
 ings ; but the difficulty itself was not yet remo- 
 ved, and the gnawing worm remained. 
 
 The end of the fourteen days drew near, and 
 there was not the slightest appearance of ob- 
 taining the seventy dollars. The iron now again 
 entered into poor Slilling's soul ; he often ran up 
 to his chamber, fell upon his face, wept, and en- 
 treated help of God; and when his voeation 
 called him away, Christina took his place ; she 
 wept aloud, and prayed with such fervour of 
 spirit as might have moved a stone ; but there 
 was no trace of obtaining so much money. At 
 length the dreadful Friday arrived; both prayed 
 incessantly, the whole morning, during their oc- 
 cupations, and their heart-rending anxiety caus- 
 ed ardent ejaculations to ascend continually. 
 
 At ten o'clock, the postman entered the door : 
 in one hand he held his receipt-book, and in the 
 other a letter, the contents of which were heavy. 
 Stilling took it, full of expectation; the super- 
 scription was in Goethe's hand, and under the ad- 
 dress was written, " Enclosing one hundred and 
 fifteen rix-dollars in gold." He broke open the 
 letter with astonishment, read it, and found that 
 his friend Göethe, without his knowledge, had 
 caused the commencement of his history to be 
 published, under the title of " Selling's Youth," 
 and this was the sum obtained for the copy- 
 right. Stilling quickly signed the receipt, in or- 
 der to send the postman away; the married 
 couple then fell upon each other's necks, wept 
 aloud, and praised God for his signal interposi- 
 tion. During Stilling's last journey to Frank- 
 
98 HEINRICH 
 
 fort, Göethe had received his call to Weimar, and 
 had there procured the publication of Stilling's 
 history. 
 
 It cannot be expressed what a powerful effect 
 this visible interference of Divine providence 
 produced on the hearts of Stilling and his con- 
 sort. They firmly and unhesitatingly resolved 
 never to waver any more, but to endure every 
 suffering with patience ; they also perceived, in 
 the light of truth, that the Father of men led 
 them by the hand, that therefore their path and 
 course were right before God, and that he in- 
 tended by such trials to prepare them for higher 
 purposes. Oh, how feeble and disgusting to one 
 who has had so much experience of this kind, 
 is the sophistry of modern philosophers, when 
 they assert, " That God does not trouble him- 
 self with the detail, but merely with the total ; 
 that He has fixed the plan of the world, and 
 that therefore prayer cannot alter it." O ye 
 daubers with untempered mortar ! how much 
 the ancient abomination glimmers through ! 
 Jesus Christ is the governor of the world; Still- 
 ing called upon Him a hundred times, and he 
 was heard by Him. He led him up the dark, 
 and dangerous, and precipitous ascent, and — but 
 I will not forestall myself. What avail sophis- 
 tical cobwebs of correct and logical inferences, 
 where one experience follows the footsteps of 
 another ! In the sequel of this history, still more 
 striking proofs of a direct providence will ap- 
 pear. 
 
 Stilling's friendship with Göethe, and the visit 
 of the latter to Schönenthal, were so bitterly spo- 
 ken against by those who professed to be the 
 elect of God, that they shuddered at him as though 
 he were an infidel, and reviled Stilling because 
 he associated with him ; and yet the matter was 
 according to the plan and arrangement of Eter- 
 nal Love, to try its pupil, to convince him of 
 its fidelity, and to promote his advancement. 
 Yet none of those who thus calumniated him, 
 were feeling enough to assist Stilling with a 
 farthing. Those who are called men of the 
 world, were most frequently the blessed instru- 
 ments in God's hand, when He intended to aid 
 and instruct Stilling. 
 
 I have said and written it a hundred times, 
 and am not weary of repeating it : " Let him that 
 is desirous of being a true servant of God, not 
 separate himself from men except on account of 
 sin ; let him not join any particular society, 
 which professes for its object to serve God better 
 than others ; for in the consciousness of this 
 better serving Him they gradually become proud, 
 mean-spirited, hypocritical in appearance, and 
 frequently so in reality, and therefore an abomi- 
 nation in the sight of a pure and holy God. I 
 have known many such societies, and yet they 
 always crumbled to the dust, with derision, and 
 were a reproach to religion. Young man, wilt 
 thou tread the true path 1 Distinguish thyself 
 by nothing but purity of life and noble actions ; 
 confess Jesus Christ by faithfully following His 
 life and doctrine, and only speak of Him where 
 it is necessary, and where it may edify ; but then, 
 be not ashamed of Him. Trust Him in every 
 situation of life, and pray to Him with confi- 
 dence ; He will assuredly lead thee to the de- 
 sired aim." 
 
 About this time, Counsellor Eisenhart of Man- 
 heim, a person of great activity and powerfully 
 operative mind, had formed a society, in the an- 
 cient city of Rittersburg, in Austrasia, for the 
 purposes of civil and political science. It con- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 sisted of a number of learned and intelligent mea, 
 who associated themselves together for the pur- 
 pose of promoting agriculture, manufactures, and 
 trade, and by this means, rendering both prince 
 and people prosperous. The Elector had also 
 patronized and sanctioned this excellent institu- 
 tion, and had provided it with certain revenues, 
 that it might be able to proceed the more effect- 
 ually. Now this society had commenced a 
 manufactory of chamois leather : Eisenhart was 
 acquainted with Stilling, for the latter had vis- 
 ited him on his way from Strasburg to Schön- 
 enthal. As the manufacture above-mentioned 
 flourished exceedingly at the latter place, Eisen- 
 hart wrote to him, and requested him to make 
 himself acquainted with the various modes and 
 processes by which the fabric might be brought 
 to perfection, and to give him information on. 
 the subject. 
 
 Much as Stilling was pleased with the insti- 
 tution, and much as he rejoiced at its prosperity, 
 yet this commission, which was to make him 
 serve as a spy, seemed dangerous to him ; for he 
 had reason to fear the Schönenthal people might 
 at length hear of the affair, and then his misery 
 would be boundless. He therefore wrote to Mr. 
 Eisenhart, in a very friendly manner, and rep- 
 resented to him the danger in which he would 
 plunge himself by such a step ; but inquired, at 
 the same time, whether he could not be of ser- 
 vice to the institution by a variety of useful es- 
 says ; for he had collected practical experience 
 in the science of political economy. Eisenhart 
 soon replied to him, and assured him that such 
 treatises would be very welcome. Stilling there- 
 fore appiled himself to the work ; and wrote out 
 one treatise after another, sending them to Mr. 
 Eisenhart the director, who caused them to be 
 read to the society at Rittersburg. 
 
 Stilling's labours met with very unexpected 
 approbation ; and he was soon honored with a 
 patent as foreign member of the Electoral Pala- 
 tine Society of Political Economy. This pleas- 
 ed him uncommonly; for although the whole 
 connection, together with the honor he enjoyed 
 from it, brought him no emolument, yet he ex- 
 perienced a real joy in occupations of this na- 
 ture, which had such immediate reference to the 
 best interests of mankind. 
 
 Stilling was respected on account of the histo- 
 ry of his life, and his treatises. He now began 
 to be known as a not altogether unpopular au- 
 thor ; and he felt encouraged to continue the his- 
 tory of his life to the period of his settlement in 
 Schonenthal. This also yielded him something, 
 and thus alleviated his domestic circumstances; 
 but his debts still continued, and were even in 
 some measure increased. But who could have 
 imagined that this work caused him to be sus- 
 pected in Schönenthal of infidelity ! It is in- 
 comprehensible, but certainly true ; he was call- 
 ed a hero of romance, a fantastical fellow; and 
 principles were pretended to be discovered in 
 the work which were diametrically opposed to 
 the system of the reformed church ; and he was- 
 declared to be a man without religion. To ob- 
 literate this suspicion, he wrote " The History 
 of Mr. Von Morgenthau." But this availed 
 little or nothing ; he continued to be despised, 
 and a constant object of calumny, which in the 
 autumn of the year 1777 reached the highest 
 summit of wickedness. Stilling began all at 
 once to perceive that as he passed along the 
 street, people regarded him with a fixed eye, and 
 observed him awhile ; as he walked on, they ran 
 
STILLING'S DO 
 
 MESTIC LIFE. 
 
 99 
 
 to the windows, looked inquisitively at him, and 
 then whispered to one another, " See, there he 
 goes! poor man!" &c.* This conduct from ev- 
 ery quarter was incomprehensible to him, and 
 pierced him through and through ; when he 
 spoke with any one, he observed how first one 
 considered him attentively, and how another 
 turned himself sorrowfully away; he therefore 
 went rarely out, grieved profoundly in secret, 
 and seemed to himself to be like an apparition, 
 of which every one is afraid, and tries to avoid. 
 No one can form an idea of this new species of 
 suffering ; it is too singular, but likewise so in- 
 tolerable that it requires very peculiar power to 
 be able to endure it. He now observed also, 
 that scarcely any more patients came to him; 
 and it therefore seemed as it were entirely over 
 with him. This dreadful state of things lasted 
 a fortnight. 
 
 At length, one afternoon, his landlord entered 
 the door, sat down, looking at Doctor Stilling 
 with fixed and tearful eyes, and said, i! Doctor, 
 do not take it amiss— my regard for you impels 
 me to mention something to you. Only think — 
 the report is spreading in Schönenthal, that last 
 Saturday fortnight, in the evening, you became 
 all at once insane ; and although it is not seen 
 outwardly, yet that you have completely lost 
 your senses; therefore all your patients have 
 been warned not to employ you; but now tell 
 me, how is it with you"? I have paid strict at- 
 tention to you, and have perceived nothing." 
 
 Christina covered her face with her apron, 
 weeping aloud, and hastened away; but Stilling 
 stood astonished. Grief, vexation, and innu- 
 merable feelings of every kind, ascended so 
 powerfully from his heart to his head, that he 
 might have become insane in reality, if his con- 
 stitutional temperament and his inward organi- 
 2ation had not been so extremely regular. 
 
 Tears shot from his eyes, and feelings from 
 his soul, with an indescribable effect, composed 
 of the supremely ridiculous and the deepest mel- 
 ancholy; and he said, "Certainly no Adrame- 
 lech could ever have invented such wickedness ! 
 It is more than devilish ! Nor could any one 
 have undertaken any thing with more satanic 
 cunning, completely to deprive me of my main- 
 tenance ; but God, my avenger and my provider, 
 still lives. He will deliver me, and provide for 
 me ! I will give account to no man with regard 
 to my sanity ; let myself and my actions be ob- 
 served, and it will be apparent. The whole af- 
 fair is so extraordinary, so inhumanly wicked, 
 that there is nothing more to be said upon it." 
 " Do not take it amiss of me, dear Doctor," con- 
 tinued the landlord ; " my attachment to you im- 
 pelled me to inform you of it." " No," rejoined 
 Stilling ; " I thank you for doing so." 
 
 The report now gradually disappeared, as 
 some pestiferous monster steals away ; but the 
 effect remained, and Stilling and his suffering 
 consort felt the atmosphere of Schönenthal in- 
 fected ; his practice diminished still more, and 
 with it the hope of being able to support himself. 
 Where the horrible calumny originated, and 
 who had hatched the basilisk, which kills with 
 its look, remains for the great day of revelation. 
 Stilling himself never learned with certainty 
 from whence it sprang; he had, however, his 
 suspicions, which were founded on the highest 
 probability; but he takes care not to give the 
 slightest hint on the subject. The whole affair 
 was in general not much taken notice of, for 
 Stilling was not of sufficient importance; he 
 
 was no merchant, much less did he possess 
 wealth; hence it was of little consequence what 
 became of him. 
 
 My readers will allow me to dwell a little 
 upon this cruel affair, and describe to them the 
 peculiar condition in which Stilling was now 
 placed ; for it is necessary that they should have 
 a correct idea of his situation. 
 
 Stilling and his consort had, as before observ- 
 ed, not the smallest property, and, consequently, 
 not the least real credit. Besides his medical 
 practice he had no vocation, and no means of 
 gaining money; nor had he either ability or dis- 
 position for the latter, and still less desire ; he 
 was not wanting in knowledge, but in the art of 
 turning it to account. To be obliged to found 
 the healing of diseases, where life or death is the 
 stake (and let the reader reflect what is implied 
 in this), on unceasing suppositions — and where 
 has the physician, unless he is likewise a sur- 
 geon, sure grounds'? — did not suit Stilling. He 
 was therefore fit for any thing rather than a prac- 
 tical physician; and yet he was nothing else, 
 and knew of no other means of subsistence. At 
 the same time, it was Providence which had led 
 him to this vocation: what a contrast; what a 
 contradiction ; what a trial of the steadfastness 
 of his faith and confidence ! iShd then reflect 
 also upon the people amongst whom, and by 
 whom he was obliged to live, and who acted to- 
 wards him in such a manner! 
 
 His cures of cataract indeed continued very 
 successful; but the most of his patients were 
 poor, and seldom was there one that could pay 
 him any thing; and if occasionally a wealthy 
 person came, the operation generally proved un- 
 successful. 
 
 But was there any thing in Stilling's mode of 
 life and conduct that possibly so degraded him ; 
 or was he really no economist, or even a spend- 
 thrift 1 To this I will reply impartially, and ac- 
 cording to truth: Stilling's whole deportment 
 was naturally free and open, but now univer- 
 sally tinctured with melancholy. There was 
 nothing in him which could have offended any 
 one, except his open-heartedness ; in conse- 
 quence of which, he suffered much to flow out 
 of his heart which he might have kept to him- 
 self; and this caused him to be regarded by his 
 colleagues, and those of the same profession, as 
 ambitious, aspiring, and desirous of taking the 
 precedence of them; though, in reality, his soul 
 was devoid of this feature. That which, in 
 other respects, had caused him the greatest suf- 
 fering, was a high degree of thoughtlessness^ 
 he did not always weigh the consequences of 
 what he did or said ; in a word, he had a certain 
 colouring of etourderie or inconsiderateness ; and 
 it was this very failing which paternal Provi- 
 dence intended, by such a tedious purification, to 
 banish from his character. With regard to his 
 economy, no one had reasonably any thing to 
 object to it : and yet there was a reason why he 
 was so much cramped in his reputation and in 
 his domestic arrangements. Nothing in the 
 world oppressed him more, than to owe any 
 thing to any one, and to have many and burden- 
 some debts. His diligence and activity were 
 unbounded ; but he could not urge any one for 
 payment ; his character constrained him, even 
 in his own most urgent necessities, to remit the 
 poor man his debt, and to cross out the account 
 of the rich man who was niggardly or mur- 
 mured at his charges; too magnanimous to 
 spend even an unpleasant word, or to cause any 
 
100 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 individual pain, for the sake of money. In food 
 and clothing, he was cleanly and neat, but very 
 modest and simple; neither had he any expen- 
 sive hobby-horse, and yet he often expended 
 something without sufficient reflection, which 
 might have been much better applied; in short, 
 he was a man of learning, and not a tradesman. 
 Christina, on the contrary, was extremely spa- 
 ring ; she turned every farthing over and over be- 
 fore she laid it out; yet she did not exercise a 
 judicious oversight over the whole of the house- 
 keeping; she spared only with that which she 
 had in hand. 
 
 It is however true that if Stilling and his 
 spouse had possessed a tradesman-like spirit, he 
 would have made fewer debts; but in theirsitua- 
 tion it was impossible to remain free from them. 
 This observation I owe to truth. 
 
 He that is desirous of forming to himself a 
 lively idea of Stilling's state of mind at that 
 time, must imagine to himself a wanderer on a 
 narrow foot-path, close to a perpendicular range 
 of rocks, on his right hand : further on, an abyss 
 of invisible depth; on his left, steep and rugged 
 rocks, and impending loose masses of stone, 
 hanging over his head ; before him, no hope of a 
 better or surer way ; on the contrary, the path 
 becoming smalter, and at length ceasing entire- 
 ly ; nothing but precipices are seen all around. 
 
 Stilling had only needed to have become a 
 professor of the new-fashioned religion, to have 
 abandoned his wife and children ; but the tempt- 
 ation to this neverentered his mind ; he adhered 
 only the more closely to a paternal Providence; 
 he believed it was an easy thing for that to find 
 an outlet, where all human forethought could 
 not discover any ; and he therefore proceeded, in 
 darkness and twilight, step by step, on his nar- 
 row path. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1778, he again 
 made up his accounts, and found, to his utter 
 dismay, that he had fallen during the past year 
 still deeper into debt than before ; add to which, 
 some of his creditors began to threaten him, and 
 his affairs now seemed to be at the worst. Be- 
 sides this, there was another circumstance which 
 harassed his mind; he had undertaken to collect 
 the subscriptions for the works of the Society of 
 Political Economy, and had received money; 
 he was therefore indebted to Mr. Eisenhart 
 twenty-eight guilders, which he was unable to 
 pay: "I shall be disgraced, even there," said he 
 to himself. In the greatest anxiety of heart, he 
 ran up to his chamber, threw himself before 
 God, and prayed a long time with unequalled 
 fervour ; he then arose, sat down, and wrote a 
 letter to Eisenhart, in which he disclosed to him 
 his whole situation, and besought him to have 
 patience with him a little while. He soon after 
 received an answer. Eisenhart wrote to him, 
 desiring him not to mention a word more of the 
 twenty-eight guilders ; he had thought it went 
 well with him, and that the practice of medicine 
 was a pleasure to him; but since he now saw 
 that the contrary was the caSe, he proposed to 
 him, if agreeable, to accept a professorship of 
 Agriculture, Technology, Commerce, and the 
 Veterinary art, in the lately-established provin- 
 cial academy at Rittersburg. Two professors 
 were already there, one of whom taught the aux- 
 iliary sciences, Mathematics, Natural History, 
 Physic, and Chemistry; and the other, Civil, 
 Financial, and Political Economy; the stipend 
 was six hundred guilders, and the lecture-monev 
 might easily amount to two or three hundred 
 
 guilders more ; living was cheap at Rittersburg, 
 and he was confident that he could easily induce 
 the Elector to give Stilling the appointment. 
 
 Reader, stand still, and cast a look into Stirl- 
 ing's whole being, on reading this letter! Sup- 
 posing that the wanderer whose dreadful alpine 
 path I have described above, met with an open 
 door to the left, at the point where his path had 
 disappeared before him, through which he found 
 an outlet into blooming fields, and saw before 
 him a sumptuous habitation — a home, which 
 was destined for him, how would he feell Just 
 so was Stilling affected; he sat like one stupe- 
 fied ; so that Christina was terrified, and looking 
 over his shoulder, read the letter which had so 
 moved him; she clapped her hands together, 
 sank upon a chair, wept aloud, and praised God. 
 
 At length he recovered himself; the brilliance 
 of the light had dazzled him; he now looked 
 with a fixed eye through the opened door upon the 
 radiant prospect, and reflecting deeply, saw in 
 prospect his whole destiny. From his youth 
 up, public speaking, elocution, and declamation 
 had been his greatest delight, and in these he had 
 always enjoyed much approbation; lungs and 
 voice — all were formed for speaking in public. 
 But he had never been able to cherish the most 
 distant hope of becoming Professor, although it 
 was his highest wish ; for he had neither success 
 nor celebrity in the medical profession, and both 
 were requisite for that purpose ; and he knew of 
 no other department in,which he might have 
 been placed. But what is there that is im- 
 possible to Providence 1 ? It created for him a 
 new sphere of action, in which little had been 
 accomplished, and where he found enough to do. 
 He reviewed his attainments in knowledge, and 
 found, to his extreme astonishment, that he had 
 been imperceptibly forming for this vocation 
 from his cradle. Brought up amongst farmers, 
 he had learnt agriculture, and had himself re- 
 peatedly performed all its attendant labors. 
 "Who can teach it better than IV thought he 
 to himself. He had lived long in the woods, 
 amongst foresters, charcoal-burners, wood cut- 
 ters, &c, and was therefore perfectly acquainted 
 with the practical part of these things. Sur- 
 rounded from his youth up with miners of every 
 description, with iron, copper, and silver-smelt- 
 ers, with bar-iron, steel, and spelter-founders and 
 wire-drawers, he had become thoroughly ac- 
 quainted with these important manufactures, 
 and had also himself had the management for 
 seven years together, at Mr. Spainer's, of es- 
 tates and foundries ; whilst at the same time, he 
 perfectly understood commerce in all its branch- 
 es, and was practised in all. And in order that 
 he might not be deficient in the fundamental and 
 auxiliary sciences, Providence had very wisely 
 directed him to the study of medicine, in which 
 Physic, Chemistry, Natural History, &c, are in- 
 dispensable. In reality, he had labored through 
 these sciences, and especially Mathematics, 
 with greater predilection than all the rest, so that 
 even in Strasburg he had read a lecture upon 
 Chemistry ; the veterinary art was also easy to 
 him, as a practical physician. Finally, he had 
 made himself acquainted, in Schönenthal, with 
 all sorts of manufactures ; for an irresistible im- 
 pulse had always predominated in him, to be- 
 come thoroughly acquainted with every branch 
 of trade, without knowing why. Besides all 
 this, he had uninterruptedly exerci-ed himself 
 in lecturing; and it is now the ti.ne for me to 
 mention a fact of which I could say nothing be- 
 
STILLIN GS DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 101 
 
 fore without appearing ridiculous, which is, 
 however, extremely important. Stilling had 
 heen, from his youth up, extraordinarily fond of 
 history, and had studied it intently ; he had there- 
 fore attained a good acquaintance with matters 
 of government. To this add novels and ro- 
 mances of all sorts, especially political, by which 
 a propensity arose in his soul which no one had 
 discovered, because he was ashamed of it; it 
 was a desire to rule, an exceedingly powerful 
 anxiety to render mankind happy, that continu- 
 ally actuated him. He had thought he should 
 have been able to do the latter in the capacity 
 of a practical physician, but nothing satisfied 
 him in that department. The " History of Mr. 
 Von Morgenthau" had flowed from this source. 
 Let the reader now imagine to himself a man of 
 mean birth and low rank without the smallest 
 hope of ever being able to fill a civil office, and 
 yet endued with this passionate desire! But 
 now, this irregular mass melted together into 
 the stream of his future course of life. "No, 
 no! I would -not be myself a ruler," he ex- 
 claimed when he was alone; "but it was the 
 forming of rulers, and princes' ministers, for the 
 prosperity of the people, and I knew it not." 
 Just as a condemned criminal, on whom the 
 judge pronounces pardon and raises from the 
 dust, sinks down and stammers out unutterable 
 thanks, so sank Stilling before God, and faltered 
 out unspeakable words. Christina was also 
 extremely rejoiced; #e longed to depart from 
 her present situation, and go into a land which 
 she knew not. 
 
 As soon as the tumult had subsided in his 
 soul, and he had become tranquil, all his debts 
 presented themselves to his mind, and scarcely 
 could he control his confusion. " How shall I 
 be able to leave this place without paying?' 
 This was a hard knot to unloose. However, he 
 took courage again ; for he was too strongly 
 convinced of his destiny, to doubt in the least. 
 He wrote, therefore, to Eisenhart, that a profes- 
 sor's chair in Rittersburg would be very agreea- 
 ble to him, and that he felt himself competent to 
 the situation, but that his creditors would not 
 suffer him to depart ; he therefore inquired 
 whether a certain sum could not be advanced 
 him ; — he would pledge his income, and pay off 
 yearly a couple of hundred guilders, together 
 with the interest. This request was flatly refu- 
 sed; but Eisenhart consoled him on the other 
 hand with the hope that his creditors would be 
 contented, if they only saw that he had the means 
 of being able in time to satisfy them. Stilling, 
 however, knew better, for his personal credit 
 was too much weakened ; eight hundred guild- 
 ers at least must be paid, otherwise they would 
 not let him go ; — nevertheless, he placed a firm 
 confidence in God, and hoped against hope. 
 
 He kept this occurrence by no means con- 
 cealed, but related it to his friends, and they 
 again related it to others ; it therefore became 
 the general talk of the town, that Doctor Stilling 
 was to be made Professor. Now nothing ap- 
 peared more laughable to the people of Schönen- 
 thal than this : — " Stilling a professor ! How 
 comes he to itl — he does not understand any 
 thing! It is mere rhodomontade ; it is all j.a 
 invention, solely in order to make himself ap- 
 pear great," &c. But in the mean time every 
 thing went on in its regular course ; the aca- 
 demical senate at Rittersburg chose Stilling as 
 regular and public Professor of Agriculture, 
 Technology, Commerce, and the Veterinary art, 
 
 and proposed him to the Elector; the confirma- 
 tion followed, and nothing more was wanting 
 but the formal vocation. While all this was 
 transacting, the summer passed away. 
 
 Stilling now gradually withdrew himself from 
 the medical profession. With the exception of 
 a few wealthy town-patients, who afforded him 
 his needful support, he scarcely did any thing in 
 physic, but devoted himself entirely to his future 
 engagement, which was so agreeable to him. 
 All his knowledge of political economy lay in 
 his soul like a confused chaos; but, as future 
 professor, it was necessary that he should bring 
 every thing into a system. Nothing was easier 
 to him than this, for his whole soul was system; 
 his plan of instruction in those sciences, there- 
 fore, developed itself before his eyes without 
 trouble, and he contemplated the beauteous 
 whole with the utmost inward delight. I refer 
 my readers to his numerous publications, in or- 
 der not to detain them here with learned disser- 
 tations. 
 
 In these pleasing employments, the summer 
 passed over, the harvest approached, and he ex- 
 pected his appointment day after day. But what 
 ensued 1 In the first week of September, he re- 
 ceived a letter from Eisenhart, which entirely 
 annihilated the whole affair ! On the Elector's 
 proceeding to Bavaria, the project was started 
 of removing the newly-established academy to 
 Manheim, where there were men of every de- 
 scription' able to fill the professorships. Eisen- 
 hart deplored it, both on his own account and 
 Selling's ; however, he could not alter it. 
 
 His condition was now perfectly indescriba- 
 ble. He and his poor wife sat together in their 
 chamber, and shed floods of tears; all seemed 
 now to be lost ; for a long time he could neither 
 think nor recover himself, he was so stupefied. 
 At length he cast himself before God, humbled 
 himself under His mighty hand, and committed 
 himself, his wife, and his two children, to the 
 paternal guidance of the Most Merciful ; resolv- 
 ing, without the smallest murmur, to return once 
 more to the practice of medicine, and to endure 
 every thing that Providence might ordain re- 
 specting him. He now began to go out again, 
 to visit friends and acquaintances, and relate his 
 misfortune to them; his practice returned, and 
 it seemed as if it would go better with him than 
 before. He therefore surrendered himself en- 
 tirely to the will of God, and was tranquil. 
 
 He who is acquainted with the divine proce- 
 dure will be aware, without my reminding him 
 of it, that all this is precisely the method of 
 Providence. Stilling had hastened towards his 
 aim with eagerness and impure desire ; — pride, 
 vanity, and other passions, had intermingled 
 themselves in his mind; in such a state, he 
 would have arrived at Rittersburg with bluster- 
 ing ambition, and would certainly not have been 
 successful. It is the maxim of Eternal Love, to 
 render its pupils pliant and perfectly resigned in 
 their wills, before He advances further with 
 them. Stilling, therefore, at that time, believed 
 firmly that he ought and must remain a physi- 
 cian; and his resignation went so for, that he 
 even no longer desired the vocation, but was en- 
 tirely indifferent to it. It fared with him pre- 
 cisely in the same manner as on former occa- 
 sions ; — when he was disgusted with his trade, 
 he hastened eagerly away from Schönberg to 
 Mr. Hochberg's; and I have already described, 
 in his " Wanderings," how miserably he was 
 situated there ; he afterwards engaged himself 
 
102 HEINRICH 
 
 to Mr. Isaac, where he was satisfied, and would 
 gladly have remained at his trade ; so that Mr. 
 Spanier was obliged to constrain him to leave 
 his situation. 
 
 The Schönenthal people, meanwhile, again 
 sounded fiercely the alarm; for now it was 
 deemed evident that the whole affair was Still- 
 ing's invention, and solely fabricated from van- 
 ity ; but this troubled him little, for habit had 
 inured him to calumy ; he no longer saw or 
 heard any thing of the kind. Profoundly re- 
 signed to the will of God, he hastened from one 
 patient to another, from morning till evening; 
 and Christina made preparations for the winter, 
 as she was wont, by preserving a variety of 
 fruits, white-washing, and repairing the house, 
 &e. 
 
 A week before Michaelmas, his appointment 
 suddenly and unexpectedly arrived. He receiv- 
 ed it calmly, and without the smallest eagerness ; 
 yet he felt inwardly happy ; he and his consort 
 returned God thanks, and they began to prepare 
 for their departure, and their long journey. The 
 academy was to be continued at Rittersburg, be- 
 cause too many difficulties had occurred in the 
 way of its removal. 
 
 I have described the first cas^ Stilling attend- 
 ed ; I will now also detail the last, for it is not 
 less remarkable. 
 
 A full league beyond Schönenthal, lived a 
 very upright, pious, and wealthy merchant, of 
 the name of Krebs ; his spouse, as regards her 
 head and her heart, was one of the noblest of 
 her sex ; and both of them had often employed 
 Stilling, for they knew and loved him. They 
 had a private teacher for their children, a man 
 of seventy years of age, who was by birth a 
 Saxon, and was called Stoi. This man was a 
 most singular character; tall, thin, and of a 
 very venerable aspect ; very learned, and imbu- 
 ed with the most exalted virtues, he possessed, 
 as the result of religious principles, a coolness, 
 a resignation, and a submission to the will of 
 God, almost unexampled ; every motion and 
 position of his body was decorous ; his whole 
 being was naturally grave, and every thing he 
 said was weighed in the balances; each word 
 was a golden apple on a salver of silver; and 
 what was particularly excellent in this worthy 
 man, was his modesty and carefulness in judg- 
 ing; he never spoke of the faults of others, but 
 concealed them where he could, and looked 
 merely at himself. Stoi was a pattern for a man 
 and a Christian. 
 
 This remarkable man was seized with the 
 military fever. The course of the disease was 
 natural, and, as usual, not dangerous. At length 
 the whole of the inflammatory matter settled in 
 his right arm, which became scarlet all over, 
 and burned and itched so intolerably that he 
 could not endure it any longer. Stoi, through 
 his whole life, had troubled himself about no- 
 thing so little as his body; he considered it as a 
 borrowed tenement; he was always temperate, 
 and had never been ill ; consequently he knew 
 not the necessity of carefulness, and was igno- 
 rant of danger ; he therefore sent for a bucket full 
 of cold water, and plunged his arm into it, to the 
 bottom; this relieved him — the burning and 
 itching subsided, and with it the redness and 
 eruption; he drew his arm out again, and, be- 
 hold, it was like the other. 
 
 Stoi was glad that he had been so easily cured. 
 However, he soon perceived that his arm had 
 lost its sense of feeling; he pinched the skin, but 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 felt nothing; he felt the pulse of that arm, and 
 found it was quite still; he felt it at the neck, 
 and it beat regularly ; in short, he was in other 
 respects perfectly well. If he wished to move 
 his arm, he found that he was unable, for it was 
 as if it were dead ; he now began to think all 
 was not right, and therefore sent for a neighbour- 
 ing physician ; the latter was alarmed, as was rea- 
 sonable, applied blisters to the arm, and scourged 
 it with nettles, but all in vain ; it remained insen- 
 sible. By degrees, the fingers began to rot, and. 
 the putrefaction crept gradually up the arm. 
 
 Troost and Stilling were now called in. They 
 found the arm swollen up to the elbow, of a 
 blackish hue, and emitting an intolerable stench. 
 As they entered the door, Stoi began, "Gentle- 
 men, I have committed a piece of imprudence 
 (here he related the whole affair); do your duty; 
 I am in the hand of God ; I am seventy years of 
 age, and shall be well satisfied whichever way 
 the matter terminates." 
 
 The two physicians consulted together ; they 
 already perceived that the arm must be ampu- 
 tated ; however, they thought they would still 
 attempt some other means previously, by which 
 the operation would be facilitated. Mr. Troost 
 therefore took his instruments, and made a varie- 
 ty of incisions round about, near where the mor- 
 tification ceased; the patient felt nothing at all 
 of it; they then made applications of the decoc- 
 tion of Peruvian bark, and prescribed this de- 
 coction to be taken frequently inwardly. 
 
 The next day they were again sent for, and 
 requested to bring their instruments to amputate 
 the arm. They accordingly set out for that 
 purpose. On their arrival, they found the pa- 
 tient lying on a field-bed, in the middle of the 
 room ; around him, along the walls, stood a 
 number of young people of both sexes, who shed 
 silent tears, and prayed in secret. Stoi lay very 
 tranquil, and did not manifest the smallest fear. 
 "Gentlemen," he began, "I cannot endure the 
 stench ; take off my arm above the elbow, near 
 the shoulder, where it is certainly still sound ; 
 whether the stump be afterwards an inch longer 
 or shorter, is of little consequence." Stilling and 
 Troost found what he said was correct, and 
 promised to have it finished speedily. 
 
 Although all others present trembled at the 
 dreadful preparations, yet Stoi did not; he strip- 
 ped the arm, rolled up the shirt above the shoul- 
 der, and pointed out the place where the arm 
 was to be taken off. Stilling and Troost could 
 scarcely forbear smiling ; when the latter applied, 
 the screw, in order to close the pulse-vein, he 
 assisted them very quietly and resignedly; he 
 even wished to help them during the operation. 
 Stilling, however, prevented this; and, on the 
 contrary, bent himself towards the old man's 
 face, turned it away from the operation, and 
 spoke with him upon other subjects ; during 
 which time Troost made the incision through 
 the flesh to the bone. Stoi sighed only onc«, 
 and continued his speech. The bone was then 
 sawn off, and the stump bound up. 
 
 The whole of the case was remarkable. Mr. 
 Troost slackened the screw a little, in order to 
 see whether the vein would spring or not; but it 
 did not do so, even when the screw was entirely 
 removed; in short, the inflammatory matter had 
 concentrated itself in a swelling in the upper 
 part of the arm, which kept the nerves and 
 veins firmly pressed together; but this was first 
 discovered after his death. 
 
 Appearances were encouraging; a favorable 
 
STILLIN G'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 103 
 
 ulceration succeeded, and the cure was consid- 
 ered certain, when Stilling was again sent for in 
 haste ; he ran thither, and found poor Stoi rat- 
 tling in his throat, and drawing his breath with 
 great difficulty. " I have committed another 
 imprudence," stammered out the sick man to 
 him. " I rose up, and went to the window ; a 
 cold north- wind blowing upon my arm, I began 
 to shiver ; the matter has lodged in my breast. 
 I am dying; and it is well: however, do your 
 duty, Doctor; in order that the world may not 
 afterwards slander you." Stilling took off the 
 bandage, and found the wound perfectly dry ; 
 he strewed it with powdered cantharides, and 
 covered the whole stump with- a blister; he 
 then prescribed other appropriate remedies; but 
 they were all unavailing — Stoi died under his 
 hands. 
 
 " A full stop now to my medical practice," 
 said Stilling to himself. He accompanied the 
 good Stoi to his grave, and buried him with his 
 profession. However, he resolved to retain the 
 occupation of an oculist, merely because he was 
 so successful in it; but then he made it a law 
 with himself, that he would in future receive no 
 recompense, but practise it solely for the glory 
 of his Heavenly Father, by serving his fellow- 
 men. 
 
 The period now approached when he was to 
 leave Schönenthal and remove to Rittersburg. 
 October was already far advanced, the days 
 were short, the weather and the roads bad ; and 
 finally, he was under the necessity of com- 
 mencing his lectures with the beginning of 
 November. However, there was previously 
 still a steep cliff to climb ; eight hundred guilders 
 must be paid before he could remove. Many 
 friends advised him to assign over his goods, 
 and to give up all to his creditors. But this was 
 not according to Stilling's views of propriety. 
 u No, no," said he; "every one shall be paid to 
 the uttermost farthing. I promise this in the 
 name of God ; He has been my guide, and cer- 
 tainly will not let me be confounded. I will not 
 make myself a knave, and abandon the school 
 of my heavenly Father." " It is all very well," 
 answered they ; " but what will you do now 1 
 You are unable to pay; and if you are arrested, 
 and your furniture seized, what will you then 
 do V* " I leave all that to God," rejoined he, 
 " and do not trouble myself about it, for it is 
 His affair." 
 
 He consequently began to pack up, and for- 
 ward to Frankfort what he intended to take with 
 him. and appointed a day for selling the rest by 
 auction. Every thing passed over quietly, and 
 no one stirred ; he sent away furniture and re- 
 ceived money without any one interfering; he 
 even took places in the stage to Rüsselstein for 
 himself, his wife, and the two children, for the fol- 
 lowing Sunday, consequently a week before- 
 hand. Meanwhile, he was privately informed 
 that a couple of his creditors had concerted to- 
 gether to have him arrested; for, as the little 
 household furniture he possessed was altogether 
 of trifling value, they had not troubled them- 
 selves about it, but believed that if they thus 
 hindered him in his course, people would be 
 found to liberate him. Stilling inwardly trem- 
 bled with anxiety, yet still he firmly trusted in 
 God. 
 
 The following Thursday, his friend Troost 
 entered the door, with a cheerful, smiling coun- 
 tenance, and tears in his eyes ; his pockets seem- 
 ed loaded. " Friend," he began, " things go I 
 
 again in Stilling's fashion." So saying, he drew 
 out a linen bag, filled with French dollars, and 
 threw it upon the table. Stilling and Christina 
 looked at each other, and began to weep. 
 
 " How is that V said he to his friend Troost. 
 " It is as follows," answered the latter. " I was 
 at a certain merchant's," whose name he men- 
 tioned; : 'I knew that you owed him sixty dol- 
 lars, and begged him to remit the debt. The 
 merchant smiled, and said, 'Not only so, but I 
 will present him with sixty in addition to it; for 
 I know how much he is straitened.' He paid 
 me, therefore, the money, and there it is ; you 
 have now nearly the eighth part of what you 
 need; but I will give you a little advice: to- 
 morrow you must take leave of all your ac- 
 quaintances, in order that you may spend Satur- 
 day quietly, and thus prepare for your journey. 
 Be comforted, and see what God will do for 
 you." 
 
 Stilling followed this advice, and on the Friday 
 morning began to take leave. The first to whom 
 he went was a rich merchant. As he entered 
 the door, the latter came to meet him, and said, 
 " Doctor, I know you are come to take leave. 
 I have never mistaken your character ; you 
 were always a man of integrity ; but I could not 
 employ you as a physician, for I was satisfied 
 with my own. God has raised me from the 
 dust, and made me what I am; I acknowledge 
 how much I am indebted to Him; have the 
 goodness to receive this acknowledgment in His 
 name; do not shame me by a refusal, nor sin 
 through pride." So saying, he embraced and 
 kissed him, and put into his hand a little roll of 
 twenty ducats, consequently a hundred guilders. 
 Stilling was petrified with astonishment, and 
 his noble-minded benefactor hastened away. 
 Amazement seized him by the hair of his head, 
 as the angel did Habakkuk; he was lifted up on 
 high by the greatness of his joy, and proceeded 
 further. 
 
 But, why do I detain my readers 1 Acknowl- 
 edgments were pressed upon him with the great- 
 est delicacy and consideration ; and in the even- 
 ing, when he had finished his round and returned 
 home, and counted the money over, how much had 
 he? — exactly eight hundred guilders, neither more 
 nor less ! 
 
 Such sublime scenes are only weakened by 
 description, and by the most brilliant expres- 
 sions ; I am silent, and adore ! God will re- 
 member you, ye secret Schönenthal friends ! I 
 will bring you forward on the day of retribu- 
 tion, and say, " Lo, O Lord ! these are they that 
 rescued me from my state of helplessness; re- 
 ward them immeasurably, according to thy 
 great promises ;" and He will do it. To thee, 
 thou chosen and unshaken friend, Troost, I say 
 nothing. When eventually we walk hand in 
 hand through the plains of yonder world, we., 
 will talk the matter over! 
 
 1 have hitherto, in several places, described 
 the character of the inhabitants of Schönenthal 
 in no very favourable manner ; and it is very 
 possible that many of my readers may have re- 
 ceived a general impression of dislike to that 
 place. I must myself confess, that I cannot di- 
 vest myself of this impression ; but this has no 
 reference to the noble-minded few, who, even in 
 their striving after wealth, or, together with their 
 vocation, cherish those exalted feelings which 
 ever have real love to God and man for their 
 inseparable companions. These Schönenthal 
 citizens cannot therefore take it amiss of me 
 
104 HEINRICH 
 
 that I write the truth ; for their sakes, the Lord 
 blesses that flourishing place ; and it causes 
 them honour, both in the sight of God and men, 
 that, in the midst of so many temptations, they 
 retain their courage, and do not suffer them- 
 selves to be carried away with the stream. 
 But the pietists of that place will, in an es- 
 
 Secial manner, pronounce a woe upon me, for 
 aving so openly represented them in their true 
 colours; this also has only reference to those 
 amongst them who have deserved it. Why do 
 they hang out the sign of religion and the fear 
 of God, and yet do not what religion and the 
 fear of God command 1 In our time, when 
 Christianity is assaulted on all sides, and made 
 the butt of blasphemy, the sincere admirer of 
 religion must work and be silent, except where 
 he must necessarily speak. But why do I stay 
 to excuse myself? The Lord will take cogni- 
 zance of it, who judgeth righteously. 
 
 It is long since I have mentioned any thing 
 respecting Mr. Friedenberg and his family, or 
 stated how this worthy man and his household 
 acted on the occasion of Stilling's appointment 
 to Rittersburg. 
 
 Friedenberg was a manufacturer and mer- 
 chant. Both he, as well as his wife and children, 
 were extremely industrious, thrifty, and active ; 
 their attachment to religion had preserved them 
 from all dissipation and all the amusements of 
 the great world. He had begun with nothing, 
 and yet, with the divine blessing, had become a 
 moderately wealthy, though not a rich man ; 
 hence an unfavourable sentiment towards Still- 
 ing prevailed in him and his family. They 
 had no idea of the character of a learned man, 
 and, generally speaking, learning was little es- 
 teemed by them ; that which did not increase 
 their property was very indifferent to them. As 
 men of business, they were quite in the right; 
 but it was on this very account they were in- 
 capable of forming a correct judgment of Still- 
 ing, for the latter strove after the attainment of 
 truth and knowledge ; the unceasing considera- 
 tion how every moment something was to be 
 gained or saved, could not possibly fill a mind 
 whose whole sphere of operation was occupied 
 with higher things. Hence arose a species of 
 coolness, which inexpressibly pained the sensi- 
 tive heart of Stilling. He sought to portray the 
 matter in its true form to his father-in-law; but 
 the result always was, "A man must maintain 
 himself honestly ; this is his first duty; the sec- 
 ond is then, certainly, that of being useful to the 
 world." " Very correct," thought Stilling; "no 
 one in the world can think ill of the worthy man 
 for judging thus." 
 
 Friedenberg was not merely indifferent to the 
 Rittersburg appointment, but even displeased; 
 for he regarded his son-in-law as a confirmed 
 bad manager, so that he thought a fixed income 
 would avail him just as little as his practice in 
 Schönenthal ; and since he was become security 
 for his debts, he was afraid he would now have 
 to bear all the burden himself, and, perhaps, in 
 the end, be obliged to pay all. Stilling's heart 
 suffered extremely from this circumstance ; he 
 had nothing to say in his defence, but was 
 obliged to lay his hand upon his mouth and be 
 silent; but the most ardent sighs for succour 
 incessantly arose from his oppressed heart to 
 his heavenly Father. His confidence remained 
 unshaken, and he firmly believed God would 
 gloriously deliver him and crown his faith. 
 However, he promised his father-in-law to pay 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 off yearly a couple of hundred guilders, and 
 thus continually lighten the burden. This was 
 agreed upon, and Friedenberg consented to his 
 removal. 
 
 On the Saturday, Stilling went with his Chris- 
 tina and the two children to Rasenheim, in order 
 to take leave. The painful feelings which are 
 customary on such occasions were now much 
 alleviated by the situation of affairs. Stilling, 
 however, feared his consort might be unable to 
 bear the assault upon her sensibilities, but he 
 was mistaken ; she felt, much more deeply than 
 he did, how much she and her husband were 
 misapprehended. She was conscious that she 
 had economized to the utmost of her power; 
 that her dress, for a doctor's lady, was extreme- 
 ly moderate, and much beneath the wardrobe 
 of* her sisters; and, finally, that, neither in eat- 
 ing nor drinking, nor in furniture, had she done 
 more than she could answer for. She was, 
 therefore, cheerful and courageous, for she had 
 a good conscience. Hence, when the evening- 
 approached, and her whole family were sitting 
 in a circle, mourning, she sent her two children 
 away, after their grand-parents had blessed 
 them, and then stepping into the circle, she stood 
 and said : 
 
 " We are about to travel into a foreign land, 
 with which we are unacquainted ; we forsake 
 parents, brothers, sisters, and relations, and we 
 forsake them all willingly; for there is nothing 
 that renders parting painful to us. The Lord 
 has sent us sufferings and afflictions without 
 number, and no one has helped, refreshed, or 
 consoled us; the grace of God alone has pre- 
 served us, by the aid of strangers, from total 
 ruin. I shall go with joy. Father, mother, 
 brother, and sisters, live so that I may meet you 
 all again before the throne of God !" 
 
 So saying, she kissed one after the other in 
 their turn, and hastened away, without shedding 
 a tear. Stilling now also took leave, but with 
 many tears, and walked after her. 
 
 The following morning he placed himself, 
 with his wife and children, in the stage, and 
 set off. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The further Stilling removed from the scene 
 of his fiery trial, which had lasted six years and 
 a half, the more his heart expanded; his whole 
 soul was filled with thankfulness and a high 
 degree of joy. Nothing brings purer pleasure 
 than the experience which the sufferings we 
 have endured afford us; we come forth more 
 purified and more and more glorified from every 
 purifying fire; and this likewise is solely the 
 invaluable characteristic of the religion of Je 
 sus, which no other ever had ; it teaches us to 
 know sin and suffering. To this was added the 
 more exhilarating prospect of the future — a des- 
 tination entirely accordant with his previous 
 guidance and his character; a vocation which 
 insured him a certain maintenance, and gave 
 hopes for the liquidation of his debts ; and final- 
 ly, a people who could not have any prejudices 
 against him. AW this infused profound peace 
 into his soul. 
 
 At noon he met a part of the private society 
 of Schönenthal at an inn, where they had order- 
 ed a parting dinner. Here, therefore, he dined, 
 and enjoyed himself in the company of these 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 105 
 
 excellent men, and then travelled to Rüsselstein. 
 Two of his brothers-in-law accompanied him 
 thus far, and then returned. From Rüsselstein 
 he took a conveyance to Cologne, and another 
 from thence to P'rankfort. At Coblentz he visit- 
 ed the celebrated Sophia Von la Roche, to whom 
 he was already known by means of the history 
 of his life. He then proceeded to Frankfort, 
 where he visited his old friends, but especially 
 the Rev. Mr. Kraft, who shewed him extraordi- 
 nary affection and friendship. 
 
 After a day's rest, he went, on account of the 
 great floods, by way of Mayence, Worms, and 
 Frankenthal, to Manheim, where he was re- 
 ceived with open arms. Here he found many 
 friends and well-wishers, in consequence of his 
 history having appeared in print. Favor, friend- 
 ship, affection, and tenderness, were every where 
 shown him ; and it is indescribable what a 
 pleasing effect this had upon him and his Chris- 
 tina, after having been so long trodden under 
 foot. Eisenhart now gave him several impor- 
 tant admonitions. Stilling's history, notwith- 
 standing the favorable reception it had met 
 with, had excited a prejudice of pietism; every 
 one regarded him as a man who was, after all, 
 a refined enthusiast, and of whom it was neces- 
 sary to be upon their guard in this respect. He 
 was therefore warned not to speak too much of 
 religion, but to let his light shine solely by in- 
 tegrity and good actions ; for in a country where 
 the Catholic religion predominated, it was ne- 
 cessary to be prudent. Stilling perceived the 
 truth of all this, and therefore sacredly promised 
 to follow his advice punctually ; however, he 
 "was forced to laugh heartily, for at Schönenthal 
 he was reputed an infidel, whilst here he was 
 accounted a pietist; so little truth is there in 
 man's judgment. 
 
 He now pursued his journey into the woody 
 and mountainous province of Austrasia. Not- 
 withstanding the rude season of the year, and 
 the dead and leafless scenery, Stilling gazed 
 "with pleasure on the precipitous rocks and 
 mountains, the aged forests, and the ruins of old 
 "baronial castles everywhere hanging to the cliffs 
 — every thing reminded him strongly- of his na- 
 tive province. He felt at ease, and soon saw 
 at a distance the wood-crowned Rittersburg, 
 with all its ancient towers ; his bosom heaved, 
 and his heart beat more strongly, the nearer he 
 approached the scene of his future life. At 
 length, in the twilight, he drove in at the gates. 
 As the carriage turned to the left, and drove 
 through the narrow street, he heard a man's 
 voice call out, on his right, " Halt !" The coach- 
 man stopped. "Is professor Stilling in the 
 coach V A twofold " Yes" responded from the 
 vehicle. " Well, then, alight, my dear and 
 chosen friend and colleague ; here you must 
 lodge." 
 
 The kind and gentle tone of his voice affected 
 Stilling and his consort even to tears. They 
 alighted, and were received in the arms of pro- 
 fessor Siegfried and his lady ; professor Stillen- 
 feld, his other colleague, also soon appeared, 
 whose retired, quiet, and peaceable character 
 particularly attracted Stilling's attention. Stil- 
 lenfeld was still unmarried, but Siegfried had 
 already one child; he and his spouse were ex- 
 cellent people, full of zeal for religion and all 
 that is good, and at the same time enthusiasti- 
 cally philanthropical. Siegfried was, at the same 
 time, a very learned and deep-thinking philoso- 
 pher, whose chief inclination was directed to 
 O 
 
 Divinity, which he had formerly studied ; but 
 he now taught the laws of nature and of nations, 
 and Civil, Financial, and Political Economy. 
 Stillenfeld, on the contrary, was a very refined, 
 noble-minded, upright character, full of system, 
 order, and mathematical exactness; in Mathe- 
 matics, Natural Philosophy, Natural History, 
 and Chemistry, it was difficult to find his equal. 
 Stilling felt happy with these men ; and his wife 
 soon attached herself to professor Siegfried's 
 lady, who gave her information in every thing, 
 and assisted her in the regulation of her house- 
 hold. 
 
 The difference between Schönenthal and Rit- 
 tersburg was certainly great. Old, irregular 
 houses; low rooms, with ceilings supported by 
 crossed beams ; little windows, with round or 
 hexagonal panes of glass ; doors which could not 
 be shut close; stoves of dreadful dimensions, on 
 which the marriage of Cana in Galilee, with its 
 twelve stone vessels of water in bas-relief, was 
 edifyingly portrayed; then a prospect into no- 
 thing but gloomy forests of fir — nowhere a 
 rushing stream, but a serpentine, creeping, fen- 
 ny water, &c. All this certainly formed a sin- 
 gular contrast with the scenes to which they 
 had been so long accustomed ; Christina also 
 had often tears in her eyes; but by degrees we 
 become accustomed to every thing, arid thus 
 both habituated themselves to their new situa- 
 tion, and were heartily satisfied with it. 
 
 Stilling now wrote both to Rasenheim, to his 
 father-in-law, and to his father at Leindorf, as 
 also to his uncle at Lichthausen, and faithfully 
 pictured to these friends his whole situation ; in 
 doing which, he by no means forgot to dilate 
 upon the excellent prospects he had respecting 
 the future. Johann and Wilhelm Stilling were 
 filled with astonishment at their Heinrich's new 
 elevation ; they looked at each other, and said 
 one to another, " What will he at length be- 
 come 1" Friedenberg, on the contrary, was not 
 particularly pleased; instead of expressions of 
 satisfaction, his answer was full of paternal ad- 
 monitions upon domestic economy; he had no 
 feeling for the honor done to his son-in-law and 
 his daughter, in his being nominated professor ; 
 in fact, fame and honor did not affect him. 
 
 As the system of Political Economy which 
 Stilling had formed to himself lay much on his 
 heart, he appropriated the first winter to the de- 
 velopment of it in his manual, and at the same 
 time to the reading of lectures from what he had 
 written. In the spring, this book was printed at 
 Manheim, under the title of "An Essay on the 
 Principles of Statistical Knowledge." It met 
 with much approbation, notwithstanding its 
 faults and imperfections ; and Stilling now be- 
 gan to be lully assured of his destiny — he felt 
 himself entirely in the department that was nat- 
 ural to him. Every obligation which his office 
 laid upon him, was at the same time his greatest 
 pleasure. It is impossible to conceive a more 
 happy situation than that in which he now found 
 himself; for even the people amongst whom he 
 lived, loved, honored, and valued him and his 
 Christina beyond measure; all calumny and 
 turmoil was at an end ; and if a storm had not 
 continually threatened him from Schönenthal on 
 account of his debts, he would have been per- 
 fectly happy. 
 
 The following summer, Stilling read lectures 
 upon the treatment of woods and forests, Tech- 
 nology, and Agriculture; for he did not satisfy 
 himself merely with the sciences to which he 
 
106 HEINRICH 
 
 was appointed, but also glowed with desire to 
 expand his system as far as possible in his 
 sphere ; and as the treatises iq use were not 
 adapted to his plan, he formed the resolution of 
 writing compendia upon all the sciences he was 
 acquainted with, and made preparations for 
 commencing the work. 
 
 Stilling had been hitherto in the furnace of his 
 divine Founder, and from the rough had been 
 wrought into a serviceable instrument; but the 
 file and the polish were still wanting; nor were 
 these forgotten; for events were forming at a 
 distance, which were to put the last hand to the 
 work, and which at length were more painful to 
 him than every thing he had hitherto endured. 
 
 The Society of Political Economy, of which 
 he was now a regular member, operated with 
 unspeakable blessing and success lor the coun- 
 try, and the Palatinate can never sufficiently 
 thank it for its labors; this is truth, and no com- 
 pliment. It instituted the statistical academy; es- 
 tablished a manufactory which flourishes great- 
 ly, and affords maintenance for many hundred 
 people; and of all this, Counsellor Eisenhart 
 was the first and last main-spring, the real 
 weight to the clock. They had also bought a 
 farm in the village of Siegeibach, a league and 
 a half from Rittersburg, where they intended to 
 make a variety of new agricultural experiments, 
 and thus to set a good example to the farmers. 
 This farm had been hitherto under the care of 
 managers ; but every thing had failed, nothing 
 would succeed, for every circumstance proved 
 unfavorable. Now when Stilling came to Rit- 
 tersburg, the management was committed to him, 
 as professor of Agriculture ; and he accepted 
 this secondary office, believing that he was fully 
 competent to it. The steward was therefore dis- 
 missed, and the whole business committed to 
 Stilling; this took place immediately after his 
 entrance upon his professorship. 
 
 On arriving at Siegeibach, and after examin- 
 ing every thing, he found a large and beautiful 
 cow-stable, laid with flags, arranged entirely in 
 the new style; in this there were twenty lean 
 skeletons of Swiss cows, which gave altogether, 
 daily, three pails of milk; the true image of 
 Pharaoh's lean kine. There were likewise two 
 working horses, with two foals; and outside, in 
 separate sties, a tolerable herd of swine ; and, 
 although it was only November, yet all the hay 
 was long ago consumed, as well as all the straw 
 for strewing. Hence there was a want of milk 
 and butter for housekeeping, and fodder for so 
 many great mouths. This pressed strongly 
 upon the good professor's heart; he therefore 
 applied directly to the society, but there he could 
 not obtain a hearing. Every one told him he 
 must do as well as he could, for all were weary 
 of having always to pay. Stilling was now 
 again deficient in needful prudence; he ought 
 immediately to have resigned, and given up the 
 management; however, he did not do so — he 
 was too much attached to the whole institution, 
 and believed its honor was so closely connected 
 with his own. that it was incumbent upon him 
 to proceed with it, and this was his misfortune. 
 
 The first thing he undertook was the sale of 
 half of the cattle; for he hoped with the sum he 
 should realise from it, to be able to buy so much 
 straw and fodder as to provide in a proper man- 
 Tier for the other half. He therefore made ar- 
 rangements for a public auction, and was aston- 
 ished at the concourse of people and the prices, 
 so that he felt assured he should surmount the 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 mighty obstacle. But how was he terrified on 
 learning that most of the buyers were creditors, 
 who had demands on the estate; whilst the rest, 
 to whom the estate was not indebted, were poor; 
 he therefore obtained little money, and he found 
 that if he wished to help himself, he must put 
 his hand into his purse, and where that did not 
 suffice, borrow money on his own credit. 
 
 He had, it is true, the well-grounded hope, 
 that in the following summer a large and abun- 
 dant harvest would be more than sufficient to re- 
 pay every thing, and that the produce of the 
 large clover-fields and grass-lands would relieve 
 him from the burden ; and so far he was excu- 
 sable; still, however, for a man in his circum- 
 stances it was thoughtless to undertake any 
 thing of the kind, particularly when he learned 
 the true state of the case; but, oh, how easy it 
 is, after struggling through grievous sufferings, 
 to discover the little outlet by which we might 
 have escaped ! God be praised for his guidance ! 
 
 To these threatening clouds, others collected 
 themselves. The ruling persons at Rittersburg 
 were all Roman Catholics, in the coarse sense 
 of the word ; the Franciscans filled the clerical 
 office, and had the care of the souls of the par- 
 ishioners ; it was therefore of importance to 
 these divines that stupidity and superstition 
 should be always preserved; the chief magis- 
 trate, in particular, was their faithful adherent. 
 But the academy of Political Economy had now 
 established itself in the town, the teachers of 
 which were all Protestants, and the latter even 
 exercised a jurisdiction ; all which was natural- 
 ly a thorn in their eyes. Now there resided 
 there a certain learned man, of the name of 
 Spässel, a singular character, who had few 
 equals ; his dress was very negligent, and even 
 occasionally dirty; his gait and walk slovenly; 
 and all his speeches savoured of low wit, so that 
 he acted the jack-pudding in every company. In 
 secret, he was the spy of one of the superior 
 clergy, who was high in favor with the Elector, 
 and likewise the news-monger and tale-bearer 
 of the chief magistrate ; openly, he was a face- 
 tious scoffer at certain usages of his own religion; 
 but woe to that man who assisted him in so do- 
 ing! for he had secretly entered into the Fran- 
 ciscan fraternity, to which he faithfully adhered. 
 
 It is painful for me to hold up this man to 
 public view. However, as he was an instru- 
 ment in the hand of Providence, I cannot pass 
 him by. If he be still living, and be recognised, 
 and if he be still what he was, he is justly serv- 
 ed, and it is a duty to warn every upright char- 
 acter against him; but if he be dead, or be not 
 recognised, my description of him will do him 
 no injury. As long as an individual is still 
 continued in this state of probation and purifi- 
 cation, he is capable of amendment and return; 
 if Spässel, therefore, become, even according to 
 the principles of his own church, a worthy, up- 
 right, and benevolent character, all those who 
 formerly knew him exactly as I here describe 
 him, will alter their sentiments — will love him; 
 and there will be more joy in Rittersburg, as well 
 as in heaven, at his return to .virtue, than over 
 ninety-and-nine worthy individuals, who have 
 not had so severe a struggle with disposition 
 and character as he. Then will I also step for- 
 ward, before the whole world, and say, " Come, 
 brother, forgive, as I have forgiven thee ; thou 
 art better than I, for thou hast overcome more 
 numerous enemies." 
 
 This Spässel had sought, from the commence- 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 107 
 
 ment, to be made a member of the Society of 
 Political Economy, and even to become profes- 
 sor of the Veterinary art; but they were afraid 
 of him, for he was a very dangerous man, who, 
 besides, did not possess the decorum which is so 
 requisite for a professor; they had consequently 
 been very careful to keep him at a distance. 
 Now as Stilling obtained the Veterinary depart- 
 ment along with the rest, he was therefore in his 
 way. There was also something in addition to 
 this; the society had a library, which was open 
 once in the week for a lecture, from six till 
 eight o'clock in the evening. Stilling voluntari- 
 ly undertook this lecture gratuitously ; partly, in 
 order to increase his knowledge of literature, 
 and partly by this means to be the more useful 
 to his hearers; the society had also permitted 
 all the literati of the place to make use of their 
 books at this lecture. 
 
 Spässel rarely took advantage of this privi- 
 lege ; but towards the spring, he began to come 
 oftener. The management of the farm at Sie- 
 gelbach, however, caused Stilling to make an al- 
 teration in the matter; as he was compelled to 
 go thither every Monday, and being unable to 
 read the customary lecture on that day, he trans- 
 ferred it to the Tuesday evening. This he 
 made known to all the students, and begged 
 them to make it public. Spässel, however, 
 came three Mondays following, and found the 
 door closed ; on the third, he sat down and wrote 
 the following note : 1 insert it just as it was :* 
 
 " it Is probablee intended bi Professer Stilling 
 To make A fool of me — but This is to informe 
 Him — That Spässel duz not intend To b maid a 
 fool of! ! ! — the zosiete ote to instrukt there pee- 
 ple in there dooti and devores. Spassel." 
 
 Stilling sent this note in a letter to counsellor 
 Eisenhart, the Director, and informed him of the 
 circumstances of the case; the latter wrote im- 
 mediately to Mr. Spässel, and represented the 
 # matter in its true light, in a polite and honest 
 manner. But this was pouring oil into the fire ; 
 for the honest man came to Stilling, and made 
 use of such malicious and offensive expressions, 
 that the latter broke out into a glowing flame, 
 and marched Mr. Spässel as quickly as possible 
 out of the door and down the steps, and then 
 called after him, " Never cross my threshold 
 again, until you are become a better man." 
 
 Here the matter ended ; but that Spässel kept 
 all this in remembrance, in order eventually to 
 take advantage of it, may be easily supposed. 
 
 About this time there appeared another mete- 
 or in the horizon of Rittersburg. A certain ar- 
 rogant Englishman, of the name of Tom, had 
 travelled through many a province as English 
 language-master, made a thousand plans, and 
 built castles in the air, but all had failed. In 
 other respects, he was a man of uncommon tal- 
 ents, learned, and, on the whole, a genius, in the 
 real sense of the term. The motive of all his 
 actions was ungovernable pride ; destitute of re- 
 ligion, rigid materialism and blind fate seemed 
 to be his guides. Philanthropy, that offspring 
 of Deity, was unknown to him ; he loved nothing 
 but himself; the name of "language-master" 
 was odious to him, although, in reality, he was 
 nothing more, and he assumed the appellation 
 of Professor of English Literature. Poverty 
 was a hell to him, and yet he was extremely 
 poor; for when formerly he was a wealthy mer- 
 
 * As the note of course must be translated for the Eng- 
 lish reader, the above is given as the nearest possible speci- 
 men of the illiterate original. — Ed. 
 
 chant, he had acted the part of a great man, and 
 afterwards, as may easily be supposed, became 
 bankrupt. This individual resided at that time 
 in Manheim; and as the institution at Ritters- 
 burg seemed to him to be just the place where he 
 could support himself and acquire fame, he ap- 
 plied to Eisenhart to assist him in obtaining a 
 professorship in the Rittersburg academy. Ei- 
 senhart, who knew the ability of the man, but 
 also his dangerous character, and besides deem- 
 ed it necessary to economize with the favor of 
 the Elector, always positively refused his re- 
 quest. At length Tom resolved to go thither, 
 without either salary or employment; he there- 
 fore merely applied for permission to reside 
 there and lecture; and this was readily granted 
 him. Eisenhart therefore wrote to Stilling, who 
 had the providing of lodgings and quarters for 
 the students committed to him, to procure a 
 dwelling for professor Tom, at the same time 
 describing the man to him, and stating what 
 kind of a lodging it must be. Stilling accord- 
 ingly hired a couple of handsome rooms at a 
 merchant's, and awaited Tom's arrival. 
 
 At length, one afternoon, a female-servant 
 came from an inn, with the following note, ad- 
 dressed to Stilling : 
 
 "Professor Tom is here." 
 
 "Ha!" thought Stilling; "a singular an- 
 nouncement!" 
 
 As he always made it a maxim, in cases 
 which could not prejudice himself or the good 
 cause, to " take the lowest place," he took up his 
 hat and stick, in order to go to the inn. At the 
 same moment, word was sent from the merchant 
 that he would not permit the English language- 
 master to enter unless he paid for the first quar- 
 ter in advance. " Very well," thought Stilling, 
 and proceeded to the inn. There he found a re- 
 spectable-looking, well-made man, with a broad 
 and lofty forehead, large staring eyes, thin face, 
 and pointed lips, from whose features spirit and 
 craftiness every where looked forth; near him 
 stood his wife, dressed in a riding-habit whilst 
 grievous care gnawed her heart, which was ev- 
 ident in her swimming eye, and the downward 
 inclining corners of her mouth. 
 
 After the exchange of compliments, during 
 which Tom seemed to wish to penetrate deeply 
 with his feelers into Stilling's soul, the latter 
 said, " Sir, I have now seen where you have 
 alighted; come with me, in order also to see 
 where I live." 
 
 " I will," said he, at the same time pointing 
 his lips, and looking very sarcastical. On ar- 
 riving at Stilling's house, he said to him further, 
 " Sir, we are pleased at having so able a man 
 amongst us, and heartily wish it may go well 
 with you." 
 
 Tom walked up and down, making all kinds 
 of grimaces, and replied, " I will make the at- 
 tempt." 
 
 Stilling.— 1 ' But I must tell you one thing; you 
 will not take it amiss of me. I have rented two 
 
 handsome rooms for you at Mr. R 's; but 
 
 the honest man demands a quarter's rent in ad- 
 vance ; now, as you are unknown to us all, the 
 man is not so much to blame." 
 
 Tom. — " So ! (he walked hastily up and down,) 
 I will go back again to Manheim ; I will not let 
 myself be insulted here, either by a professor, or 
 any one else." 
 
 Stilling. — " As you please ! We will quietly 
 and contentedly suffer you to return." 
 
108 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 Tom.— "What!— why then have I been de- 
 coyed hither 1" 
 
 Stilling now took him by the arm, looked him 
 full and seriously in the face, and rejoined, : 'Sir, 
 you must not seek to act the proud Briton here. 
 None of us, nor any honest German, .troubles 
 himself in the least on that account. At your 
 own request you have been permitted to come 
 hither, and it is altogether in our power whether 
 we send you out of the gates or not. Now be 
 calm, and observe the respect you owe to one 
 who is your superior, or else depart, if you 
 please. However, I advise you to remain here, 
 and act the part of a man of integrity, and all 
 will go well. Remember that you are an entire 
 stranger here, whom no one knows, and who 
 consequently has not the smallest credit; for a 
 rogue may possess your name, as well as an 
 honest man. 
 
 Stilling was now called out; the merchant 
 had taken a view of Mr. Tom's furniture, and 
 sent word that he would receive the language- 
 master without the advance. This news paci- 
 fied Mr. Tom, and he took possession of the 
 apartments. 
 
 But that I may not waste both time and room 
 in detailing every little event and circumstance, 
 1 will only observe, in short, that Spässel and 
 Tom united together, and formed a plan to over- 
 throw Stilling, expel him from his situation, and 
 then divide his office between them. Their 
 preparations were extremely cunning, exten- 
 sively concerted, and maturely digested, as the 
 result Will shew. 
 
 The general idea that Stilling had still some 
 inclination to enthusiasm and pietism, appeared 
 to the two caballers the weak side, to which they 
 must direct their artillery and make a breach. 
 They walked, therefore, a long time up and down 
 the street before Stilling's house, in the twilight, 
 in order to spy out what they could. Now he 
 was frequently in the habit, after dinner, of play- 
 ing hymn-tunes upon his harpsichord and sing- 
 ing to them, in which his Christina joined; this 
 was spread abroad ; it was said he had family- 
 worship, prayer-meetings, and the like ; and thus 
 the public were gradually prepared. This intel- 
 ligence Spässel communicated also to the court 
 at Munich, in order that every thing might be 
 complete. 
 
 A circumstance was added to this which fully 
 decided the matter. Stilling had found at Sie- 
 gelbach a stock of Swiss cheese, which he took 
 home with him, in order to sell; in consequence 
 of which, a number of tradespeople, women, and 
 girls, came frequently to buy cheese. Now there 
 were some of them who were of a religious turn, 
 and occasionally spoke on the subject with Still- 
 ing's consort — one of them once invited her to 
 her garden, in order to afford a little change to 
 herselfand her children. Christina accepted it 
 without hesitation, and Stilling imagined no- 
 thing evil. She went therefore on the day ap- 
 pointed ; and after the lecture-hours, he walked 
 to the garden also, to fetch his wife and children. 
 Here he found four or five females sitting round 
 his Christina in the summer-house ; some edify- 
 ing works lav on the table, between currant- 
 cakes and coffee-cups, and all were engaged in 
 religious conversation. Stilling sat down by 
 them, and began to preach circumspection: he 
 represented to them how dangerous meetings of 
 that kind were in a place where every action and 
 movement of the Protestants were so minutely 
 observed ; he then clearly and fully proved to 
 
 them that religion does not consist in such con- 
 versation, but in a devout life, &c. 
 
 But who could have imagined that Spässel, 
 at that very time, was standing behind the hedge, 
 and overheard every thing ! Stilling, at least, 
 never dreamt of such a thing. How was he as- 
 tonished, therefore, on receiving letters a week 
 after, containing the most serious, and I may 
 well say the severest reproaches from his friends 
 at Manheim and Zweibrücken 1 he really knew 
 not what to think of it; and if the holding a 
 garden-conventicle had not been mentioned, he 
 would never have dreamt how this venomous 
 calumny had originated. He therefore answer- 
 ed the above letters in a manly manner, and ac- 
 cording to truth ; and his friends believed him ; 
 but on the whole, there always remained a sen- 
 sation behind which was prejudicial to him, at 
 least amongst the Catholics. 
 
 In Rittersburg itself, the thing created disturb- 
 ance. The chief magistrate threatened impris- 
 onment, and reasoned very excellently ; but the 
 Protestants murmured and complained that they 
 were not suffered even to hold family-worship. 
 Stilling lost nothing in their estimation ; on the 
 contrary, they valued him so much the more. 
 The two Protestant clergymen, two venerable 
 
 and excellent men, Mr. W and Mr. S 1 
 
 also took up the affair ; they visited the females 
 in question, admonished them to be prudent, 
 consoled them, and promised them protection ; 
 for they knew they were good and worthy peo- 
 ple, who cherished no principles which" were 
 contrary to religion. Mr. W even preach- 
 ed, the following Sunday, upon prudence and 
 duty with respect to family-worship; during 
 which, he finally turned towards Stilling, and 
 addressed him openly, by breaking out into the 
 following words : " But thou, suffering wanderer 
 to the lofty aim of the Christian and the truly 
 wise, be of good cheer ; endure patiently, and 
 walk with circumspection between the snares 
 that adversaries lay for thee! Thou wilt over- 
 come, and God will crown thee with blessings; 
 God will make shame the companion of thy foes, 
 but upon thee shall the crown of the conqueror 
 flourish. Let us accompany each other, hand 
 in hand, through the burning sandy desert, and 
 one shall console the other when his heart sighs 
 for help," &c. The whole congregation fixed 
 their eyes on Stilling, and blessed him. 
 
 Through the efforts of these excellent men, the 
 whole parish was again tranquillized ; and as a 
 statement of the affair was transmitted to the 
 Palatine ecclesiastical board, the chief-magis- 
 trate received an injunction to talk no more of 
 imprisonment, until really illegal conventicles 
 had been held, and excesses committed under 
 the name of religion. But in the mean time, 
 Tom and Spässel secretly continued their mach- 
 inations at the court of Munich, and really car- 
 ried matters so far that Stilling was on the point 
 of being »ashiered. He did not hear of this dan- 
 gerous storm until it was happily over; for the 
 divine interference of a superintending Provi- 
 dence was also visible in this affair. At the very 
 moment when an ecclesiastic of high rank seri- 
 ously urged the Elector to remove him, and ren- 
 dered Stilling suspected by him, and when the 
 thing was all but decided, another ecclesiastic 
 equally respectable, but a warm friend of Still- 
 ing, and who knew the real state of affairs at 
 Rittersburg, entered the cabinet of the Elector. 
 The latter, on hearing the subject of the conver- 
 sation, took Stilling's part and defended it so 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 109 
 
 strikingly and convincingly, that the Elector at 
 once ordered the intolerant prelate to let the mat- 
 ter rest, and did not withdraw his favor from 
 Stilling. Had not this worthy clergyman come 
 thither accidentally, Stilling's" misfortune would 
 have been boundless. He first heard of the 
 wnole affair half a yea* afterwards, just as I 
 have related it. 
 
 During this period, he lived quietly, fulfilled 
 his duties, and acted as prudently as possible. 
 
 Spässel and Tom, meanwhile, concocted a va- 
 riety of extensive plans for a general literary 
 club, a topographical society, &c. But they be- 
 came themselves at variance on these important 
 affairs, and began to hate each other bitterly. 
 Tom's creditors now made a stir; and as Still- 
 ing was at the same time Dean of the academy, 
 and therefore his regular superior, he crept to the 
 cross, came to him, wept, and confessed every 
 thing in which he had cooperated with Spässel 
 to his detriment; he even shewed him the letters 
 and statements which had been sent from thence 
 to Munich. Stilling was perfectly amazed at all 
 the infernal wickedness and extremely artful de- 
 vices of these men; but as all was now over, 
 and as he learned just at that time how he had 
 been rescued at Munich, he forgave Spässel and 
 Tom everything; and as the latter was in pain- 
 ful and needy circumstances, he consoled and 
 supported him, as well as he was able, without 
 infringing upon strict justice; and when at 
 length Tom could no longer remain at Ritters- 
 burg, and was desirous of removing to a certain 
 German university, in order to try his fortune 
 there, Stilling provided him with money for the 
 journey, and gave him his hearty blessing. 
 
 Tom there tried all his tricks once more, in 
 order to elevate himself; but he failed. And 
 what did he attempt next? He laid aside his 
 pride, was converted, put on a very modest 
 dress, and became a pietist ! God grant that his 
 conversion may be real, and not a mask for wick- 
 edness and pride. However, the way from one 
 extreme to the other is by no means distant or 
 difficult, but very easy and beaten. May the 
 Lord bless him, and give him the opportunity 
 of effecting much good, that so his former cata- 
 logue of sins may be blotted out! 
 
 Meanwhile, Stilling was highly successful in 
 his situation as professor; he lived entirely in 
 his element. But as I am unwilling to detain 
 my readers with a variety of circumstances, even 
 though of an interesting nature, which have no 
 direct reference to his fate or his guidance, I 
 will merely proceed with the principal course of 
 his history. 
 
 The m'anagement of the Siegeibach estate 
 went wrong; nothing succeeded ; there was ev- 
 erywhere curse instead of blessing; unfaithful 
 servants, thievish neighbors, secret perfidy of 
 the inferior officers-; all these stood in Stilling's 
 way, so that at length, unless he were willing to 
 be ruined himself, along with the estate, he was 
 obliged to give up the entire management, and 
 render in his accounts. Though he was deliv- 
 ered by this means from this heavy burden, yet 
 he was plunged still deeper into debt; for he 
 had attempted and expended much, which he 
 partly could not charge, and partly would not, 
 in order not to be suspected of self-interest; and 
 thus he came off from the affair with honor, but 
 at the same time with an addition of debt. 
 
 Misfortunes of every kind now began to gath- 
 er over his head. Debts had been formed at 
 Kittersburg, as well as at Sch©nenthal; the in- 
 
 terest was scarcely paid, much less any liquida- 
 tion of the principal; besides this, all kinds of 
 reports were spread abroad, that Stilling kept a 
 coach and horses, lived at an amazing expense, 
 and never thought of his debts. He had six hun- 
 dred guilders salary, and received from two to 
 three hundred guilders lecture-money; at the 
 same time, the prices of every thing in Ritters- 
 burg rose almost double, so that with all econo- 
 my scarcely so much remained over his neoes- 
 sary expenditure as covered the interest; with 
 what, therefore, were the debts to be paid 1 Al- 
 most every post-day, the most tormenting let- 
 ters arrived from his father-in-law, or from some 
 creditor in Schönenthal. Mr. Friedenberg him- 
 self was in a very unpleasant situation; he was 
 security, and was threatened with an action at 
 law by the man who had formerly so kindly as- 
 sisted Stilling from love to God and man. Still- 
 ing therefore had every moment to expect that 
 his benefactor, his father-in-law, would, on his 
 account, be obliged to stop payment. This 
 thought was agony to him; and then, under all 
 these dreadful circumstances, to possess not the 
 smallest intimation of help, nor the remotest pre- 
 sentiment of it ! 
 
 Dreadful ! dreadful was this situation ! and to 
 whom could he unburden himself t To no one 
 but God; and this he did incessantly ; he strove, 
 without ceasing, with unbelief and mistrust, yet 
 never cast his confidence away. All his letters 
 to his father-in-law were full of submission to 
 Divine Providence, and consoling; but they no 
 longer produced any effect. Counsellor Eisen- 
 hart himself, who knew something of his situa- 
 tion, made fruitless attempts to assist him. Still- 
 ing wrote " Florentine Von Fahlendorn," and 
 "Theodore Von der Linden," and sought, with 
 what he received for them, to stem the torrent; 
 but it was like a drop in a bucket. He wrote 
 to several great and eminent friends, and stated 
 to them his circumstances; but some were un- 
 able to help him, others took a dislike to him, 
 others again exhorted him to endure to the end; 
 and a couple assisted him with a drop of refresh- 
 ment to his parched tongue. 
 
 Every thing therefore was in vain, and it con- 
 tinued to thunder and lighten incessantly from 
 Schönenthal. 
 
 During this dreadful period, the Almighty 
 prepared for judgment upon Stilling, in order, at 
 length, to decide his fate. 
 
 On the 17th of August, 1781, on a very sul- 
 try and thundery day, Christina had lifted a 
 heavy basket upon the head of the servant-girl, 
 and in doing so felt something crack in her 
 breast, which was soon succeeded by acute pain, 
 with shivering and fever. On Stilling's return 
 from the college, as he entered her room, she 
 came to meet him, deadly pale, with the air of 
 a culprit, and said, " Be not angry, my dear hus- 
 band ; — by lifting a basket, I have done myself 
 an injury in the breast ; God be gracious to thee 
 and me ! I forebode my death." 
 
 Stilling stood stupefied, and like one thunder- 
 struck; weak and worn-out with protracted sor- 
 row, he imagined he felt the mortal blow; his 
 head inclined upon his shoulders, and projecting 
 forwards, his hands clenched, his eyes fixed, 
 with a weeping expression of countenance, 
 though not a tear flowed, he stood mute; for he 
 now also anticipated Christina's decease with 
 certainty. At length he recovered himself, en- 
 deavored to comfort her, and brought her to ^ 
 bod. In the twilight of the evening, the disease 
 
110 HEINRICH 
 
 manifested itself in all its virulence. Christina 
 laid herself down, like a lamb for the slaughter, 
 and said, " Lord, do with me as seemeth thee 
 good. I am thy child; if it be thy will that I 
 shall never see my parents and sisters again in 
 this world, I commit them into thy hands; only 
 guide them in such a manner as that I may 
 eventually see them again, before thy throne !" 
 
 Christina's first attack was, therefore, properly 
 speaking, a pectoral fever, accompanied by hys- 
 terical paroxysms, which manifested themselves 
 in a violent cough; several physicians were 
 called in, and various remedies were employed 
 in order to save her. After the lapse of a fort- 
 night, there was some amendment, and it seem- 
 ed as if the danger were over. Stilling there- 
 fore composed thanksgiving-hymns, and wrote 
 the pleasing account of her recovery to his 
 friends: however, he was greatly deceived; she 
 did not even leave her bed ; on the contrary, her 
 illness settled into a regular pulmonary con- 
 sumption. The waters now entered into Still- 
 ing's soul; the thought of losing so dear a con- 
 sort was intolerable to him, for she was the best 
 of wives; polite, extremely obliging, whilst the 
 tone of her conversation and her modesty capti- 
 vated every one. Her cleanliness was remark- 
 able; all were happy around her; neatness and 
 order predominated in her very simple dress; 
 and all that she did was performed with extreme 
 facility and celerity. Amongst intimate friends 
 she was mirthful, and witty with due decorum, 
 whilst at the same time she was eminently de- 
 vout, and devoid of hypocrisy. She avoided the 
 outward mask of godliness, for experience had 
 warned her against pietism. Stilling knew all 
 this; he deeply felt her value, and hence he 
 could not bear the thought of losing her. She 
 herself now again desired to live, and consoled 
 herself with the hope of recovery. However, 
 the dreadful paroxysms returned occasionally; 
 she coughed so violently that pieces of her 
 lungs, as large as nuts, flew about the room; 
 and she suffered, at the same time, the most 
 dreadful pain. In all this affliction she never 
 murmured, nor was ever impatient, but only ex- 
 flaimed incessantly, with a loud voice, "Lord, 
 spare me, according to thy great mercy I" And 
 ■when her husband and nurse were perspiring 
 with anxiety, compassion, and fatigue, she look- 
 ed at them both with an inexpressibly supplica- 
 ting countenance, and said, "My angel and my 
 
 all ! My dear Mrs. M , have patience with 
 
 me, and forgive me the trouble 1 cause you." 
 Acquaintances often stood at a distance at the 
 door, and wept aloud, as did also poor people, 
 whom she had relieved, for she was very benefi- 
 cent. 
 
 Stilling struggled in prayer for days and nights 
 together; a corner of his study was rendered 
 smooth by kneeling, and wet with tears; but 
 heaven was shut against him ; every ardent sigh 
 rebounded back again ; he felt as if the paternal 
 heart of God were closed. Christina being un- 
 able to bear the sound of footsteps, he went con- 
 stantly in stockings, and ran in the distress of 
 his heart from one corner of the room to an- 
 other, until the feet were worn through, without 
 his being aware of it. During all this time, 
 threatening and insulting letters continued to ar- 
 rive from Schönenthal. Mr. Friedenberg's heart 
 was broken by the expectation of his daughter's 
 approaching death ; but still his reproaches did 
 £ not cease. He was now convinced that Stilling 
 ■was the cause of all his misfortunes, and excuse 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 I was of no avail. The situation in which the 
 poor susceptible man found himself, exceeds all 
 description; but the more his distress increased, 
 the more ardently and earnestly did he cleave to 
 the compassionating love of God. 
 
 After some weeks, in the beginning of Octo- 
 ber, Stilling was standing one evening at the 
 staircase-window; it was already night, and he 
 prayed to God in secret, as he was wont ; all at 
 once he felt a profound tranquillity, an unspeak- 
 able peace of soul; and consequent upon this, 
 a deep submission to the will of God; he still 
 felt all his sufferings, but, at the same time, 
 strength enough to bear them. He went into the 
 sick-room, and approached the bed; but Chris- 
 tina beckoned to him to remain at a distance; 
 and he then perceived that she was engaged* in 
 earnest silent prayer. At length she called him r 
 motioned him to sit down, and turned herself 
 with difficulty, in order to lay herself on the. 
 side next him ; she then regarded him with an 
 inexpressible look, and said, " I am dying, dear- 
 est angel; take heart, — I die gladly; the ten 
 years we have passed in the marriage-state have 
 yielded nothing but suffering; it does not please 
 God that I should see thee delivered out of thy 
 distress, but He will deliver thee ; be comforted 
 and calm—God will not forsake thee. I do not 
 commend my two children to thee, — thou art 
 their father; and God will provide for them."' 
 She then gave several directions, turned herself 
 about, and was quiet. From that time, Stilling 
 often spoke with her concerning death, and of 
 her expectations after death ; and did all he pos- 
 sibly could to prepare her for her end. Hours 
 of anxiety still frequently occurred; and then 
 she wished for an easy death, and that it should 
 happen in the day-time, for she dreaded the 
 night. His colleague, Siegfried, often visited 
 her (for his consort, on account of sickness,, 
 pregnancy, and sympathy, could seldom come, 
 and at length not at all), and assisted him in the 
 struggle, and in affording to her consolation. 
 
 At length she approached her dissolution. On 
 the 1 7th of October, in the evening, he perceiv- 
 ed the forerunners of death; towards eleven 
 o'clock he lay down, completely weary, in an 
 ante-room, and reposed in a kind of stupor, till 
 five o'clock in the morning, when he again 
 arose, and found his dear sufferer very composed 
 and cheerful. "I have now overcome !" she 
 exclaimed, as he entered; "I now see the joys 
 of the world to come vividly before me; nothing 
 cleaves to me any more — nothing whatever.'* 
 She then repeated the following verses : 
 
 " ' Amongst the lilies thou shalt feed, 
 
 With joy supremely blest : 
 Thither, O soul, thy pinions speed, 
 
 Like eagles to their nest. 
 Behold for thee the Saviour waits, 
 To open wide heaven's pearly gates.' 
 let me run, and mount, and fly, 
 
 To join the heavenly host, 
 And the seraphic choirs on high, 
 
 In adoration lost — 
 With blissful songs surround the throne 
 Of Jesus, and the great Three-One ! 
 Dear Brother of my soul ! unmoor 
 
 My vessel from the strand, 
 Give me to reach the peaceful shore-, 
 
 The safe, the heav'nly land — 
 Th^re, where thy sheep securely feed,. 
 Afar from sorrow, want, and need. 
 There's nothing to my heart shall cleave, 
 
 Of all the world can give ; 
 Why should 1 longer mourn and grieve, 
 
 Or wish on earth to live ? 
 I'd burst these fleshly prison-walls, 
 And hasten where my Saviour calls. 
 
S T 1 L L I J\ G'S 
 
 DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Beloved Redeemer ! grant me faith— 
 
 A faith that conquers all — 
 That triumphs over sin and death, 
 
 And flies to reach the goal. 
 For Thee, my soul, like some lone dove, 
 Mourns, till 1 climb the realms above. 
 How soon canst thou my grief dispel, 
 
 My mouth with laughter fill ; 
 And through the shades of death and hell. 
 
 Lead safe to Zion's hill ! 
 Then shall life's painful passage seem 
 But like some empty, transient dream. 
 The curse of sin thou hast for me 
 
 In all its anguish borne ; 
 Dismay and fear must therefore flee, 
 
 Like night before the morn. 
 The sting of death no more gives pain, 
 And all my bones shall rise again. 
 Thou Prince of life, with purest flame 
 
 My soul shall sing thy praise, 
 And magnify thy holy name 
 
 Here, and to endless days ! 
 Eternal life to me is given- 
 Take me, O Lord ! to thee in heaven." 
 
 Stilling's whole soul melted into tears; he sat 
 down by the bedside, and waited the departure 
 of the friend of his soul ; she often pressed his 
 hand, with her customary favorite expression, 
 "My angel and my all!" but she said nothing 
 more. She did not desire to see her children, 
 but only commended them to God. But she 
 frequently repeated the words, 
 
 " And through the shades of death and hell 
 Lead safe to Zion's hill," 
 
 and rejoiced in the consolation they contained. 
 
 Towards ten o'clock, she said, "Dear hus- 
 band, I am very sleepy, and feel very comforta- 
 ble; should I wake no more, and dream myself 
 into eternity, farewell !" She then looked at 
 him once more, with her large black eyes, most 
 expressively, pressed his hand, and fell asleep. 
 In about an hour, she began to be convulsed, 
 sighed deeply, and shuddered; her breath now 
 ceased, and the features of death covered her 
 countenance ; her mouth still, however, inclined 
 itself to a smile. Christina was no more ! 
 
 A tender husband must have witnessed a sim- 
 ilar scene, or he can form to himself no idea of 
 this. At the same moment Siegfried entered, 
 looked towards the bed, fell upon his friend's 
 neck, and both shed gentle tears. 
 
 "Thou dear angel!" exclaimed Siegfried, 
 whilst bending over her, " thou hast now en- 
 dured to the end !" But Stilling kissed her pal- 
 lid lips once more, and said, " Thou unparallel- 
 ed sufferer, thanks be to thee for all thy love and 
 fidelity; enter thou into the joy of thy Lord !" 
 
 When Siegfried was gone, the two children 
 being brought into the room, their father led 
 them to the corpse, and they cried aloud ; he 
 then sat down, took one on each knee, pressed 
 them to his bosom, and all three wept together. 
 At length he recollected himself, and made the 
 arrangements which the circumstances required. 
 
 On the 21st of October, in the morning twi- 
 light, Stilling's Rittersburg friends carried his 
 deceased consort to the burial-ground, and in- 
 terred her with all quietness. His friends, the 
 two Protestant preachers, who sat with him du- 
 ring the time, alleviated this last separation, and 
 supported him by consolatory conversation. 
 
 With Christina's death ended a great and im- 
 portant period in Stilling's history; and one 
 equally important gradually commenced, which 
 gloriously and tranquilly developed the object 
 of the painful trials through which he had hith- 
 erto ieen led. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 After the death of Christina, Stilting sought 
 to arrange his solitary mode of life in a proper 
 manner. He took a journey to Zweibrücken, 
 where he had very good and faithful friends ; 
 and with them he conferred respecting where he 
 could best place his children, in order to have 
 them educated in a proper manner. It appeared 
 that there was in Zweibrücken, as it seemed, a 
 very good opportunity for that purpose; he 
 therefore settled the matter, travelled back again, 
 and fetched them. His daughter was now nine-, 
 and his son seven years old. 
 
 But after having disposed of his children, and 
 returned to his solitary and empty dwelling, all 
 his sufferings returned upon him ; with an inex- 
 pressibly melancholy feeling he covered his face, 
 weeping, and sobbing, so that he could scarcely 
 comfort himself. He had given up his house- 
 keeping, sent away the maid, and the people 
 with whom he lived brought his dinner into his 
 room ; he wa-s therefore like a complete stranger, 
 and quite alone. He almost repented having 
 sent away his children and the servant, but he 
 could not possibly do otherwise; his children 
 must necessarily receive an education ; besides 
 which, his vocation took up too much of his 
 time for attention to his domestic affairs, and he 
 could not entrust a servant with the housekeep- 
 ing; the arrangement he had already made was 
 certainly the best, but to him intolerable. He 
 had been accustomed to walk, hand in hand, 
 with a faithful friend, and her he possessed no 
 longer; his sufferings were unspeakable. His 
 father, Wilhelm Stilling, sometimes sought to 
 comfort him by letter, and recalled to his recol- 
 lection the years of his childhood, when he was 
 reminded how long and painfully he also had 
 lamented the loss of his departed Doris; yet 
 time had gradually healed the wound, and such 
 would be the case with him. But this availed 
 little ; Stilling was in distress, and saw no out- 
 let by which he could escape. 
 
 To this was added also the gloomy close of 
 autumn, which, irrespective of other circum- 
 stances, had much influence on Stilling's spir- 
 its. When he looked out of the window, and 
 beheld the leafless scene around him, it seemed 
 to him as if he were walking solitary amongst 
 corpses, and saw nothing around him but death 
 and corruption; in a word, his melancholy was 
 indescribable. 
 
 Four weeks after, in the middle of November, 
 one Saturday afternoon, this sorrowful feeling 
 rose to its height; he ran in and out, and could 
 find rest no where ; all at once he began to pray ; 
 he shut himself up in his closet, and prayed with 
 the utmost fervour, and with unspeakable con- 
 fidence, to his Heavenly Father, so that he could 
 not leave off. When in the lecturer's chair, his 
 heart continued its supplication ; and when' 
 again in his chamber, he was again upon his 
 knees, calling and praying aloud. At six o'clock 
 in the evening, after reading his last lecture, 
 and as he had just entered his room, the servant- 
 maid came and told him a young man had just 
 been there to inquire for him. Immediately af- 
 terwards, the latter entered; with a friendly and 
 captivating expression of countenance, he said, 
 
 " I am from R , and hold an appointment in 
 
 a government office; in accordance with the 
 electoral regulations, I must study here at least 
 half-a-year, however inconvenient it may be to 
 me; for though I have no children, yet I have 
 
112 HEINRICH 
 
 a wife; — I am glad, however, to become ac- 
 quainted with Stilling. Now 1 have a request 
 to make to you; I have heard, with regret, that 
 your lady is dead, and that you are solitary and 
 melancholy; — how would it suit you, supposing 
 you permitted me and my wife to lodge with 
 you, and dine at the same table'? We should 
 then have the benefit of your company, and you 
 would have society and entertainment. I can 
 flatter myself that you will be pleased with my 
 ■wife, for she is of a noble mind and disposition." 
 
 Sailing's soul revived at these words, and he 
 felt as if some one had all at once taken the 
 burden of his sorrows from his shoulders, so that 
 he could scarcely conceal his extreme pleasure. 
 He therefore went with Mr. Kühlenbach to the 
 inn, to pay his respects to his consort, who heard 
 with joy his willingness to receive them. The 
 next day, this excellent and worthy couple re- 
 moved into Stilling's habitation. 
 
 Every thing now went on in its regular and 
 cheerful course. Stilling, it is true, was still al- 
 ways melancholy ; but it was a pleasing melan- 
 choly, in which he even felt a comfort. He was 
 now also enabled to publish his lectures in ro- 
 tation, the sums he received for the copyright 
 of which encouraged him with respect to the 
 liquidation of his debts; for he saw a boundless 
 field before him, in which he could labour as an 
 author all his life, and thus make his income 
 amount yearly to fifteen hundred guilders. He 
 made a public sale of his superfluous household 
 furniture, and retained nothing more than he 
 himself required; and with the money thus ob- 
 tained he paid his most urgent debts. 
 
 This very tolerable mode of life continued till 
 the end of the winter of the year 1782. Kühlen- 
 bach then began to talk of removing, which re- 
 newed Stilling's anxiety, for he was apprehen- 
 sive that his horrible melancholy would' again 
 return ; he therefore sought to form a variety of 
 plans, but none of them satisfied him. Just at 
 that period, he received a letter from Mr. Eisen- 
 hart, advising him to marry again. Stilling 
 clearly perceived that this would be the best 
 course for him; he therefore resolved upon it, 
 after many conflicts, and awaited the intimation 
 and guidance of Providence. 
 
 His first thoughts fell upon an excellent wid- 
 ow-lady, who had one child, some property, 
 bore the noblest of characters, and was of very 
 good descent and respectable family. She had 
 already given great proofs of her domestic man- 
 agement, and was acquainted with Stilling. He 
 therefore wrote to her; the worthy woman an- 
 swered him, and stated such important reasons 
 which prevented her from marrying again, that 
 Stilling, as a man of integrity, was obliged en- 
 tirely to relinquish her. This unsuccessful at- 
 tempt made him timid, and he resolved upon 
 acting more cautiously. 
 
 About this time, a light entered his mind re- 
 garding his affairs, of which, up to that period, 
 he had not had the smallest idea ; for as he was 
 once taking a walk alone, and reviewing his ten 
 years of sorrow in the marriage-state, he inves- 
 tigated whence it came that God had led him 
 through such painful paths, since his marriage 
 was so entirely ordered by Providence. " But 
 was it really thus ordered 1" inquired he ; " may 
 not human weakness — may not impurity of mo- 
 tive have mingled themselves with ill" The 
 scales now seemed to fall from his eyes ; he 
 perceived in the light of truth, that his father-in- 
 law, his departed Christina, and he himself, had 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 acted at the time neither according to the pre- 
 cepts of religion, nor of sound reason; for it is 
 the Christian's highest duty, under the guidance 
 of Promdcnce, to examine every step, and partic- 
 ularly the choice of a wife or a husband, ac- 
 cording to the rules of sound reason and propri- 
 ety ; and after this has been properly done, ex- 
 pect the Divine blessing. But all this was neg- 
 lected at that time ; Christina was an innocent 
 inexperienced girl; she secretly loved Stilling,' 
 clung to his love, prayed to God for the fulfil- 
 ment of her wishes ; and thus religion and af- 
 fection mingled in her hysteric attacks. Neither 
 her parents nor Stilling knew any thing of this; 
 they looked upon it as Divine inspiration and 
 influence, and were obedient to it. The impro- 
 priety and imprudence of the thing showed it- 
 self too late, in the painful consequences. Chris- 
 tina had no property, Stilling was equally desti- 
 tute; he was compelled to study with other peo- 
 ple's money, and afterwards was unable to econ- 
 omize like a tradesman, so that he could neither 
 support himself nor pay his debts. Christina, 
 on the contrary, who was brought up in a trades- 
 man's family, expected from her husband the 
 principal regulation of the household, and econ- 
 omized only with that which came to her hand ; 
 she would therefore have made any tradesman 
 happy, but never a man of learning. 
 
 Stilling, however, clearly recognized, with all 
 this, that his ten years of painful probation, as 
 well as the events of his whole life, had been in- 
 expressibly beneficial to his character and his 
 whole existence. God had made use of his own 
 impurity as soap, in order to purify him more 
 and more; his dear and beatified Christina had 
 stood the ordeal, and had been perfected in this 
 very path. Stilling therefore broke out in loud 
 thanks to God, that he had done all things so 
 well. 
 
 This discovery he also communicated to Mr. 
 Friedenberg, but the latter took it amiss; he al- 
 ways believed the thing was from God, that Still- 
 ing alone was to blame for every thing, and 
 that he ought to amend himself. I sincerely de- 
 sire my readers not to cherish any bitterness 
 against this worthy man, who has now finished 
 his course. He was upright and pious, and 
 was recognized, loved, and honored as such by 
 all men. But how easily may the most upright 
 man mistake; and what saint in heaven has not 
 erred ! However, it was most repugnant to him 
 that Stilling was determined to marry again. 
 
 His first attempt to find a consort being un- 
 successful, Stilling's inmate, Kühlenbach, began 
 to propose. He was acquainted with an excel- 
 lent young lady in S , who possessed con- 
 siderable property, and who, he hoped, would 
 be suitable for Stilling. I must, however, ob- 
 serve, that every one now advised him to take a 
 rich wife; for they concluded that he would bp 
 the most easily assisted by so doing, and he 
 himself thought it was the best step he could 
 take. He often shuddered indeed for himself 
 and his children, when he thought of a rich 
 wife, who perhaps had no other good qualities; 
 however, he placed his trust in God. Kühlen 
 bach left him at Easter; and at Whitsuntide 
 
 Stilling travelled to S , to make the second 
 
 attemp;; but this, together with the third, was 
 fruitless, for both persons were previously en- 
 gaged. 
 
 Stilling now put a full stop to these endeav- 
 ours; it was not at all congenial to him to re- 
 ceive refusals; he therefore presented himself 
 
STILLING'S DO 
 
 MESTIC LIFE. 
 
 113 
 
 with a contrite heart before God, and said to 
 Him, with the most fervent filial confidence, 
 "My Father! I resign my destiny entirely to 
 Thee; 1 have now done "what 1 could. At 
 present I look for Thy direction; if it be thy 
 will that I should marry again, do thou conduct 
 a faithful spouse to me ; but if I am to remain 
 single, do thou tranquillize my heart!" 
 
 At that time, that excellent lady, Sophia Von 
 la Roche, was residing with her husband and 
 her still unmarried children at S . Still- 
 ing had visited her; but as he did not enjoy her 
 intimate friendship, he had told her nothing of 
 his intention. 
 
 The first post-day after the above-mentioned 
 prayer and filial resignation to Providence, he 
 received, very unexpectedly, a letter from that 
 admirable lady ; he opened it eagerly, and found, 
 to his astonishment, amongst other things, the 
 following: — 
 
 "Your friends here have not been so prudent 
 as you were with me ; for it is here a generally 
 well-known affair, that Stilling has' made sever- 
 al unsuccessful offers of marriage. This vexes 
 me, and I wish it had not occurred. 
 
 " Must you necessarily have a lady of prop- 
 erty'? or would one of my friends suit you, of 
 whom I will now give you a correct descrip- 
 tion 1 She is very virtuous, handsome, and of 
 a noble, ancient, and learned family, and excel- 
 lent parents. Her father is dead; but her ven- 
 erable, sickly mother is still alive. She is about 
 twenty-three years of age, and has suffered 
 much ; she has been well brought up, exceeding- 
 ly able in every female employment, and a very 
 economical housekeeper; devout, and an angel 
 for your two children. She has not much prop- 
 erty, but will receive a regular dowry, &c. If all 
 these qualities, for the truth of which I pledge my- 
 self, are an equivalent with you for some thousand 
 guilders, please inform me. I will then mention 
 her to you, and tell you what you have to do," 
 &c. 
 
 Stilling's feelings on reading this letter cannot 
 be described ; a few days before he had solemn- 
 ly committed the affair of his marriage to Provi- 
 dence, and now a person is pointed out to him, 
 who possesses exactly all the qualities which he 
 desired. The thought certainly occurred to him : 
 " But she has no property; will not my torment 
 therefore continue V However, he dared not 
 reason now according to his own principles; 
 she was the object to which the finger of his 
 heavenly Leader pointed ; he therefore obeyed, 
 and that very willingly. He shewed the letter 
 to Mr. Siegfried and his lady, as well as to the 
 Lutheran preacher and his spouse; for these 
 four persons were his most intimate friends. 
 Allot" them recognized, in a very lively manner, 
 the intimation of Providence, and encouraged 
 him to follow it. He decided therefore to do so, 
 with God's help ; and wrote a very obliging let- 
 ter to Madame Von la Roche, in which he be- 
 sought her to make him acquainted with the in- 
 dividual, for he would obey the intimation of 
 Providence, and follow her advice. A week af- 
 ter, he received a reply ; the worthy lady wrote 
 to him that her friend's name was Selma Von 
 St. Florentin, and that she was the sister of the 
 senatorial advocate of that name, who resided 
 there ; that all she had written of her was true ; 
 that she had also shewn her his letter, mention- 
 ed something of the affair to her, and she had 
 expressed herself to the effect that it would not 
 be disagreeable to her to receive a visit from 
 
 Stilling. Madame Von la Roche advised him 
 therefore to take a journey to Reichenburg, where 
 Selma was at that time residing at the Eagle 
 Inn, because the innkeeper was a relation of 
 hers. Stilling was always rapid and ardent in 
 his undertakings; he therefore directly travelled 
 to Reichenburg, which is a day's journey from 
 
 Rittersburg, and four leagues from S . He, 
 
 consequently, arrived there in the evening, and 
 drove to the inn above-mentioned. But he was 
 now in a dilemma; he dared not enquire after 
 the lady whom he sought, and yet without this, 
 his journey would probably be fruitless; how- 
 ever, he hoped she would make her appear- 
 ance, and that God would further direct his 
 way. As it was still very early, he went to an 
 intimate friend, to whom he communicated his 
 intentions ; and although this friend had an- 
 other plan for him, yet he confessed that Selma 
 was all that Madame Von la Roche had de- 
 scribed her to be; nay, that she was even wor- 
 thy of higher praise, if possible, but with all this, 
 not rich. Stilling rejoiced in his heart at this 
 testimony, and replied, "Although she is not 
 rich, if she be only a good housekeeper, all will 
 go well." 
 
 He now returned to the inn; but notwith- 
 standing all his observation, he could hear or 
 see nothing of her. At nine o'clock supper was 
 served up; the company at the table d'hote was 
 agreeable and select ; yet he sat as on thorns, 
 for even then Selma did not appear; he was 
 grieved, and knew not what he should do next. 
 At length, when the dessert was placed on the 
 table, a venerable old man, who sat on his left, 
 began as follows : — " A pretty joke has happen- 
 ed to me. I had resolved to-day to pay my re- 
 spects to Madame Von la Roche; and as our 
 agreeable dinner-companion, Mademoiselle Von 
 St. Florentin (here Stilling pricked up his ears 
 very nimbly) heard that I was returning this 
 evening, she requested I would take her with 
 me, because she wished to visit her brother the 
 advocate. Her company was very agreeable 
 
 to me ; she therefore rode with me to S , 
 
 went to her brother, and I to Madame la Roche. 
 At dinner, she sent to tell me that she would walk 
 with her brother towards Reichenburg, and would 
 wait for the coach at a certain village, where 
 she requested I would stop and take her back 
 with me. I therefore mentioned this to the 
 coachman, who however forgot it, and took an- 
 other way ; consequently, we are now deprived 
 of her society." 
 
 Much was then said in Selma's praise, so that 
 Stilling had enough to listen to; he now knew 
 what he wished to know — the object of his de- 
 sires was in S . He therefore retired to his 
 
 chamber as early as he could, not to sleep but 
 to think ; he reflected whether his not meeting 
 with her was not an intimation of Providence, 
 in order to draw him .away from her. He tor- 
 mented himself the whole night with this idea, 
 and knew not whether he should return straight- 
 way home again, or go first to S , in or- 
 der previously to speak with Madame Von la 
 Roche. At length the latter decision predomi- 
 nated ; he therefore rose at four o'clock in the 
 
 morning, paid his bill, and went on foot to S , 
 
 where he arrived on the 25th of June, 1782, at 
 eight o'clock in the morning. 
 
 On entering the parlour of Madame Von la 
 Roche, the In iter clapped her hands together, 
 and exclaimed, with an inexpressibly kind look, 
 " Ha, Stilling ! where do you come from V 
 
114 HEINRICH 
 
 Stilling replied, "You directed me to Reichen- 
 burg, but Selina is not there; she is in this 
 town." 
 
 " Selma is here ! how is that V 
 
 He then stated the whole affair to her. 
 
 " Stilling, this is admirable ! it is the finger of 
 Providence. I have been reflecting on the sub- 
 ject; at the inn at Reichenburg you would not 
 once have dared to look at her, much less to 
 speak with her ; but here it can be all arranged." 
 
 These words quite cheered him, and tranquil- 
 lized his heart. 
 
 Madame Von la Roche now made arrange- 
 ments for a meeting. Mr. Von St. Florentin's 
 
 colleague in office, Mr. P , together with his 
 
 lady, were very good friends of Madame Von la 
 Roche, as well as of Selma ; she therefore wrote 
 a note to them, in which she informed them that 
 Stilling was at her house, and requested them 
 to mention it to Selma and her brother, and beg 
 of them to take a walk, about ten o'clock, in 
 
 their garden, and that Mr. P would then 
 
 call for Stilling, to take him thither. 
 
 All this accordingly took place ; advocate 
 P 's lady went to fetch Selma and her broth- 
 er, and Mr. P conducted Stilling. 
 
 What his feelings were upon the way. God 
 
 knows. Mr. P led him out of the gates, 
 
 and to the left by the walls, towards the south, 
 into a beautiful shrubbery, with trellis-work and 
 a handsome summer-house. The sun shone in 
 the cloudless sky, and it was a most beautiful 
 summer-day. 
 
 On entering, he saw Selma, dressed in an 
 orange-coloured silken gown, and a black straw 
 hat, walking much disturbed amongst the trees; 
 she wrung her hands, evidently in extreme men- 
 tal emotion ; in another place, h<>r brother was 
 walking with the advocate's lady. As Stilling 
 approached and appeared to them, they all placed 
 themselves in a position to receive him. After 
 he had complimented them generally all round, 
 he stepped up to Selma's brother; this gentle- 
 man had a dignified and very handsome figure, 
 which pleased him extremely at first sight ; he 
 approached him therefore, and said, " Sir, I am 
 desirous of soon beingable to call you brother!" 
 This address, which could only have proceeded 
 from Stilling, must necessarily strike a man of 
 such a refined education and knowledge of the 
 world; he therefore made a bow, smiled, and 
 said, " Your obedient servant, professor Stilling! 
 I shall account it an honour." 
 
 Mr. P and his lady, with St. Florentin, 
 
 now hastened into the summer-house, and left 
 Stilling alone with Selma. 
 
 He walked towards her, presented her his 
 a.m, and led her slowly forwards; just as di- 
 rectly and without circumlocution, he said to 
 her, " Mademoiselle, you know who I am (for 
 she had read his history) ; you know also the 
 object of my journey ; I have no properly, but a 
 sufficient income, and two children; my charac- 
 ter is as I have described it in the history of my 
 life. If you can resolve to become mine, do not 
 leave me long in suspense ; I am accustomed to 
 hasten to the object I have in view without cir-. 
 cumlocution. I believe if you make choice of 
 me. you will never repent of it ; I fear God, and 
 will seek to make you happy." 
 
 Selma recovered from her confusion, and with 
 an unspeakably graceful expression of counte- 
 nance, she raised her beaming eyes, elevated 
 her right hand, in which she held a fan, and 
 said, " What is the will of Providence, is my 
 will also." 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 They now arrived at the summer-house, where 
 he was considered, investigated, examined, and 
 exposed to view on all sides. Selma alone cast 
 her eyes down, and did not say a word. Stilling 
 shewed himself unvarnished, just as he was, and 
 did not dissemble. It was then agreed that Sel- 
 ma and her brother should come in the afternoon, 
 after dinner, to Madame Von la Roche, and that 
 there the matter should be further discussed; on 
 which every one went home again. 
 
 Sophia asked him, immediately on entering 
 the room, how he had been pleased with her 
 Selma. 
 
 Stilling. — "Admirably ! she is an angel !" 
 
 Madame Von la Roche. — " Is she not 1 I hope 
 God will bring you together." 
 
 Alter dinner, Selma was eagerly expected, but 
 she did not come. Sophia and Stilling became 
 uneasy ; tears forced their way into the eyes of 
 both ; at length the worthy lady made a propo- 
 sition, should Selma entirely refuse her consent, 
 which fully shewed her angelic soul as it really 
 was; but modesty and other important reasons 
 forbid me to mention it. 
 
 At the moment when Stilling's anxiety had 
 reached its height, Mr. Von St. Florentin with 
 his sister entered the room. Sophia took hold 
 of the advocate's arm, and conducted him into 
 an adjoining apartment, and Stilling drew Sel- 
 ma near him upon the sofa. 
 
 Stilling. — " Was it indifference, or what was 
 it, that you suffered me to wait so anxiously ?' 
 
 " Not indifference," answered she, with tears 
 in her eyes ; " I was obliged to pay a visit, and 
 was detained ; my feelings are inexpressible." 
 
 Stilling. — " You therefore determine to become 
 mine ?' 
 
 Selma.— 1 ' If my mother consents, I am eter- 
 nally yours !" 
 
 Stilling. — " Yes, but your mother 1 — " 
 
 Selma. — " Will have no objection to it." 
 
 He embraced and kissed her with unspeak- 
 able delight; and at the same moment Sophia, 
 with the advocate, entered the room. They 
 stopped short, and were evidently amazed. 
 
 "Are you so far advanced already?" ex- 
 claimed Sophia, with evident pleasure. 
 
 " Yes ! yes !" said he, and led her arm-in-arm 
 towards them. 
 
 The noble-minded soul now embraced both, 
 lifted up her eyes, and said, with tears and the 
 utmost inward emotion, " God bless you, my 
 children ! The beatified Christina will now 
 look down with heavenly delight upon her Still- 
 ing, for she has besought this angel as a wife 
 for thee, my son !" 
 
 This scene was heart and soul-affecting ; Sel- 
 ma's brother also mingled with the group, bless- 
 ed them, and vowed eternal and fraternal fidelity 
 to Stilling. 
 
 Sophia then sat down, taking her Selma upon 
 her lap, who hid her face in her friend's bosom r 
 and bedewed it with tears. 
 
 All at length recovered themselves. The at- 
 traction Stilling felt to this excellent young lady, 
 who was now his betrothed, was unlimited, al- 
 though he was still unacquainted with the his- 
 tory of her life. She, on the other hand, de- 
 clared she felt an indescribable esteem and rev- 
 erence for him, which would soon be changed 
 into cordial love. She then approached him, 
 and said, with dignity, " I will take the place of 
 your departed Christina towards your children, 
 in such a manner as to enable me boldly to pre- 
 sent them to her at a future day." 
 
STILLING'S DO 
 
 MESTIC LIFE. 
 
 115 
 
 They now separated: Selma rode the same 
 evening to Reichenburg, from whence she in- 
 tended to travel to Creutznach, to her mother's 
 sister, and there pass the period before her mar- 
 riage. When she was gone, Stilling wrote a 
 letter to her, which was sent after her the fol- 
 lowing day ; and then he also travelled back, 
 well pleased and happy, to Rittersburg. 
 
 When he was again alone, and minutely re- 
 flected upon the whole affair, his many debts 
 recurred to him, and pressed heavily upon his 
 heart ; of these he had not mentioned a word to 
 Selma. This was certainly very wrong, and in 
 reality, an unpardonable fault, if that may be 
 called a fault, which arises from a moral impos- 
 sibility. Selma knew Stilling only from his 
 writings and from report; she saw him for the 
 first time, on the day she promised him mar- 
 riage ; that, which between young people is 
 called love, had no place in the matter; the 
 whole affair was determination, consideration, 
 and the result arising from rational reflection. 
 Now if he had said any thing about his debts, 
 she would certainly have drawn back, terror- 
 struck; Stilling felt this fully, but he also felt 
 what the consequences of a discovery of the 
 kind would be when he could no longer with- 
 hold it. He was therefore in a dreadful strife 
 with himself, but found himself too weak to 
 mention the matter. 
 
 Meanwhile, he received the first letter from 
 her; he was astonished at the mind that dictated 
 it, and looked forwards for future happiness. 
 Liberty of feeling, without affectation — correct- 
 ness and order in her thoughts — well-made and 
 mature resolutions reigned in every line ; and 
 every one to whom he confided the letter for 
 perusal, pronounced him happy in the prospect 
 of such a partner. 
 
 In the mean time, the consent of Madame 
 Von St. Floren tin was received; it was com- 
 municated to Stilling, and all was now in order. 
 He therefore travelled to Creutznach to his be- 
 trothed, in order to spend some days with her, 
 and become more intimately acquainted with 
 her. He there learned to know her in reality ; 
 and found how all the painful and tedious suf- 
 ferings he had hitherto endured were supera- 
 bundantly rewarded by the everlasting and pa- 
 ternal love of God ; but he found it impossible 
 to make any mention of his debts to her, and 
 therefore prayed unceasingly to God, that He 
 ■would so order the affair as that it might have a 
 favorable termination. 
 
 Selma's aunt was also a very worthy and 
 pleasant lady, who became very fond of him, 
 and was glad of this addition to the family. 
 
 Near this aunt dwelt a merchant of the name 
 of Schmerz, a man of much taste and knowl- 
 edge. This gentleman had read Selling's his- 
 tory, he was therefore an object of attention to 
 him; hence he invited him one evening, with 
 Selma and her aunt, to his beautiful garden, 
 well-known to many connoisseurs. It lies on 
 the north-west side of the town, and includes in 
 it what was previously a part of the old town- 
 ditch. 
 
 To this charming pleasure-ground, Schmerz, 
 as mentioned above, had invited Stilling, Selma, 
 and her aunt, to spend an evening. After they 
 had walked about for some time, taken a view 
 of every thing, and it had become dusk, they 
 were conducted into the grotto, where they were 
 served with refreshments until it was quire dark. 
 At length Schmerz entered, and said, " Friends, 
 
 come once more into the garden, in order to see 
 how the night beautifies every thing." All fol- 
 lowed him ; Stilling went before, having Schmerz 
 on his left, and Selma on his right; the others 
 followed behind. As they entered the long walk, 
 a sight surprised them with extreme astonish- 
 ment ; the urn above, in the poplar-wood, was 
 illuminated with many little lamps, so that the 
 whole wood glittered like green and gold*. 
 
 "Schmerz* had illuminated his urn for Still- 
 ing, and near him walked his Salome,t harbin- 
 ger of future and sublime peace !" 
 
 Beautiful, charming, and affecting thought 1 
 
 After they had all finished their joyful expres- 
 sions of admiration, there commenced behind 
 the urn, in the obscurity of the wood, very af- 
 fecting music, beautifully performed on wind- 
 instruments; it was the charming air from Ze- 
 mira and Azor, which is sung behind the mir- 
 ror; the sky was at the same time overcast with 
 heavy clouds, and it thundered and lightened be- 
 tween. Stilling sobbed and wept ; the scene was 
 too powerful for his soul and his heart ; he kissed 
 and embraced first Schmerz and then his Selma, 
 and in fact he overflowed with sensibility. 
 
 He now discovered something new in his in- 
 tended ; she also felt it all, and was affected 
 likewise; but she continued perfectly tranquil; 
 her sensations were no precipitous mountain- 
 torrent, but a peacefully flowing brook in a 
 meadowy vale. 
 
 Two days before his departure from Creutz- 
 nach, he was sitting in the hall with Selma and 
 her aunt, when the postman entered, and pre- 
 sented a letter to Selma ; she took it, broke it 
 open, read it, and turned pale ; she then drew 
 her aunt with her into the parlour, soon came 
 out again, and went upstairs into her chamber. 
 The aunt now came, sat down by Stilling, and 
 informed him that Selma had received a letter 
 from a friend, in which it was stated to her that 
 he was much involved in debt; this had sur- 
 prised her, and she therefore requested him to 
 go upstairs to her immediately and speak with, 
 her, in order that she might not withdraw her 
 consent ; for there were many worthy men that 
 had the same misfortune, and any thing of this 
 kind ought not to cause a separation. Stilling 
 accordingly went upstairs, with sensations per- 
 fectly like those of a poor culprit who is led up 
 before the judge to receive his sentence. 
 
 On entering the room, he found her sitting at 
 a little table, leaning her head upon her hand. 
 
 " Pardon me, my dearest Selma," he began r 
 " that I have said nothing to you respecting my 
 debts. I could not possibly do so, for I should 
 not then have gained your consent; and I can- 
 not live without you. My debts have not arisen 
 from a love of splendour or extravagance, but 
 from extreme necessity. I can earn much, and 
 am unwearied in my labors. With regularity 
 in housekeeping, they will be liquidated in a 
 few years ; and if I should die, no one can 
 make any demand upon you. You must there- 
 fore imagine the matter to yourself, as if you 
 had yearly a few hundred guilders less income ; 
 you lose nothing further by it; with a thousand 
 guilders, you can meet the house expenses, and 
 the residue 1 will apply to the payment of my 
 debts. However, dear and valued friend, I now 
 leave you at perfect liberty, and if it were to 
 cost me my life, yet I am incapable of keeping 
 
 * Schmerz is the German word for pain, 
 f Salome, from whence Selma is derived, means peace, 
 the kingdom of peace. 
 
 V 
 
116 
 
 H E I N R I C 
 
 H STILLING. 
 
 you to your word, from the moment you repent 
 of it." 
 
 So saying, he was silent, and awaited his 
 sentence. 
 
 She then arose with the utmost inward emo- 
 tion, looked at him with a kind and penetrating 
 expression of countenance, and replied, " No, I 
 will not forsake you, Stilling. God has destined 
 me to assist in bearing your burden. I will 
 gladly do so ; be encouraged, we shall also 
 overcome this, with the help of God." 
 
 How Stilling felt can scarcely be conceived ; 
 he wept, fell upon her neck, and exclaimed, 
 "Angel of God !" 
 
 They then descended the stairs, hand-in-hand ; 
 Sei ma's aunt rejoiced exceedingly at the happy 
 result of this vexatious and dangerous affair, 
 and sweetly comforted both by her own experi- 
 ence. 
 
 How wisely did Providence again rule Sell- 
 ing's destiny ! Do not tell me that prayers are 
 not heard ; an earlier discovery would have ru- 
 ined every thing, and a later would probably 
 have occasioned vexation. It was then just the 
 right time 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Stilling now travelled back again, quietly 
 and contentedly, to Rittersburg, and made prep- 
 arations for the celebration of his marriage, 
 which was to take place at the house of Selma's 
 aunt, in Creutznach. 
 
 The space of time which intervened, I will fill 
 up with the history of 
 
 SELMA'S LIFE. 
 
 In the middle of the previous century, there 
 lived in France two brothers, both of whom 
 were of an ancient Italian noble family; they 
 were called knights of St. Florentin de Tansor. 
 One of them became a Huguenot, and was 
 therefore obliged to flee, and leave his property 
 behind him ; moneyless, he took refuge in the 
 Hessian dominions, where he settled at Ziegen- 
 hain, commenced business, and married a worthy 
 young woman of the middle class. One of his 
 sons, or perhaps his only son, studied jurispru- 
 dence, became a great, active, and upright man. 
 and Syndic in the imperial city of Worms ; from 
 whence he was under the painful necessity, when 
 this city was destroyed by the French at the close 
 of the previous century, of emigrating with his 
 wife and many children, and leaving his habita- 
 tion in ashes. He retired to Frankfort-on-the- 
 Maine, where he again became Syndic, counsel- 
 lor to many imperial cities, and a man of emi- 
 nence. Amongst his many sons, there was like- 
 wise an able lawyer, who for a period occupied 
 the place of government-assessor in Marburg, 
 and afterwards accepted the place of chancery- 
 director at Usingen. 
 
 One of his sons, of the name of Johann Wil- 
 helm, was the father of Selma ; he first of all fill- 
 ed the place of counsellor of finance at W — , 
 and was afterwards appointed finance-director 
 in the principality of Rothingen, in Upper Swa- 
 bia. He was a man of great penetration, fiery 
 resolve, rapid accomplishment, and incorrupti- 
 ble integrity; and as he always lived at court, 
 he was, at the same time, a very refined man of 
 the world, and his house was the favorite re- 
 sort of the noblest and the best of men. His 
 
 consort was likewise noble-minded, kind-heart- 
 ed, and very genteel in her manners. 
 
 This couple had five children, two sons and 
 three daughters, all of whom are still living. 
 The whole five need not my commendations : 
 they are excellent characters. The eldest daugh- 
 ter married a counsellor and magistrate in The 
 
 principality of U ; the eldest son is advocate 
 
 in S ; the second son, counsellor of finance 
 
 in Rothingen ; the second daughter is united to 
 a worthy preacher in Franconia; and the young- 
 est child is Selma. 
 
 The finance-director, Mr. Von F. Florentin, 
 had a moderate income, but he was too consci- 
 entious to accumulate wealth. On his sudden 
 death, therefore,* in the year 1776, his widow 
 found that he had left little; she received, in- 
 deed, a pension on which she could subsist, and 
 all her children were provided for, with the ex- 
 ception of Selma, to whom a variety of offers 
 were made ; but she was only in her sixteenth 
 year, and besides this, none of these modes of 
 provision pleased her. 
 
 She had formerly a very rich and distant re- 
 lation, who in her fiftieth year had married a 
 young cavalier of twenty-seven, and was at that 
 time residing on her estate in Lower Saxony, 
 in a very handsome mansion. The St. Floren- 
 tin family knew, meanwhile, nothing but good 
 of this person ; and when the lady, who was at 
 the same time Selma's godmother, heard of the 
 finance director's death, she wrote, in the year 
 1778, to the widow, and requested her to send 
 her Selma to her, promising to provide for her, 
 and make her happy. 
 
 Madame Von St. Florentin found it almost 
 impossible for her to decide upon sending away 
 her dearly beloved daughter, to a distance of up- 
 wards of seventy German miles; however, as 
 all her friends and children earnestly urged her 
 to it, she at length consented. Selma kneeled 
 down before her, and the venerable woman gave 
 her her blessing, amidst floods of tears. In Octo- 
 ber of the year 1778, she set off, therefore, under 
 safe convoy, to Lower Saxony, and was in 
 Frankfort just at the time when" Stilling passed 
 through it with his wife and children, on re- 
 moving from Sch nenthal to Rittersburg. 
 
 After a long and tedious journey, she at length 
 arrived at the mansion of her godmother, a gen- 
 eral's widow, he having gone over to America, 
 where he died. Here she soon perceived that 
 she was disappointed, for she was ill-treated in 
 a variety of ways. This was a school and a hard 
 trial for the good girl. She was well brought 
 up, and every one had behaved kindly to her; 
 but here no one had any feeling for her talents; 
 it is true, there were people enough that esteem- 
 ed her, but they could only comfort, without be- 
 ing able to help her. 
 
 To this something of a different nature was 
 added : a young cavalier made her serious offers 
 of marriage ; these she accepted, the marriage 
 was agreed upon between the families, on both 
 sides, and she was actually betrothed to him. 
 He then set out on a journey, and on this jour- 
 ney, something occurred which withdrew him 
 again from Selma, and the affair came to no- 
 thing. 
 
 I am silent respecting the true reason of his 
 faithlessness; the great day will develope it. 
 
 By degrees, the sufferings of the good and pi- 
 ous "girl rose to their height, and at the same 
 time she learned that her godmother owed much 
 more than she possessed. She had now no long 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 117 
 
 er any reason for remaining, and determined, 
 therefore, to return to her mother. 
 
 It would not become me to enter more partic- 
 ularly into the description of her sufferings, and 
 her conduct under them; did I dare to tell all, 
 my readers would be astonished. 'But she is 
 still living, and already blushes at that which, 
 as Sailing's biographer, I must necessarily say. 
 
 She grew sickly also at the same time; and it 
 appeared as if her sorrow would have ended in 
 a consumption. However, she undertook the 
 journey, after having endured for two years the 
 furnace of affliction. On reaching Cassel, she 
 stopped at the house of an excellent, pious, and 
 
 worthy friend, government-counsellor M ; 
 
 here she continued three quarters of a year, du- 
 ring which time she entirely regained her health. 
 
 She.then pursued her journey, and arrived at 
 
 length at her brother's at S , where she again 
 
 resided a considerable time. Here a variety of 
 opportunities presented themselves of providing 
 for herself becomingly ; but none of them suited 
 her ; for her exalted ideas of virtue, conjugal af- 
 fection, and of extending her sphere of action, 
 she feared, would be all frustrated by these offers ; 
 and she preferred remaining with her mother. 
 
 She now often visited Madame Von la Roche, 
 and she was also present when it was mention- 
 ed to that venerable lady that Stilling had made 
 fruitless offers of marriage there ; Selma testified 
 her repugnance at this report, and was surprised 
 when she heard that Stilling resided in the neigh- 
 bourhood. The idea now occurred to Madame 
 Von la Roche, that Selma would be suitable for 
 Stilling; she was therefore silent, and wrote the 
 first letter to him, to which he immediately re- 
 plied. When this answer was received, Selma 
 was at Reichenberg; Sophia therefore handed 
 
 Sailing's determination to advocate P 's 
 
 ]ady, the mutual friend of both. The latter hast- 
 ened directly to Reichenberg, and found her 
 friend, in the morning, still in bed; her eyes 
 were wet with tears, for it was her birthday, and 
 she had been praying and rendering thanks to 
 God. 
 
 The advocate's lady presented her Stilling's 
 letter, together with an epistle from Sophia, in 
 which she gave her maternal advice. Selma 
 did not reject this opportunity, but permitted 
 Stilling to come. My readers know the rest. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Every thing being at length duly arranged, 
 Stilling set off for Creutznach, on the 14th of 
 August, 1782, in order to be married to his Sel- 
 ma. On his arrival he observed the first mani- 
 festation of tenderness in her; she now began not 
 merely to esteem him, but she also really loved 
 him. The day following, being the 16th, the 
 marriage was solemnized in her aunt's house, 
 in the presence of a few friends, by the Rev. 
 
 Mr. W , inspector of the district, who was a 
 
 friend of Stilling, and in other respects an excel- 
 lent man. The address which he gave on this 
 occasion is inserted in the printed collection of 
 his sermons ; notwithstanding which it is also 
 subjoined here, as in its proper place. 
 
 It is verbatim as follows : 
 
 " There are many enjoyments with which 
 Eternal Wisdom has strewed the path of that 
 man's life who possesses a mind and feelings 
 for the joys of virtue. Now if we weigh all 
 
 these enjoyments one against the other, and let 
 heart and soul decide which of them deserve the 
 preference, they will immediately and certainly 
 pronounce in favor of those in which the sweet 
 and noble social feelings, which the Creator has 
 implanted in our souls towards our fellow-crea- 
 tures, find satisfaction. With the possession of 
 a friend to whom we may open our whole heart, 
 and in whose bosom we can deposit our most 
 secret cares, as in an inviolable sanctuary — who 
 participates in every happy event; sympathises 
 with our sorrows; incites us by his example to 
 noble and virtuous deeds; by kind admonitions 
 recalls us from the path of error and of stum- 
 bling; assists us in prosperous seasons with 
 sage advice ; and wipes away our tears in the 
 season of suffering — without such a friend, what 
 would be our life'? And yet the enjoyment of 
 the most perfect friendship must yield to that 
 which the nuptial union with a virtuous woman 
 affords to a virtuous man. 
 
 " Since I am to have the happiness this day 
 of confirming so blissful a bond, by the sacred 
 seal of religion, permit me, my honoured audi- 
 tors, before I lay my hands on the folded hands 
 of my most worthy friend and the future amia- 
 ble partner of his life, to detain you with a short 
 description of the pure enjoyments of conjugal 
 and gentle friendship, which is sanctified by the 
 religious feelings and noble love of virtue of the 
 couple who are thus united. 
 
 "Excellent, and rich in blissful and delightful 
 feelings, is the bond which the pious and noble- 
 minded youth establishes with the lovely com- 
 panion of his blooming years. In the midst of 
 the bustle of a world, which meets together from 
 childish vanity, and separates again from base 
 self-interest, the feeling youth discovers a beau- 
 teous soul, which invites him, by the irresistible 
 attractions of a noble sympathy, to the most in- 
 ward union, and sweetest brotherly love. A 
 like-disposed heart, full of uncorrupted natural 
 feeling; a like inclination for what is beautiful, 
 and good, and noble, and great, brings them to- 
 gether; they behold each other, and friendly 
 confidence glows upon their countenances; they 
 converse with each other, and their thoughts har- 
 monize ; their hearts open to each other, and one 
 soul attracts the other; they already know each 
 other, and, hand in hand, vow to love each other 
 eternally. But David and Jonathan love in a 
 world in which connections, which must be holy 
 and venerable to us, often dissolve the sweetest 
 bonds of friendship ; often occasion joylessness, 
 or even painful feelings. Jonathan has estab- 
 lished the bond of sacred friendship with the art- 
 less son of Jesse, and the youth is then more to 
 him than a brother; for he had loved him, as the 
 sacred historian says, as his own soul. Happy 
 Jonathan !— couldst thou but impart to thy king 
 and father only a small part of thy tender esti- 
 mation for the favourite of thy heart! But noj 
 the wrath of Saul persecuted the innocent Da- 
 vid ; and the gentle and virtuous heart of the 
 son and friend strives in vain to combine the sa- 
 cred duties of filial love with the duties of the- 
 most faithful and tender friendship. Who can. 
 read the history of the two noble-minded youths, 
 and see them embrace and weep over each oth- 
 er, at the stone Asel, in the bitter parting hour, 
 and not shed tears with them ? — and how often 
 is this the lot of the most dignified and magnan- 
 imous souls ! Although the bond of their friend- 
 ship may be founded upon the purest and most 
 virtuous inclinations, they cannot remove tha 
 
118 HEINRICH 
 
 severe restraint of connections which are sacred 
 to every good and upright human soul. The 
 command of a father; conflicting family views; 
 nay, sometimes, the same wishes, which, though 
 just on the part of every one, can only be fulfill- 
 ed with respect to one, often divide, in this world 
 of imperfection, the most tender friendly allian- 
 ces, or rend the heart, in order to avoid an anx- 
 ious separation. 
 
 " Not so with the friendship which is estab- 
 lished between noble souls, by the holy and in- 
 violable bond of matrimony ; its genial enjoy- 
 ments are not subjected to such assaults. Death 
 alone can dissolve the bond which the flame of 
 the tenderest love has established, and which 
 solemn vows at the holy altar of religion have 
 sealed. The circumstances and intentions, the 
 wishes and efforts, of the lover and the beloved 
 are one and the same : the relationship of the 
 husband is the relationship of the wife ; his hon- 
 or her honor; his property her property. 
 
 " The guileless heart of the pious and selected 
 spouse, full of tender and noble emotions, finds 
 in the man that loves God and virtue a safe- 
 guard on the journey of life; a faithful adviser 
 in perplexing circumstances; a courageous de- 
 fender in dangers; a magnanimous friend, who 
 continues faithful even unto death. What he 
 accomplishes for the good of the world, of his 
 country, and his family, has all a beneficial ef- 
 fect upon the happiness and the joy of the wom- 
 an to whom he has presented his hand and his 
 heart. Wearied with the labours of the day, he 
 hastens to the sweet companion of his life ; im- 
 arts to her the experience and knowledge he 
 as collected ; seeks to develope every shooting 
 blossom of her mind, and prevent every timid 
 wish of her affectionate heart; willingly forgets 
 the gnawing cares of his vocation, the ingrati- 
 tude of the world, and the bitter hindrances 
 which every honest man meets with in the path 
 of incorruptible integrity, in order to live entire- 
 ly for her happiness; to give himself wholly to 
 her, who, for his sake, has left father and moth- 
 er, and friends, and companions; and who, 
 adorned with every flower, has cast herself into 
 the arms of a single individual, who is all to her 
 heart. How could he be faithless to her, even 
 in idea — the man that feels the greatness of the 
 offering she has presented to him, and who 
 knows and believes that there is a revvarder in 
 heaven? And what a valuable treasure he has 
 found in her, who loves God and virtue ! Her 
 gentle, heart-constraining society sweetens ev- 
 ery hour of his life; her tender sympathy in his 
 fate alleviates his every pain, and gives him 
 doubly to feel each enjoyment of life ; her kind 
 discourse translates him often into the blissful 
 feelings of a better world, when his eye, troubled 
 by the miseries of this earthly state, needs the 
 most to be directed upwards. Gladly does she 
 renounce the deceitful glitter of transient amuse- 
 ments, in order, unembittered, to enjoy quiet, do- 
 mestic happiness — the only happiness which is 
 worthy of being sought and found by noble 
 souls; and knows no joy of which he does not 
 partake who is the choice of her heart. To 
 please him; to take charge of the affairs of his 
 house ; by good example and love of order, and 
 by meekness and kindness to maintain that do- 
 minion of love over children, and inmates and 
 domestics, which is the most difficult duty and 
 the noblest embellishment of her sex ; to season 
 her husbands hours of recreation with pleasure; 
 by harmless mirth to cheer his brow, when man- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 ly sternness rests upon it; or by gentle words t« 
 soothe his cares, when adverse results of well 
 meant intentions disturb him — this is the endeav- 
 or of the day, and this the nightly meditation of 
 the spouse who loves God and virtue. 
 
 " Such a wife is the most valuable gift of heav- 
 en ; such a husband, the blest blessing where- 
 with Eternal Love rewards a pious and faithful 
 heart. If He who dwells in heaven blesses such 
 a marriage with a progeny, what ravishing pros- 
 pects, what pure delight, what felicity on earth, 
 to see themselves live anew in well-disposed, 
 beloved children; to bring up useful citizens of 
 earth, and blessed inhabitants of heaven; to see 
 a powerful support growing up for helpless old 
 age; a sensible comfort in their infirmities! O 
 God ! what a rich recompense for all the toil, 
 and labour, and care, which we expend on edu- 
 cation and attention to the inheritors of our 
 names and property ; and when, as we may hope, 
 our wishes are fulfilled, of our virtues also ! 
 What a goodly lot, to be permitted to hear the 
 sweet names of father and mother! 
 
 "All happiness to you, my estimable friend, 
 who to-day enjoy the felicity of being eternally 
 united with such a consort! I know her noble- 
 minded and pious heart, which is open to and 
 warm for every friendly feeling. I do not need 
 to place before your eyes the duties which such, 
 a union imposes upon you; you have practised 
 them; you have thereby become happy; you 
 will become so again; and if the spirits of the 
 blessed learn the fate of their mortal friends, and 
 participate in it, the departed saint that is in 
 heaven will look down with pure and indescri- 
 bable joy on this new union, upon which you 
 this day enter with the chosen one of your heart. 
 
 "Happiness and the blessing of God be upon 
 you, amiable and virgin bride ! The friend of 
 your heart is the husband of your choice, and 
 worthy of your whole esteem and of your ten- 
 derest affection. You may boldly cast yourself 
 into his outstretched arms; expect, without ap- 
 prehension, from him, what the most perfect 
 friendship, nuptial love, and inviolable fidelity 
 can give. He that fears God, fulfils vows, and 
 keeps covenant even unto death ; to him that has 
 passed through rough and solitary paths, warm 
 and heart-felt friendship is like a cordial to the 
 wanderer, who, after roaming through barren 
 deserts, finds a shady spring ; he approaches it 
 with the most fervent gratitude, and every drop 
 of water which pours refreshment into his lan- 
 guishing heart is sacred to him. 
 
 "O God, thou hearest our prayer; do thou 
 bless those whom thy hand has joined together, 
 and bless them with all the felicity of a pure 
 love, which death cannot destroy ! Amen !" 
 
 Hereupon followed the priestly benediction : 
 Stilling's and Selma's hearts and hands were 
 inseparably united, and the Almighty gave his 
 gracious blessing to this union. Mr. Schmerz 
 took much interest in this joyful event; he pro- 
 vided the marriage-feast, and entertained the 
 newly-married couple, with their friends who 
 were present, both to dinner and supper. 
 
 Schmerz also wished to celebrate the day fol- 
 lowing by an excursion into the Rheingau; two 
 coaches were therefore ordered, in one of which 
 Madame Schmerz, the aunt, and Selma, rode, 
 
 and in the other, Mr. Schmerz, Mr. W , the 
 
 Inspector, and Stilling. The way led from 
 Creutznach to Bingen, from whence they cross- 
 ed the Rhine, thence to Geisenheim, to view the 
 baronial residence of Ostein ; and from thence 
 
 Si 
 
STIL LINGS DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 119 
 
 over against Bingen to Niederwaid, which also 
 belongs to the Count of Ostein, and is laid out 
 in the manner of an English park. The whole 
 journey was enchanting; objects every where 
 presented themselves which afforded peculiar 
 food for the eye of a mind susceptible of the 
 beauties of nature and of art ; the whole com- 
 pany was consequently extremely well pleased. 
 
 They dined in the midst of the Niederwald, at 
 a forester's house; and after dinner, the after- 
 noon was spent in walking, while the various 
 beautiful scenes, prospects, and objects, refresh- 
 ed the eye and the heart. Towards five o'clock, 
 they commenced their return ; the coaches with 
 the ladies drove down the hill, and the gentle- 
 men went on foot. The latter now resolved to 
 stop at Rüdesheim, and drink another bottle of 
 the excellent wine ofthat place, to cement their 
 friendship ; meanwhile, the ladies were to cross 
 the river at the ferry, and wait at Bingen till 
 they should follow them in a boat. This was 
 accordingly done ; but meanwhile a storm arose, 
 the waves were high, and it already began to be 
 dark, particularly as the sky was covered with 
 black clouds. They took their seats in the boat, 
 notwithstanding, and passed over the rushing 
 waves, in the midst of the roaring of the storm; 
 and with much danger and anxiety arrived safely 
 at the other side. 
 
 All three now stood on the shore at Bingen to 
 receive their beloved friends, who were how- 
 ever still waiting with their coach on the oppo- 
 site shore. At length they drove into the ferry, 
 and the ferry-boat pushed off. But what were 
 their feelings, when the ferry-boat, instead of 
 coming across, went down the river ! The 
 stream raged, and scarcely half-a-quarter of a 
 league further down, the waters roared in the 
 Bingen-loch like distant thunder; the ferry-boat 
 was drifting towards this dangerous place; and 
 all this when it was growing dark. Schmerz, 
 W — , and Stilling stood there, as if lamed hand 
 and foot ; they looked like poor criminals that 
 had just received their sentence ; all Bingen ran 
 together — all was in an uproar — and some sail- 
 ors put off in a large boat after the unfortunate 
 people. 
 
 Meanwhile, the ferry-boat with the coach con- 
 tinued to drift further down; the boat followed 
 them, and at length neither of them could be 
 «een ; besides al 
 more dismaying, 
 • Stilling stood as before the judgment-seat of 
 the Almighty; he could neither pray, nor think; 
 his eyes gazed' fixedly between the lofty mount- 
 ains towards the Bingen-loch ; he felt as though 
 he stood up to the neck in burning sand; his 
 Selma, that excellent gift of God, was lost to 
 him ; the horrible cry of the crowd resounded in 
 his deafened ears on all sides, " The poor people 
 are lost ! God be gracious to them !" O ! what 
 intense misery ! and this lasted two hours. 
 
 At length, a young man, a clergyman, of the 
 name of Gentli, pressed through the people to 
 the three men. He placed himself with a cheer- 
 ing expression of countenance before them, 
 pressed their hands, and said, "Be satisfied, dear 
 sirs ! be not apprehensive ; people are not so 
 easily lost. Be not disturbed by the foolish talk J 
 of the mob; most probably, the ladies are al- j 
 ready over. Come, we will go along the shore 
 on this side; I will show you the way !" This | 
 was like a cool dew on their burning hearts ; j 
 they followed his advice, and he conducted them j 
 by the arm down the meadow, and all his words I 
 were words of comfort and peace. 
 
 As they were walking towards the Mouse 
 tower, having their eyes constantly fixed on the 
 stream, they heard opposite them, on the left 
 hand, a rattling and rushing, as if a coach were 
 driving, between the hedges; all four looked 
 thither, but it was too dark to see any thing. 
 Stilling therefore called aloud, and Selma an- 
 swered, " We are safe !" 
 
 Klopstock's " Come hither, Abaddona, to thy 
 Redeemer !" and these words, " We are safe !" 
 produced one and the same effect. Schmerz, 
 W — , and Stiiling fell upon the neck of the 
 good Catholic priest, just as if he himself had 
 been their deliverer, and he rejoiced with them 
 as a brother. O thou messenger of peace, thou 
 real evangelist, eternal blessings be upon thee 1 
 
 All three now ran to the coach ; Stilling out- 
 stripped them, and met on the way his Selma, 
 who went before the others on foot. He was 
 astonished to find her quite composed, undis- 
 turbed, and without any sign of having suffered 
 from fear; he could not comprehend this, and 
 asked her respecting this singular phenomenon ; 
 she replied, with a tender and smiling counte- 
 nance, " / thought, God does all things well ; if it 
 were his will to tear me from you again, He must 
 have a good object in view: therefore his will be 
 done!" 
 
 They now again betook themselves to their 
 carriages, and drove quietly, and safely, in the 
 night-time, to Cruetznach. 
 
 The cause of all this terror and grief was 
 merely the drunkenness of the ferry people, who 
 were so intoxicated that they were unable to 
 stand, much less guide the ferry-boat. The sail- 
 ors, who were sent off with the boat, were the 
 sole cause of their deliverance ; they found the 
 ferry close by the Bingen-loch, fastened their 
 boat to it, and with dreadful toil and labour row- 
 ed it across above the rocks and the Mouse tow- 
 er. As a punishment, the ferry-men were dis- 
 placed, and imprisoned on bread and water; all 
 which they well deserved. 
 
 It is the plan of Providence, in all its dealings, 
 by which it leads him who lets himself be led by 
 it to the great and glorious aim, that when be- 
 stowing some great felicity upon him, if he 
 cleave passionately to it, it threatens in a pow- 
 erful manner to take it from him again, solely 
 in order entirely to mortify this sensual attach- 
 ment, which is so extremely opposed to all moral 
 perfection and to activity for the good of mankind. 
 It is true what the mystics say in this case, that 
 " God seeks an undivided heart; it may love and 
 value the gift, but on no account more highly than 
 the Giver." Stilling has always found it thus; 
 as every attentive reader, who is experienced in 
 the ways of God,, will easily perceive. 
 
 A few days after, Stilling, with his Selma, ac- 
 companied by her aunt, set out for Rittersburg. 
 They were met half-way by the students of that 
 place, who testified their joy and the interest 
 they took, by presenting a poem, and by music, 
 and a ball. 
 
 Thus began a new period of his domestic life. 
 Selma sent immediately for the two children 
 from Zweibrücken, and with extreme care un- 
 dertook their much-neglected education. At the 
 same time, she represented to Stilling the neces- 
 sity of her having possession of the cash ; for 
 she said, " My dear husband, your whole soul 
 is engaged in its important vocation, in its high, 
 destiny ; domestic arrangements, and domes- 
 tic cares and expenses, whether great or small, 
 are beneath vour attention ; pursue your course 
 
120 HEINRICH 
 
 without interruption, and henceforth leave to me 
 income and expenditure. Commit both debts 
 and housekeeping to my management, and let 
 me provide ; you will find your account in so 
 doing." Stilling most joyfully assented, and 
 soon saw the happy result; his children, his 
 furniture, his table, were all becomingly and 
 agreeably attended to, so that every one was 
 gratified. Every friend was welcome to his ta- 
 ble, but never sumptuously treated ; his house 
 was the refuge of the worthiest young men ; 
 many a one was thus preserved from ruin, and 
 others reclaimed from going astray ; but all this 
 was managed with such decorum and dignity, 
 that even the most poisonous-tongued calumni- 
 ator did not venture to spread any unbecoming 
 report. 
 
 With all this, the money was never entirely 
 expended ; there was always something in hand, 
 and comparatively, even superfluity. Selma also 
 formed a plan for liquidating the debts, the in- 
 terest upon which was to be regularly paid, and 
 the Rittersburg debts discharged first. This lat- 
 ter was accomplished in less than three years, 
 and money was then sent to Schönenthal, by 
 which the creditors were rendered more tranquil ; 
 in a word, Sailing's tedious and painful suffer- 
 ings had an end. 
 
 And if, occasionally, tormenting letters still 
 arrived, Selma answered them herself, and that 
 in such a manner as must necessarily have im- 
 parted confidence and satisfaction to every one 
 who was in any degree rational. 
 
 However, circumstances gradually occurred 
 which greatly limited Sailing's sphere of action. 
 His activity and the number of his writings cre- 
 ated envy ; there were those who sought, as 
 much as possible, to envelope him in obscurity, 
 and to place him in a wrong light; he did much 
 for the general good, but it was not observed ; 
 on the contrary, his course was not always 
 deemed right ; and when the court or other po- 
 litical bodies were desirous of bestowing a rec- 
 ompense upon him, it was prevented. Add to 
 this, Stilling wished to be able to complete and 
 teach his whole system ; but this was impossible 
 in the existing order of things, for his colleagues 
 
 Earticipated in the system of tuition. Finally, 
 is income was too small to enable him to 
 make provision for his family ; and this had be- 
 come the chief object of his attention, since his 
 debts no longer oppressed him. All this excited 
 in him the determination to accept a more ad- 
 vantageous vocation, as soon as Providence 
 should put it in his power. However, he was 
 inwardly cheerful and happy ; for all this was 
 not suffering, but merely a limiting of circum- 
 stances. 
 
 At length, in the year 1784, the Elector re- 
 solved to remove the academy of Political Econ- 
 omy from Ri:tcrsberg to Heidelberg, and unite 
 it with the ancient university there. Sailing's 
 situation was thereby improved, inasmuch as 
 his sphere of operation was more extensive, 
 and his income in some measure increased ; but 
 there was still no possibility of making provis- 
 ion for his family, and envy now became still 
 stronger. He found indeed many powerful 
 friends there; and he gained the affections of 
 the public because he continued gratuitously to 
 practise as an oculist, with much success. 
 However, he was obliged to submit to much 
 that was painful and vexatious. What con- 
 soled him the most, was the universal love of 
 the whole university and its officers of all the 
 
 STILLING 
 
 students, and the town ; besides which, his fidel- 
 ity and diligence, notwithstanding every obsta- 
 cle, penetrated at length to the ears of the Elec- 
 tor, who, without his knowledge, and entirely 
 gratuitously, sent him the patent of Electoral 
 Aulic Counsellor, and assured him of his favor. 
 
 About this time, Mr. Friedenberg died of wa- 
 ter on the chest. Selma had previously con- 
 vinced him, by a very affecting letter, of Sail- 
 ing's integrity, and of the certain payment of 
 his debts, and thus he died in peace, and as a 
 Christian; for this he was, in the full sense of 
 the word. Peace be with his ashes ! 
 
 Stilling was also accepted as a regular mem- 
 ber of the German Society in Manheim ; in con- 
 sequence of which he travelled thither once ev- 
 ery fortnight, with his friend Counsellor Mieg. 
 These excursions were always a very pleasing- 
 recreation, and he felt happy in the circle of so 
 many estimable men. His acquaintance with 
 excellent characters also became more exten- 
 sive and useful. To this, another circumstance 
 greatly contributed. 
 
 In the year 1786, the University of Heidelberg 
 celebrated the jubilee of its fourth centenary, 
 with great pomp, and amidst the concourse of a 
 great multitude of people from far and near. 
 The solemn jubilee address in the name and on 
 the part of the Academy of Civil and Political 
 Economy, was committed to Stilling; he there- 
 fore prepared it considerately and calmly, and 
 experienced an effect of which there are few par- 
 allel instances, but to which circumstances con- 
 tributed not a little, and, perhaps, the chief part. 
 All the other addresses were given in the great 
 hall of the university, in Latin ; besides which, 
 it was bitterly cold," and all the auditory were 
 weary of the endless Latin speeches, and taking 
 degrees. When it came to Sailing's turn, the 
 whole auditory were conducted into the hall of 
 the statistical academy, which was a beautiful 
 one, and as it was evening, was lighted up and 
 warmed. Stilling stepped forth, and made an 
 oration in German, with his wonted cheerful- 
 ness. The result was unexpected; tears began 
 to flow — a whisper ran through the assembly — 
 and at length they began to clap, and exclaim,, 
 " Bravo !" so that he was obliged to cease until 
 the noise was over. This was repeated several 
 times ; and when he descended from the rostrum, 
 the representative of the Elector, the Minister 
 Von Oberndorf, thanked him very expressively ; 
 after which the grandees of the Palatinate, in 
 their stars and orders, approached to embrace 
 and salute him, which was also subsequently 
 done by the principal deputies of the imperial 
 cities and universities. It may easily be con- 
 ceived what Stilling felt on this occasion. God 
 was with him, and granted him a drop of well- 
 earned, honorable enjoyment, which had been so 
 long unreasonably withheld from him. How- 
 ever, he was fully conscious in all this, how 
 little he had contributed towards deserving this 
 honor. His talent was the gift of God; that he 
 had been enabled duly to cultivate it, was the 
 consequence of Divine providence; and that the 
 present effect was so astonishing, was chiefly 
 the result of circumstances. To God alone be tlie 
 glory ! 
 
 From this time, Stilling enjoyed the love and 
 esteem of all the higher ranks of the Palatinate 
 in an abundant measure ; and it was just at this 
 time also, that Providence beefan to prepare the 
 station for him for which it had intended, during 
 the last fourteen years, by tedious and painful 
 sufferings, to lead and form him. 
 
STILLING'S DOMESTIC LIFE. 
 
 121 
 
 The Landgrave of Hesse-Cassel, from the 
 time he first assumed the reins of government, 
 had taken the beneficent resolution of placing 
 the University of Marburg in a better condition; 
 and to this end had removed thither those cele- 
 brated men, Von Selchow, Baldinger, and oth- 
 ers. He now also wished to see the Economi- 
 cal department filled, and for this purpose sev- 
 eral learned men were proposed to him ; but cir- 
 cumstances stood in the way, which hindered 
 their coming. At length, in the year 1786, the 
 late Mr. Leske of Leipsic received the appoint- 
 ment, and he proceeded thither, but suffered a 
 dangerous fall on the journey, so that he died a 
 week after his arrival in Marburg. Now, though 
 Stilling had been often spoken of, yet persons of 
 consequence opposed his appointment; because 
 they believed a man who had written so many 
 novels was scarcely suitable for such a station. 
 But no man can withstand the plan of Provi- 
 dence. Stilling, in consequence of a rescript 
 from the Landgrave, was formally and regular- 
 ly appointed by the University of Marburg, pub-' 
 lie and ordinary Professor of the Economical. 
 Financial, and Statistical sciences, with a fixed 
 income of 1200 dollars sterling, or 2130 guilders 
 current money, and a respectable provision for 
 his wife in case of his death. 
 
 Thanks, ardent and heartfelt thanks to Will- 
 iam the Ninth, the prince of the noble and wor- 
 thy Hessians. He recognized Stilling's honest 
 intentions and his impulse to be useful, and this 
 was the cause of his being appointed. This he 
 afterwards testified to him, when he was favor- 
 ed with an audience; he was requested to relate 
 his history, with which the Landgrave was affect- 
 ed and pleased. He himself thanked God for 
 having made use of him, as an instrument, to 
 lay the foundation of Stilling's good fortune ; 
 and promised, at the same time, constantly to 
 support him, and to manifest paternal fidelity to 
 him and his family. 
 
 Stilling accepted this appointment with the 
 most heartfelt thankfulness to his wise and heav- 
 enly Guide, and now saw all his wishes fulfill- 
 ed ; for he could now fill up and teach his whole 
 system, and in his domestic affairs and manner 
 of life, could also lay up something for his chil- 
 dren, and consequently make them happy. At 
 that time he had only three children; the daugh- 
 ter and son by the first marriage were growing 
 up : the daughter he sent for a year to the rela- 
 tives of her late mother; but the son was boarded 
 with a very worthy preacher, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Heilbronn. Selma had had three chil- 
 dren, but an infant son and daughter had already 
 died in Heidelberg; the youngest child, a girl of 
 a year old, he therefore took with him to Marburg. 
 
 He set out for this his place of destination, at 
 Easter, 1787, with his wife and child. At Frank- 
 fort, he again visited his old and faithful friend 
 Kraft, who heartily rejoiced at the admirable re- 
 sult of his painful trials, and thanked God with 
 him. 
 
 At Marburg he was received in a very cordial 
 and friendly manner by all the members of the 
 university ; it seemed to him as if he were enter- 
 ing his native land, and coming amongst his 
 friends and acquaintances. Even those who had 
 labored against him became his best friends, as 
 soon as they learned to know him, for their in- 
 tentions were pure and good. 
 
 After having courageously entered upon his 
 office, confiding in the Divine assistance, and 
 duly established himself, his heart impelled him 
 
 a 
 
 to see once more his aged father, Wilhelm Still- 
 ing. The journey was not a great or difficult 
 one for the venerable old man, for Stilling's na- 
 tive province and birth-place is only a few miles 
 from Marburg; he wrote to him, therefore, and 
 invited him to come to him, because he himself 
 had not time to undertake the journey. The 
 good old man consented with joy; and Stilling, 
 therefore, made preparations for fetching him. 
 with a horse, all which was provided by the son 
 of Johann Stilling, the mine-surveyor of Dillen- 
 burg. 
 
 He would gladly also have seen his uncle Jo- 
 hann Stilling. But the great Father of men had 
 called him away a year before from his daily 
 labor, and removed him to a more extensive 
 sphere of action. In his latter years, he had be- 
 come surveyor-in-chief of the mines, and had 
 contributed much to the prosperity of his coun- 
 try. His whole life was an unceasing activity 
 for the good of mankind, and an ardent striving 
 after the discovery of new truths. His influence 
 on the life, manners, and conduct of his neigh- 
 bours was so great and so powerful, that his 
 whole outward manner of life and conduct is di- 
 vided amongst the peasants of his village ; the 
 one laughs like him, the other has assumed his 
 gait, a third his favorite expressions, &c. His 
 spirit remains distributed amongst his friends, 
 and renders him immortal, even with respect to 
 this world ; his memory also, as a servant of the 
 state, is blessed; for his establishments and in- 
 stitutions will afford food and refreshment to the 
 poor in after-times, when Johann Stilling's bones 
 are become dust. Rest sweetly, thou worthy son. 
 of Eberhard Stilling ! thou hast done honor to 
 him, the pious patriarch; and now, in his exal- 
 tation, he will rejoice over his son, conduct him 
 before the Redeemer's throne, and render thanks 
 unto Him. 
 
 In the summer of the year 1787, on a fine clear 
 afternoon, as Stilling was upon the rostrum, and 
 lecturing on Technology, some of the young gen- 
 tlemen who were studying there all at once en- 
 tered the lecture-room. One of them exclaimed 
 aloud, "Your father is come; all is now at an, 
 end here !" Stilling was mute ; a variety of feel- 
 ings assailed his heart ; he tottered down the 
 steps, accompanied by his whole auditory. 
 
 At the house-door below, Selma had welcom- 
 ed her good father-in-law with tears ; had led 
 him and his attendant, the mine-surveyor, into 
 the parlour, and was gone to fetch her child ; du- 
 ring which time Stilling entered with his reti- 
 nue. Immediately opposite the door stood the 
 mine-surveyor, and at the side, to the left, Wil- 
 helm Stilling; he held his hat in his hand; stood 
 bent with age ; and in his venerable visage, time, 
 and a variety of afflictions, had graven many 
 and deep furrows. Timid, and with a very pe- 
 culiar shamefacedness, which leaves no one un- 
 affected, he looked askant in the face of his son 
 as he approached. The latter stept up to him 
 with the most heartfelt emotion ; behind him 
 stood his numerous auditory, and every one smi- 
 led with extreme and sympathetic satisfaction. 
 Father and son first of all boked fixedly at each 
 other for some moments, and then fell into each 
 other's embrace, with a mixture of sobbing and 
 weeping. After this, they stood again and look- 
 ed at each other. 
 
 Stilling. — " Father, you have aged very much 
 in the last thirteen years." 
 
 Wilhelm. — " So have you also, my son." 
 
 Stilling. — " Not ' you,' my venerable father I 
 
122 HEINRICH 
 
 but thou! I am your son, and am proud of being 
 so. Your prayers, and your mode of educating 
 me, have made me the man I am now become ; 
 without you, this would not have been the case." 
 
 Wilhelm— " Well, well, let it be so. God has 
 done it. His name be praised !" 
 
 Stilling. — " It seems to me as if I were stand- 
 ing before my grandfather ; you are become very 
 like him, dear father!" 
 
 Wilhelm. — " Like in body and soul. I feel the 
 inward peace which he possessed ; and as he act- 
 ed, I seek also to act." 
 
 Stilling. — " Ah, how hard and stiff your hands 
 are ! does it then go hard with you V 
 
 He smiled like lather Stilling, and said, " I am 
 a peasant, and born to labor; that is my voca- 
 tion ; do not let that trouble thee, my son ! it is 
 difficult for me to earn my bread, but yet I have 
 no want." 
 
 He now cordially welcomed the mine-survey- 
 or, on which Sclma entered with her little daugh- 
 ter; the old man took it by the hand, and said, 
 with emotion, " The Almighty bless thee, my 
 child!" Selma sat down, contemplated the old 
 man, and shed gentle tears. 
 
 The assembly now broke up ; the students took 
 their leave; and the Marburg friends began to 
 visit Selling's father. As much honor was done 
 him as if he had been a person of rank. God 
 will reward them for their noble-mindedness; it 
 is worthy of their hearts. 
 
 Wilhelm resided for some days with his son, 
 and frequently said, "This season has been a 
 foretaste of heaven to me." Pleased and much 
 affected, he then returned with his attendant. 
 
 Stilling, therefore, now lives in Marburg, per- 
 fectly happy and useful. His marriage-state is 
 daily a source of the most sublime delight that 
 can be conceived on earth; for Selma loves him 
 with her whole soul, above every thing in the 
 world ; her whole heart incessantly inclines to- 
 wards him ; and as his many and long-continued 
 sufferings have made -him timid, so that he is al- 
 ways apprehensive of something without know- 
 ing what, her whole endeavours are directed to 
 cheer him, and to wipe away the tears from his 
 eyes which so easily flow, because their courses 
 and floodgates have become so wide and fluent. 
 She possesses what is called good and agreeable 
 manners, without loving or seeking much socie- 
 ty ; they have therefore been formed by the com- 
 pany she kept, and rendered pleasing also to per- 
 sons of rank. Towards the children by the firn 
 marriage she is every thing that Stilling can 
 wish ; she is wholly mother and friend. 1 do not 
 wish to say more of the noble-minded woman ; 
 she has read all that precedes, and reproved me 
 for having praised her; however, I owe more to 
 her and my readers, to the praise of God; I have 
 therefore concealed from her what I have just 
 said, and what follows. She is rather short, and 
 stiffly formed; has a pleasing and intelligent 
 countenance; and from her blue eyes and smi- 
 ling looks a stream of benevolence and philan- 
 thropy pours forth towards every noble-minded 
 individual. In all her affairs, even in those 
 which are. not directly feminine, she has a calm 
 and penetrating look, and always a mature and 
 deciding judgment, so that her husband often ad- 
 vises with her; and when his rapid and active 
 spirit is partial, he follows her, and always fares 
 well in so doing. Her religious views are en- 
 lightened, and she is warm in her love to God, 
 to her Redeemer, and to man. Sparing as she 
 is, she is equally generous and benevolent, where 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 it is requisite. Her modesty is peculiar; she 
 seeks always to be dependant on her husband,' 
 and is so even when he follows her advice; she 
 never seeks to shine, and yet she pleases wher- 
 ever she appears; every worthy character feels 
 happy in her society. I could say still more; 
 but I set bounds to my pen. " Whom God loves, 
 he gives such a wife," says Götz Vcn Berlich- 
 ingen of his Maria, and Stilling says the same 
 of his Selma. 
 
 Besides all this, his income is large, and all 
 care about his maintenance is entirely vanished. 
 Of his usefulness in his vocation it is not the 
 place to speak here ; the man of integrity and 
 the Christian labors incessantly, commits the 
 success of it to God, and is silent. 
 
 He continues to operate for the cataract, at 
 Marburg also, gratuitously, and with much suc- 
 cess. More than a hundred blind people, prin- 
 cipally of the poor and laboring class, have al- 
 ready received their sight through him, with 
 God's help, and with it the means of again earn- 
 ing their bread. How many a delightful hour 
 does this easy and beneficial aid occasion him; 
 when, after the operation, or at their departure, 
 those who have been so long blind press his hands, 
 and direct him for a recompense to the exceed- 
 ingly rich inheritance of the future world ! For 
 ever blessed be the woman who formerly con- 
 strained him to try this beneficial mode of cure! 
 without it, he would not have been so efficient 
 an instrument in the hand of the Father of the 
 poor and the blind. Ever blessed be also the 
 memory of the venerable Molitor ! May his 
 spirit enjoy, in the brilliant plains of the paradise 
 of God, all the superabundant felicity of the friend 
 of man, for having instructed Stilling as an oc- 
 ulist, and laid the first masterly hand on him. 
 
 Young man, thou who readest this, watch over 
 every germ of benevolence and philanthropy that 
 springs forth in thy soul; cherish it with su- 
 preme care, and nourish it up to a tree of life 
 that bears twelve manner of fruits. If foresight 
 destines thee to a useful vocation, pursue it; 
 but if some other impulse awake beside, or if 
 Providence unfold a prospect to thee, where, 
 without injuring thy peculiar vocation, theu 
 canst disseminate seeds of blessedness, then 
 neglect it not; let it cost thee toil, and arduous 
 labour, if needful ; for nothing conducts us more 
 immediately nearer to God than beneficence. 
 
 But beware of the false activity which so 
 greatly prevails in the present age, and which I 
 am wont to call bustling affectation. The slave 
 of sensuality, the voluptuary, covers filthiness 
 with the whitewash of philanthropy; he wishes 
 to do good in all directions, but knows not what 
 is good ; he often assists a poor good-for-nothing 
 to gain a situation, where he does amazing in- 
 jury, and works where he ought not to work. 
 In this manner acts also the proud priest of his 
 own reason, who, notwithstanding, makes dread- 
 ful mistakes by his childish sophistry in the vale 
 of shadows and ignes fatui; he seeks to be an 
 autocrat in the moral creation, lays unhewn or 
 even mouldering stones in the building, in the 
 improper place, and plasters up chasms and 
 holes with untempered mortar. 
 
 Young man, first seek a renewed heart, and 
 let thy understanding be enlightened by the 
 heavenly light of truth ! Be pure in heart, and 
 thou shalt see God ; and when thou beholdest 
 the source of light, thou wilt also discover the 
 strait and narrow way that leadeth unto life; 
 then pray daily to God, that he may give thee 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 123 
 
 opportunities of doing good ; and if such present 
 themselves, seize them with avidity ; be of good 
 courage, God will assist thee ; and when thou 
 hast succeeded in a worthy action, thank God 
 fervently in thy closet, and be silent ! 
 
 Before I conclude, I must cast something off 
 my heart that oppresses me. It is difficult to 
 write the history of living persons ; the indi- 
 vidual commits faults, sins, weaknesses, and 
 follies, which cannot be revealed to the public ; 
 hence the hero of the tale appears better than he 
 is ; just as little can all the good be told that he 
 does, lest he be deprived of his gracious reward. 
 
 However, I am not writing Stilling's whole 
 life and conduct, but the history of Providence in 
 its gu idance of him. The great Judge will eventu- 
 ally lay his faults in the one, and his little good 
 in the other golden scale of the sanctuary. He 
 is altogether an unprofitable servant; but thy 
 eternal love, O Thou Most Merciful! as mani- 
 fested in the gift of thy beloved Son, will abun- 
 dantly supply all his need. 
 
 STILLING'S HYMN OF PRAISE. 
 [Imitated from Psalm cxviii.] 
 
 Blessed be the Lord ! Hrs eye benignant beams, 
 And from his face divine compassion streams ; 
 His genial breath unfolds the. blooming rose ; 
 He gives the troubled spirit sweet repose. 
 Ye saints of his, approach, and praise his grace, 
 Holy and good through everlasting days ; 
 Servants of God, rejoice, and bless the Lord, 
 And tread the path prescribed you in his word ! 
 Let all that love Him to his throne ascend, 
 And offer grateful praises without end ; 
 Ascend, ye righteous, who true virtue love 
 And let your songs resound to God above. 
 My path was steep, in twilight and in shade, 
 And lightnings flash'd o'er my devoted head, 
 Sorrows, on every hand, my soul did wound, 
 But still my prayer to Thee admittance found ; 
 And thou did'st hear — did'st answer my request, 
 And bring my suffering heart to peaceful rest ; 
 Didst let me see sublime and glorious aid, 
 And soothed the grief which on my vitals prey'd. 
 The Lord is with me ! who can now oppose? 
 Or who disturb my inward, calm repose ? 
 E'en though new sorrows in my path appear, 
 I fear them now no more — the Lord is here I 
 The Lord is ever near to strengthen and sustain ; 
 He can the rage of every foe restrain. 
 Of what avails the trust in human aid, 
 So oft frustrated, and so ill repaid 1 
 The Lord is good ; his word must be believed ; 
 Who trusts in him shall never be deceived. 
 
 How often is the word of princes broke ! 
 
 The Prince of princes does whate'er He spoke 
 
 Troubles assail'd me, like the busy swarm ; 
 
 Fiercely they buzz'd around to do me harm ; 
 
 E'en as Jehovah's host they sharply fought, 
 
 And made the arduous conquest dearly bought. 
 
 As smoking thorns around and upwards dart, 
 
 Causing the brightest eye to feel the smart, 
 
 And, hissing, in the heat consume away, 
 
 Till root and branch füll to the flames a prey: 
 
 So pierced the purging fire through all my frame, 
 
 Till chaff and stubble disappear'd in flame ; 
 
 Down to the dust sank my dejected eye, 
 
 Or upwards look'd, for succour from on high. 
 
 But soon Jehovah's breath these foes repell'd, 
 
 And graciously the raging flame dispell'd ; 
 
 With mighty hand He shewed his power to save, 
 
 And drew me forth, renew'd as from the grave. 
 
 God is my strength, my succour and my song ! 
 
 Ye saints, your hallelujah's loud prolong ! 
 
 From earth to heaven your glorious anthems raise, 
 
 Whilst suns, and spheres, and seraphs sound his praise. 
 
 The Lord's right hand the victory retains, 
 
 And, highly lifted up, its power maintains ; 
 
 Jehovah's hand o'ercomes : and though I fall, 
 
 I rise again when on his name I call. 
 
 I shall not die, but live, long to declare 
 How great and marvellous his mercies are ; 
 Although He chasten, yet his strengtli prepares 
 Me for his service in succeeding years. 
 
 Unfold the golden gates, that I may bring 
 
 A warm and contrite heart to heaven's great King. 
 
 And at the golden altar sing his praise, 
 
 Who all my woes with happiness repays ! 
 
 Blessed be the Lord, who brings the lofty low, 
 And makes my towering spirit humbly bow ; 
 Abases, softens, and with kindness sways, 
 To fit me for his service and his praise. 
 
 The stone by men for building thought unfit, 
 Too tender, or too hard, no place would fit ; 
 Yet still the master-builder form'd and hew'd, 
 And shaped the stone out of the mass so rude. 
 
 'Twas God's own work, and wondrous in our eyes ! 
 His people view it now with glad surprise. 
 This is the joyful day, when we behold 
 How every hair upon our heads is told. 
 
 Lord, help still ! and further grant success, 
 And on my soul thy image deep impress ! 
 Blessed is the man that comes to praise thy name ; 
 Who does thy will shall ne'er be put to shame. 
 
 God is our light ! come and adorn his house, 
 And at his holy altar pay your vows ; 
 Let harp and tabret to his honour sound, 
 Faithful, and kind, and true for ever found ! 
 
 Thou art my God ! and I thy goodness praise, 
 Which wondrously hath led' me all my days. 
 Thou art my God ! when I thy grace review, 
 
 1 pav the thanks which justly are thy due. 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Dear readers and friends of Stilling, you may 
 take the title, " Heinrich Stilling's Years of Tui- 
 tion," in whatever sense you please. He had 
 been hitherto a teacher himself, and had served 
 in every gradation ; he began as village-school- 
 master at Zellberg, and ended as professor at 
 Marburg. But he was also a pupil or appren- 
 tice in the work-shop of the chief Master ; 
 whether he will become journeyman or no, will 
 soon be seen : — further than this, he will cer- 
 tainly not advance, because we have all only 
 one master, and can have only one. 
 
 Stilling now firmly believed that the profes- 
 sorship of civil and political economy was the 
 vocation for w r hich he had been preparing from 
 his cradle, and that Marburg was the place j 
 
 where he was to live and labour till his end 
 This conviction afforded him inward tranquil- 
 lity ; and he strove, in his official situation, to 
 do every thing which was in the power of man 
 to do. He wrote his large and copious Manual 
 of Civil and Political Science, his Science of 
 Finance, the Camerale Practicum, the Princi- 
 ples of Political Economy, Heinrich Stilling's 
 Domestic Life, and many other little treatises 
 and pamphlets, during which he continued, un- 
 interruptedly, his ophthalmic practice. He daily 
 read lectures for four and sometimes five hours 
 together, and his correspondence became more 
 and more extensive ; so that he was obliged to 
 labour with all his might, in order to keep his 
 large and difficult sphere of action in motion ; 
 much, however, was rendered easy to him by 
 his residing at Marburg. 
 
124 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 This ancient city, celebrated of old as being 
 the last abode and burying-place of the holy 
 Landgravine Elizabeth of Hesse, lies crookedly, 
 obliquely, and irregularly below an old castle, 
 on the slope of a hill ; its narrow streets, clay 
 houses, &c, leave on the mind of him who only 
 travels through it, or is merely superficially ac- 
 quainted with it, a prejudicial, but in reality an 
 incorrect impression ; for if he becomes ac- 
 quainted with the internal social life of its in- 
 habitants, and the people in their true charac- 
 ter, he finds a cordiality, and such a real friend- 
 ship as is seldom met with elsewhere. This is 
 no vain compliment, but a thank-offering and a 
 true testimony, which I owe to the worthy in- 
 habitants of Marburg. 
 
 To this must be added, that the vicinity of 
 the city is beautiful and very agreeable, and the 
 whole scene is animated by the river Lahn ; 
 for though it bears no heavy burdens upon its 
 slender back, yet it labours diligently as a por- 
 ter, and helps the neighbours on every side. 
 
 The first family in Marburg which opened 
 the arms of friendship to Stilling and Selma, 
 was that of the Coings. Doctor Johann Franz 
 Coing was professor of Divinity, and a real 
 Christian ; and to these, he united a friendly, 
 gentle, pleasing, and secretly benevolent char- 
 acter. His spouse was likewise devout and 
 pious ; both were descended from the French 
 refugees, and the family-name of the professor's 
 lady was Duising. This worthy couple had 
 four grown-up children, — three daughters, Eli- 
 za, Maria, and Amalia ; and a son called Jus- 
 tus, who studied theology ; these four children 
 are the images of their parents, and models of 
 the christian and domestic virtues. The whole 
 family lives in a very quiet and retired man- 
 ner. 
 
 The reasons why the family of the Coings at- 
 tached themselves so warmly and cordially to 
 that of the Stillings, were various : — parents and 
 children had read Stilling's history ; both the 
 men were from the same province ; relatives on 
 both sides had intermarried. The Rev. Mr. 
 Kraft in Frankfort, Stilling's old and tried friend, 
 was Coing's brother-in-law, their wives being 
 sisters ; and what is still more than all, tbey 
 were christians on both sides, and this establish- 
 es the bond of love and friendship more firmly 
 than any thing else. Where the spirit of Christi- 
 anity reigns, it unites the hearts, by the bond of 
 perfection, in such a high degree, that all other 
 human connections are not to be compared with 
 it ; — he is happy, who experiences it ! 
 
 Selma attached herself particularly to Eliza 
 Coing ; equality of age, and perhaps other 
 causes, which lay in the character of both, laid 
 the foundation for this intimate connection. 
 
 Stilling's many and laborious employments, 
 and particularly also a most oppressive spasmo- 
 dic attack, which greatly tormented him daily, 
 and especially towards evening, operated pow- 
 erfully on his mind, the first winter he spent in 
 Marburg. He lost his cheerfulness, became 
 melancholy, and so easily excited that he could 
 not avoid weeping on the slightest occasion. 
 Selma therefore sought to persuade him to un- 
 dertake a journey, during the Easter vacation, 
 to her relatives in Franconia and Oettingen. 
 "With much difficulty she at length induced him 
 to consent ; and he undertook this journey in 
 
 the spring of 1788. A student from Anspach 
 accompanied him to that place. 
 
 It is something peculiar in Stilling's charac- 
 ter, that rural scenery makes such a deep and 
 beneficial impression upon him ; whether he be 
 travelling or merely taking a walk, it is with 
 him as with a lover of the arts when walking 
 about in an excellent picture-gallery. Stilling 
 possesses a classical feeling for the beauties of 
 nature. 
 
 On the journey through Franconia, he was 
 incessantly tormented by spasms at the sto- 
 mach ; he could not bear any kind of food ; but 
 the character of the scenery of that country was 
 strengthening and comforting to him ; — there 
 is much grandeur in the views and prospects of 
 Franconia. 
 
 At Anspach, Stilling visited Uz, the German 
 Anacreon. He entered into the apartment of 
 this great lyric poet with a kind of timidity ; 
 Uz, who is short, but rather corpulent in per- 
 son, came towards him with a cheerful gravity, 
 and awaited, with reason, the declaration of the 
 stranger, to tell him who he was. This decla- 
 ration was no sooner made, than the worthy 
 old man embraced and saluted him, saying, 
 "You are truly Heinrich Stilling! — it rejoices 
 me much to see the man whom Providence so 
 remarkably leads, and who so boldly confesses 
 and courageously defends the religion of Jesus." 
 
 The conversation then turned on poets and 
 poesy; and when they separated, Uztook Still- 
 ing once more in his arms, and said, "May God 
 bless, strengthen, and preserve you ! Never be 
 weary in defending the cause of religion, and of 
 bearing the reproach of our Redeemer and our 
 Head ! The present age needs such men, and 
 the following will need them still more ! We 
 shall eventually see each other again with joy in 
 a better world !" 
 
 Stilling felt deeply and inwardly affected and 
 strengthened, and hastened away with his eyes 
 suffused in tears. 
 
 Uz, Cramer, and Klopstock will probably be 
 the Asaph, Heman, and Jeduthun in the temple 
 of the new Jerusalem. We shall see if this be 
 the case, when scenes in the invisible world are 
 again unfolded to us. 
 
 The next morning Stilling rode five leagues 
 further to the village of Kernmathen, a place 
 not far from Dünkelsbuhl. He there drove up 
 to the parsonage-house, alighted at the door of 
 the court-yard, and waited for it to be opened. 
 The clergyman, a handsome, dark-complexioned 
 man, came out of the house, opened the gate, 
 and thought of nothing so little as of seeing 
 his brother-in-law, Stilling ; — the surprise was 
 great. The clergyman's lady, meanwhile, was 
 otherwise engaged, and in reality, she did not 
 exactly like to be disturbed in her employment 
 by a visitor ; however, when her husband con 
 ducted the visitor to her, she received him po- 
 litely, as customary ; but when he told her that 
 he brought a message from her sister Selma, 
 and also called her " sister," she welcomed him 
 most cordially. 
 
 Stilling spent a few happy days with brother 
 Hohlbach and sister Sophia. Their reciprocal 
 brotherly and sisterly affection is immutable, 
 and will continue beyond the grave. 
 
 Sister Sophia accompanied her brother-in-law 
 to Wallerstein, to her brother's house. At 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 125 
 
 Oeningen they drove past the church-yard 
 where Selma's and Sophia's father reposes, to 
 whom each devoted some silent tears ; as they 
 did also at Baldingen, at their mother's grave. 
 The brother and his lady rejoiced at the visit. 
 
 No sooner had Prince Kraft Ernest Von Oet- 
 tingen Wallerstein heard of Sailing's arrival, 
 than he invited him, as long as he should re- 
 main there, to dine and sup at the prince's 
 table ; he accepted this offer, but only for din- 
 ner, becaflse he wished to spend the evenings 
 in the circle of his friends. This prince's terri- 
 tory is one of the most pleasant in Germany ; 
 for the Riess is a plain, many miles in diameter, 
 which is watered by the Mernitz, and surround- 
 ed by lofty mountains. From the moderate 
 eminence at the foot of which Wallerstein lies, 
 there is a commanding prospect of this garden 
 of God ; near at hand is the imperial city of 
 Nordlingen, and an innumerable multitude of 
 towns and villages are also within view. 
 
 Stilling's residence here was beneficial, by 
 his being of service to several persons diseased 
 in the eye ; he performed an operation upon 
 president Von Schade, which proved successful, 
 and the worthy man recovered his sight. At 
 this time the notorious Weckherlin, author of 
 " The Grey Monster," and " The Hyperborean 
 Letters," was in prison in a hill-fort in the 
 principality of Wallerstein. He had grossly 
 and in a malicious manner insulted the magis- 
 trate of the imperial city of Nordlingen, who 
 sent a requisition to the prince of Wallerstein, 
 in whose territory Weckherlin was residing, 
 demanding satisfaction. The prince therefore 
 had him arrested and conveyed to the hill fort. 
 The prince's brother, Count Franz Ludwig, 
 would gladly have procured the captive's free- 
 dom, and had made several fruitless attempts 
 to do so ; but on observing that the prince ex- 
 pressed a particular fondness for Stilling, he 
 entreated* the latter to beg that Weckherlin 
 might be set at liberty, for he had already en- 
 dured a sufficient penance for his petulance. 
 
 There are cases in which the true christian 
 cannot come to a decision with himself ; and 
 this was one of that kind. To request the 
 liberty of a man who had abused it to the pre- 
 judice of his fellow-creatures, and especially of 
 the magistracy, required consideration ; and on 
 the other hand, imprisonment, particularly for 
 such a man as Weckherlin, is a grievous afflic- 
 tion. The recollection that there were still a 
 variety of means to restrain a man that abuses 
 his liberty, outweighed Stilling's scruples ; he 
 therefore ventured, during dinner, to beg of the 
 prince to set Weckherlin at liberty. The prince 
 smiled, and rejoined, " If I let him loose he will 
 go into some other country, and then I shall 
 be attacked ; — besides this, he is in want of 
 nothing ; he can take a walk in the castle, and 
 enjoy the free air." However, not long after, 
 the prisoner was released. 
 
 After an agreeable residence of ten days, 
 Stilling set out again from Wallerstein. His 
 relatives accompanied him to Dünkelsbühl, to 
 which place sister Sophia also came ; here they 
 all remained together a night ; and the next 
 morning, Stilling took a tender leave of them 
 all, and continued his journey to Frankfort. 
 He there met his daughter Hannah at his friend 
 Kraft's; she had been for a while with her 
 
 relatives in the Netherlands, and was now 
 grown-up. The father rejoiced over the daugh- 
 ter, and the daughter over the father. Both 
 then rode together to Marburg. Selma, ac- 
 companied by friend Going and her friend Eliza, 
 came as far as Giessen to meet them, and thus 
 they all arrived again, happy and contented, at 
 home. 
 
 He that imagines Stilling's situation was at 
 that time devoid of sorrow, is much mistaken. 
 There are sufferings, the most painful of all, of 
 which we can complain to the Almighty alone ; 
 because they would become perfectly intolerable 
 through the idea that our most intimate friends 
 had any knowledge of them. I therefore very 
 seriously beg all my readers, by no means to 
 reflect upon this kind of sufferings, lest they fall 
 upon suppositions which in this case would be 
 sinful. Irrespective of this, Stilling's spas- 
 modic attacks caused him sufficient suffering. 
 
 About this time, there came a worthy indi- 
 vidual to Marburg. He was governor to two 
 young noblemen, who were to study there under 
 his superintendance ; — we will here call him 
 Raschmann. He had studied divinity, and pos- 
 sessed peculiar abilities ; he had a penetrating 
 mind, an extraordinarily quick perception, a 
 very highly cultivated classical feeling, and was 
 possessed of an incomparable diligence. But, 
 on the other hand, he was also a severe judge 
 of every one with whom he became acquainted ; 
 and this very becoming acquainted with persons 
 was one of his most favorite and agreeable em- 
 ployments. In every place and in every com- 
 pany, he observed with an eagle's eye each 
 individual, and their actions, and then decided 
 respecting their character ; practice had, it is 
 true, made an adept of him ; but his judgments 
 were not always under the direction of christian 
 love, nor were failings always covered with its 
 mantle. However, he had excellently educated 
 the young Counts, and they still rank amongst 
 the best men I know. This caused him, not- 
 withstanding his criticising habit, to be esteem- 
 ed in the eyes of every worthy man. 
 
 He had acted a prominent part in a certain 
 connection, and had there attained his expert- 
 ness in the knowledge of mankind. In other 
 respects, he loved splendour and a good table ; 
 he drank the best wines, and his food was 
 choice and delicate. In his deportment, he was 
 very precise, captious, and passionate ; and his 
 domestics were harassed and ill-treated. This 
 remarkable man sought Stilling's friendship ; 
 he and his young pupils attended all his lectures, 
 and visited him two or three times a week at 
 his house ; and he dined frequently with him, 
 together with other professors and friends. So 
 much is certain, that Stilling found Raschmann's 
 society agreeable, however much they differed 
 in their religious sentiments ; for Raschmann's 
 acquirements were very extensive and refined, 
 and, in the company of those who were not be- 
 neath him, he was very agreeable and extremely 
 entertaining. 
 
 In the summer of that year (1788), Counsellor 
 Mieg, of Heidelberg, with his estimable lady, 
 came also to Marburg, in order to visit their 
 friends there, and amongst others, Stilling and 
 Selma. The integrity, unremitting activity in 
 doing good, and the feeling, benevolent soul of 
 Mieg, had made a pleasing impression upon 
 
126 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 Stilling, so that they were cordial friends ; and 
 the two ladies, likewise, stood in the same con- 
 nexion with each other. This visit lied the 
 knot still more firmly ; but it had, besides this, 
 an important effect on Selling's mode of think- 
 ing and his philosophical system. 
 
 Stilling, by means of Leibnitz and Wolfs 
 philosophy, had fallen into the heavy bondage 
 of fatalism. He had struggled for twenty years 
 together, by prayer and supplication, against 
 this giant, without being able to overcome him. 
 He had, indeed, always maintained, in his wri- 
 tings, the freedom of the will and of human 
 actions, and had believed in it also, in opposition 
 to all the objections of his reason. He had, 
 likewise, never ceased praying; although this 
 giant continually whispered in his ear, u Thy 
 prayers avail not ; for what God in his counsels 
 has decreed, takes place, whether thou pray or 
 not." But notwithstanding this, Stilling con- 
 tinued to believe and pray, but without light or 
 consolation ; even his answers to prayer did 
 not comfort him, for the giant said it was mere 
 accident. God ! this was a dreadful tempta- 
 tion ! All the delights of religion ; its promises 
 of this life and that which is to come ; this only 
 consolation in life, suffering, and death, becomes 
 an illusive phantom, as soon as the individual 
 gives ear to fatalism. Mieg was accidentally 
 Stilling's deliverer from this captivity. He was 
 speaking, on one occasion, of a certain treatise 
 on philosophy, which had pleased him extreme- 
 ly. He then adduced, likewise, the postulate 
 of Kant's moral principles, which is, " Act so, 
 that the maxims of thy intentions may be al- 
 ways a universal law." This excited Stilling's 
 attention. The novelty of this position made a 
 deep impression upon him, and he determined 
 to read Kant's writings ; — he had hitherto shud- 
 dered at the thought, because the study of a 
 new philosophy, and especially this, seemed an 
 unsurmountable object. 
 
 He naturally read first, Kant's " Critique of 
 Pure Reason." He soon comprehended its 
 meaning, and his struggle with fatalism was all 
 at once at an end. Kant proves, from incon- 
 trovertible grounds, that human reason knows 
 nothing beyond the limits of the visible world ; 
 and, that in super-sensible things, so often as it 
 judges and decides from its own principles, it 
 always stumbles upon contradictions ; that is, 
 it contradicts itself. This book is a commen- 
 tary on the words of Paul, " The natural man 
 knoweth nothing of the things of the Spirit of 
 God, for they are foolishness unto him," &c. 
 
 Stilling's soul was now as if it had gained 
 wings ; it had been hitherto intolerable to him 
 that human reason, this divine gift which dis- 
 tinguishes us from the brute creation, should 
 be entirely opposed to that religion which was 
 supremely dear to him. But he now found 
 every thing appropriate and worthy of God ; — 
 he found the source of super-sensible truths, in 
 the revelation of God to man in the Bible ; and 
 the source of all the truths which appertain to 
 this earthly life in nature and reason. On one 
 occasion, when Stilling wrote to Kant, he ex- 
 pressed his joy and approbation to this great 
 philosopher. Kant replied, and in his letter 
 stood the never-to-be-forgotten words, " You 
 also do well in seeking your sole consolation in 
 the gospel ; for it is the never-fading source of 
 
 all truth, which, when reason has measured 
 out its whole jurisdiction, can be found nowhere 
 else." 
 
 Stilling afterwards read also Kant's " Critique 
 of Practical Reason," and then his " Religion 
 within the Bounds of Reason." At first he 
 thought he perceived probability in both ; but 
 on maturer reflection, he saw that Kant did not 
 seek the source of super-sensible truth in the 
 gospel, but in the moral principle. But can 
 this moral feeling in man, which bids the Mexi- 
 can offer human sacrifices, the North American 
 scalp the innocent captive, the Otaheitan steal, 
 and the Hindoo worship a cow, — can this be 
 the source of super-sensible truth ? Or, sup- 
 posing it was said. — Not the corrupt, but the 
 pure moral principle, which properly expresses 
 his position, is this source ; I answer, that the 
 pure moral principle is a mere form, an empty 
 faculty of knowing good and evil. But now 
 show me, anywhere, a man who is solely under 
 the influence of this moral principle. All are 
 deluded, from their youth up, by a variety of 
 errors, so that they take good for evil, and evil 
 for good. In order that the moral principle 
 may become the true guide of human conduct, 
 that which is truly good and beautiful must be 
 given the individual from a pure and infallible 
 source ; — but where can such a pure and infal- 
 lible source be found, out of the Bible 1 It is 
 a sure and eternal truth, that every axiom of the 
 vihole code of morality is an immediate revelation 
 from God ; let any one prove to me the contrary. 
 What the wisest heathens have said that is 
 beautiful, was imparted to them by means of 
 manifold reflection from the light of revelation. 
 
 Stilling had, however, gained sufficient from 
 Kant's M Critique of Pure Reason ;" and this 
 book is, and will remain, the only possible phil- 
 osophy, — taking the word in the common ac- 
 ceptation of the term. 
 
 Now, much as Stilling was tranquillized on 
 this side, yet a different and still greater danger 
 threatened him from another; a more subtle, 
 and consequently also a more dangerous foe, 
 sought to ensnare him. His frequent inter- 
 course with Raschmann gradually imparted to 
 him, without his observing it, a number of ideas 
 which, singly, did not seem to him at all sus- 
 picious ; but afterwards, collectively taken, form- 
 ed a basis from whence, in time, nothing could 
 have resulted but, first, Socinianism ; next, 
 Deism ; then, Naturalism ; and finally, Athe- 
 ism ; and with it, anti-christianity. But his 
 heavenly Guide did not suffer it to prevail so 
 far with him as even to make a commencement 
 of this falling-away from divine truth ; — how- 
 ever, it was already bad enough, that the atoning, 
 sacrifice of Jesus began to appear to him to be 
 an oriental embellishment of the moral merits 
 of the Saviour in behalf of men. 
 
 Raschmann was able to express this with so 
 much apparent warmth and veneration for the 
 Redeemer, and with such a plausible love to 
 Him, that Stilling began to be persuaded. How- 
 ever, happily it did not proceed further with 
 him ; for his religious ideas and frequent expe- 
 rience were much too deeply rooted in his whole 
 being for him to decline further, or even to be- 
 gin to do so. 
 
 This state of mind lasted about a year ; and 
 a certain illustrious and devout lady will stiH 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 127 
 
 remember a letter of Selling's written at that 
 time, which withdrew her affection and esteem 
 from him for a period, — that is, until his mind 
 had again returned to the truth. 
 
 Thank God, it did return thither ! — and he 
 then observed, with astonishment, how much 
 the reproving grace of God had gradually with- 
 drawn itself from his heart. Sinful sensual 
 impulses, long ago extinguished, already began 
 to show themselves faintly in his heart, and 
 the inward peace of God in his soul had become 
 a distant glimmer. The good Shepherd re- 
 stored him, and led him again into the right 
 way ; the sequel of this history shows the 
 means used for this purpose. 
 
 This aberration, however, was of utility to 
 Stilling, in causing him to examine more strict- 
 ly the doctrine of the Atonement ; and he then 
 apprehended it so firmly that no power can ever 
 deprive him of it. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The following year, in the winter of 1789, the 
 reigning Countess of Stollberg Wernigerode 
 wrote to Stiliing to visit her during the Easter 
 vacation. He answered that he could not take 
 the journey merely for the sake of a visit ; but 
 as soon as there were any blind people there, to 
 whom he could be serviceable, he would come. 
 This caused the reigning Count to make it 
 known throughout his territory, that an oculist 
 would visit him, and he that desired his assist- 
 ance should come to the castle of Wernigerode 
 in the passion-week. This excellent arrange- 
 ment occasioned the ridiculous report that the 
 Count of Wernigerode had ordered all the blind 
 people in his dominions to appear in the passion- 
 week at his castle, on pain of ten rix-dollars 
 fine, in order to be operated upon. 
 
 On receiving the intelligence that blind peo- 
 ple would be there, Stilling set out on his jour- 
 ney on Tuesday in the passion-week, on horse- 
 back. The youthful spring was in full activity ; 
 the shrubs and bushes were every where un- 
 folding their leaves, and the fecundity of nature 
 filled all things with delight. Stilling had, from 
 his childhood, always sympathized with nature ; 
 he therefore felt highly delighted on this journey. 
 During the whole way, nothing struck him 
 more than the difference between Osterrode at 
 the foot of the Harz, and Clausthal on its sum- 
 mit ; at the former, the spring was blooming ; 
 at the latter, only two leagues distant, every 
 thing was stiff with ice, cold, and snow, which 
 lay at least eight feet deep. 
 
 On Good Friday evening Stilling arrived at 
 the castle of Wernigerode, and was received 
 with uncommon kindness and affection by the 
 family of the Count. Here he found eleven per- 
 sons blind of the cataract, who were quartered 
 at the castle and fed from the kitchen. Stilling 
 performed the operation upon them on Easter 
 Sunday morning, before the service at church, 
 and the surgeon to the Count took charge of 
 the binding-up. 
 
 Amongst these blind people was a young wo- 
 man of twenty-eight years of age, who had al- 
 most perished in the snow, on her return home 
 from Andreasberg to llsenburg. on the side of 
 the Brocken ; the snow fell so thick and deep 
 
 that at length it went over her head, and she 
 could proceed no further ; she was found, after 
 lying twenty-four hours in quiet stupefaction. 
 This unfortunate occurrence had injured her 
 health no otherwise, than by leaving her per- 
 fectly blind of the cataract ; she now obtained 
 her sight again. 
 
 An old man and his aged sister were also 
 amongst the number. Both of them had had 
 the cataract for a series of years, and had not 
 seen each other for at least twenty years. 
 When they were both cured, and came together 
 again, their first sensation was astonishment at 
 each other, and wonder at their aged appear- 
 ance. 
 
 The days which Stilling^iere spent, as in the 
 precincts of heaven, will remain ever memora- 
 ble to him. A week after Easter he set out 
 again for Marburg. 
 
 A few weeks after this, the worthy and no- 
 ble family of Wernigerode passed through Mar- 
 burg, on their way to Switzerland. Stilling and 
 Selma were visited by them ; and on this occa- 
 sion the Count expressed his intention of being 
 with him again, with his fellow-travellers, on 
 the 12th of September following, and that he 
 would then celebrate his birth-day with him. 
 The nobleman kept his word ; on the 12th of 
 September, which was Stilling's fiftieth birth- 
 day, the whole company again arrived safe, 
 well, and delighted, in Marburg. 
 
 A good friend in the suite of the Count had 
 given Selma a hint of it a few days before. She 
 had, therefore, prepared a large supper in the 
 evening, to which Raschmann, with his young 
 nobleman, and other worthy Marburg people, 
 were invited. I scarcely need mention that the 
 family of the Coings were not forgotten on this 
 occasion. Never had Stilling's birth-day been 
 celebrated in such a manner before. His lec- 
 turer's chair was illuminated, and a speech from 
 Raschmann heightened the solemnity. It was, 
 however, remarkable, that the jubilee* of Stil- 
 ling's life was solemnized in such a manner, 
 without any one thinking that this was just his 
 fiftieth birth-day ; the whole happened natural- 
 ly ; — it afterwards occurred to Stilling, and it 
 then was evident, that that evening was a con- 
 secration to a new epoch in his life. 
 
 Soon «fterwards, in the autumn of 1789, the 
 vacation commenced, in which Stilling took a 
 journey into the province of Darmstadt, and 
 from thence to Neuwied, in order to assist the 
 blind. Raschmann, his two young pupils, and 
 Selma, accompanied him to Frankfort ; he then 
 travelled to Rüsselsheim on the Maine, where 
 he couched the Rev. Mr. Sartorius's lady, and 
 spent nine agreeable days in this religious fami- 
 ly. This was the place where Stilling with 
 respect to the doctrine of the Atonement, caught 
 himself on the pale horse ; — Sartorius was one 
 of the Halle school, or admirers of Franke, and 
 spoke with Stilling on the truths of religion in 
 his style. The conversation was chiefly upon 
 the doctrine of the Atonement and imputed t 
 
 *The Germans pay much more attention to the observ- 
 ance of birth-days, anniversaries, &c., than is customary 
 in this country, and particularly when a space of fifty 
 years has elapsed, which is then called a jubilee. This 
 is also especially the case when a couple hive lived to- 
 gether fifty years in the state of matrimony ; the ceremo- 
 ny is then again performed, and the second celebrationis 
 called " the golden nuptials."— Note of the Translator. 
 
128 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 righteousness ; without intending it, he fell into 
 a dispute with the pious clergyman upon this 
 subject, and now discovered how far he had 
 already deviated ; his return, therefore, com- 
 menced here. 
 
 In Darmstadt also, Stilling couched several 
 persons who were suffering from the cataract ; 
 and there he met with a man who, up to that 
 time, was the only one he had found laboring 
 under that disease, who was willing to remain 
 blind for the honor of God ; for, on being in- 
 formed of Stilling's arrival, and told that, with 
 the help of God, he might now regain his sight, 
 he replied, very resignedly, " The Lord has laid 
 this cross upon me, and I will bear it to His 
 honor !" What a mistaken idea ! 
 
 From Darmstadt, Stilling journeyed to May- 
 ence, where Count Maximilian Von Degenfeld 
 at that time resided. Both were desirous of 
 travelling together to Neuwied. In the com- 
 pany of this nobleman he visited Mr. Von Düne- 
 wald, celebrated for his peculiar musical instru- 
 ment ; they viewed his pretty garden, and then 
 saw and heard the above-mentioned instrument, 
 on which the proprietor played them a whole 
 symphony, with all the accompanying instru- 
 ments, very naturally and admirably. I know 
 not what became of this instrument in the wars, 
 and whether it be not for ever untuned. 
 
 The next morning they sailed down the Rhine 
 in a covered barge. The voyage was this time 
 more prosperous than in the year 1770, when 
 the yacht upset on its passage to Strasburg ; or 
 in 1771, on the journey home, when Stilling 
 took the same trip in the evening, in a three- 
 boarded boat, and saved himself with his com- 
 panion on board a barge. It was a beautiful 
 morning in autumn, and the purple dawn swell- 
 ed the sails of the barge in such a manner that 
 they performed the six leagues, from Mayence 
 to Bingen, in three hours. This water excur- 
 sion is celebrated far and wide for its romantic 
 prospects ; but will never be forgotten by Stil- 
 ling, on account of the unfortunate accidents 
 above-mentioned. At four in the afternoon they 
 arrived at Neuwied, where they met Rasch- 
 mann, with the young Counts, and the present 
 vice-chancellor of the university, at that time 
 professor Erxleben. Stilling took up his quar- 
 ters with this friend at the Rev. Mr. Ming's ; 
 the rest were lodged in part at the castle. 
 
 This journey of Stilling's to Neuwied is re- 
 markable in his history, from his having for the 
 first time become acquainted with a Moravian 
 church in that place, and attended once at their 
 Sunday's worship, when Brother du Vernoy 
 preached an excellent sermon. The whole 
 made a deep impression upon Stilling, and 
 brought him into closer contact with the Mora- 
 vians ; to which Raschmann also contributed 
 much, for although he widely differed from 
 them in his religious sentiments, yet he spoke 
 of them with much esteem and enthusiasm. 
 Stilling had always been well disposed towards 
 , the Moravians, although he had many prejudices 
 against them, for he had hitherto associated 
 solely with "awakened" people, who had much 
 to object to the Moravians, and he had pre- 
 viously had no opportunity of examining for 
 himself. Notwithstanding all this, they were 
 very estimable in his opinion, on account of 
 their missionary institutions 
 
 The then reigning Prince, Johann Frederick 
 Alexander, famous for his wisdom and maxims 
 of tolerance, and who was far advanced in years, 
 was at that time with his consort at his coun- 
 try-seat, Monrepos, which is two leagues dis- 
 tant from the town, and lies on the summit of a 
 hill, up the valley, from whence there is an in- 
 comparable prospect. One beautiful day he 
 sent his equipage to fetch the two Marburg pro- 
 fessors, Erxleben and Stilling, who dined with 
 this princely pair, and returned in the evening 
 to Neuwied". Here arose an intimate religious 
 acquaintance between the old princess and Stil- 
 ling, which was maintained by a lively corres- 
 pondence until her transition into a better life. 
 She was born Burgravine of Kirchberg, was a 
 very pious and intelligent lady, and Stilling re- 
 joices at the prospect of her welcoming him in 
 the blissful plains of the kingdom of God. 
 
 After Stilling had spent a few days here, also, 
 in ministering to the blind, he set off again for 
 Marburg, in company with his friend and col- 
 league, Erxleben. 
 
 At Wetzlar, Stilling expected with certainty 
 to find a letter from Selma, but he found none. 
 On his entering the parsonage, he observed a 
 kind of embarrassment in his friend Machen- 
 hauer and his lady ; he immediately asked whe- 
 ther there was not a letter from Selma. " No," 
 answered they ; " Selma is not well, yet she is 
 not dangerously ill ; we have to mention this to 
 you, with her kind remembrances." This was 
 enough for Stilling ; he instantly took post- 
 horses, and arrived in the afternoon at Marburg. 
 
 His daughter Hannah met him quite unex- 
 pectedly in the hall ; she had been for half a 
 year with Selma's relatives in Swabia, at Kem- 
 mathen and Wallerstein. Sister Sophia Hohl- 
 bach had shewn her great kindness ; but she 
 had been brought very low by a very vexatious 
 disorder, from which she had suffered inexpres- 
 sibly, and looked very ill. The paternal heart 
 of Stilling was rent, and its wounds bled. From 
 Hannah he learnt that her mother was not dan- 
 gerously ill. 
 
 As he ascended the stairs he saw Selma, pale 
 and altered, standing in the corner on the land- 
 ing-place. She received her husband with a 
 tenderly melancholy look, and, smiling through 
 tears, she said "My dear, be not afraid ! — there 
 is nothing the matter with me." This tranquil- 
 lized him, and he went with her into the room. 
 
 Selma had suffered much in her confinement 
 in the spring, and Stilling believed that her pres- 
 ent indisposition arose from the same cause. 
 She did indeed recover; but a declaration fol- 
 lowed on her part which plunged his soul, wea- 
 ried by so many tedious and painful sufferings, 
 into a profound melancholy. Soon after his re- 
 turn from Neuwied, whilst sitting on the sofa 
 with Selma, she took him by the hand, and 
 said, " Dear husband, listen to me calmly, and 
 be not melancholy ! I know for a certainty that 
 I shall die in this confinement. I am no longer 
 fit to accompany you through life. I have ful- 
 filled that for which God gave me to you ; but 
 in future I should be unsuitable for the situation 
 in which you are placed. Now, if you desire 
 that I should pass the rest of my time quietly, 
 and then die cheerfully, you must promise me 
 that you will marry my friend Eliza Coing ; she 
 will be more suitable tor you than I, and I know 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 129 
 
 that she will be a good mother for my children, 
 and an excellent consort for you. Now, for 
 once place yourself above what is termed deco- 
 rum, and promise me this ! Do, my dear, 
 promise it me !" The pleading look which 
 beamed from her fine blue eyes was inde- 
 scribable. 
 
 My readers may judge for themselves how 
 Stilling felt at that moment. That he could not 
 possibly fulfil her wish, and promise her that he 
 would marry Eliza after her death, may be easi- 
 ly supposed ; however, he recovered himself, 
 and replied, " My dear, you well know that you 
 have foreboded your death in every such times, 
 and yet you have always come safely through. 
 I trust it will also be the case this time ; and 
 then consider duly, whether it is possible to 
 promise what you require of me ; for it is op- 
 posed to every thing that can be even called pro- 
 priety." Selma looked embarrassedly around 
 -her, and replied, " It is, however, grievous that 
 you cannot place yourself above all this, in or- 
 der to satisfy me ! I know for a certainty that 
 I shall die ; it is now very different with me to 
 what it has been before." 
 
 Although Stilling did not place any strong 
 faith in this presentiment of death, yet his mind 
 was oppressed by a deep and foreboding melan- 
 choly, and he took the resolution, from that 
 * time, daily to pray specially for Selma's life, 
 which he fulfilled. 
 
 During the whole of the winter, Selma pre- 
 pared for her death, as for a long journey. It 
 may be supposed how her husband felt on the 
 occasion ; she sought to arrange every thing, 
 and did it all with cheerfulness and mental 
 serenity. At the same time, she was constant- 
 ly seeking to induce her husband to marry Eliza, 
 and to make him promise her to do so. In this 
 she went incredibly far ; for one evening it 
 happened that Stilling, Selma, and Eliza, were 
 sitting quite alone at a round table, and supping 
 together ; when they had nearly finished, Selma 
 looked longingly at Eliza, and said, " Dear 
 Eliza, you will marry my husband when I am 
 dead, will you not?" The situation in which 
 Stilling and Eliza felt themselves placed by this 
 speech, is indescribable. Eliza blushed deeply, 
 and said, " Do not speak so ! God preserve us 
 from such an event !" — and Stilling gave her a 
 kind reproof for her improper behaviour. When 
 she found that she could not gain her point with 
 her husband, she applied to good friends, who 
 she knew had much influence with Stilling, and 
 entreated them suppliantly, to take care that 
 after her death her wishes might be fulfilled. 
 
 In the spring of 1790, the important period 
 of Selma's confinement gradually approached. 
 Stilling's prayers for her life became more fer- 
 vent, but she continued always calm. On the 
 eleventh of May, she was happily delivered of a 
 son, and was well, according to circumstances. 
 Stilling felt very happy, artd gave God thanks ; 
 he then tenderly reproached the dear invalid for 
 her presentiment ; but she looked at him seri- 
 ously, and said very impressively, " Dear hus- 
 ' band, all is not over yet." For five days she 
 was very well, suckled her child, and was cheer- 
 ful ; but on the sixth, an eruption broke out, 
 she grew very ill, and Stilling became greatly 
 alarmed. Her friend Eliza came to wait upon 
 lier, in which she was faithfully assisted by Han- 
 R 
 
 nah. Madame Coing came also every day, and 
 occasionally relieved her daughter. 
 
 Stilling had still hopes of her recovery ; but, 
 as he was sitting one afternoon alone by her 
 bedside, he perceived that she began to speak 
 irrationally, and to pull and straighten the bed- 
 clothes. He ran out into the open air, through 
 the Kenthof gate, and then through the beech- 
 wood about the castle-hill, and prayed from his 
 inmost soul, so that it might have penetrated 
 to the very highest heaven — not for Selma's 
 life, for he did not expect a miracle, but for 
 strength for his weary soul, in order to be able 
 to bear this severe stroke. 
 
 This prayer was heard ; he returned home 
 tranquillized ; the peace of God reigned in his 
 breast ; he had offered up this great sacrifice to 
 the Lord, who had graciously accepted it. After 
 that time, he only saw Selrna twice for a few 
 moments ; for his physical nature suffered too 
 much, and it was apprehended she could not 
 hear it. He therefore suffered himself to be ad- 
 vised, and kept at a distance. 
 
 On the afternoon of the following day, he 
 went again to her ; — she had already a locked 
 jaw ; Eliza was reposing upon the sofa ; Selma 
 lifted up her half-closed eyes, looked wistfully 
 at her husband, and then beckoned to Eliza. 
 Stilling cast down his eyes, and departed. 
 
 The next morning he went to her bed once 
 more ; — he will never forget the sight ! the 
 dawn of eternity beamed on her countenance. 
 " Is it well with you !" asked he. She audibly 
 whispered through her closely-fastened teeth, 
 " O yes !" Stilling tottered away, and saw her 
 no more ; for strong as his spirit was, yet his 
 physical nature and his heart were shaken. 
 Nor could Eliza bear to see her friend expire ; 
 but Madame Coing closed her eyes. She de- 
 parted this life the following night, on the 23d 
 of May, at one o'clock. They came weeping 
 to Stilling's bed to inform him of it : " Lord, 
 thy will be done !" was his reply. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 Selma dead ! — the woman of whom Stilling 
 was so proud, dead ! — that is saying much ! 
 Though profound peace reigned in his soul, still 
 his state and condition were indescribable ; — his 
 frame was dreadfully shaken ; the spasmodic 
 complatnt which continually tormented him, had 
 already excited his nervous system to a high 
 degree, and this stroke might have entirely 
 ruined it, if the paternal goodness of God had 
 not supported him ; or, to speak in fashionable 
 terms, if he had not had so strong a constitution. 
 Death and silence now environed him. At 
 Christina's departure, he had been so much pre- 
 pared, by previous wearisome sufferings, that it 
 was a relief, an alleviation to him ; but now it 
 was quite different. 
 
 That Selma was in the right when she said 
 she was no longer suitable for his mode of life, 
 he began, indeed, clearly to see, and in the 
 sequel, found it true ; but still her departure 
 was heart-rending and dreadful to him ; — she 
 had been much to him ; and had been a striking 
 instrument in the hand of his heavenly Guide, 
 with reference to him : but now she was no 
 more. 
 
130 HEINRICH 
 
 Stilling, when he married Selma, had never 
 been amongst people of high rank. Much still 
 adhered to him from his parentage and educa- 
 tion ; in his whole life and deportment, gait and 
 gestures, eating and drinking, and in his mode 
 of address, especially in his intercourse with 
 people of rank, he conducted himself so that his 
 low origin was immediately observed; he al- 
 ways did either too much or too little in a 
 thing. Selma, who was an accomplished lady, 
 polished all this away completely ; at least, the 
 observation was never afterwards made that 
 Stilling was deficient in good breeding ; for it 
 afterwards appeared that he was destined to 
 associate with persons of the highest class. 
 
 But she was, particularly with reference to 
 his debts, a helping angel sent from God. She 
 was an excellent housekeeper ; — with a very 
 moderate income, in Läutern and Heidelberg, 
 she had liquidated above two thousand guilders 
 of debt, by which all the creditors were so paci- 
 fied that the rest were content, and willingly 
 waited. But the chief thing was, that immedi- 
 ately after she had married Stilling, she tran- 
 quillized his soul, which had been tormented by 
 the miserable, unfeeling, and mercenary spirit 
 of unmerciful creditors, in such a manner, that 
 he knew not what to think of it ; from a storm, 
 which threatened him every moment with ship- 
 wreck, she placed him on dry land. " Attend 
 to your vocation," said she ; " trouble yourself 
 about nothing, and commit the care to me ;" 
 and she faithfully kept her word. Selma had 
 been, therefore, during the nine years in which 
 they lived together in the marriage state, a 
 continual means of happiness to Stilling. 
 
 When she declared that she was no longer a 
 suitable companion for Stilling, though this 
 declaration was perfectly correct, yet I must 
 entreat every reader not to think any evil on 
 that account, nor to imagine any. Selma pos- 
 sessed an extremely noble character ; she was 
 an excellent wife ; but there are situations and 
 circumstances for which even the most excel- 
 lent of mankind are unsuitable. 
 
 Stilling's guidance was always systematic ; 
 or rather, the plan according to which he was 
 led, was always so manifest, that every acute 
 observer perceived it. Raschmann also saw 
 through it ; — he often regarded Stilling with as- 
 tonishment, and said, " Providence must have 
 something peculiar in view with reference to 
 you, for all the trifling as well as important 
 events which have befallen you, tend to some 
 great object, which still lies hidden in the ob- 
 scurity of the future." Stilling likewise felt this 
 perceptibly, and it humbled him in the dust ; 
 but it gave him also courage and boldness to 
 struggle forward in the path of conflict ; and it 
 may easily be supposed how much such a guid- 
 ance promotes true Christianity, and faith in the 
 Redeemer of the world. 
 
 Selma lay a lifeless corpse. Hannah, a girl 
 of sixteen years and a half old, now seized with 
 courage and resolution the helm of the house- 
 keeping, in which she was assisted by a worthy 
 and faithful maid-servant, whom Selma had en- 
 gaged in Läutern, and who, under her instruc- 
 tions, had become an able housekeeper. 
 
 Of six children, which Selma had borne, three 
 were still alive; Lisette, Caroline, and the 
 orphan suckling which she had forsaken. Lis- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 ette was four years and a quarter, and Caroline- 
 two years and a half old. Selma herself had 
 not completed her thirtieth year when she died, 
 and yet had accomplished so much. It is sin- 
 gular that in her bridal days she said to Stilling, 
 " You will not have me long, for I shall not live 
 to be thirty years old ; a remarkable man in 
 Dettingen told me so." 
 
 However faithful and well intentioned Han- 
 nah was, yet she was not at that time capable 
 of undertaking the bringing-up of her little sis- 
 ters ; but the departed saint had already pro- 
 vided for this ; for she had arranged that Lisette 
 should be taken to her friend Madame Mieg, at 
 Heidelberg, until her father had married again, 
 and Caroline was to remain, for the same length 
 of time, with another good friend, who lived 
 some miles distant from Marburg. The first 
 arrangement was carried into effect some weeks 
 after. Stilling sent her, with a maid-servant, 
 to Frankfort, to the house of his friend Kraft, 
 whence she was fetched by Madame Mieg ; but 
 Madame Coing took Caroline, for she said, " It 
 was hard that two children should be removed, 
 both at once, from their deeply-sorrowing pa- 
 rent, and- to such a distance." Stilling was 
 satisfied with this, for he was convinced Selma 
 would have committed both the children to 
 Eliza, if it had not been contrary to decorum, € 
 which now enjoined him to withdraw himself' 
 a little from the family of the Coings, in whose 
 place another friend pressed forward with his aid. 
 
 The present privy-counsellor and government- 
 director Riess, of Marburg, was at that time 
 government-advocate, and commissary for the 
 management of the University estates, to which 
 Stilling had been also appointed treasurer from 
 the beginning ; both knew and loved each 
 other. Scarcely, therefore, had Selma expired, 
 when Reiss came and undertook all the arrange- 
 ments which circumstances required ; whilst 
 Stilling was taken home to his house, where he 
 continued till all was over. His good consort im- 
 mediately took away the little suckling, and 
 provided a nurse for it, whilst Riess gave the 
 necessary orders for the interment of the corpse, 
 so that Stilling had no occasion whatever to- 
 trouble himself in the least. The child was 
 baptized in Riess's house ; who with Coing, 
 Raschmann, and the Counts, who offered them- 
 selves, were the sponsors. Such actions will 
 be eventually highly esteemed : Riess and Still- 
 ing are friends for eternity, and there it will be 
 easier to speak of such things than here. 
 
 The first thing that Stilling undertook for his 
 consolation, was to send for his aged father,. 
 Wilhelm Stilling. The venerable old man, now 
 seventy- four years of age, and severely tried in 
 the school of affliction, came without delay ; his 
 peace of soul and resignation imparted consola- 
 tion also to his son, who resembles him. He 
 remained with him about a fortnight ; during 
 which time Stillmg'Vegained in some measure 
 his serenity, to which also Selma's last will con- 
 tributed much. That he must marry again was 
 a matter of course, for he required some one to 
 bring up his children, and keep his house ; be- 
 cause it was not proper that Hannah should 
 trifle away her prospects of happiness for the 
 sake of her father's housekeeping. How bene- 
 ficial therefore it was that the legitimate pos- 
 sessor of his heart should have appointed her 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 131 
 
 successor, and that in such a manner that Still- 
 ing himself would have made no other choice ! 
 
 He who has not experienced it, cannot be- 
 lieve how consolatory it is to a widower to 
 know that his departed consort approved of his 
 choice ; — and here was more than approbation. 
 
 After the period had elapsed which decorum 
 determines and the laws prescribe, Stilling paid 
 his addresses to Eliza ; whose parents, as well 
 as herself, made him again happy by their affec- 
 tionate consent. The gracious good pleasure 
 of God in this union, the accomplished will of 
 the departed Selma, and the kind wishes and 
 approbation of all good men, imparted to his 
 soul a peace which cannot be described. From 
 that time, Eliza undertook Caroline's education ; 
 she also visited Hannah, and assisted her with 
 her advice ; and Stilling had now a friend with 
 whom he could converse with unlimited confi- 
 dence. 
 
 The twelfth of September, which had been 
 so brilliantly celebrated the previous autumn, 
 now again approached. Stilling had, since then, 
 struggled through a year of painful suffering. 
 The hereditary Prince of Hesse was at that 
 time studying in Marburg, to whom Stilling 
 gave instruction four times a week ; the prince 
 invited him to dinner on his birth-day, together 
 with Father Coing ; and his natal day was cele- 
 brated in the evening at the house of the latter. 
 
 The nineteenth of November, the day of the 
 holy Elizabeth, had always been observed in the 
 family of the Duisings, the ladies of which also 
 generally bore that name. With respect to 
 Eliza, it was likewise particularly remarkable, 
 because she is properly thrice called Elizabeth ; 
 she was born on the 9th of May, 1756, and had 
 three such sponsors at her baptism as probably 
 few persons have had. These were, her grand- 
 mother Duising ; the mother of the latter, 
 Vulteius ; and her mother, consequently Eliza's 
 great-great-grandmother, Madame Von Hamm ; 
 — these three matrons, her grandmother, great- 
 grandmother, and great - great - grandmother, 
 were present at the baptism ; and the latter, 
 Madame Von Hamm, presided at the christen- 
 ing-dinner. All the three ladies bore the name 
 of Elizabeth. This " Elizabeth-day" was fixed 
 for Stilling and Eliza's nuptials. He first read 
 his four lectures, instructed the prince for an 
 hour, and then proceeded to the house of the 
 Coings, where the marriage-ceremony was to 
 be performed. The Elector of Hesse expressed 
 his high approbation of this fidelity to the duties 
 of his office, although at the same time he re- 
 proached him severely for marrying again so 
 soon. 
 
 Eliza's parents had invited several friends to 
 the marriage-supper ; and the reformed minis- 
 ter, Schlarbaum, a sure and tried friend of Still- 
 ing, performed the ceremony. He and his 
 family were very beneficial companions to Still- 
 ing on his path, during his residence at Mar- 
 burg. 
 
 Between the ceremony and the supper, Still- 
 ing played on the piano-forte the following 
 verses ; and Hannah sang them with her silver 
 voice : 
 
 "Ascend, my spirit, to the throne 
 Of Him who rules above ; 
 Who visibly hath led thee on, 
 With all a parent's love. 
 
 Father of all created things, 
 
 In air, or earth, or sky, 
 To Thee my heart its tribute brings, 
 
 Thou Author of its joy ! 
 The radiance of the morning light 
 
 Bearn'd on my flowery way, 
 And with a flood of new delight 
 
 Thou crovvn'dst each passing day. 
 Selma, thy gift, with aiding hand, 
 
 Walk'd lovely at my side ; 
 And all my griefs, at her command, 
 
 Consumed away and died ; 
 When suddenly, the gloom of night 
 
 Obscured my radiant morn ; 
 Thy lightnings fill'd my soul with fright, 
 
 And left me quite forlorn. 
 The corpse of Selma sank in dust : 
 
 Her spirit burst its clod ; 
 'Be strong,' it said, 'believe and trust; 
 
 And then it soar'd to God ; — 
 And whisper'd, as it disappear'd, 
 
 ' Be now Eliza thine ; 
 For thou shalt by her love be cheer'd, 
 
 E'en as thou wast with mine. 
 A sacred stillness reign'd around, 
 
 And I was left alone; 
 I cried, though plunged in grief profound, 
 
 'Thy will, O God be done !' 
 Again, thy kind, benignant eye 
 
 Bearn'd on me graciously ; 
 And she descended from the sky, 
 
 Whom Selma gave to me. 
 Now, Lord, before thy throne we bow ; 
 
 Oh may we happy be ! 
 And kindly make our cup o'erflow 
 
 With true felicity. 
 The seeds of pure beneficence 
 
 Which we in hope would sow, — 
 A gracious shower, O Lord, dispense, 
 
 And cause the seed to grow. 
 O let Eliza, at my side, 
 
 Thy richest blessings see ; 
 With me the day of grief abide, 
 
 And bend the suppliant knee. 
 Then listen to the anxious sighs 
 
 Which from our hearts ascend, 
 That long to gain perfection's prize. 
 
 And ever upwards tend. 
 Father ! thus to our journey's end 
 
 Conduct us hand in harrd ; 
 Until before thy face we bend, 
 
 Home, in our native land !" 
 
 The evening was spent cheerfully and happi- 
 ly ; and a new course of life now commenced, 
 which gradually distinguished itself from every 
 former period, and brought Stilling nearer to 
 his peculiar destiny. Eliza cheerfully com- 
 menced her new sphere of action, in confidence 
 in God; and soon found, what a friend had 
 already observed to her, that it was no easy 
 matter to tread the same path with Stilling. 
 She has hitherto faithfully and firmly accompa- 
 nied him on his pilgrimage ; and has often and 
 variously made it evident that she understands 
 how to be Stilling's consort. 
 
 Some weeks before Stilling's marriage, Rasch- 
 mann and the young Counts, his pupils, left 
 Marburg. He was a comet, which accompa- 
 nied the planet Stilling for a period on its 
 course, and made the latter feel the influence of 
 its atmosphere. 
 
 He had certainly, in one respect, operated 
 prejudicially on Stilling, as before mentioned ; 
 but this impression soon vanished in the new 
 family circle, and he became afterwards, through 
 other cooperating causes, still more firmly 
 grounded in the doctrine of the Atonement 
 than before. But on the other hand, Rasch- 
 mann belonged, in a remarkable manner, to the 
 instruments of Stilling's improvement ; through 
 
132 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 him he learnt great, mysterious, and important 
 things ; things which were of an extensive and 
 comprehensive nature. That which Barruel and 
 ihc triumph of philosophy intend to relate, and re- 
 late correctly, hi the main, but erroneously in the 
 detail, was now made known to him. 
 
 It must not, however, be supposed that Rasch- 
 mann purposely instructed Stilling in all this. 
 The truth was, he was very talkative ; so that 
 when he had invited his friends to see him, 
 some morsel or other continually made its ap- 
 pearance ; and, as Stilling had a good memory, 
 he retained correctly every thing he heard, and 
 thus learnt, in the three years which Rasch- 
 mann spent at Marburg, the whole connexion 
 of that system of philosophy which has subse- 
 quently produced such great and dreadful phe- 
 nomena in the ecclesiastical and political hori- 
 zon ; and when he connected that which he 
 himself had learnt and read, with the frag- 
 ments above-mentioned, and rectified one by 
 the other, a correct and true whole resulted from 
 it. How useful and necessary this knowledge 
 was, is still, and will be in future to Stilling, 
 may be judged of by those who have a clear 
 insyght into the object of their existence. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 The first weeks after Eliza's marriage were 
 pleasant, and her path was strewed with flow- 
 ers. Stilling had also no other affliction but his 
 tormenting spasmodic attack; but a fortnight 
 before Christmas, his constant house-friend 
 again appeared in a very serious manner. 
 
 Hannah, from her youth up, had frequently 
 suffered dreadfully from a tetter on the left 
 cheek ; Selma had employed every possible 
 means to deliver her from it, and Eliza contin- 
 ued the attempt with all zeal. Just at that time, 
 there came a celebrated physician to Marburg, 
 who was also consulted, and he prescribed the 
 external application of the sublimate of mercu- 
 ry. Now, whether it was this, or a predisposi- 
 tion inherited from her late mother, Christina, 
 or both together, that produced such dreadful 
 consequences, I know not — Hannah was seized, 
 about the time above-mentioned, with the most 
 tlreadful hysteric fits. These attacks, so pain- 
 fully exciting to every beholder, were particu- 
 larly terrific to Eliza ; who, besides this, was 
 in the family- way ; yet, notwithstanding, she 
 heroically took courage, and nursed" Hannah 
 faithfully. But the Lord graciously preserved 
 "her from all prejudicial consequences. 
 
 This was the first act of the tragedy ; the 
 second now followed — it was a severe and fiery 
 ordeal for Stilling, Eliza, and Hannah. I will 
 relate it, for the warning and instruction of the 
 young — yet in such a manner that a certain 
 family, whom I much esteem, will be satisfied. 
 
 Hannah had been requested, in a polite com- 
 pany, to sing and play. She complied. What 
 can be more innocent than this 1 — and yet it 
 was the sole occasion of passing half-a-year of 
 anxious and painful suffering. A young man 
 "who was studying divinity, and whose self-will 
 had never been broken, whom Hannah had 
 previously never seen, nor even heard of, was 
 present on the occasion. He was so enchanted 
 
 with her singing, that from that period, he em- 
 ployed all — and at length the most desperate — 
 means of obtaining possession of her. He first 
 applied to Stilling for her hand, and was told, 
 that when he was properly provided for, no ob- 
 jection would be made, if he could gain Han- 
 nah's consent. But this was not enough by 
 far for this ardent suitor ; he insisted upon it 
 that the assurance should be then given him 
 that she would marry him. Hannah firmly de- 
 clared that she could never love him, nor mar- 
 ry him, and that she had never given him the 
 smallest occasion for this application. But all 
 this was unavailing. He next applied to the 
 parents, and sought to prove to them that it 
 was their duty to compel their daughter to mar- 
 ry him ; and on his proof being found invalid, 
 he attempted violence. He came once, unex- 
 pectedly, into Stilling's house, whilst Stilling 
 was lecturing, and burst into the room where 
 Hannah was ; fortunately, she had a female 
 friend with her, — her father heard her anxious 
 cry, and ran thither with brother Coing, and 
 both of them reproached the senseless man 
 most bitterly. 
 
 He then took lodgings at an inn immediately 
 opposite, that he might repeat the tragedy at 
 any moment ; but on Hannah's being removed 
 to a place of safety, he again withdrew. Ano- 
 ther time, he made his appearance unawares, 
 and acted in such a wild and riotous manner 
 that Stdling was obliged to shew him the door. 
 He then ran to the Coing's house, where Ma- 
 dame Coing was lying dangerously ill ; but 
 Eliza, who was there just at the time, with a 
 strong arm pushed him out of doors. He now 
 became desperate — was fetched back from the 
 river, into which he intended to plunge himself ; 
 then cast himself on the ground before Stilling's 
 house ; and was at length, with difficulty, sent 
 back to his home, which was some leagues dis- 
 tant. He afterwards roamed about the coun- 
 try, and assailed Stilling with threatening let- 
 ters ; so that, at length, he was compelled to 
 request the aid of the magistrates, and to pro- 
 cure his safety in that manner. 
 
 The unhappy and pitiable young man went 
 abroad, where he died in the bloom of his years. 
 It will not be difficult for parents, and young 
 people of both sexes, to derive due advantage 
 and appropriate instruction from this melan- 
 choly affair, which was so painful to Stilling 
 and his family. 
 
 The good Hannah was however happily re- 
 warded for this fiery trial. In the village of 
 Dexbach, in the province of Darmstadt, five 
 leagues from Marburg, there was a young cler- 
 gyman of the name of Schwarz, who lived in 
 intimate friendship with Stilling, and being still 
 unmarried, kept house with his excellent mother 
 and amiable sister. This pious and upright 
 man afterwards rendered himself celebrated by 
 several valuable treatises, particularly on "The 
 Moral Sciences," " The Religious Teacher," 
 elementary works, &c. Hannah and his sister 
 Caroline loved each other cordially, and it was 
 she who was with Hannah when the student 
 burst into the room. It was this young lady 
 also who took her to Dexbach, to her brother's 
 house, for safety. Through the wise guidance 
 of God, and in a christian and becoming man- 
 ner, there arose between Schwarz and Hannah 
 
STILL IN GS YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 133 
 
 a love which was acceptable in His sight, and 
 which was crowned with the consent of the 
 parents and the paternal goodness of God. In 
 the spring of the year 17U2, the marriage was 
 solemnized between Schwarz and Hannah in 
 Stilling's house. She makes a good wife, a 
 good mother of six hopeful children, an excel- 
 lent assistant in her husband's seminary, and 
 altogether a worthy woman, who causes joy to 
 her virtuous husband and her parents. 
 
 The unpleasant affair with the student occur- 
 red in the first half of the year 1791, which was 
 also aggravated by two mournful events. In 
 the month of February died little Franz, the 
 suckling which Selma left behind her, of water 
 in the head ; and Madame Coing also now ap- 
 proached her end. She had been in a weak 
 state for some time, and was in particular sub- 
 ject to asthma: By works of love which she 
 had performed, in sitting up at night, she had 
 taken cold, and her illness now became serious 
 and dangerous. Stilling visited her frequently 
 — she was tranquil and joyful, and met her dis- 
 solution with an indescribable calmness of 
 soul ; and when she expressed anxiety respect- 
 ing her children, Stilling assured her that they 
 should he his, if their parents died before him. 
 
 All these mournful events operated so preju- 
 dicially on Eliza's health, that she also fell ill, 
 though not dangerously so ; however, she was 
 obliged to keep her bed, which pained her the 
 more because she was unable to visit her good 
 mother. Both the invalids, mother and daugh- 
 ter, daily interchanged messages ; and each 
 comforted the other with the idea that their 
 case was not dangerous. 
 
 One morning early, towards the end of March, 
 the melancholy news arrived that Madame Co- 
 ing had departed this life. It was Stilling's lot 
 to inform Eliza of it — this was a painful task, 
 but he accomplished it, and then ran to her pa- 
 rents' house. As he entered the room, the be- 
 loved corpse met his eye — she lay on a field- 
 bed, opposite the door — she had been a very 
 handsome woman, and the long continued and 
 tranquil exercise of a religious life had ennobled 
 her features uncommonly ; not hope, but the 
 enjoyment of eternal life, beamed upon her 
 pallid countenance. Father Coing stood before 
 the corpse ; he smiled at Stilling through his 
 tears, and said, "Thank God ! she is safe with 
 Him !" He mourned, but in a christian man- 
 ner. There is no conviction more pleasing, or 
 more heart-elevating, that that of knowing our 
 dear departed friends are happy. Father Co- 
 ing, who celebrated his birth-day about this time, 
 had intreated God for his dear consort as a 
 birth-day gift, but did not obtain it — Stilling had 
 prayed half-a-year for Selma'slife, but was also 
 not heard. 
 
 My dear christian readers, do not suffer such 
 instances to deter you from prayer ! It is the 
 Father's will that we, his children, should ask 
 Him for every thing, because this retains us 
 continually in attachment to, and dependance 
 upon Him. If He cannot grant us that for 
 which we pray, He bestows upon us something 
 better in its stead. We may rest assured that 
 the Lord hears every believing prayer — we al- 
 ways obtain something by it, which we should 
 not have obtained without praying, and that, 
 indeed, which is the best for us. 
 
 When a Christian has made such progress 
 that he is able to remain continually in the pre- 
 sence of God, and has entirely and unreserved- 
 ly deferred his own will to the only good will of 
 God, he prays incessantly in his inmost soul. 
 The Spirit of the Lord then makes intercession 
 for him with unutterable sighing; and then he 
 never prays in vain, for the Holy Spirit knows 
 what is the will of God. Therefore when He 
 incites the heart to pray for something, He at 
 the same time gives faith and confidence that 
 the prayer may be heard. The man prays, and 
 his prayer is answered. 
 
 Stilling and Eliza, from the commencement 
 of their union, had taken the resolution of 
 having his son Jacob, who was a child of the 
 first marriage, again at home. He was now 
 seventeen years old, and therefore it was time 
 he should begin his academical course. He 
 had hitherto been in the boarding-school of the 
 worthy, learned, and reverend Mr. Grimm, at 
 Schluttern, in the neighbourhood of Heilbronn, 
 where he had been educated and prepared for 
 further study. Now as Stilling could only travel 
 during the vacation, the next Easter holidays 
 were fixed upon for the purpose of fetching his 
 son : and Jacob was therefore written to, to be 
 at friend Mieg's in Heidelberg, on a day appoint- 
 ed, for his parents would come thither and meet 
 him. They also determined to take Lisette 
 back with them ; for Eliza wished to have all 
 the four children together, in order to enable 
 her to exercise her maternal duties towards 
 them with all fidelity, and that they might like- 
 wise afford a refreshing season and a beneficial 
 recreation to father Coing and his children in 
 their profound sorrow, they both resolved to 
 take these dear relatives with them to their 
 friend Kraft in Frankfort, and then, on their re- 
 turn from Heidelberg, take them back to Mar- 
 burg. The whole of this plan was carried into 
 effect precisely in this manner, during the Eas- 
 ter holidays in 1791. 
 
 Soon after their arrival at Heidelberg, Jacob 
 also made his appearance. He was become a 
 good and worthy youth, who caused joy to his 
 parents. He likewise rejoiced to see them, and 
 that he was at length about to live with them. 
 But as it respects Lisette, there were difficul- 
 ties in the way. Madame Mieg, who had no 
 children, wished to keep the girl ; and asserted 
 also that her mother, whose heart was attach- 
 ed to the child, might possibly pay for it with, 
 her life if she were removed from her. It 
 pained Stillling to the soul to leave his little 
 daughter behind ; and Eliza wept, — she believed 
 it was her duty to bring up the child of her de- 
 parted friend, and that they would be eventual- 
 ly required at her hands, and not at those of an- 
 other. However, the two parents contented 
 themselves, and left the dear child in the care 
 of their friend Mieg : — that she was well taken 
 care of will be seen in the sequel. They then 
 returned with their son to Frankfort. Brother 
 Coing accompanied them on this journey into- 
 the Palatinate. 
 
 After a short stay in Frankfort, the whole 
 company commenced their journey back to Mar- 
 burg, where the two professors arrived in suffi- 
 cient time to resume their vocation and their 
 lectures. 
 
 In the autumn of 1791, Eliza was happily 
 
134 HEINRICH 
 
 brought to bed of a daughter, to whom was giv- 
 en the name of Lubecka, customary in the fam- 
 ily of the Duisings. With the exception of 
 Stilling's spasmodic attack, there was now a 
 small cessation of suffering: but it did not last 
 long ; for Hannah, who was betrothed to 
 Schwarz, was again seized with the most dread- 
 ful hysteric fits, from which, however, she was 
 entirely freed in a few weeks, by that very able 
 physician, Michaelis, who is also one of Stilling's 
 most intimate friends. 
 
 On new-year's-day, 1792, Stilling was chosen 
 pro-rector of the university. This dignity has 
 always been held in high estimation ; but, on 
 the other hand, there is no university in which 
 this office is so difficult to fill as that of Marburg. 
 Stilling entered upon it confiding in Divine as- 
 sistance ; and really he needed it, this year, 
 more than ever. 
 
 As Easter, and consequently Hannah's mar- 
 riage was now approaching, Eliza undertook 
 the preparation of the dower ; and Stilling in- 
 vited uncle Kraft, with his consort and children, 
 and likewise his father Wilhelm Stilling, to the 
 wedding. They all came, and Stilling reckons 
 this season as one of the most delightful in his 
 whole life ; — to the crossbearer, Wilhelm Still- 
 ing, it was, as he himself expressed it, a fore- 
 taste of heaven. Schwarz and Hannah were 
 united in Stilling's house, amidst the blessings 
 of their parents, grand-parents, friends and rela- 
 tives ; — their marriage is a happy one, and it 
 goes well with them. After the ceremony, the 
 beloved visitors returned to their homes. 
 
 A young gentleman had been for some time 
 studying at Marburg, who is now the Prussian 
 counsellor of administration, Von Vincke. He 
 lodged in Stilling's house, and dined at his table ; 
 he was one of the most excellent young men 
 who have ever studied at Marburg. His father, 
 the Rev. Dean Von Vincke, of Minden, wrote 
 to say that he would come during the summer, 
 with his lady and family, and would visit Stil- 
 ling and his Eliza. They did so, just as the 
 German princes were marching to Champagne, 
 and the Duke of Weimar with his regiment 
 passed through Marburg. Stilling now became 
 acquainted with this prince, with whom the 
 dean and' he spent a pleasant afternoon. After 
 this agreeable visit, Eliza was again ill ; she 
 was in a state of pregnancy, which was render- 
 ed abortive by her illness ; however, it passed 
 over happily, so that on the ninth day, the 
 weather being very fine, she was again able to 
 go out. They determined therefore to go to 
 the garden ; and as Schwarz and Hannah were 
 there also to visit their mother, father Coing 
 likewise joined the company in the garden. He 
 was that afternoon particularly cheerful and 
 happy; and as he was afraid of the evening air, 
 which Eliza also could not bear, he took her by 
 the arm and conducted her home ; and as he 
 passed along under the garden-wall, the young 
 people strewed flowers upon him from above. 
 
 The next morning, at five o'clock, Stilling's 
 kitchen-maid came into his room, and requested 
 him to come out ; he dressed himself a little, 
 went out, and found Schwarz and Hannah, pale 
 and with downcast eyes, standing in the room 
 opposite. " Dear father," began Schwarz " what 
 you have sb often foreboded has occurred ; — 
 father Coing is no more !" These words pene- 
 
 S TIL LING. 
 
 trated Stilling like a thunderbolt, through and 
 through, and with it the consideiation of his 
 Eliza, who was still so weak, and who loved 
 her father so tenderly ! However, he took 
 courage, went to her bedside, and said, " Eliza, 
 a dear friend is dead !" She answered, " What 1 
 — Hannah ?" for she also was in the family-way. 
 " No," replied he ; " it is father Coing !" Eliza 
 grieved very much for her father ; — however 
 she bore it with christian resignation. Never- 
 theless, the shock laid the basis for a painful 
 affliction, which she has ever since had to bear. 
 Stilling now hastened to the dear family ; — they 
 were all three standing in the room, weeping. 
 Stilling embraced and kissed them, and said, 
 " You are now all three my children ; as soon 
 as it is possible, remove to my house." This 
 accordingly took place, as soon ^as the corpse 
 was interred. Residing together with this dear 
 family was, in the sequel, indescribably benefi- 
 cial and consoling to Stilling, as will be subse- 
 quently seen. Father Coing had been seized 
 with symptoms of suffocation, the physician 
 had been called, and all possible means used to 
 save him, but in vain. He declared very calm- 
 ly that he was ready to die. He was an ex- 
 cellent man, and his* blessing rests upon his 
 children. 
 
 The most important period of Stilling's life 
 now commences ; — changes took place in him 
 and out of him, which gave his whole being a 
 very important direction, and prepared him for 
 the situation he was eventually to fill. 
 
 Soon after father Coing's death, the time ar- 
 rived when, as pro-rector of the University of 
 Marburg, he was obliged, in company with the 
 government commissary, to travel to Lower 
 Hesse, in order to visit the districts there under 
 the jurisdiction of the University, and to sell 
 the tithe belonging to it to the highest bidder. 
 
 The two friends, Riess and Stilling, therefore 
 set out on the journey ; and the latter took 
 Eliza with him, in order to afford her recreation 
 and amusement, and to accelerate her recove- 
 ry ; for her illness, and in particular, her 
 father's sudden death, had brought her very 
 low. After executing the duties of their office, 
 Stilling returned with her, by way of Cassel, to 
 Marburg. At Cassel, and even previously, 
 Eliza observed an unpleasant sensation inward- 
 ly in the neck ; this feeling became stronger on 
 arriving at Cassel ; and there arose an involun- 
 tary and occasional convulsive movement of the 
 head towards the right side, but still it was 
 not perceptible by others. She travelled home, 
 and attended to her domestic duties. 
 
 The autumn vacation again approached. Their 
 uncle Kraft, at Frankfort, wrote that there was 
 a rich blind Jewess in that town, who wished to 
 be couched for the cataract by Stilling, and that 
 she would gladly pay the expences of his jour- 
 ney, if he would come and administer his aid. 
 Stilling assented to this ; but required, first, to 
 procure permission from Cassel, because the 
 pro-rector of Marburg was not at liberty to pass 
 a night out of the town. He obtained the per- 
 mission, and consequently confided his office to 
 the ex-pro-rector, and set out for Frankfort, ac- 
 companied by his Eliza. On arriving towards 
 evening at Vilbel, a beautiful village on the 
 Nidda, two leagues from Frankfort, as they 
 were stopping before an inn to feed the horses, 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 135 
 
 the hostess came out to the coach, and said, 
 with an anxious expression of countenance, 
 " Oh, are you aware that the French have entered 
 the empire, and have already taken Spire ?" This 
 intelligence penetrated through Stilling's whole 
 existence like an electric shock ; but still he 
 hoped that it was a mere report, and that the 
 matter might not be so bad ; he therefore con- 
 tinued his journey to Frankfort, with his atten- 
 dants, and took up his residence with Mr. Kraft. 
 He there learnt that the news was but too true 
 in its whole extent, and that the whole city was 
 in a state of apprehension and disturbance. It 
 is quite requisite that I make a few observations 
 here, on the singular effects which this infor- 
 mation produced in Stilling's soul. 
 
 King Louis the Fourteenth of France, after 
 him the Duke of Orleans, who was regent, and 
 finally Louis the Fifteenth, had in the course of 
 a century introduced an unexampled degree of 
 luxury into France. A nation that is sunk in 
 voluptuousness, and whose nerves are weaken- 
 ed by every species of licentiousness, receives 
 the witty derisions of a Voltaire as philosophy, 
 and the sophistical dreams of a Rousseau as re- 
 ligion. Hence, a national character naturally 
 arises, which is extremely captivating, agreea- 
 ble, and pleasing to the sensual man ; and hav- 
 ing that which is dazzling in the system, and at 
 the same time possessing an external polish, it 
 becomes interesting even to the reflecting mind, 
 and therefore gains the approbation of every 
 cultivated nation. 
 
 It was for this reason, also, that our German 
 nobility, both high and low, regarded France as 
 the chief school for politeness, good breeding, 
 and — morality '. They were ashamed of the 
 powerful German language, and spoke French ; 
 French adventurers, friseurs, and — any thing, 
 if they were but French — were chosen as the 
 tutors of future rulers ; and very frequently, 
 French milliners were appointed governesses of 
 our princesses, countesses, and ladies. The 
 German national character, and religion along 
 with it, went out of fashion, and was consigned 
 to the lumber-room. 
 
 Learned men, and theologians in particular, 
 were now desirous of giving their advice and 
 assistance ; and for this purpose, they chose — 
 the way of accommodation. They sought to 
 make peace between Christ and Belial ; — each 
 was to give way a little ; Christ was to annul 
 the dogmas of the doctrines of faith, and Belial 
 to forbid gross vices, and both were in future to 
 recognize nothing as the basis of religion but 
 morality ; for they were agreed upon this, that 
 the latter must be believed and taught ; but as 
 for the performance, it was left to the liberty of 
 every individual, which must be held sacred, 
 and be by no means infringed upon. This 
 Christo-Belial system was then, par honneur de 
 lettre, to be called christian doctrine, in order not 
 too grossly to offend Christ and his true wor- 
 shippers. Thus arose the intellectual enlight- 
 ening, so much esteemed in the present day, 
 and the neology of the Christian religion. 
 
 But I earnestly beg that I may not be mista- 
 ken. None of these men voluntarily intended 
 to make peace between Christ and Belial, es- 
 pecially as the existence of the latter was no 
 longer believed ; but the basis of all human 
 ideas, which imperceptibly insinuates itself from 
 
 youth up into the essence of human reflection, 
 opinion, and inference, and which, if the indi- 
 vidual be not very watchful, urges itself upon 
 him quite involuntarily by the spirit of the times, 
 altered the moral principle and reason in such 
 a manner that people now found much in the 
 Bible that was pronounced superstitious, ridic- 
 ulous, and absurd, and therefore placed them- 
 selves above every thing; and then, with this 
 spurious principle, and altered organ of investi- 
 gation, undertook — the boldest enterprise of all— 
 the revision of the Bible, that ancient and sacred 
 relic ! Thus arose the beginning of the great 
 falling-away, so clearly foretold by Christ and 
 his apostles, and especially by Paul, who at 
 the same time asserts that soon after, the man of 
 sin, the incarnate Satan, should appear, and be 
 hurled into the abyss by the sudden manifesta- 
 tion of the Lord. 
 
 These great and important views of the pre- 
 sent state of Christendom and the kingdom of 
 God, had gradually arisen in Stilling's mind du- 
 ring a long course of years, partly from the study 
 of history, partly from observingt he signs of 
 the times, partly by the diligent reading and 
 studying the prophecies of scripture, and partly 
 by secret communications from great men ; and 
 their importance filled his soul. To this, ano- 
 ther observation, no less important, was added, 
 which was in unison with the former. 
 
 He had observed the origin of an extensive 
 alliance among people of all ranks ; had seen its 
 increase and progress, and had become ac- 
 quainted with its principles, which had no less 
 an object in view than the changing of the 
 Christian religion into natural religion, and of 
 the monarchical form of government into demo- 
 cratic republics, or at least into an unobserved 
 direction of the ruling powers ; and he had 
 learnt, by the wonderful guidance of Providence, 
 from Raschmann, how far the thing had already 
 prospered, and this just at the time when the 
 French revolution broke out. He knew in 
 what degree his countrymen who belonged to 
 this alliance stood in agreement with the French 
 demagogues, and therefore was sufficiently in- 
 formed with respect to the state of the times 
 and their connection with biblical prophecy. 
 
 The result of all these ideas in Stilling's soul 
 was, that Germany, because of its playing the 
 harlot with France, would be severely punished 
 by this very power. He foresaw the great conv 
 flict by which the great chastisement would be 
 inflicted, for men are punished by that through 
 which they have sinned ; and as the falling- 
 away increased with rapid strides, he already 
 remotely foreboded the founding of the kingdom 
 of the " man of sin." That all this was really 
 so — that is, that these ideas really existed in 
 Stilling's soul before any one thought of the 
 French revolution and its consequences, — is 
 evident from certain passages in his writings, 
 and particularly from an oration he made in 
 1786, before the Electoral German Society at 
 Manheim, but which, for reasons that may be 
 easily conceived, did not appear in print. But 
 with all his ideas and convictions, he had no 
 supposed that the storm would so rapidly and 
 suddenly break out over Germany. He con- 
 ceived, it is true, that the French revolution 
 would lay the remote basis for the last great 
 conflict between light and darkness, but he had 
 
136 HEINRICH 
 
 no presentiment that this conflict was so near ; | 
 for he did not doubt that the united forces of the | 
 German princes would conquer France. But 
 now, when he learnt that the result was quite dif- 
 ferent, his feelings were indescribable. On the 
 one hand was the approaching fulfilment of such 
 expectations as exceed the highest wishes of 
 the Christian ; and on the other, expectations al- 
 so of unheard-of sufferings and afflictions, which 
 the impending mighty conflict would unavoida- 
 bly bring with it. Truly, this was a state of 
 mind the weight of which might have easily 
 pressed to the ground a man who had suffered 
 so much and laboured so hard, and still labour- 
 ed, if Providence had not intended to preserve 
 him for objects of importance. 
 
 It might be supposed that this of itself was a 
 sufficient ordeal ; but just at this very anxious 
 season, a particular heat was added, which the 
 Great Refiner, for reasons known to Him alone 
 found it needful to permit. I have mentioned 
 above, that Eliza, by a fright in a weak state 
 from indisposition, had been seized with a con- 
 vulsive motion of the head towards the right 
 side. Hitherto the evil had not been very con- 
 siderable, but it now became terrible and dread- 
 ful both to herself and her husband ; for on the 
 second day of her abode in Frankfort, a terrific 
 alarm was spread that the French were on the 
 march. The magistrates assembled on the 
 Körner ; water-casks were filled in order to 
 extinguish fire during the bombardment, &c. ; — 
 in a word, the general panic was indescribable. 
 "With respect to Eliza, there was also another 
 consideration : — the University of Marburg 
 forms one of the Hessian states, Stilling was 
 its pro-rector, and its sovereign was at war 
 with France. There was therefore nothing 
 more probable than that the French, on enter- 
 ing Frankfort, would send Stilling as a hostage 
 to France. This was too much for Eliza, who 
 tenderly loved her husband ; — her head now 
 moved continually towards the right shoulder, 
 and the whole of the upper part of her body 
 was thereby distorted. Eliza suffered much 
 from it, and Stilling thought he should have 
 died in the midst of so much misery. Eliza 
 had naturally a straight and fine figure, but now 
 a disagreeable and suffering form ; it was scarce- 
 ly to be endured. Besides all this, it was utterly 
 impossible to leave the town ; they were there- 
 fore undeV the necessity of remaining there that 
 day and the next, when it appeared that the 
 French first intended to take Mayence. Still- 
 ing now found an opportunity for departing ; 
 and as the Jewess was incurably blind, he 
 travelled back again with Eliza to Marburg. 
 Every possible means were attempted to de- 
 liver the worthy woman from her affliction, but 
 every thing has been hitherto in vain. She 
 has suffered in this way for more than eleven 
 years ; it is certainly rather better now than at 
 that time, but it is still a very heavy cross for 
 herself and her husband to bear. 
 
 Stilling faithfully persevered in the discharge, 
 of his office as pro-rector and professor, and 
 Eliza bore her affliction as becomes a Chris- 
 tian ; — to this was now joined the fear of being 
 attacked by the French. The Elector return- 
 ed, it is true, about the beginning of October; 
 but his troops followed him very slowly, on ac- 
 count of the badness of the weather. Hesse 
 and the whole country was therefore unprotect- 
 
 ST ILLING. 
 
 ed, and the French general, Custine, could have 
 acted as he liked. If his courage and his un- 
 derstanding had been as large as his whiskers 
 and mustachios, the greater part of Germany 
 would have lost its political existence ; for the 
 general feeling was, at that time, revolutionary, 
 and favourable to France. 
 
 However, it was not then known what Cus- 
 tine's intentions were, and it was necessary to 
 be prepared for every thing. His troops rav- 
 aged the Wetterau, and at times the thunder of 
 their cannon was heard. All prepared for flight, 
 with the exception of the heads of the college, 
 who dared not leave their posts ; consequently 
 Stilling as well as the rest, was obliged to re- 
 main. This situation of things extremely op- 
 pressed his soul, which was already harassed 
 on all sides. 
 
 One Sunday morning, towards the end of 
 October, the terrible report was spread in the 
 town, that the French were near at hand, and 
 coming down the Lahnberg. Stilling's anxiety 
 now became insupportable. He fell on his 
 knees in his study, and besought the Lord, with 
 tears, for strength and consolation ; his eyes 
 then fell upon a little text-book, which stood 
 before him amongst other books ; he felt incited 
 in his mind to open it ; and on doing so, he 
 found the text, " I will lift up mine eyes to the 
 hills,, from whence cometh my help ; my help 
 cometh from the Lord," &c. He opened it 
 again, and found, " I will be a wall of fire round 
 about them," &c. He rose up encouraged and 
 comforted, and from that time he was no longer 
 afraid of the French ; nor did any of them come, 
 and the Prussians and Hessians soon after ap- 
 proached, Frankfort was retaken, and Mayence 
 besieged. 
 
 Here I must make two observations, which 
 none of my readers will take amiss. 
 
 1. The opening upon passages of Scripture, 
 in order to ascertain the will of God, or even 
 the future, is certainly an abuse of the Holy 
 Scriptures, and not permitted to a Christian. 
 If a person wishes to do it in order to derive 
 consolation from the divine word, it ought to 
 be done in complete resignation and submission 
 to the will of God ; but he ought not to be cast 
 down or discouraged, if he hits upon a passage 
 which is not of a consoling nature. Cutting for 
 a text is no means which God has ever appoint- 
 ed for any object ; it is a kind of lot ; and this is- 
 a sacred thing which ought not to be profaned. 
 
 2. Stilling's extreme timidity may possibly 
 excite, in some, unfavourable ideas of him, as. 
 if he were a man devoid of courage. To this 
 it may he answered, that Stilling trembles at 
 every danger, whether great or small, before it 
 is realized : but when it arrives he is confident 
 and courageous, even in the greatest trials. < 
 This is the natural consequence of long-endured 
 sufferings ; — we fear them, because we know 
 their pain ; and endure them with confidence,, 
 because we are accustomed to bear them, and 
 are acquainted with their blissful results. 
 
 Stilling was invited by the worthy family of 
 the Von Vinckes to visit them at Prussian Min- 
 den during the next Easter vacation. He 
 thankfully accepted this invitation, and his in- 
 mate, young Von Vincke, and some friends from 
 Cassel, accompanied him. Stilling suffered 
 much on this journey, from spasms in the sto- 
 mach; the weather was raw, and he rode 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION 
 
 137 
 
 thither on horseback. He also accompanied 
 the family above-mentioned to their sumptuous 
 manorial residence of Ostenwalde, four leagues 
 from Osnabrück, and then travelled home again 
 by way of Detmold. 
 
 Stilling became acquainted with several re- 
 markable individuals on this journey, with some 
 of whom he entered into an intimate and friendly 
 connection ; namely, the lately deceased Prin- 
 cess Juliana of Bückeburg, Kleuker of Osna- 
 brück (who had however already visited Still- 
 ing in Marburg), Moser and his daughter, Ma- 
 dame Von Voight, the Princess Christina of 
 Lippe Detmold, the three divines — Ewald, Pas- 
 savant, and Von Cölln, and Doctor Scherf, phy- 
 sician to the prince of Lippe. All these worthy 
 individuals manifested respect and kindness to 
 Stilling. There was also then living in Det- 
 mold a very worthy matron, the widow of the 
 late S'iperintendant-general Stosch, with her 
 daughters, the eldest of whom had been Selma's 
 intimate friend. Stilling visited her, and was 
 received with affecting tenderness. On taking 
 leave, the venerable woman fell on his neck, 
 and said, " If we see each other no more in this 
 world, pray for me, that the Lord would perfect, 
 that which concerns me, in order that I may be 
 able eventually to embrace you again in his 
 kingdom with more joy than at present." 
 
 On Selling's return from this journey to Mar- 
 burg, when he came to his house-door, Eliza 
 stepped out to receive her husband ; but what 
 a sight ! — a sword pierced his soul ; Eliza stood 
 there, bent and crooked ; the motion in her 
 neck communicated itself more violently to the 
 upper part of her body ; it was dreadful ! His 
 heart bled with sympathy and sorrow ; but this 
 was of no avail — he was compelled to bear it. 
 However, every thing was done to cure the 
 sufferer, and the most powerful remedies were 
 resorted to ; four balls of mora were burnt upon 
 her shoulder, on the bare skin. She bore this 
 dreadful pain without uttering a word ; but it 
 proved of no utility. She used baths, especial- 
 ly the shower-bath, which is very powerful in 
 its operation, but it all ended in nothing. Be- 
 sides this affliction, she suffered a second mis- 
 carriage, in which her life was really endanger- 
 ed ; but with the Divine assistance, she was re- 
 stored again by the means that were employed. 
 By degrees, the convulsive motion in her neck 
 amended itself so far as to 'make it, at least, 
 more tolerable. 
 
 In the spring of the year 1793, brother Going 
 entered upon the pastoral office, having been 
 appointed to the Reformed Church at Gemünd, 
 a town in the principality of Upper Hessia, five 
 leagues from Marburg. He had resided above 
 half a jear in Stilling's house. Coing would 
 have been his brother, even though no bond of 
 consanguinity had endeared him to him. 
 
 The most remarkable particular in the history 
 of Stilling's life, during this and the following 
 year, is the publication of two works which were 
 peculiarly instrumental in determining his final 
 vocation ; these were, " Scenes in the Invisi- 
 ble world," in two volumes ; and "Nostalgia,"* 
 in four volumes, with the key belonging to it. 
 
 * We have no word in use in English, corresponding 
 with the German word '-Heimweh," which literally 
 means " home-ache ;" probably because no such disease 
 is known in this country. — JVote of the Translator. 
 S 
 
 The " Scenes in the Invisible World," produ- 
 ced an unexpected effect ; they gained Stilling* 
 a large class of religious readers, I may say 
 with truth and without boasting, in every quar- 
 ter of the globe. By their means, the true wor- 
 shippers of Jesus Christ were again made at- 
 tentive to the man the history of whose life had 
 already made an impression upon them ; but the 
 " Nostalgia" had still more particular results ; 
 — it gave the first bias to Stilling's future pur- 
 suits, as the sequel will show. 
 
 The origin of both books is very remarkable, 
 for it proves incontestibly that Stilling did not 
 contribute in the least degree towards the pro- 
 curing cause of his subsequent appointment ; as 
 indeed was the case during the whole of his* 
 course, as I will show at the end of this vol- 
 ume. However, with respect to these books,, 
 and particularly the "Nostalgia," which proved 
 peculiarly instrumental in that respect, it is re- 
 quisite that I relate their origin circumstantial- 
 ly, and according to the precise state of the 
 case. 
 
 The " Scenes in the Invisible World" origi- 
 nated as follows. Whilst Raschmann and the 
 Counts were at Marburg, one evening, in com- 
 pany at his house, Wieland's translation of Lu- 
 cian was spoken of. Raschmann read a few 
 passages from it which were extremely comi- 
 cal ; the whole company laughed aloud, and* 
 every one admired the translation as an inimi- 
 table master-piece. On a certain occasion this 
 book again occurred to Stilling ; and he wrote 
 for it immediately, without reflection. Some 
 time after, his conscience smote him for this 
 hasty step. " What !" said the reproving voice 
 in his soul, " thou art about to purchase so valu- 
 able a book in seven volumes ; and for what 
 purpose ? — merely in order to laugh ! Yet thou 
 hast still so many debts, and must provide for 
 thy wife and family ! And if this were not the 
 case, how much assistance mightest thou have 
 afforded by it to some poor sufferer ! Thou art 
 buying a book which is not even of use to thee 
 in any part of thy vocation, much less necessa- 
 ry." Stilling now stood before his judge like 
 a poor criminal who surrenders himself at dis- 
 cretion. It was a hard struggle, a painful wrest- 
 ling for grace ; but at length he obtained it, and 
 then sought, on his part, to make as much re- 
 paration for this transgression as possible. If 
 Lucian and Wieland, thought he, have written 
 scenes in the world of fabulous deities, partly in 
 order to exhibit the absurdity of the heathen 
 mythology in a ridiculous point of view, and 
 partly also to amuse their readers, I will now 
 write scenes in the real Christian invisible 
 world, for the serious consideration and for the 
 instruction and edification of the reader, and 
 apply what I may obtain for the work to the 
 benefit of poor blind people." He carried this 
 idea into execution, and thus originated a book 
 which produced the entirely unexpected effect 
 above mentioned. 
 
 The origin of the "Nostalgia" was just a? 
 little the result of reflection. Stilling, from par 
 ticular inducement, had perused attentively 
 Sterne's "Tristram Shandy." Soon after, it 
 also happened that he read the " Genealogical 
 Biographies." Both books, as is well known, 
 are written in a sententious and humorous style. 
 In the perusal of these works, Stilling had a 
 
138 HEINRICH 
 
 very different object in view from that which | 
 Providence intended. 
 
 To these two preparatives a third was added. 
 Stilling had for a long time accustomed himself 
 daily to translate a passage out of the Old Tes- 
 tament from the Hebrew, and another out of 
 the New from the Greek, and then form from 
 them a concise and pithy sentence. He had a 
 large store of such sentences in his possession, 
 with no other object in view than biblical study. 
 Now who could imagine that these insignificant, 
 and in reality, trifling things, should have laid 
 the real and peculiar foundation for the devel- 
 opment of such a remarkable circumstance 1 
 Truly, Stilling had not the remotest presenti- 
 ment of it. 
 
 Soon after the perusal of the books above- 
 mentioned, and about the end of July 1793, Mr. 
 Krieger, a bookseller in Marburg, came one 
 forenoon to Stilling, and requested him to give 
 him something of a classical nature, in the 
 shape of a novel, to publish, in order that he 
 might have something which might prove profit- 
 able to him, because the dry Compendia went 
 off so slowly, &c. Stilling felt something in his 
 mind which acquiesced in this request ; he 
 therefore promised him a work of the kind, and 
 that he would commence it without delay. 
 
 The idea now suddenly occurred to Stilling, 
 that from his youth up he had cherished the 
 wish in his soul, after John Bunyan's example, 
 to portray the true Christian's path of repent- 
 ance, conversion, and sanctification, under the 
 similitude of a journey ; he therefore resolved 
 to put this idea into execution ; and as he had 
 only lately been reading those humorous works, 
 to adopt their style and mode of diction, and 
 then intermingle in it his stock of sentences in 
 an appropriate manner. An idea which he had 
 shortly before expressed in writing in a person's 
 album, gave occasion to the title " Nostalgia ;" 
 it was as follows 
 
 " Blessed are they that long for home, 
 For thither they shall surely come ;" 
 
 for it was his opinion that this title would suit 
 well to a book which was intended to describe 
 the painful journey of a Christian to his heaven- 
 ly home. 
 
 Thus prepared, Stilling began to write his 
 " Nostalgia." But as he was not fully confi- 
 dent whether he should succeed in this method, 
 he read the first six parts to his intimate friends, 
 Michaelis and Schlarbaum, who were extreme- 
 ly well pleased with the commencement, and 
 encouraged him to proceed in the same manner. 
 But in order to be the more sure, he selected 
 seven individuals from the circle of his friends, 
 who met at his house once a fortnight, and to 
 whom he read what he had written in the in- 
 tervening time, and heard their judgment re- 
 specting it. 
 
 The state of mind which Stilling experienced 
 whilst labouring at this work, which consists 
 of four large octavo volumes, is utterly inde- 
 scribable. His spirit was as if elevated into 
 ethereal regions ; a feeling of serenity and peace 
 pervaded him, and he enjoyed a felicity which 
 words cannot express. When he began to 
 work, ideas glistened past his soul, which ani- 
 mated him so much that he could scarcely write 
 with the rapidity which the flow of ideas re- 
 quired. This was also the reason why the 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 whole work took quite another form, and the 
 composition quite another tendency, to that 
 which he had proposed at the commenqement. 
 
 He experienced, besides, another singular 
 phenomenon ; — in the state between sleeping 
 and waking, the most beautiful and as it were 
 paradisiacal scenery presented itself to his in- 
 ward senses. He attempted to delineate it, but 
 found it impossible. With this imagery, there 
 was always a feeling connected, compared with 
 which all the joys of sense are as nothing ; — 
 it was a blissful season ! This state of mind 
 lasted exactly as long as Stilling was engaged 
 in writing the "Nostalgia;" that is, from Au- 
 gust, 1793, to December, 1794, consequently full 
 a year and-a-quarter. 
 
 But here I must seriously entreat the Christ- 
 ian reader not to judge uncharitably, as if Still- 
 ing wished to arrogate to himself Divine inspi- 
 ration, or even any thing approaching that na- 
 ture. No, friends ! Stilling assumed no such 
 thing. It was an exalted feeling of the nearness 
 of the Lord, who is the Spirit ; — this light irrad- 
 iated the powers of his soul, and enlightened 
 his imagination and reason. In this light Still- 
 ing was to write the "Nostalgia;" but yet 
 it is still an imperfect human work. Supposing 
 that an apprentice, who had hitherto produced 
 wretched performances by the dubious light of a 
 lamp, had his window-shutters suddenly thrown 
 open, and the light of the sun suffered to shine 
 into his work-room, his productions would still 
 be only those of an apprentice, but yet they 
 would be better than before. 
 
 Hence came also the unexampled approbation 
 which this book met with. A number of copies 
 wandered to America, where it is much read. 
 In Asia, where there are also some pious Ger- 
 mans, the "Nostalgia" was known and read. 
 From Denmark, Sweden, and Russia, even to 
 Astracan, Stilling received proofs of approba- 
 tion. Out of every province in Germany, from 
 persons of all ranks, from the throne to the 
 plough, Stilling received a multitude of letters, 
 which testified the loudest approval ; — not a 
 few learned sceptics were convinced by it, and 
 gained over to true Christianity ; in a word, there 
 are few books that have caused such a power- 
 ful and extensive sensation as Stiliing's " Nos- 
 talgia." This must not be regarded as boasting ; 
 it belongs to the essential part of this history. 
 
 But the " Nostalgia" operated powerfully and 
 painfully upon Stilling himself. The delight he 
 had felt whilst writing it now ceased ; the deep 
 and inward conviction, that even political econ- 
 omy was not his real vocation, produced the very 
 same effect on his mind as did the discovery at 
 Elberfeld,* that the practice of medicine was not 
 that for which he was ultimately designed. He 
 felt the pressure of a dejection which penetrated 
 into his inmost soul, an unspeakable melting of 
 the heart and contrition of spirit ; — all the praise 
 and all the approbation of princes, and of the 
 greatest and most excellent men, caused him 
 indeed, a momentary joy ; but then he felt pro- 
 foundly, that all this did not belong to him, and 
 that all the praise was due to Him alone who 
 had entrusted him with such talents. Such is 
 his state of mind still, and such it will remain. 
 
 It is remarkable that just at this period, three 
 
 * Called Sckonentkal at the commencement of the work. 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 139 
 
 voices entirely independent of each other, de- 
 clared that Stilling's academical situation was 
 no longer his proper vocation. 
 
 The first was an inward conviction, which 
 had arisen in him during the time he was wri- 
 ting the " Nostalgia," and for which he was 
 unable to give a reason. The impulse he had 
 so strongly felt from his childhood to become an 
 active instrument in the Lord's hands, fur the 
 advancement of religion, and which was also al- 
 ways the operative cause of his minor religious 
 occupations, now stood more conspicuously be- 
 fore his eyes than ever, and filled him with a 
 longing to become free from all earthly things, 
 in order to become able to serve the Lord and 
 His kingdom actively and with all his powers. 
 
 The second voice, which spoke the same 
 thing, was contained in every letter he received, 
 whether from far or near ; — persons of every 
 rank in society, from the highest to the lowest, 
 called upon him to devote himself exclusively 
 and entirely to the service of the Lord and the 
 cause of religion, and by no means to discon- 
 tinue his labours in that department. 
 
 The third and last voice was, that just about 
 this time, academical orders and a revolution- 
 ary spirit prevailed amongst the students at 
 Marburg, by which their whole minds were fill- 
 ed with principles and sentiments directly op- 
 posed to the doctrines which Stilling taught. 
 Hence the number of his hearers continually de- 
 creased ; and the spirit of the times, the prevail- 
 ing mode of thinking, and the general tendency 
 of the German financial policy, left him not a 
 glimmer of hope that he would be in future of 
 any utility with reference to his principles of po- 
 litical economy. 
 
 I now request my readers calmly to reflect 
 how an honest and conscientious man must feel 
 in such a situation, and whether the whole po- 
 sition in which Stilling now found himself could 
 have resulted from blind accident or chance. 
 
 However clear and evident all this was, yet 
 the way to attain to it was, on the other hand, 
 equally obscure. No expedient could be at 
 that time thought of by which to arrive at it ; 
 — for his family was numerous ; his son was at 
 the university ; the war and other circumstan- 
 ces made every thing very dear ; the needy 
 were many ; his large income was scarcely suf- 
 ficient ; and there were still many debts to pay. 
 Eliza, indeed, who trod sincerely in Selma's 
 footsteps with regard to the housekeeping, had, 
 notwithstanding all the sickness, heavy expen- 
 ses, and Hannah's marriage, already liquidated 
 in a few years, some hundred guilders ; and the 
 interest was regularly paid every year. But 
 under present circumstances, it was impossible 
 to think of any perceptible liquidation of debt ; 
 it was therefore necessary that Stilling should 
 retain his professorship, and attend to it with 
 all fidelity, for the sake of the stipend. Let the 
 reader imagine himself in his place ; — insur- 
 mountable hindrances lay in the way of the vo- 
 cation and sphere of action in which he could 
 have been most beneficially and cheerfully oc- 
 cupied, and to which, from his youth up, he had 
 an unconquerable inclination. On the other hand 
 that vocation in which he was obliged to labour, 
 without benefit and without hope, was complete- 
 ly indispensable to him. And joined with this was 
 the melancholy idea of what the Elector would 
 
 say, when he learnt that Stilling did, or rather 
 was able to do, so little for his heavy salary. 
 
 The year 1794 again strewed many thorns in 
 Stilling's path ; for in February, Eliza's eldest 
 daughter, Lubecka, died, from the consequences 
 of the measles, and in the sequel, other bitter 
 sufferings were added. 
 
 In July of the following summer, Lavater 
 wrote to him that he would pass through Mar- 
 burg on his return from Copenhagen. This 
 caused him real joy ; he had seen this friend 
 of his heart just twenty years before, in Elber- 
 feld, and consequently only once in his life; 
 but still, at times, had exchanged confidential 
 letters with him. It was of extreme importance 
 to him once more to converse personally with 
 this witness for the truth, and discuss many 
 subjects with him which were too difficult and 
 copious for correspondence. Lavater arrived 
 one Sunday afternoon in Marburg, with his pi- 
 ous and amiable daughter, now the consort of 
 the Rev. Mr. Gessner, of Zurich. Stilling went 
 about a league to meet him. Lavater contin- 
 ued at Marburg until early the next morning, 
 when he proceeded on his journey. 
 
 It is difficult to call to mind in the whole 
 course of history, a learned man that has exci- 
 ted so much attention, and who so little sought 
 it, as Lavater. In the evening, whilst he was 
 supping with Stilling, the place before the house 
 was filled with people, and the windows were 
 crowded with heads. He was certainly in ma- 
 ny respects a remarkable man, and a great wit- 
 ness for the truth of Jesus Christ. The bond 
 of fraternity was now more firmly established 
 between Lavater and Stilling; they strengthened 
 each other, and resolved that neither death, nor 
 life, nor reproach, nor shame, should ever cause 
 them to turn away from Christ, who was then 
 so despised and hated. 
 
 Soon afterwards followed the bitter affliction 
 I have mentioned above ; — it was a fiery trial. 
 Stilling was accustomed, during the Whitsun- 
 tide holidays, to go with his auditory to Cassel, 
 in order to shew them the foreign horticultural 
 productions at Wilhelmshöhe. This was done 
 principally for the sake of those who studied 
 the botanical sciences ; but many others also 
 accompanied him, to see what else was remark- 
 able in Cassel. The journey thither and back 
 was generally performed on foot. On this oc- 
 casion, Stilling had the pleasure to see one of 
 his wishes fulfilled by the Elector, which was, 
 the laying out a particular nursery for forest- 
 trees. As he was returning home with his ret- 
 inue, and the students were conversing among 
 themselves on the pleasure they had enjoyed at 
 Cassel, and that every thing had succeeded so 
 well, Stilling joined in the conversation, and 
 said, " I have likewise been much pleased, for 
 I have also obtained something of which I was 
 desirous," without explaining himself further ; 
 but he had in his eye the promise of the Elect- 
 or, with regard to the nursery of forest-trees. 
 
 There was at that time a private teacher in 
 Marburg, a worthy and learned young man, of 
 whom the students were very fond. He was 
 addicted to Kant's philosophy, which at that 
 time was the order of the day. Now, as the 
 Elector was not very favourable to that system, 
 and had, perhaps, heard something to the pre- 
 judice of the private teacher, be sent a rescript 
 
140 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 lo the young man ; in consequence of which he 
 was removed to Hanau, as professor of philoso- 
 phy, with a stipend of a hundred dollars. The 
 latter was obliged to obey ; but the students 
 were enraged, and the whole of their suspicion 
 fell upon Stilling ; for they construed the ex- 
 pression he had made use of on the journey from 
 Cassel, respecting the success of his wishes, as 
 having reference to the removal of the private 
 teacher, of which they deemed he had been the 
 cause. The ferment at length reached its 
 height ; and, in order to make a tumult, they 
 determined to serenade the private teacher, who 
 was then ready to depart, and afterwards take 
 the opportunity of storming Stilling's house and 
 breaking his windows. His good son Jacob 
 was informed of all this ; — he was studying ju- 
 risprudence, was very regular and diligent, and 
 never took the smallest part in such disorderly 
 proceedings. The worthy youth was in a state 
 of great anxiety; for his mother-in-law Eliza, 
 whom he cordially loved, was again pregnant, 
 and his aunt, Amalia Coing, Eliza's youngest 
 sister, was seriously ill of the dysentery. He 
 saw therefore, before his eyes, the lives of three 
 individuals in danger ; for the spirit of the times 
 at that period, which stood in connexion with 
 the reign of terror in France, breathed out mur- 
 der and death ; and the students lived in the 
 intoxication of revolutionary sentiments. 
 
 Jacob therefore informed his parents of the 
 danger that threatened them in the evening, and 
 requested them to remove the windows which 
 were next the street and the square, and to lay 
 Amalia in another place ; for she lay at the win- 
 dow towards the street. The windows, how- 
 ever, were not taken out ; but the invalid had 
 a bed made behind, in an alcove. Meanwhile, 
 Jacob went about amongst the students, and 
 represented to them the danger which might 
 arise from the fright ; but this was like preach- 
 ing to deaf ears. At length, as he ceased not 
 to entreat them, they consented, on condition 
 that he would also enter " the order." The 
 good youth struggled for two painful hours in 
 the choice between two evils ; however, he 
 finally thought that entering into an order was 
 the smaller of the two. He therefore did so ; 
 the misfortune was averted, and it was agreed 
 that the students, as the procession passed Still- 
 ing's house, should merely show their hostility 
 by spitting ; this they were at liberty to do ; 
 there was room enough in the street for it. 
 
 Stilling knew not a word of his son's having 
 entered a students' order ; he first heard of it a 
 year afterwards, but in such a way that it nei- 
 ther occasioned him terror nor sorrow. Jacob 
 earnestly besought h.s parents to send him for 
 half-a-year to Göttingen. The true reason of 
 this no one was acquainted with. He pretend- 
 ed that it would be much to his advantage to 
 study in Göttingen : in short, he ceased not 
 to urge this request until his parents con- 
 ceded, and sent him for the winter half of the 
 year to Göttingen ; but his secret object was, 
 to leave the order in which he was enrolled, and 
 to notify it to the pro-rector ; which he could 
 not do at Marburg, without exciting fresh dis- 
 turbance. Just at that time, all academic or- 
 ders were prohibited by the Diet at Ratisbon, 
 and the universities began the examination. 
 Jacob had fortunately already given in his res- 
 
 ignation to the pro-rector of the oraer, and re- 
 ceived an attestation to that effect, and thus he 
 escaped the punishment. The following summer, 
 when he was again in Marburg, the examina- 
 tion began there also. To their great astonish- 
 ment, and quite unexpectedly, they found his 
 name likewise upon the list. He of course 
 stood forth, and produced his attestation ; and 
 the matter was referred to the decision of the 
 Elector,whom Stilling informed of the real reason 
 why his son had entered the order. The Elec- 
 tor was pleased with his conduct, and acquitted 
 him from all punishment and responsibility. 
 
 During this year, there arose also a new con- 
 nection in Stilling's family. Eliza's two sisters, 
 Maria and Amalia, both very good and amiable 
 girls, were to Stilling a real present from God ; 
 he felt happy in their society, as did every one 
 who entered the family circle. The three sis- 
 ters bore, as it were, in their hands, the man 
 who by labor and sorrow was almost pressed 
 down to the ground. 
 
 Amalia, by her excellent disposition, her beau- 
 ty, and Madonna-like countenance, had made a 
 deep impression upon Jacob. At first, the good 
 young man imagined that it was not permitted 
 him to marry his step-mother's sister. He 
 struggled therefore for a time with this partial- 
 ity, and was in doubt whether it would not be 
 better to leave his father's house. However, 
 he confided his secret to his brother-in-law 
 Schwarz, who encouraged him, and advised him 
 to make his parents acquainted with his wishes. 
 Stilling and Eliza had nothing to object to it, 
 but gave them both their blessing and their con- 
 sent to the marriage, as soon as Jacob was pro- 
 vided for ; but this was not till after the lapse 
 of seven years. During this period, the con- 
 duct of both, as well their character, was blame- 
 less ; but in order to avoid the tongue of calum- 
 ny, he undertook, not long after, the place of 
 governor to a young gentleman who was stu- 
 dying the law at Marburg, to whose residence 
 he removed ; and did not again live with his- 
 parents until he married Amalia. 
 
 This autumn also, the Elector appointed 
 young Coing chaplain to the embassy at Ratis- 
 bon, which office he filled for some years, with 
 distinguished approbation. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 In this state of things, commenced tne yeai 
 1795. On the 4th of January, Eliza was hap- 
 pily delivered of a son, who received the name 
 of Friedrich, and is still living. A fortnight af- 
 terwards, on a Sunday afternoon, Stilling re- 
 ceived the mournful intelligence that his old and 
 intimate friend Kraft, who was his uncle by 
 marriage, had suddenly been called into eternity. 
 Stilling wept aloud ; for it was a loss which it 
 would be difficult to replace. 
 
 The manner in which this excellent man and 
 celebrated preacher died, was strikingly beauti- 
 ful; he was sitting with his worthy consort, a 
 daughter, and one or two good friends, at the 
 supper-table; all were cheerful, and Kraft par- 
 ticularly lively. He was wont to return thanks 
 aloud at table, which he was also about to do on 
 this occasion. After supper was ended, he 
 arose, looked upwards, began to prav and at.the 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 141 
 
 same moment the Lord received his spirit; he 
 sank down, and died on the spot. 
 
 Kraft was a learned theologian, and a man of 
 great biblical research. Without possessing 
 particular pulpit eloquence, he was an eminent 
 and popular preacher; in every sermon some- 
 thing might be learnt. He always excited the 
 attention, and irresistibly touched the heart. 
 When I was once in his church at Frankfort, a 
 Prussian officer came and sat down by me; I 
 saw that he was merely there in order to have 
 been at church. The door-keeper came and 
 laid a hymn-book before each of us, open at the 
 hymn. The officer looked coolly into it, and 
 that was all ; he did not at all look at me, which 
 was certainly quite at his own option. At length 
 Kraft entered the pulpit ; the officer looked up, 
 just as a person looks when he knows not wheth- 
 er he has looked or not. Kraft prayed ; the offi- 
 cer looked up a few times, without taking any 
 further notice. Kraft preached; but now the 
 head of the officer was immoveable; his eyes 
 were fixed upon the preacher, and his mouth 
 was wide open, as if to swallow every thing that 
 Kraft brought forth out of the good treasure of 
 his heart. When he pronounced the "Amen," 
 the officer turned to me, and said, " I never heard 
 such a sermon in all my life." 
 
 Kraft was a man endowed with wisdom, and 
 consistent in all his actions. His heart burned 
 with love to hio Redeemer, and he was thence 
 a faithful follower of Him. He was indescri- 
 bably beneficent, and in this, his pious consort 
 was his faithful helpmate; when it was needful, 
 and the gift would be well applied, he could joy- 
 fully contribute a hundred guilders, and that in 
 such an agreeable manner, that it appeared as 
 if the greatest kindness were shown him by ta- 
 king the money of him. When he was still a 
 student, a poor man begged alms of him, but as 
 he had no money, he immediately took his silver 
 buckles from his shoes, and gave them to him. 
 Although he was very orthodox, yet he was the 
 most tolerant man in the world, and polite and 
 hospitable in the highest degree. 
 
 In company, Kraft was cheerful, pleasant, jo- 
 cose, and witty. On his visit to Stilling, at Eas- 
 ter, 1792, the latter had one evening invited a 
 company of good friends to supper; the conver- 
 sation turned upon the exchequer* courts of the 
 German princes, and on the ruinous principles 
 which, in some cases, prevailed in them, to the 
 great detriment of the rulers and their subjects. 
 At length Kraft, who had hitherto been silent, 
 began with his usual pathos, and said, " Though 
 they should say unto you that Christ is in the se- 
 cret chambers, believe it not." 
 
 Blessed art thou, dear man of God! — the con- 
 sideration of joyfully meeting thee again in the 
 kingdom of God, is a cordial to thy friend Still- 
 ing on his painful pilgrimage. 
 
 Kraft was replaced by the pious preacher 
 Passavant of Detmold, Stilling's intimate friend. 
 Besides his deeply afflicted consort, he left be- 
 hind him three daughters, the eldest of whom 
 had been married some years before, to his 
 worthy colleague the Rev. Mr. Hausknecht; 
 the laiter is likewise a truly christian and evan- 
 gelical man, and Stilling's intimate friend; his 
 house has taken the place of Kraft's with refer- 
 ence to Stilling. The second daughter married 
 an exemplary pious preacher from Bremen, of 
 the name of Eisenträger, who was afterwards 
 
 * The German word here used, may be literallv render- 
 ed " revenue chambers. 
 
 stationed at Worms, but soon followed his fa- 
 ther-in-law. The third daughter, after the death 
 of both her parents, married a young and re- 
 ligiously-disposed lawyer, of the name of Burck- 
 hardi, who is now Government-Advocate at Dil- 
 lenburg, in the principality of Nassau. Ma- 
 dame Going's and Madame Kraft's youngest 
 sister, Mademoiselle Duising, had resided for a 
 period in Kraft's house ; these two sisters, Kraft's 
 youngest daughter, and an old, faithful, and pi- 
 ous female servant, called Catherine, now con- 
 stituted the household. But as the good widow 
 no longer found any permanent place of abode 
 in Frankfort, and longed to be at Marburg, her 
 native town, amongst her relatives by blood, Sell- 
 ing hired a habitation for her; which, however, 
 she left at the year's end, and removed, with 
 Stilling and his family, into the ancient family^ 
 house, where they alL lived together in christian 
 affection and harmony. 
 
 Stilling's melancholy turn of mind, and the 
 pressure of occupation, which was almost insu- 
 perable, occasioned him and his Eliza to hire a 
 country-house at Ockershausen, a village a mile 
 distant from Marburg, and there pass the great- 
 est part of the summer; in order that from a 
 pure and free atmosphere, and the beauties of 
 nature, they might derive invigoration, refresh- 
 ment, and recreation. Eliza also stood in need 
 of all this ; for by the convulsive affection in her 
 neck, the free motion of the pectoral muscles 
 was impeded, in consequence of which she 
 felt always more or less oppression on the chest, 
 with which she is troubled even to the present 
 time, and which occasionally renders her ex- 
 tremely dejected. Her path much resembles 
 Stilling's; and this makes her husband, who 
 loves her tenderly, often feel his burden the more 
 heavily. 
 
 From that time Stilling dwelt with his family, 
 for four years together, during a great part of 
 the spring, summer, and autumn, at Ockershau- 
 sen, in a pretty house, to which a beautiful or- 
 chard with an arbour is attached, and from 
 which there is a fine prospect to the Lahnberg. 
 But he continued to read his lectures in his 
 house in the city. 
 
 One morning, in the spring of the year 1796, 
 a handsome young man, in a green silk-plush 
 coat, and otherwise well-dressed, came to Still- 
 ing's house at Ockershausen. 
 
 This gentleman introduced himself in such a 
 manner as betrayed a polished and genteel ed- 
 ucation. Stilling inquired who he was, and 
 learned that he was the remarkable . Still- 
 ing was astonished at the visit; and his aston- 
 ishment was increased by the expectation of 
 wfiat this extremely enigmatical individual might 
 have to communicate. After both had sat down, 
 the stranger began by saying that he wished to 
 consult Stilling relative to a person diseased in 
 the eye. However, the real object of his visit 
 pressed him in such a manner that he soon be- 
 gan to weep, kissed first Stilling's hand, then his 
 arm, and said, "Sir, are you not the author of 
 the Nostalgia 7 ?" "Yes sir." 
 
 " You are therefore one of my secret superi- 
 ors !" (here he again kissed Stilling's hand and 
 arm, and wept almost aloud.) 
 
 Sailing. — "No, dear sir! I am neither your 
 nor any one else's secret superior. I am not in 
 any secret connection whatever." 
 
 The stranger looked at Stillin? with a fixed 
 eye and inward emotion, and replied, "Dearest 
 friend, cease to conceal yourself! I have been 
 
142 HEINRICH 
 
 tried long and severely enough; I thought you 
 knew me already !" 
 
 Stilling.— "No, Mr. . I assure you sol- 
 emnly, that I stand in no secret connection, and 
 in reality understand nothing of all that you ex- 
 pect from me." 
 
 This speech was too strong and too serious to 
 leave the stranger in uncertainty; it was now 
 his turn to be astonished and amazed. He 
 therefore continued : " But tell me, then, how it 
 is that you know any thing of the great and ven- 
 erable connection in the east, which you have 
 so circumstantially described in the Nostalgia, 
 and have even minutely pointed out their ren- 
 dezvous in Egypt, on Mount Sinai, in the 
 monastery of Canobin, and under the temple at 
 Jerusalem V 
 
 Stilling. — "I know nothing at all of all this; 
 but these ideas and conceptions presented them- 
 selves in a very lively manner to my imagi- 
 nation. It was therefore mere fable and fiction." 
 
 ;t Pardon me, the matter is in truth and reality 
 as you have described it ; it is astonishing that 
 you have hit it in such a manner! — this cannot 
 possibly have come by chance I" 
 
 The gentleman now related the real particu- 
 lars of the association in the East. Stilling was 
 astonished and amazed beyond measure; for 
 he heard remarkable and extraordinary things, 
 which are not however of such a nature as can 
 be made public. I only affirm, that what Still- 
 ing learned from this gentleman had not the most 
 remote reference to political matters. 
 
 About the same time, a certain great prince 
 wrote to him, and asked him whence it was that 
 he knew any thing of the association in the East ; for 
 the thing was as he had described it in the Nostalgia. 
 The answer in writing was naturally the same 
 as that given verbally to the above-mentioned 
 stranger. 
 
 Stilling has experienced several things of this 
 kind, in which his imagination exactly accorded 
 with the real fact, without previously having 
 the least knowledge or presentiment of it. In 
 the sequel, two cases of this kind will be related. 
 How it is, and what it is, God knows ! Stilling 
 makes no reflections upon the matter, but lets 
 it stand upon its own value, and looks upon it 
 as the direction of Providence, which purposes 
 leading him in a distinguished manner. 
 
 The development of the eastern mystery is, 
 however, a most important matter to him, be- 
 cause it has reference to the kingdom of God. 
 Much, indeed, remains in obscurity; for Stilling 
 afterwards also heard from another person of 
 great consequence, something of an oriental 
 alliance, which was of a very different kind, and 
 likewise not of a political nature. It remains to 
 be developed, whether the two are entirely dis- 
 tinct, or stand more or less in connexion with 
 each other. 
 
 Other extraordinary and remarkable discov- 
 eries were added to these. Stilling received in- 
 formation from various sou gees of apparitions 
 from the world of spirits, of the reappearance of 
 persons of all classes, some long and others 
 recently deceased ; of remarkable presentiments, 
 discoveries, &c., — all of which are demonstra- 
 tively proved to be true.* It is to be regretted 
 that not one of them is of a nature to be made 
 public; but this is generally the case in such 
 
 * See his "Theory of Pneumatology," supported by a 
 series of highly interesting facts of supernatural phenome- 
 na ; with copious notes to the same elfect by the translator. 
 — Longman & Co. 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 matters; the words are also applicable here, 
 "They have Moses and the prophets;" and we 
 possess besides these, Christ and his apostles ; 
 we are not referred to such extraordinary sources 
 of information. Sailing's ideas of Hades, of the 
 world of spirits, of the state of the soul after 
 death, next to the hints thrown out in the Scrip- 
 tures for consideration, are derived from these 
 sources. Yet still, these are not articles of faith; 
 let every one think of them what he pleases ; 
 only let him not condemn them, for by so doing 
 he would at the same time condemn himself. 
 
 The year of 1796 was a year of terror and 
 misery to the whole of Lower Germany. The 
 crossing of the Rhine by the French, their march 
 to Franconia, and their subsequent retreat, filled 
 the whole country with indescribable wretched- 
 ness; and as Hessia was at peace, the people 
 fled from all parts to the neighbourhood of Mar- 
 burg. On numbering on one occasion, by order 
 of the magistracy, the foreign fugitives that 
 resided there, there were found in Marburg and 
 the adjacent towns and villages, forty-five thou- 
 sand. It was pitiable to see how people of all 
 ranks, in an endless train, in carriages, carts, 
 and waggons, drawn by oxen, horses, cows, and 
 mules, with rich or wretched baggage, on foot, 
 on horseback, or on asses, barefooted, in shoes, 
 or in boots, with misery and woe depicted on 
 their faces, filled the roads, and with loud thanks- 
 givings blessed the prince who had made peace. 
 
 Stilling's mind was extremely oppressed by 
 all this, and also by the prevailing spirit of the 
 times, which laughed to scorn all that is holy ; 
 and his desire to labor for the Lord increased. 
 All this had induced him, in the preceding year, 
 to publish a periodical work entitled, " The Grey 
 Man," which very unexpectedly met with great 
 approbation ; on which account he still contin- 
 ues it. It is not only much read in every prov- 
 ince of Germany, but also, like the " Nostalgia," 
 in every quarter of the globe. I have myself 
 seen American newspapers, in the German lan- 
 guage, in which the "Grey Man" was inserted 
 by piece-meal, under promise of its continuation. 
 
 Amongst the many fugitives were two very es- 
 timable personages, who were particularly im- 
 portant to Stilling and his family. Prince 
 Frederick of Anhalt-Bernberg-Schaumberg, a 
 true Christian in the purest sense of the word, 
 hired a house in Marburg; and his next relative 
 by blood, the Countess Louisa of Wittgenstein- 
 Berlenburgberg, resided with him. The moth- 
 ers of both were sisters, the Countesses Henck- 
 el of Donnersmark, and real Christians, who 
 brought up their children excellently, and in the 
 fear of God. These two noble individuals in 
 every respect honored Stilling and Eliza with 
 their confidential intercourse; and they were 
 truly angels of consolation and of succour both 
 to them and their family, during their five years' 
 residence in Marburg. This excellent prince 
 and amiable countess dwelt there from the sum- 
 mer of 1796 to the autumn of 1801. 
 
 At the same time, Stilling also entered into 
 nearer connection with two absent princes; the 
 universally-acknowledged excellent and pious 
 Elector of Baden wrote to him occasionally; 
 and Prince Charles of Hesse, a real and very 
 enlightened Christian, entered into a regular cor- 
 respondence with him, which is still continued. 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 It is now time for me again to notice father 
 Wilhelm Stilling, and embody the history of the 
 rest of his life with this. His second marriage 
 had not been blessed. Notwithstanding all his 
 striving, labouring, and sparing, he continually 
 lost ground, and was ever deeper in debt; and 
 his four children by the second marriage — three 
 daughters and one son, all worthy and honest 
 people — were all poor and unfortunate. The 
 old patriarch saw them all about him, and be- 
 held their misery without being able to help 
 them. Stilling, meanwhile, lived at a distance, 
 and knew little of all this ; indeed, he was utterly 
 ignorant that it fared so very ill with his father. 
 Wilhelm, however, had more than one good 
 reason for concealing his true situation from 
 his son ; for he had formerly often expressed 
 himself to him to the effect that he would rather 
 eat dry bread than be supported by one of his 
 children. But the following idea probably lay 
 heavy on his heart: he had often most bitterly re- 
 proached his son in his misery, respecting his cir- 
 cumstances, and told him he icas a lost man; that 
 he teas good for nothing ; that he icould cause him 
 nothing but shame and disgrace; that he icould be 
 at length obliged to beg his bread, &c. To surfer 
 himself now to be supported by this very son, or 
 to be dependant upon him, was probably a very 
 difficult matter to the good old man's honorable 
 feelings. However, Stilling heard by degrees in 
 Marburg more of his father's true situation ; and 
 although he had himself a heavy debt to liqui- 
 date, he thought that in such a case he might 
 make an exception to the well-known rule, "as 
 long as a'person is in debt, he ought not to ap- 
 ply money to other purposes." He determined, 
 therefore, after considering the matter with 
 Eliza, to contribute a dollar weekly for the sup- 
 port of his aged father, and occasionally to send 
 him as much coffee and sugar as the two old 
 folks — for the mother was still living — required. 
 Eliza also sent to Liendorf now and then, when 
 she found a fitting opportunity, a bottle of wine 
 to cheer them. 
 
 At length, Wilhelm Stilling's second wife died 
 suddenly. He then gave up the housekeeping 
 to his youngest daughter, who had married a 
 carrier, and boarded with her. However, it 
 went hard with this poor woman ; her husband 
 was always from home with his horse, and being 
 too poor to procure what was needful without 
 laboring from early in the morning till late in 
 the evening, in the field and garden, the good old 
 man was entirely destitute of necessary atten- 
 tion. The other children were equally unable 
 to do any thing for him, for they could scarcely 
 subsist themselves, much less assist others; in a 
 word, their wretchedness was great. 
 
 Wilhelm Stilling was at that time in his 
 eightieth year, and in excellent health ; but his 
 feet, which were always weak and infirm, now 
 broke out into ulcerous swellings; his mental 
 powers also began to fade, and his memory, in 
 particular, failed him extremely. 
 
 At length, in August, 1796, Stilling received a 
 letter from a relative, who had visited the pious 
 old man, and had witnessed all his wo. This 
 letter contained a description of his misery, and 
 called upon Stilling to take his father to him, 
 before he perished in his sufferings. Stilling 
 had not known the extent of them before. He 
 instantly sent for him, and had him brought in 
 a conveyance to Marburg. On being told, at 
 
 Ockershausen, that his father was in his house 
 at Marburg, he hastened thither to welcome him ; 
 but, as he entered the room, a pestilential efflu- 
 via met him, such as he had never experienced, 
 in a dissecting-room. He could scarcely ap- 
 proach him to kiss and embrace him. The dis- 
 tress was greater than I can describe. It was 
 an advantage to the good man that his mental 
 faculties were already so decayed that he did not 
 particularly feel his misery. A few years pre- 
 vious, it would have been intolerable to his feel- 
 iugs of decorum and habitual cleanliness. 
 
 Stilling's heart bled at the sight; but Eliza, 
 who had often wished that she might have the 
 happiness of tending her parents in their old 
 age, began the work with joy. Great boast has 
 always been made of holy individuals of the 
 Romish Church, and it has been esteemed ex- 
 traordinarily meritorious in them, that they 
 bound up the putrifying ulcers of poor invalids 
 in the hospitals and lazarettos ; here more was 
 done, much mo?-e! Thou wilt on no account con- 
 sent, kind and noble-minded consort, that I should 
 here say any thing to thy praise, and I am silent ; 
 but Father Wilhelm, who has no longer suffi- 
 cient understanding to recognize thy unexam- 
 pled, childlike love, and is unable to bless thee 
 for it, will eventually meet thee, in his glorified 
 form, thou faithful sufferer, thou companion of 
 Stilling's life and afflictions, and return thee, in 
 an abundant measure, the thanks omitted here i 
 Doris hovers near, holding him by the hand, to- 
 welcome her daughter Eliza ; father Eberhard 
 Stilling smiles peace to thee; and Selma will 
 also embrace her friend, and say, " Blessed art 
 thou, for having so excellently fulfilled my ex- 
 pectations !" All these glorified ones will then 
 conduct thee before the throne of the Most Mer- 
 ciful, who will incline the sceptre of all worlds 
 towards thy forehead, and say, " What thou hast 
 done to this my servant, thou hast also done to 
 me ; go thy way, thou inhabitant of the new Je- 
 rusalem, and enjoy the fulness of felicity." 
 
 Eliza continued this painful labour of love till 
 the month of October, when she was again con- 
 fined of a daughter, who is still living, and bears 
 the name of Amalia. Amalia Coing, the future 
 grand-daughter-in-law of Wilhelm Stilling, now 
 undertook the task of attending to him, for which 
 it will be well with her, and her reward will be 
 great in time and eternity. 
 
 The close of the year 1796 was melancholy j 
 a brother of the late Madame Coing and Aunt 
 Kraft died in the autumn. He was a lawyer in 
 Frankenburg, unmarried, and expired suddenly, 
 in consequence of an apoplectic fit. Another 
 brother, who was likewise unmarried, and pro- 
 thonotary at Dortheim in the Wetterau, came, 
 in order to arrange his brother's affairs in 
 Frankenburg, and died, ten days before Christ- 
 mas, in Stilling's house. In consequence of 
 these repeated strokes, the good Widow Kraft, 
 whose daughter Eisenträger had also returned 
 to her the previous summer as a widow, was 
 quite cast down to the ground ; she likewise 
 took to her bed, and died on Christmas-day, qui- 
 etly and happily, like her sister Coing. There 
 still remained Mademoiselle Duising, Widow 
 Eisenträger, and the unmarried Miss Kraft, with 
 her worthy old Catherine. Miss Kraft married, 
 during the following year, Mr. Burckhardi, of 
 Dillenburg; and the remaining three members 
 of the estimable circle of the late Mr. Kraft now 
 live in Von Ham's family mansion in Marburg, 
 which is the property of Aunt Duising. 
 
144 HEINRICH 
 
 The worthy Schwarz had also something of 
 ■a severe nature to suffer with his consort, in the 
 year I79(i; he had lei t his solitary Dexbach, and 
 had accepted a living ut Echzell in the Wetterau, 
 ■where he was exposed to all the horrors of war. 
 Hannah was also amongst the Ibrty-five thou- 
 sand refugees; and she passed her third confine- 
 ment quietly at her parents' in Marburg, and 
 then set off again to her post. 
 
 The year 1797 was not particularly remark- 
 able in Sailing's history. Every thing proceeded 
 iu its customary course, except that Stilling's in- 
 ward sufferings were rather increased than di- 
 minished ; an inward melancholy continually 
 oppressed him ; an indescribable cheerlessness 
 deprived him of every enjoyment. The only 
 thing which sustained him was his domestic 
 circle, in which every one felt happy who en- 
 tered it. Eliza and her two sisters, Maria and 
 Amalia, were the instruments the Lord made 
 use of to lighten the load of his crossbearer, al- 
 though Eliza herself almost sunk beneath the 
 burden. 
 
 Father Wilhelm Stilling experienced nothing 
 of this; he was childish, and became more and 
 more so; and, in order that he might not want 
 attention in any way, Stilling sent for his eldest 
 •sister's daughter, Maria, who faithfully fulfilled 
 her duty to her grandfather, until attendance 
 upon him was no longer proper for a young girl, 
 and an old widow was engaged, who waited 
 upon him day and night. Maria's character 
 developed itself advantageously ; she enjoys the 
 esteem and love of all good men, and is beloved 
 by Stilling and Eliza as their child. It grad- 
 ually came to such a length with Father Wil- 
 helm, that he knew no one, and, in the end, not 
 even his son. Respecting his second marriage 
 and children he scarcely remembered any thing; 
 but occasionally spoke in an unconnected man- 
 ner of his marriage with Doris, and of his youth- 
 ful years. No sooner, however, was the subject 
 of religion introduced, than his spirit returned to 
 him; he then spoke connectedly and rationally; 
 and when this also ceased to be the case, his 
 mental faculties still clung to a few texts of 
 Scripture respecting the forgiveness of sins 
 through the sufferings and death of Christ, 
 which he repeated times without number, wring- 
 ing his hands and shedding many tears, and 
 comforting himself with them in his sufferings. 
 From this instance may be learnt how important 
 it is to fill the memory of children early with 
 edifying texts of Scripture and verses of hymns. 
 The first impressions on the memory of children 
 can never be erased. Such passages and verses 
 may be apparently of little service to them in 
 their youth ; but when, in old age, they have 
 to travel through Wilhelm Stilling's desert, in 
 which, solitary and divested of all susceptibility 
 of social life and of their own existence, they 
 retain only a small glimmer of reason for their 
 guide — when they have thus forgotten their whole 
 course of life, such passages and verses are as 
 bread from heaven, which strengthens the indi- 
 vidual in crossing the awful stream of death. 
 Generally speaking, they are an excellent means 
 of invigoration and comfort in distress and death. 
 
 In the midsummer- vacation of the year 1797, 
 Stilling and Eliza experienced another remark- 
 able instance of Divine providence. He had 
 certainly a considerable income, but also an 
 equally considerable and necessary expenditure ; 
 for, at that time, every thing was dear at Mar- 
 burg. Every housekeeper will remember sea- 
 
 S TILL IN G. 
 
 sons in which a variety of circumstances con- 
 curred in causing a demand for money, from 
 which he knew not how to escape, and in which 
 he was not in a situation to be able, or to ven- 
 ture to increase his debts. It was much such a 
 situation as this in which Stilling, or rather his 
 Eliza, found herself, who had trodden in Selma's 
 lootsteps, and had undertaken, quite alone, the 
 care of the housekeeping and the management 
 of the cash. A very worthy and respectable 
 lady in Switzerland had written to Stilling some 
 time before, and asked his advice regarding the 
 blindness of her husband. Just at this pressing 
 emergency, as Stilling was with the students at 
 Cassel, and had made his customary midsum- 
 mer excursion with them, he received a letter 
 from this lady, with a bill of exchange for three 
 hundred guilders. She mentioned, at the same 
 time, that Stilling must never think of repay- 
 ment, or of rendering any service for it; she felt 
 herself impelled to send this trifle, and begged he 
 would think no more of the matter. The pres- 
 sure was thus all at once removed, which much 
 strengthened Eliza's faith. 
 
 There was added, this year, another very esti- 
 mable personage to the most important of Still- 
 ing's friends ; the Countess Christina of Wal- 
 deck, widow of Count Josias of Waldeck-Berg- 
 heim, and born Countess of Isenburg-Büdingen, 
 determined to send her two younger sons to 
 Marburg, that they might study there. She 
 finally resolved to remove to Marburg herself, 
 with her amiable daughter, the Countess Caro- 
 line, till her sons should have finished their 
 studies. It cannot be described what a valuable 
 associate this pious lady was to Stilling and 
 Eliza — how variously her heart, which was 
 formed for philanthropy, was occupied with 
 showing it in word and deed. She harmonized 
 entirely with Prince Frederick of Anhalt and the 
 Countess Louisa; all three had the opportunity 
 of communicating their sorrows to Stilling and 
 Eliza, and of conversing confidentially with them 
 respecting all their affairs. 
 
 The year 1798 is remarkable in Stilling's his- 
 tory; because in it he wrote his "History of the 
 Triumph of the Christian Religion, in an Expo- 
 sition of the Revelations of John, adapted for 
 general usefulness," and then made his first con- 
 siderable journey with his Eliza. 
 
 The " History of the Triumph," &c, origi- 
 nated as follows. The important results pro- 
 duced by the French Revolution, and the events 
 which occurred in several places, everywhere 
 made a deep impression upon the true servants 
 of the Lord who observed the signs of the times. 
 Several individuals now began to apply certain 
 parts of the Revelation to those times, without 
 regarding the whole connexion of prophecy and 
 its spirit in the Bible generally. Very sensible 
 men already held the French cockade to be " the 
 mark of the beast;" and therefore believed that 
 the beast had already ascended from the bottom- 
 less pit, and that "the man of sin" was already 
 in existence. This pretty general sensation 
 amongst true Christians excited Stilling's consid- 
 eration, and he sought, in "The Grey Man," to 
 warn them against it. 
 
 On the other hand, it appeared to him ex- 
 tremely remarkable, that the well-known, pious, 
 and learned prelate, Bengel, had fifty years be- 
 fore pointedly foretold, in his Exposition of the 
 Apocalypse, that in the last ten years of the 
 eighteenth centurv the great conflict would com- 
 mence, and the Romish throne be overturned. 
 
4 
 
 STILLING'S YEA 
 
 This had been made still more minutely evident, 
 by an anonymous writer in Carlsruhe, in a more 
 exact and precise explanation of the Bengelie 
 Apocalyptical system of calculation, which even 
 determined the years, in the last decenniary of 
 the eighteenth century, in which Rome was to 
 be overthrown ; and this eighteen years before it 
 really took place. All this drew Selling's at- 
 tention to Bengel's writings, and particularly to 
 the book just mentioned by the anonymous au- 
 thor in Carlsruhe. 
 
 Two circumstances also were connected with 
 this, which operated upon Sailing's mind, and 
 prepared it for so important a work. The " Nos- 
 talgia" had made a deep and beneficial impres- 
 sion upon several members of the Moravian 
 church; he became more known in that com- 
 Biunity; the history of his life began to be read 
 more universally ; "and his other writings, par- 
 ticularly "The Grey .Man," were generally rec- 
 ognized as edifying. He was visited by Mora- 
 vians who were passing through Marburg, and 
 he read many of their works. In short, the Mo- 
 ravians became more and more estimable to 
 him ; particularly from observing that in their 
 writings generally, and especially in their church 
 and missionary intelligence, as also in their con- 
 ference minutes, which were sent to him, an un- 
 commonly rapid progress in the perfectionating 
 of lite and doctrine was evident; and that all 
 their institutions were guided in a most distin- 
 guished manner by Providence, and crowned 
 with its blessing; and what finally produced a 
 more intimate union, was, a correspondence 
 with a dear and worthy preacher of the Mora- 
 vian church, brother Erxleben, who had former- 
 ly filled the pastoral office in Bremen, and af- 
 terwards at Norden in East Friesland, but is 
 bow a class-leader at Herrnhut. The corre- 
 spondence with this worthy man still continues, 
 and will probably not cease until one of the two 
 shall be called away to the church above. 
 
 Stilling discovered, therefore, in this church 
 an important institution for the preparatory es- 
 tablishment of the kingdom of God. It appeared 
 to him to be a seminary for it; and this idea 
 gave him an important light into a principal 
 hieroglyphic of the Apocalypse. 
 
 The other circumstance which prepared Still- 
 ing for so bold and important a work, was the 
 great and very unexpected awakening in Eng- 
 land ; the result of which was the remarkable, 
 new, and comprehensive Missionary Society. 
 This circumstance was so striking, and the pe- 
 riod of its commencement so remarkable, that 
 no true servant of Christ could remain indiffer- 
 ent to it. In Stilling's mind, it strengthened the 
 idea that this institution also was a proof of the 
 rapid approach of the kingdom of God; real 
 Christians every where looked to the great gold- 
 en dial on the turret of the temple, and he that 
 had weak eyes asked him whose sight was 
 stronger, to what hour the gnomon pointed. 
 
 But notwithstanding that al! this was passing 
 in Stilling's soul, yet the idea of venturing on 
 the sacred hieroglyphics of the Apocalypse nev- 
 er entered his mind; he intended lather in <: The 
 Grey Man," to warn every one against such a 
 hazardous enterprise, because it had proved the 
 confusion of many. But as that which is un- 
 expected is, on all occasions, the rule and max- 
 im of Providence in its guidance of Stilling, so 
 it was also in the present case. 
 
 One Sunday morning in March, 1798, Stilling 
 determined not to go to church, but to work at 
 T 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 145 
 
 I " The Grey Man," and insert in it something of 
 I a useful natuie lor the christian reader, res pec t- 
 j ing the book of Revelations. But in order to 
 j make himself better acquainted with this diffi- 
 cult and important subject, he took up the above- 
 mentioned Carlsruhe Elucidation, sat down to 
 his desk, and began to read. Suddenly, and 
 quite unexpectedly, a gentle, inward, and very 
 beneficial influence pervaded him ; which pro- 
 duced in him the determination to translate the 
 whole Apocalypse from the original Greek, ex- 
 plain it verse for verse, and retain Bengel's sys- 
 tem of calculation ; because it had hitherto been 
 so applicable and had proved so remarkably 
 correct. He. therefore instantly commenced 
 the work, and hoped that the Spirit of the Lord 
 would enlighten him in every obscure passage, 
 and lead him into all truth. Stilling's " Histo- 
 ry of the Triumph of the Christian Religion" is, 
 therefore, not a work which is the result of re- 
 flection and study ; but it was indited by piece- 
 meal, in seasons of leisure, during prayer and 
 supplication for light and grace ; and then sent 
 off, without any further correction, to Rau, the 
 publisher, at Nürenburg. As soon as Stilling 
 can find time, he will establish, correct, and ex- 
 plain many things more precisely, in the "Ap- 
 pendix to the History of the Triumph." 
 
 He that is not purposely and maliciously dis- 
 posed to misconstrue every thing and turn it into 
 poisoned arrows, but thinks candidly and reason- 
 ably, will not accuse Stilling of desiring to ex- 
 cite in his readers the idea that he wrote from 
 divine inspiration ; but my object is to convince 
 them that his writings, however defective, are 
 nevertheless under the peculiar direction of 
 Providence, of which his whole life, as well as 
 the uncommon and unexpected blessing which 
 rests upon his writings, is a pledge to him. This 
 was also the case with " The History of the Tri- 
 umph ;" for scarcely had a year elapsed before 
 a second edition of it was published. 
 
 During the whole of this summer, Stilling's 
 melancholy rose to the highest degree. He oft- 
 en reflected upon this circumstance, and employ- 
 ed his whole medicinal reason in order to come 
 to the bottom of it ; but he found none. It was 
 not that he was hypochondriacal,— at least, not 
 what is usually termed so; but it was, properly 
 speaking, a cheerlessness, on which the purest 
 sensible enjoyment made no impression. The 
 whole world became strange to him, as though 
 it had no reference to him. Every thing that 
 afforded pleasure to others, even to good men, 
 was to him completely indifferent. Nothing, 
 utterly nothing whatever, but the great object he 
 had in view, which appeared to him partly ob- 
 scure and partly unattainable, filled his whole 
 soul; he fixed his eye upon this, and upon no- 
 thing besides. His"whole soul, heart, and un- 
 derstanding adhered, with all the fulness of af- 
 fection, to Christ, but only with a melancholy 
 feeling. The worst of it was, that he could not 
 complain to any one of his painful situation, for 
 no one understood him. He once or twice dis- 
 closed it to pious friends in the Netherlands; but 
 these men even took it amiss of him, for suppo- 
 sing himself to be in such an elevated mystic 
 state ; for he had called his mental condition, 
 tke state of olaevre faith. O God! it is difficult 
 to walk the path of the sacred cross; but after- 
 wards it brings unspeakable blessings. 
 
 The true reason why his heavenly Guide suf- 
 fered him to fall into this melancholy disposition 
 of mind, was probablv, first, to preserve him 
 
146 HEINRICH 
 
 from pride, and from that vanity which destroys 
 all sense of religion and piety, into which, with- 
 out this thorn in the flesh, he would certainly 
 have fallen ; since so much of what was agree- 
 able and exhilarating was said concerning him 
 on every side, from far and near, by high and 
 low, and by learned and illiterate. In this state 
 it rejoiced him for a moment, even as a warm 
 sunny ray on a gloomy day in December; but 
 then all was again as before, and he felt just as 
 if it had no reference to him. Secondly, the di- 
 vine Refiner might also probably have put this 
 son of Levi into this refining fire from other and 
 higher reasons, in order radically to burn up 
 certain propensities of corruption. 
 
 This state of mind still continues, except that, 
 at present, an inward serenity and a profound 
 peace of soul are united with it. 
 
 Eliza, though she suffered much, was yet the 
 only one among all his friends to whom he could 
 eniirely reveal and communicate himself. She 
 then suffered yet more, without being able to 
 help him; but still her sympathy and faithful at- 
 tention were invaluable benefits to him, and her 
 company, in particular, made every thing much 
 more tolerable. From that time they both ad- 
 hered still more closely to each other, and be- 
 came reciprocally more indispensably necessa- 
 ry to each other. Stilling's whole domestic cir- 
 cle, generally speaking, was inexpressibly love- 
 ly and beneficial to him. It was also well that 
 the spasms in his stomach began to abate ; for 
 he would not have been able to bear them with 
 such a debilitated frame. 
 
 Stilling's cataract operations and ophthalmic 
 cures were particularly blessed, and he had hith- 
 erto continued them uninterruptedly from the 
 time of his residence in Elberfeld; but they 
 also occasioned him double difficulty. The 
 maxim he had once adopted, and from which he 
 cannot deviate, that of demanding nothing for 
 any cataract operation or other ophthalmic cure, 
 but ministering it to every one gratuitously, (un- 
 less any one voluntarily makes him an acknowl- 
 edgment, and presents him with any thing with- 
 out any injury to himself,) attracted an aston- 
 ishing concourse of persons diseased in the eye. 
 He was interrupted every moment in his labours 
 by such sufferers, and his patience put to the 
 severest test. But the second and still greater 
 trouble was, that blind people were sent to him 
 from all quarters with testimonies of poverty, 
 without being furnished with the necessary sum 
 for their maintenance during the time of cure. 
 To send away such a pitiable blind person with- 
 out assisting him, for the sake of a few guilders, 
 did not accord with Stilling's character. The 
 directors of the two Protestant orphan-houses in 
 Marburg had indeed the goodness to receive 
 such blind people, and attend to them during the 
 cure, for a moderate payment; but for the latter 
 Stilling had to provide. This beneficial arrange- 
 ment had also the troublesome effect of inducing 
 his countrymen, and even foreigners, to send 
 their poor blind people without money the more 
 boldly. This caused many trials of faith ; but 
 the Lord manifested himself gloriously in them 
 all, as the result will show. 
 
 At midsummer of this year, 1798, Doctor 
 Wienholt of Bremen wrote to Stilling, and re- 
 quested him to come thither, because there were 
 several there afflicted with the cataract, who 
 wished to be couched by him; for the success 
 of his practice was known far and wide, and 
 spoken of every where, particularly by those who 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 studied at Marburg. Stilling rep/ied that he- 
 would come during the autumnal vacation. 
 This was carried into effect, and Eliza determin- 
 ed to accompany him, although she was not 
 very well. She had a twofold reason for this; 
 she was unwilling to be so long separated from 
 her husband, and he also required her support 
 and care; besides which, she wished to see the 
 city from whence her predecessors on her moth- 
 er's side had sprung; for her ancestor was a 
 Brabanter, of the name of Duising, who had 
 emigrated under the Duke of Alba and settled 
 in Bremen. Two of her cousins, men of great 
 respectability, were still living there, the brothers 
 Meyer, both of whom were doctors of the law ; 
 one of them was one of the four presiding burg- 
 omasters, and the other, secretary to one of the 
 colleges. These relatives also wished much 
 that their Marburg friends would for once pay 
 them a visit. 
 
 Stilling and Eliza, therefore, commenced the 
 journey to Bremen on Saturday, the 22d of Sep- 
 tember, 1798; but the indisposition of his good 
 lady made the journey a very anxious one. He 
 was obliged to give the postillions a handsome 
 douceur in order that they might drive slowly, 
 for she could not possibly bear a rapid motion. 
 They travelled by the way of Hanover, where 
 they were cordially received and treated in a 
 very friendly manner by Stilling's intimate 
 friend, Falk, aulic counsellor and consistorial 
 advocate. On Friday the 28th of September, 
 they arrived late in the evening, but safely, in 
 Bremen, and took up their abode with Mr. Sec- 
 retary Meyer. This worthy man, and his ex- 
 cellent spouse, suited Stilling and his Eliza so 
 well that they soon became as one heart and one 
 soul, and concluded a brotherly and sisterly al- 
 liance with each other. The Burgomaster, on 
 his side, who was' personified friendship itself, 
 did his best to afford his Marburg relatives pleas- 
 ure. The good and worthy man now rests in 
 his chamber; learning, unlimited kindness of 
 disposition, and faithful diligence in his admin- 
 istration, formed the basis of his character. 
 
 Stilling performed twenty-two cataract opera- 
 tions in Bremen ; and besides these, was of ser- 
 vice to many who were diseased in the eye. 
 Amongst the cataract patients, was an old man 
 of the middle class, who had been blind many 
 years, and had therefore retrograded in his cir- 
 cumstances. Several ladies requested Stilling- 
 to let them be present at the operation, for they 
 wished to be spectators of the joy which would 
 be manifested by one who had been blind so 
 long. The operation proved successful, and 
 Stilling then permitted him to look about him; 
 the patient did so, struck his hands together, and 
 said, "Oh, there are ladies, and it looks so dis- 
 orderly here I" The good ladies knew not what 
 to say or think, and followed one another out of 
 the door. 
 
 Stilling made likewise some interesting ac- 
 quaintances in Bremen, and renewed a couple 
 of ancient friendly alliances; namely, with Doc- 
 tor and Professor Meister, whom he had al- 
 ready known in Elberfeld, and with Ewald, who 
 was now preacher there. The celebrated Doc- 
 tor Olbers became Stilling's friend; and at his 
 house he also became acquainted with that great 
 astronomer, alderman Schröder. He also con- 
 cluded a fraternal alliance with Wienholt;— he 
 and his consort belong to the class of the best 
 of mankind. 
 
 Bremen possesses very many pious and chris- 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 147 
 
 tian inhabitants; and the character of the peo- 
 ple, generally speaking, is more polished and 
 moral than in other large commercial cities. 
 This is particularly to he ascribed to the excel- 
 lent preachers which the city has always enjoy- 
 ed, and still possesses. 
 
 After a very pleasing abode of three weeks 
 and a few days, Siilling and Eliza set off again 
 from Bremen on the 21st of October. The Lord 
 had blessed his hand; and the wealthy patients 
 had also made him such rich presents, that not 
 only the expensive journey was paid for, but 
 something also remained, which was a timely 
 supply for the great and oppressive expenses of 
 his household. 
 
 The Bremen relatives accompanied their trav- 
 elling friends to the Asseler Damm, where they 
 took a weeping leave, and returned. The road 
 to Hoya was terrible; however, they arrived 
 safely, though late in the evening, at the above- 
 mentioned place. In Hanover they again call- 
 ed upon their friend Falk, who received them 
 with true christian brotherly love. They then 
 continued their journey, and arrived in due time, 
 well and happy, at Marburg, where they also 
 met the whole family in health and comfort. 
 
 The journey to Bremen had procured Stilling 
 several additional friends and acquaintances ; 
 but had, at the same time, considerably increas- 
 ed his correspondence, and with it his labors. 
 Consultations on diseases of the eye and letters 
 of a religious nature came every post-day in 
 abundance; to this was added also, the daily 
 concourse of ophthalmic patients of every kind, 
 so that it was almost impossible to accomplish 
 all that was required. However, Stilling neg- 
 lected nothing relating to his office, but exerted 
 his utmost powers to fulfil all these duties. 
 
 Under such circumstances, he commenced the 
 year 1799. On the 22nd of February, Eliza was 
 safely delivered of her youngest child, a girl ; 
 the Countess Waldeck wished to stand sponsor 
 for it, which was naturally accepted with many 
 thanks. The little girl was named Christina 
 from her; she is still living, and with the rest of 
 the children, is a source of joy to her parents. 
 
 After Lavater's visit to Marburg, Stilling had 
 entered into a much closer connection with him. 
 In certain points, they had both been of different 
 sentiments; this, therefore, caused an animated 
 correspondence, by which however the most cor- 
 dial brotherly love was not disturbed. Both liv- 
 ed and labored for the Lord and his kingdom : 
 fheir great object was likewise their bond of love. 
 At that time also, the celebrated physician Dr. 
 Hotze, was in Frankfort, with his excellent son- 
 in-law, Doctor de Neufville. Stilling had been 
 already acquainted with Hotze for some years, 
 and had concluded a fraternal alliance with him 
 for eternity. Passavant was also in Frankfort ; 
 both were Lavater's and Stilling's fraternal 
 friends, and closely united with each other. La- 
 vater therefore sent his letters to Stilling open 
 to these two friends, Hotze and Passavant, and 
 the latter sent likewise his replies unsealed to 
 them, which gave rise to a very pleasing and in- 
 structive correspondence. The subjects which 
 were discussed, were the most important articles 
 of faith : such as the doctrine of the atonement, 
 answers to praver, wonder-working faith, &c. 
 In this veir, 1799, this correspondence termina- 
 ted ; for Lava'er was taken prisoner and sent to 
 Bäsle, and Hotze no longer resided in Frank- 
 fort. 
 
 I take notice of all this, for the sake of a re- 
 
 markable circumstance which occurred to Still- 
 ing on Saturday the 13th of July. 
 
 Beforj his journey to Bremen, a friend had 
 communicated to him, in confidence, that a cer- 
 tain celebrated and very worthy man had fallen 
 into extremely necessitous circumstances. Still- 
 ing related this in Bremen to a few friends ; 
 Doctor Wienholt undertook a collection for him, 
 and sent Stilling, in the winter, about three hun- 
 dred and fifty guilders, in old louis-d'ors: but on 
 Stilling's inquiring more minutely in what man- 
 ner the money could be safely sent to the hands 
 of the worthy man, he learnt that his necessities 
 were not now so urgent, and that this mode of 
 help would be very painful to him. This in- 
 duced Stilling to retain the money, and to in- 
 quire in Bremen, whether it might be applied to 
 the English Missionary Society, or else to the 
 inhabitants of Underwald in Switzerland, who 
 had lately suffered so severely. The latter was 
 assented to ; and Stilling consequently entered 
 into correspondence upon the subject with the 
 pious and celebrated Antistes Hess of Zurich; 
 he, as well as many other of the inhabitants of 
 Zurich, having seriously undertaken the cause 
 of these unfortunate people. 
 
 Stilling wrote on this business to Hess, on 
 the 13th of July above-mentioned, during which 
 something singular occurred to him. In the 
 midst of writing, just as he was reflecting upon 
 the state in which Switzerland then was, he felt 
 in his mind, all at once, a deep impression, with 
 the conviction that Lavater would die a bloody 
 death — that of a martyr. These last words, " a, 
 martyr's death" was the expression which he pe- 
 culiarly felt. Something was also connected 
 with it, which cannot yet be disclosed. It is natu- 
 ral that Stilling was much astonished at it; and 
 during this astonishment he felt also convinced 
 that he ought to mention the matter in this letter 
 to Hess; he did so, and requested him, at the 
 same time, to take an opportunity of telling it 
 to Lavater. Hess soon replied, testifying his 
 astonishment, and promising to disclose it to 
 Lavater, but that he should have to wait for a 
 suitable opportunity. As far as I remember, it 
 was really mentioned to Lavater. 
 
 My estimable friend Hess will very well re- 
 member all this. Stilling had this presentiment 
 on the 13th of July; and ten weeks and some 
 days afterwards, namely, on the 26th of Septem- 
 ber, Lavater received the mortal wound, the re- 
 sult of which was a continual martyrdom for 
 fifteen months, which terminated in his death. 
 
 The pious and truth-loving reader is kindly- 
 requested not to estimate such phenomena and 
 incidents higher than they deserve ; and rather 
 to pass no judgment upon them. A time wili 
 come when this presentiment will be again for- 
 cibly called to mind. 
 
 In the autumnal vacation Stilling took his 
 wife and children to the village of Münster, near 
 Butzbach in the Wetterau, to which place 
 Schwarz had been removed from Echzell. Still- 
 ing then travelled to Frakfort and Hanau, where 
 ophthalmic patients again awaited him ; bui 
 Eliza continued at Münster. 
 
 Among the remarkable individuals with whom 
 Stilling formed a personal or a more intimate 
 acquaintance on this journey was the reigning; 
 Landgrave of Homburg. He had already be- 
 come acquainted with this real Christian at 
 Prince Frederick's in Marburg, and now waited 
 upon him a few times at Frankfort. Next, the 
 reigning prince, Wolfgang Ernest of Isenburg- 
 
148 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 Birstein, and his excellent consort, both also 
 true Christians ; the reigning Count of Isenburg- 
 Büdingen, Ernest Cassimir, his consort, and her 
 sister, Countess Caroline of Bentheim Steinfurth, 
 all three truly evangelical-minded and very 
 worthy individuals. With the Countess Caro- 
 line, Stilling already carried on an edifying cor- 
 respondence ; her sister Polyzene, a very devout 
 woman, lived in Siegen ; with her also Stilling 
 had long carried on a religious correspondence ; 
 but she had entered into her rest some time be- 
 fore this period. 
 
 If in this history I frequently make mention 
 of persons of high rank who held Stilling worthy 
 of their confidence, I beg that this may not be 
 looked upon as done with an intent to boast of 
 it. 1 have no other object in view than to shew 
 the world that in the higher classes true Chris- 
 tianity has its adherents as well as in the lower. 
 I hold it my duty to say this very emphatically 
 and frequently; for within the last twenty or 
 thirty years it is become the order of the day to 
 degrade both rulers and nobility as much as pos- 
 sible. Certainly, in the present day, it is no 
 very special recommendation to pronounce any 
 one a true Christian, in the ancient evangelical 
 sense of the term ; but it is still less a recom- 
 mendation to describe a person as not a Chris- 
 tian, or even an anti-Christian. The spirit of 
 our times is very inconsistent. 
 
 Stilling found also in Büdingen three valuable 
 individuals, the Inspector Keller, the govern- 
 ment-advocate Hedebrand, and the young court- 
 chaplain Meister, a son of his Bremen friend, 
 from whom he heard a masterly and genuine 
 christian discourse. 
 
 After a very pleasant residence of three days 
 in Büdingen, Stilling set out for Butzbach, with 
 a young Mr. Von Grafenmeyer, who intended 
 proceeding to the university of Göttingen. The 
 road led through a fenny and watery country, 
 which was reported, at that time, to be unsafe. 
 Much was related of a tinman, or coppersmith, 
 who was said to be the captain of a band of rob- 
 bers, and to be at home in those parts. This, 
 therefore, furnished abundant matter for con- 
 versation between the coachman and the ser- 
 vant on the box. Midnight assaults, tales of 
 robbery, murder, and executions, of various 
 kinds, were related very seriously and solemn- 
 ly, and prob;.bly also embellished a little with 
 inventive fire. This continued until they reach- 
 ed the Florstadt forest. 
 
 All at once the coachman looked at the ser- 
 vant very significantly, and said, " There he is, 
 to a certainty !" Stilling looked out of the coach, 
 and saw a strong-made, tall, and grave-looking 
 man, in a blue coat with brass buttons, and 
 large lappets, a three-cornered hat on one ear, 
 and a knotty stick in his hand, walking for- 
 ward towards the wood; the coachman turned 
 about, and timidly and significantly whispered 
 into the coach, "There he is!" 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Why, the Tinman, to be sure!" 
 
 " So !" 
 
 This was certainly not pleasant; but Stilling 
 is not apprehensive in such cases. On entering 
 lue wood, he alighted on account of the bad 
 roads, and went before on foot, for he feared the 
 roads more than all the world of tinmen and 
 coppersmiths. The forest was full of wood- 
 men, nor did a single robber suffer himself to be 
 seen or heard.. 
 
 On arriving in the evening at Butzbach, Still- ' 
 
 ing found his good and faithful son-in-law 
 Schwarz; both passed the night with the head- 
 forester Beck, whose father-in-law Stilling freed 
 the next morning from the cataract; they then 
 went together to Münster, where they met with 
 Eliza and the rest of the family, and found them 
 well, according to circumstances. 
 
 After a quiet and refreshing residence of six 
 days, Stilling with his family commenced their 
 journey homewards. Schwarz accompanied 
 them to Butzbach, on Monday, the 14th of Oc- 
 tober. Here a little delay took place; they 
 breakfasted with the foresters, and Schwarz 
 went out to provide something. All at once he 
 came running back, just as Stilling was getting 
 into the coach, and exclaimed, "Dear father, 
 Lavater has been shot at, and severely wound- 
 ed !" This news penetrated like lightning and 
 a thunderbolt through Stilling's whole being; he 
 uttered a loud cry, and the tears rolled down his 
 cheeks. But with all his pain and sympathy, 
 he still felt a profound serenity and submission 
 to the will of God ; and the remarkable circum- 
 stance of his presentiment having been fulfilled, 
 gave him an uncommonly strong confidence that 
 the Lord had salutary objects in view in it. 
 They now proceeded on their journey, and ar- 
 rived in the evening at Marburg in safety. 
 
 The last year of the eighteenth century re- 
 volved, with respect to Stilling, loftily and heav- 
 ily in its sphere, although nothing particularly 
 remarkable occurred to him in it. During the 
 Easter vacation, he had again to travel to Frank- 
 fort, Offenbach, and Hanau. Eliza could not 
 accompany him this time. Stilling operated 
 upon several blind people in all three places. 
 At Hanau he resided three out of four days with 
 the government-councillor Riess, a brother of 
 his Marburg friend. He and his lady are among 
 Stilling and Eliza's most intimate friends. 
 
 He formed at this time a new acquaintance at 
 the Frankfort fair, — the celebrated merchant 
 Wirsching of Niirenburg. This old and vener- 
 able man had traveled, as it were, for pleasure, 
 with his children to the fair, and he was much 
 delighted to find Stilling there, whose biography 
 and other writings he had read with satisfaction 
 and benefit. Wirsching had been once a poor 
 orphan-boy, whose parents had left him nothing. 
 By diligence, blameless piety, confidence in God, 
 and by his eminent mercantile abilities, and his 
 long journeys, he had acquired a large proper- 
 ty; and with praise and thankfulness towards 
 his heavenly Guide, he showed his friend Still- 
 ing the two large magazines which were now 
 his property, filled with Nürenburg ware. Wirs- 
 ching, by his humility, modesty, and thorough 
 knowledge of religion, made a deep impression 
 upon Stilling, and they formed a fraternal alli- 
 ance with each other. After completing his 
 affairs, Stilling set off again for Marburg. 
 
 Lavater was not immediately mortally wound- 
 ed by the shot he had received; but still in such 
 a manner that the wound in time necessarily 
 became mortal. His sufferings affected all his 
 friends most deeply; tender sympathy impelled 
 them to mutual prayer for their friend, and 
 brought them nearer together. Stillins: corre- 
 sponded on his account, and respecting him, with 
 Passavant in Frankfort, the reformed preacher 
 Achelis in Göttingen, and also with a certain 
 lady called Julia. This pious and Christian 
 female, who had been exercised by many painful 
 sufferings, had been deeply and inwardly affect- 
 ed and edified in particular by Lavater's wri- 
 
STILLIN G'S YEARS OF TLITION. 
 
 149 
 
 tings. This induced her to enter into corre- 
 spondence with Lavater; but as she had well- 
 grounded reasons for remaining concealed, she 
 never discovered herself to him. He conse- 
 quently corresponded long with a certain Julia 
 in the North of Germany, without even having 
 the least knowledge who she was. He sent her 
 many tokens of remembrance and friendship, as 
 his manner was; but all this took place through 
 Passavant, who was acquainted with her secret 
 and knew her. It was during Lavater's painful 
 sufferings that Stilling first heard any thing of 
 Julia ; he wrote, therefore, to Passavant, to re- 
 veal to him, if possible, who this Julia was, and 
 after some time the disclosure was made. 
 
 Julia is the daughter of the late worthy and 
 upright Burgomaster Eicke, of Hanoverian Min- 
 den. She was married to the well-known and 
 pious divine Richerz, who was first university 
 preacher in Güttingen, and at length superin- 
 tendent at GifFhorn in Hanover. He became 
 celebrated by several good theological works, 
 and died also as a true Christian, alter a tedious 
 illness in consumption. J'ulia had likewise been 
 always very weakly and sickly ; she suffered 
 extremely in her own body, and was obliged 
 also to attend her sick husband : so that had not 
 her cheerful spirit, and her calm resignation to 
 the will of God, and in general, her religious 
 sentiments, supported her, she would have been 
 unable to bear all that affliction laid upon her. 
 She had no children, and lived as a widow in 
 Minden, her native town ; her father being now 
 very old and infirm, she regarded it as her duty 
 to wait upon and nurse him, and consequently 
 lived in the same house with him. 
 
 From this time Stilling corresponded very 
 frequently with Julia; and the subject of their 
 letters was Lavater's sufferings, and then the 
 only thing needful, which ought to be the chief 
 object of every Christian. 
 
 O, if all might be told that the Lord does to 
 his people, even the infidel would be astonished, 
 and yet not believe ! 
 
 Lavater maintained a lively correspondence 
 with Stilling, even on his sick-bed. They no 
 longerdiscussed controversially, but unanimous- 
 ly and fraternally, the most important religious 
 truths. A fortnight before his death, he wrote 
 for the last time to his friend in Marburg; and 
 on the 2d of January, 1801, two days after the 
 commencement of the nineteenth century, this 
 great and remarkable man expired ; he died as a 
 great witness for the truth of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, Stilling composed the well- 
 known poem entitled "Lavater's Glorification," 
 which was first printed separately, and after- 
 wards inserted at the end of the first volume of 
 the third edition of the "Scenes in the Invisible 
 World." Some critics would not allow that 
 Stilling was correct in terming Lavater a wit- 
 ness for the truth unto blood, and others main- 
 tained that his gun-shot wound was not the 
 cause of his death; but the thing speaks for 
 itself. 
 
 Lavater's sanctified heart perfectly forgave 
 his murderer; he even said he would subsequently 
 seek him out, whether in heaven or in hell, and thank 
 him for the wound which had been such an instruct- 
 ive school to him; and he gave orders, very ear- 
 nestly, that no inquiry should be set on foot re- 
 garding the unfortunate man, but that he should 
 be left to the Divine mercy. His bereaved fam- 
 ily obey him punctually in this ; but I may be 
 allowed to state what follows, in confirmation 
 of my assertion. 
 
 The soldier who mortally wounded Lavater, 
 was a Swiss, from the French part of the can- 
 ton of Bern (Pays de Vaud). He and one of 
 his comrades made a disturbance at a house 
 adjoining Lavater's parsonage. Lavater heard 
 them ask for something to drink ; he according- 
 ly took a bottle of wine and some bread, in or- 
 der to carry it to the two soldiers. The grena- 
 dier, who afterwards shot him, was particularly 
 friendly towards him ; he thanked him for what 
 they had consumed, and called him a dear fei- 
 /<n//(Bruder Herz), for he spoke German as well 
 as his native French tongue. Lavater then went 
 into his house again ; but the grenadier contin- 
 ued speaking with some Zurich people, who 
 stood near. Soon after, Lavater came again, in 
 order to request this friendly soldier to protect 
 him from another; but the man was now in a 
 rage at him, and shot him. 
 
 In what way can this horrible change in the 
 mind of this unhappy young man be accounted 
 for, except in the following manner'? He was 
 a well-educated man, and was acquainted with 
 Lavater's writings; for every Swiss, who was 
 able to read, had read them. He was at the 
 same time of revoluiionary principles, as were 
 very many of the Pays de Vaud people ; conse- 
 quently, not only of entirely opposite sentiments, 
 but also outrageously incensed against him on 
 account of his energy in reference to religion 
 and his country ; for not long before, his letters 
 to the French Director Reubel, and to the Di- 
 rectory itself, had appeared in print, and been 
 much read. When Lavater brought him the 
 bread and wine, he did not know who he was; 
 but after he was gone away, he spoke with the 
 bystanders, and learned that this friendly and 
 benevolent man was the Rev. Mr. Lavater. On 
 this he fell into a rage, which was increased by 
 his having drunk a little too much ; just at this 
 time, the good man unfortunately came to him, 
 and was shot. Every thing is thus easily com- 
 prehended and explained. In this persuasion, I 
 assert that Lavater is a witness for the truth 
 unto blood ; for he was mortally wounded on ac- 
 count of his religious and political sentiments 
 and testimony. 
 
 Lavater's death was like the signal to the great 
 and glorious development of Sailing's fate, which 
 still continued hidden in the impenetrable ob- 
 scurity of the future. In order to place the whole 
 affair most clearly in the light of truth, I must 
 circumstantially detail his whole situation ; the 
 Christian reader will find that it is worth the 
 while. 
 
 The members of Stilling's household, whom 
 he had to provide for, were the following indi- 
 viduals: 
 
 1. Father Wilhelm Stilling; who was now 
 in such a state that a young girl like Maria 
 could no longer wait upon him, but 
 
 2. An old woman was taken into service, who 
 tended him, and kept him and his bed clean. 
 Stilling's eldest step-sister, Maria's mother, a 
 truly worthy woman, came also occasionally to 
 assist; but having to keep house herself, was 
 soon obliged to return to her husband and chil- 
 dren. 
 
 3. Stilling himself; and 4, his Eliza. 
 
 5. Maria Coing ; she had been residing with 
 her brother, who the previous autumn had been 
 appointed minister at Braach, near Rotenburg 
 in Lower Hessia, for the purpose of superin- 
 tending his household ; but as she was weakly 
 and unaccustomed to a country life, she return- 
 ed the autumn following. 
 
150 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 6. Amalia Coing. Jacob's betrothed; these 
 two sisters were Eliza's faithful helpmates in 
 the housekeeping. The children of the Coings 
 had entrusted their property to their brother-in- 
 law, for which they boarded and lodged with him. 
 
 7. Jacob himself. After long waiting, he had 
 at length become government-advocate and at- 
 torney 3 in Marburg; a profession, however, 
 •which brought in little to a man of his charac- 
 ter. Though he lodged out of his father's house, 
 yet he ale at his table. 
 
 8. Caroline, who was now growing up, and 
 whom it was necessary to have instructed in ev- 
 ery thing that becomes a well-educated female. 
 
 9. 10, and 11. The three little children, Fred- 
 erick, Amalia, and Christina. 
 
 12. Maria, who served faithfully, sometimes 
 as child's maid, sometimes as kitchen-servant, 
 sometimes as housemaid, and who could not be 
 dispensed with. 
 
 13. An elderly widow of the name of Bobbin ; 
 her husband had died early, and left her with 
 three little boys; she had subsisted for a long 
 time upon daily labour, until Eliza took her into 
 service. Her real childlike simplicity, incor- 
 ruptible integrity, pure deportment, and undis- 
 sembled piety, made her of such value that she 
 was sent for on every occasion when help was 
 necessary. Her three sons had now each learnt 
 a trade, and were abroad; she herself obtained 
 a place in the St. James's Alms-houses at Mar- 
 burg, so that she is now provided for; but she 
 was the greater part of the time in Sailing's 
 house, where there was always enough for her 
 to do. She could not be employed to wait upon 
 Father Wilhelm, because she had an excessive 
 repugnance to any thing of the kind. Lastly, 
 there was also 
 
 14. A regular servant-woman, who is natural- 
 ly indispensable in such a household. 
 
 Every rational reader, who knows the arrange- 
 ment of a household in town, where every thing 
 is purchased for ready-money, and where pro- 
 priety of station must be observed, and reflects 
 also how Stilling was circumstanced with re- 
 spect to the poor blind people, will easily com- 
 prehend that at such dear times he could not pay 
 off any of his debts; the interest, however, was 
 regularly paid, and no new debts contracted. 
 
 With this domestic situation, let the reader 
 also consider Stilling's accumulated occupations 
 in his sphere of action : 
 
 1. A constant conflux of applications, both by 
 letter and in person, from ophthalmic patients 
 of every kind, from far and near; so that this 
 vocation alone was sufficient to employ a man, 
 but which, with the exception of the journeys, 
 brought in next to nothing in his practice at 
 home. But the journeys he undertook only when 
 he was sent for, and during the holidays. 
 
 2. An immense religious correspondence, the 
 importance and utility of which, in a variety of 
 ways, can only be judged of by him who has 
 seen the letters; and then the entreaties, from all 
 sides, to write religious works, and labor alone 
 for the Lord and his kingdom; from which 
 again he derived nothing, since the sale of the 
 copyrights by no means sufficed to pay the nu- 
 merous postages. Stilling had therefore two ex- 
 tremely important species of vocation, both which 
 were extensively and beneficially useful, and to 
 which, particularly to the religious sphere of ac- 
 tion, he now felt himself fully called and des- 
 tined. But having at the same time such a nu- 
 merous and expensive household, and then these 
 
 two vocations from whence pay was not to be 
 thought of nor expected, how could these be made 
 to harmonize'? and besides all this, a burden- 
 some debt of from sixteen to seventeen hundred 
 guilders ; how was this amount to be liquidated 1 
 Add to these, 
 
 3. Stilling's professorship, which, from rea- 
 sons already mentioned, became more and more 
 unproductive, and his lecture-room more and 
 more empty. Neither his acknowledged ani- 
 mated delivery, nor his perspicuity, which had 
 been formerly so much admired, nor his fluent 
 eloquence, any longer availed. In short, the 
 study of finance began to go out of fashion in 
 Marburg, and the number of students, from well- 
 known causes, decreased in every faculty ; and 
 it was this unproductive, ever-retrograding vo- 
 cation, for which Stilling was kept in pay, and 
 without which he could not possibly live. 
 
 In addition to all this, there was also the pain- 
 ful, conscientious feeling, iliat a man of integri- 
 ty, even if not a true Christian, must resign his of- 
 fice awl salary into the hands of his prince, as soon 
 as he is unable to administer it consistently with 
 duty ; and though this may not be his fault, yet he is 
 still bound to do so. This requirement, which no 
 sophist can demonstrate out of Stilling's con- 
 science, rendered him anxious and apprehen- 
 sive, and yet he could not yield obedience to it; 
 he was bound, as it were, both hand and foot. 
 
 I now ask every sensible reader, what possi- 
 ble means of escape or deliverance could be 
 thought of? In the present state of his house- 
 hold he required above two thousand guilders an- 
 nually, without being able to pay off any of his 
 debts. 
 
 This sum must either be given him by the 
 Elector of Hesse, along with his dismission from 
 his professorship, or — a foreign prince must give 
 Stilling an appointment as oculist and religious 
 author, with a salary of two thousand guilders. 
 
 These were the only methods to be thought 
 of, for his deliverance from this situation. 
 
 He that is only in some measure acquainted 
 with the Hessian constitution knows that the 
 first-mentioned plan was morally impossible ; 
 besides which, an event occurred in the winter 
 of 1803 which made it likewise morally impossi- 
 ble on the part of Stilling; as I will subsequent- 
 ly relate in its proper place. 
 
 To hold forth the possibility, or at least the 
 ^practicability of the second way of deliverance 
 as the object of his hope, would have been en- 
 thusiastic vanity ; and even if this object were 
 attained, Stilling could not remove from Mar- 
 burg; for father Wilhelm was in such circum- 
 stances that he could not be removed even a sin- 
 gle league ; and to leave him behind, amongst 
 strangers, did not lie in Stilling's and Eliza's 
 sphere of possibility. Besides which, Jacob was 
 also not yet provided for; and to support him 
 from a distance, take his Amalia with them and 
 separate her from him, was considered on all 
 sides too hard. In a word, in this case there 
 were also insuperable difficulties. 
 
 Such were Stilling's circumstances. His 
 manifold occupations and his oppressive situa- 
 tion rendered his life painful to him; to which 
 was also joined his wonted inward melancholy, 
 so that he needed every possible experience de- 
 rivable from suffering and a continual walk in 
 the presence of God, with uninterrupted watch- 
 ing and prayer, in order not to sink under the 
 burden. Under such circumstances, travelling 
 was beneficial to him, and another journey now 
 occurred. 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 151 
 
 The " Nostalgia," and the " History of the 
 Triumph," had procured him a great number 
 of friends and correspondents of all ranks, learn- 
 ed and unlearned, male and female, of every 
 province in Germany, but especially in Wiir- 
 temberg, and still more so in Switzerland. In 
 St. Gall, Schaffhausen, Winterthur, Ziirich, 
 Bern, Bäsle, and up and down the country, there 
 "were many friends of Stilling and readers of his 
 works. Besides this, young Kirchhofer, an ex- 
 cellent youth, the only son of the worthy co-rec- 
 tor Kirchhofer of ScharThausen, had studied di- 
 vinity about the year 1795 in Marburg, and was 
 treated in Stilling's house as if he had been at 
 home. He was now preacher at Schlatt, in his 
 native canton. Through this connection an in- 
 timate bond of friendship had been formed be- 
 tween the families of the Kirchhofers and the 
 Stillings; the four religiously disposed and ac- 
 complished sisters of young Kirchhofer, who 
 possess an extensive acquaintance with the 
 Lord's true worshippers through the whole of 
 Switzerland, and correspond diligently with 
 them, now commenced a correspondence with 
 Stilling, and procured him a still greater and 
 very interesting circle of acquaintances. All 
 this prepared the way for the journey which was 
 by far the most important and considerable in 
 Stilling's life hitherto. 
 
 In March of the year 1801, he received, very 
 unexpectedly, a letter from his dear friend the 
 Rev. Mr. Sulzer of Winterthur, who was a neph- 
 ew of the celebrated and learned Sulzer of Ber- 
 lin, in which he was asked whether he could 
 come that spring to Winterthur, to perform the 
 operation on a very venerable matron who was 
 blind of the cataract; for she wished, with the 
 Divine assistance, to receive her sight again 
 from Stilling,, whom she esteemed and loved ; 
 for the expenses of the journey and the time it 
 would occupy, he would be duly remunerated. 
 This proposition filled Stilling's" soul with joy; 
 and the children, particularly Jacob, foreboded a 
 happy result from the journey. Notwithstand- 
 ing all this, Stilling thought that prudence was 
 necessary in undertaking so great and expensive 
 a journey. He therefore wrote again to Sulzer, 
 stating that he would willingly come, but that 
 Eliza must accompany him, and as the diligence 
 travelled during the night she could not avail 
 herself of it, on account of weakness, but must 
 travel post, and this would be rather expensive. 
 Sulzer only briefly answered, that every thing 
 would be adjusted, and they had nothing to do 
 but to come. 
 
 Stilling now applied to the Elector for permis- 
 sion; and he and his Eliza made preparations 
 for this extremely interesting and desirable jour- 
 ney. And in order to be the more at ease, it 
 -was agreed that Jacob, Arnalia, Caroline, and 
 the three little ones, should be taken to brother 
 Coing and sister Maria at Braach, pass some 
 time there, then leave little Amalia and Freder- 
 ick with them, and return with the' elder Ama- 
 lia, Caroline, and Christina, who was now two 
 years old, by way of Bergheim, to visit the 
 Countess of Waldeck, who had removed from 
 Marburg. During the time of their absence, 
 the good Maria and the rest of the household 
 ■were to nurse the old grandfather, and attend to 
 the housekeeping. This plan was carried into 
 execution minutely. 
 
 Stilling and Eliza commenced their first Swiss 
 journey on the 27th of M^rr-h, 1801, at five o'clock 
 in the morning. At Butzbach they met their 
 
 children and grandchildren Schwarz, who wish- 
 ed them a happy journey; and in the evening 
 they were received with joy by the amiable lam- 
 ily of the Hausknechts at Frankfort. The next 
 day they purchased a variety of necessaries lbr 
 the journey; Stilling bought, in particular, a 
 light travelling-carriage, which he required for 
 such a long journey ; and on the 29th of March, 
 took post-horses to Heidelberg. 
 
 I must not forget to observe that Stilling, on 
 the first day of his journey, was attacked by tor- 
 menting spasms in the stomach in all their vio- 
 lence ; lbr some time previous, they had entire- 
 ly left him. This embittered, it is true, all the 
 pleasure ; but he afterwards found how good it 
 was that the Lord had given him to taste this 
 bitter on the way; for without it he would cer- 
 tainly have been in danger of soaring too high, 
 and of suffering a dreadful fall, by reason of all 
 the commendations and marks of respect he re- 
 ceived. 
 
 Our travellers pleased themselves much with 
 the expectation of reaching Heidelberg, partly 
 in the hope of seeing their friends the Miegs, but 
 still more so Lisette, who was now fifteen years 
 old, and whom they had not seen since 1791, 
 consequently for ten years. This young girl 
 had won the hearts of all who knew her, by her 
 distinguished and very peculiarly amiable dis- 
 position. Every one that came from Heidel- 
 berg, and had been at Mieg's house, could not 
 say enough in praise of Lisette ; her whole 
 character was piety, and a tranquil and peaceful 
 cheerfulness ; her whole being, apart from all 
 noisy recreations, lived only in a higher sphere, 
 and her praying soul adhered with her whole 
 heart to her Redeemer. To press such a daugh- 
 ter once more to the parental breast, was pure 
 and sublime delight. 
 
 Lisette had also expected her parents so ar- 
 dently, that it was necessary, in the evening, to 
 refresh her with a little wine, as it was some- 
 what late before they arrived. At half-past eight 
 they stopped at Mieg's door; the welcome was 
 indescribable. They spent the Monday at Heid- 
 elberg, and rode on Tuesday to Ueilbronn ; on 
 Wednesday they continued their journey, and 
 arrived towards noon at Ludwigsburg. At the 
 Orphan-house there, they met with Stuttgard 
 friends, who were come to meet them ; namely, 
 the minister Von Seckendorf, with whom Still- 
 ing had stood in a religious and friendly connec- 
 tion for many years; Doctor Reus, the physi- 
 cian to the court, and Walther, councillor of 
 state, if I mistake not, from Gaildorf ; a French 
 army-surgeon named Oberlin, a son of that dear 
 man of God, Oberlin of Steinthal in Alsace, and 
 perhaps some others, whom 1 no longer recollect. 
 Stilling rejoiced particularly to see his old friend 
 again, Israel Hartmann, the orphan schoolmas- 
 ter, of whom Lavater said, " If Christ were now 
 living amongst us, he would choose him for an 
 apostle." The whole company dined together 
 at the Orphan-house, and every one felt happy ; 
 there is something great in a company of purely 
 good men. Eliza sat next to the worthy old 
 Hartmann ; she was never weary with looking 
 at him, and listening to him; especially as she 
 found a resemblance between him and her late 
 father Coing. An intimate bond of friendship, 
 for time and eternity, was formed between Doc- 
 tor Reus, his lady, Stilling, and Eliza. In the 
 afternoon, they all rode to Stuttgard, where 
 Stilling and Eliza took up their residence in the 
 house of Mr. Von Seckendorf. 
 
152 HEINRICH 
 
 Stilling formed here also numerous and re- 
 markable personal acquaintance with pious and 
 learned natives of Wurtemburg, amongst whom 
 his heart adhered particularly to Storr Rieger 
 the court-chaplain, Dann, and others. He found 
 here also unexpectedly his friend Matthison, who 
 was residing with his former inmate, the wor- 
 thy aulic counsellor Hartmann. 
 
 The next day, being Holy Thursday, they 
 rode to Tubingen; on Good Friday to Tuttlin- 
 gen ; and the Saturday before Easter to Schaff- 
 hausen, where they were received with loud ex- 
 pressions of joy by the family of the Kirchhof- 
 ers. 
 
 On the way from Tuttlingen to Schaff hausen, 
 in riding over the hill, there is a place from 
 which a prospect presents itself, which to a Ger- 
 man who has never been in Switzerland, and 
 has a feeling for any thing of the kind, is aston- 
 ishing. From Tuttlingen, the road leads gradu- 
 ally up an ascent, and over it to the summit, 
 from whence the following view is seen : on the 
 left, towards the south-east, about the distance 
 of a league, stands the Riesenfels (Giant- Rock), 
 with its ruined fortress, Hohen-Twiel ; and to- 
 wards the south-west, on the right, at about the 
 same distance, its brother, an equally strong and 
 lofty giant, with its likewise ruined fortress, 
 Hohenstaufen, bids us defiance. Between these 
 two side-posts, the following prospect shows it- 
 self: to the left, along the Hohentwiel, about 
 three German miles broad, the Bodensee glitters 
 far and wide, like liquid silver; on the south 
 side of it, we overlook the paradisiacal Thurgau, 
 and beyond it, the Graubundtner Alps. More 
 to the right, the canton Appenzell will) its snow- 
 clad mountains, the canton Glarus with its giant 
 hills, and particularly the Glarnitsch soaring 
 high above the rest; the lofty Sentis and the 
 seven-toothed Kuhfirsten, lie more eastward. 
 Thus the prospect extends over the whole range 
 of the snowy mountains, as far as into the can- 
 ton of Bern, and a great part of Switzerland. 
 This was an exhilarating feast for Stilling's 
 eyes. When one looks at the whole Alpine 
 range, as it lies along the horizon, it appears 
 like a great saw, with which planets might be 
 cut asunder. 
 
 Stilling continued at Schaff hausen till Easter 
 Tuesday. He performed several successful 
 ophthalmic operations; amongst which one was 
 particularly remarkable, on a youth of fifteen 
 years of age, who was born blind, a son of the 
 pious Professor Altorfer, and who underwent 
 the operation on Easter Monday morning, in the 
 presence of many persons. When the first ray 
 of light beamed into his right eye, on being 
 freed from the cataract, he rose up and exclaim- 
 ed, " I see the majesty of God !" This expres- 
 sion affected all present, even to tears; theoper- 
 tion was then performed on the other eye. A 
 slight inflammation afterwards hindered the at- 
 tainment of perfect vision; however, he has a 
 partial power of sight, and Stilling hopes, by a 
 second operation, to restore to him the perfect 
 use of his eyes. 
 
 I must also mention another pretty thought of 
 the good youth's. His parents had caused a 
 gold ring to be made, in which a beautiful lock 
 of hair lrom every member of the family was in- 
 closed, and heavily embossed with golden fruits. 
 Eliza had this ring presented to her after the 
 operation ; and the dear patient had had the 
 idea of having the following device engraved 
 upon it, " Written in faith, presented in sight;" 
 but the space was not sufficient. 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 The same day, in the afternoon, Stilling and 
 Eliza, accompanied by the Kirchhofer family, 
 went to the Rhinefall on foot ; but his spasmodic 
 attacks were so violent that he was often obliged 
 to remain behind, and had not the expected en- 
 joyment of this sublime spectacle of nature. 
 Stilling and Eliza went along the wooden balus- 
 trade, so near the waterfall that they could have 
 washed in it. This striking natural phenomenon 
 is utterly indescribable ; it must be seen and 
 heard in order to form a correct idea of it. The 
 continual thunder, the trembling of the ground 
 on which one stands, and the immense mass of 
 water, which hurls itself with irresistible force 
 about eighty feet down the rocks, foaming with 
 milky whiteness, and precipitating itself roaring 
 into the wide and boiling gulf below, to the ex- 
 tent of a couple of hundred feet — all this together 
 presents a spectacle in which proud man be- 
 comes a worm in the dust. Generally speaking, 
 the scenery of Switzerland is of such a charac- 
 ter that it shows its proud sister Art its superi- 
 ority, and humbles her under its mighty hand. 
 
 The day following, that is, on Easter Tues- 
 day, in the afternoon, our travellers rode to 
 Winterthur. Half-way, at the romantic town 
 of Andolfingen-under-Thur, they found their 
 venerable friend the Rev. Mr. Sulzer, with a few 
 of the family of the matron who had sent for 
 Stilling. They had come to meet them, and re- 
 ceived them most tenderly and cordially. They 
 then proceeded ön their journey to Winterthur, 
 where they arrived in the twilight of evening. 
 
 The patient who had sent for Stilling was the 
 widow Frey, who resided at the sign of the 
 Harp. She had two sons with her in the house, 
 who were married, and with whose assistance 
 she carries on a considerable business. Stilling 
 and his Eliza were received and treated — if I 
 dare so express myself— as angels of God. 
 
 Dear reader, pardon me for here giving vent 
 to a very just effusion of my heart, which I find 
 it impossible to restrain. 
 
 I cannot possibly express in words what Still- 
 ing and Eliza enjoyed in the family of the Freys 
 — that outer-court of heaven! They will both 
 one day thank every dearly-beloved member of 
 that family before the heavenly hosts, and pro- 
 claim aloud the benefits they have received from, 
 them, which tongue and pen are too feeble to ex- 
 press; and the Lord will reward them, both here 
 and hereafter. Eliza formed a permanent and 
 intimate sisterly alliance with the daughters-in- 
 law of Madame Frey. 
 
 Stilling performed the operation on the worthy 
 lady, the next day, with perfect success. An in- 
 flammation afterwards took place in the right 
 eye ; but with the left she is able, thank God ! to 
 see very well. 
 
 Stilling was completely occupied with busi- 
 ness during his residence at Winterthur. He 
 daily performed several operations, and hun- 
 dreds of sufferers came to consult him; and to 
 this was joined intolerably tormenting spasmodic 
 attacks, by which every enjoyment was griev- 
 ously embittered. However, on Friday the 10th 
 of April, he received a visit which for a short 
 time counterbalanced the spasms. Lavater's 
 pious brother, Senator Diethelm Lavater, a very 
 able physician; the devoutly cheerful Gessner, 
 Lavater's son-in-law; and Louisa, the unwea- 
 ried nurse and attendant of her glorified father; 
 and then another noble sufferer, a widow Fuess- 
 li, of Zurich, who now already mingles with the 
 harpers on the glassy sea in 'their hallelujahs — 
 
STILLING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 153 
 
 these four dear people entered Sailing's apart- 
 ment. Thus will it on ■ day be, when we have 
 overcome, and reach the plains of light in the 
 kingdom of God. The blessed spirits of former 
 times, oar dear predecessors, and all the emi- 
 nent saints whom we have so much wished to 
 know here below, will hasten to our embrace ; 
 and then to see tlie Lord Himse/f— with his radi- 
 ant wounds! — the pen falls from my hands. 
 
 These dear friends stayed to dine, and then 
 travelled back again to Zurich. 
 
 On Monday the 13th of April, Stilling set out 
 for Zurich, accompanied by Sulzer, the young 
 Kirchhofer of Schaff hausen, and the above- 
 mentioned Madame Fuessli, to visit the friends 
 there, as also to inspect a cataract patient, who 
 awa ted him; this was the celebrated manufac- 
 turer and merchant Esslinger, whose pious and 
 benevolent sentiments are universally known, 
 and who is alreaJy receiving their reward in the 
 kingdom of light above. Esslinger resolved 
 upon the operation with the following words: 
 " I had committed the matter to the Lord, and 
 expected help from him; He now sends it into 
 my house, I will therefore receive it thankfully." 
 
 Stilling now saw likewise the venerable widow 
 of his glorified brother Lavater — a woman who 
 was worthy of such a man — the image of the 
 most exalted Christian virtues. Truly Lavater's 
 widow and children belong to the best class of 
 mankind ! In the evening, Stilling, accompanied 
 by Suker, travelled back to Winterthur. 
 
 Stillin? there received a letter from the magis- 
 trates of Schaffhausen, in which they thanked 
 him very kindly and obligingly for the benefits 
 he hid bestowed upon some unfortunate people 
 in their town. But on the day of his departure 
 for Zurich, another peculiar honor was done 
 him. Whilst at dinner at Madame Frey's, 
 Doctor Steiner, an excellent young man, who 
 was a member of the magistracy, came and 
 presented Stil linsr with an address in the name 
 of the town of Winterthur, accompanied by a 
 very handsome massive silver medal, in a neat 
 cover which a lady of Winterthur had embroi- 
 dered. On the outside of this cover stand the 
 words : 
 
 " The gift divine bestow'd on thee, 
 To cause the darken'd eye to see, 
 Restoring heaven's reviving light, 
 Where all was dull and cheerless night — 
 Impels full many a heart to praise 
 The God of mercy and of grace." 
 
 On one side of the medal, the following in- 
 scription is cut, in the lapidary style: 
 
 "Presented to the Christian philanthropist, 
 Heinrich Stilling, Aulic Counsellor and Profes- 
 sor at Marburg, by the elders of the church at 
 Winterthur, as a trifling memorial of his benef- 
 icent residence in that town in April of the year 
 1801, and as a testimony of the respect and 
 grateful love of its inhabitants." 
 
 On the other side stands, engraved in the 
 same manner : 
 
 " Unweariedly active in affording consolation 
 to suffering: humanity, he sows excellent seed 
 for the great day of recompense." 
 
 My readers may easily think with what emo- 
 tion and deep humiliation before God he receiv- 
 ed this honorable testimonial, and how he replied 
 to it. 
 
 On this solemn day, Thursday the 16th of 
 April, Stilling and Eliza took their departure 
 from Winterthur for Zurich, amidst the regrets 
 of all their friends. They there took up their I 
 
 abode with Gessner, who, with his excellent 
 spouse— a daughter of Lavater, who was with 
 him in Copenhagen — received them with the 
 arms of friendship. 
 
 The first work which Stilling performed in 
 Zurich, was an operation on Esslinger. It suc- 
 ceeded very well ; he received his sight, but 
 soon after gutta serena ensued, and he continued 
 incurably blind till his death. 
 
 This family also Stilling can only sufficiently 
 thank in eternity; it is impossible here. 
 
 In Zurich he was oppressed and tormented 
 outwardly by an indescribable concourse of 
 ophthalmic patients, and inwardly by the most 
 painful spasmodic attacks. Occasionally, his 
 patience forsook him, so that he treated the peo- 
 ple harshly, and complained of the multitude 
 that came to him. Several Zurich people took 
 this so much amiss, that he afterwards found it 
 advisable to circulate a written document in that 
 town, in which he begged pardon of all and 
 every one whom he had offended. It is impos- 
 sible to mention here by name the numerous re- 
 markable and excellent individuals of both sex- 
 es, with whom Stilling became personally ac- 
 quainted in Switzerland generally, and particu- 
 larly in Zurich, and who deemed him worthy of 
 their friendship. Hess, the Doctors Hirzel, fa- 
 ther and son, professor Meyer, the celebrated en- 
 graver and painter Lips, who took Sailing's 
 likeness, and engraved it, and several other re- 
 spectable individuals, distinguished themselves, 
 next to Lavater's family, relatives and friends, 
 by marks of friendship. 
 
 On Tuesday the 2dth of April, Stilling and 
 his Eliza, after taking a very affecting leave, 
 set off from Zurich. Doctor Steiner of Winter- 
 thur, who presented him the medal, and his 
 young friend the Rev. Mr. Kirchhofer of Schlatt, 
 accompanied them. 
 
 It must not be forgotten that the magistrates 
 of Zurich also thanked Stilling in an official let- 
 ter. 
 
 They pursued their journey from Zurich by 
 way of Baden and Lenzburg to Zofipgen, in the 
 canton of Bern, where Stilling was to perforin 
 the operation on Bailiff Senn ; (at the word bail- 
 iff, the reader must not imagine to himself a 
 German village bailiff.) It was on this account 
 that Doctor Steiner accompanied them, for he 
 was a relative of Senn ; and as Stilling could 
 not prolong his stay, Steiner intended to remain 
 in Zcfingen a few days, to perfect the cure. 
 Senn is a venerable man ; and placid, modest, 
 christian virtue is the chief trait in his and his 
 family's character. 
 
 On Wednesday morning the 22nd of April, 
 Stilling performed the operation on Bailiff Senn, 
 and also on a poor girl ; and then travelled with 
 his Eliza down the beautiful valley, along the 
 Aar, through Aarburgh and Olten, and up the 
 Hauenstein. This hill would be looked upon 
 in Germany as a lofty mountain, but here it is 
 considered of no account. On the top, the road 
 is hewn through a rock; and when past the sum- 
 mit, there is a prospect of Germany ; in the 
 north-west, the Vogesen mountains are indis- 
 tinctly seen, and in the north the beginning of 
 the Black Forest is perceptible ; on the other 
 hand, the whole Alpine chain appears in the 
 southern horizon. 
 
 After they had ridden for some distance on 
 this side, they reached a solitary inn, out of which 
 a well-dressed pretty woman came running, who 
 inquired, in a very friendly manner, whether 
 
154 HEINRICH 
 
 Stilling was in the carriage. On hearing the an- 
 swer in the affirmative, her whole heart and eyes 
 overflowed with expressions of love and friend- 
 ship. She brought them out a breakfast; her 
 husband and children also joined them, and a 
 quarter of an houi's very cordial and christian 
 conversation ensued; the travellers then took 
 their leave, and proceeded further down the val- 
 ley. The place is called Leufelfingen ; and the 
 landlord's name is Fluhebacher. Stilling has 
 since carried on an edifying correspondence with 
 Madame Fluhebacher. 
 
 At six in the morning the travellers arrived at 
 Bäsle, where they were received in the most 
 friendly manner by Senator Daniel Schorndorff, 
 his consort, and children. In this dear and re- 
 ligiously-disposed family they spent several hap- 
 py days. 
 
 There was here also much to do. Stilling 
 again formed important acquaintances; partic- 
 ularly with the divines, &c, of the "German 
 Society for the promotion of true Godliness," 
 as also with the pious preachers, Huber, La 
 Roche, &c. 
 
 After a four days' residence, Stilling took an 
 affecting leave of his friends here also, and set 
 out from Bäsle with his Eliza on Monday the 
 27th of April, early in the morning. 
 
 Now, my dear readers, he that hath ears to 
 hear, let him hear ; and he that has a heart to feel, 
 let him feel ! 
 
 Stilling was indebted to the amount of one 
 thousand six hundred and fifty guilders; amongst 
 the seventy-two individuals, blind of the cataract, 
 wlwm he couched in Switzerland, there was one, 
 who knew not a word of his debts — or at least, could 
 not remotely suppose the amount of them — and sim- 
 ply from an inward impulse to place Stilling in 
 more easy circumstances for the future, paid him 
 exactly one thousand six hundred and fifty guilders 
 for couching the cataract, and the consequent cure. 
 "When Stilling and Eliza went up to their bed- 
 chamber in the evening, they found the money, 
 partly in cash, and the remainder in bills, upon 
 their bed, exactly the amount of their debts, of 
 which this instrument in the hand of God knew 
 not a word ! 
 
 What were the feelings of the good couple ! 
 With an unparalleled emotion they both sank 
 down at the bed-side upon their knees, and ren- 
 dered ardent thanks to Him who had so very 
 visibly given this unspeakably important testi- 
 mony of his most special providence and gui- 
 dance. 
 
 Eliza said, " This may properly be called 
 1 giving to his beloved sleeping f from this time 
 I will never distrust Him again." 
 
 Still more ! the worthy individual who a few 
 years before sent the three hundred guilders, 
 when Stilling was at Cassel, and Eliza in needy 
 circumstances, was also visited, in order to 
 return her due thanks. Her husband under- 
 went the operation ; and when Stilling protested 
 against any further payment, the worthy man 
 said, very pathetically, "That is my business!" 
 and then sent six hundred guilders to Stilling at 
 his lodgings ; with this, the expenses of the 
 journey were likewise paid. 
 
 Still more ! Selling's heavenly Guide knew 
 that in a few years he would require a hand- 
 some sum ; but Stilling had no presentiment of 
 such a necessity. This was provided for by the 
 sums paid him by several wealthy patients, with 
 many thanks. Besides this, so many presents 
 and memorials of affection in jewellery were add- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 ed. that Stilling and Eliza returned from Switz- 
 erland like two bees from a journey amongst the 
 flowers. 
 
 Dear readers, God the Omniscient knows that 
 all this is pure and unembellished truth. But if 
 this is pure and sacred truth, what results from 
 it 1 At the close of this volume we shall dis- 
 cover. 
 
 Our travellers now took their way through 
 the Breisgau down to Carlsruhe. From Bäsle 
 to this place, or rather to Rastadt, Stilling was 
 martyred by a dreadful feeling of anxiety. It 
 seemed to him as if he were going to meet cer- 
 tain death. The occasion of this was a warning, 
 which was secretly and seriously given him at 
 Bäsle, on no account to return through Stras- 
 burg, from which place also this warning ema- 
 nated, a friend having written to Bäsle expressly 
 respecting it. 
 
 Besides this, there was another circumstance ; 
 a certain dangerous man threatened Stilling, 
 when at Bäsle, whose enmity was excited only 
 by his writings, which contain much that is in- 
 tolerable to a revolutionary freethinker. I know 
 to a certainty, that there are people who gnash 
 their teeth with rage if only Sti.ling's name is 
 mentioned. Strange ! Stilling gnashes his teeth 
 at no one's name. Friends, on which side is the 
 truth 1 Verily, verily, not on the side of those 
 who thus act. 
 
 With all this, it is still something singular 
 that Stilling, at certain times, and often on still 
 inferior occasions, is seized with such an in- 
 describable terror; while in other and far great- 
 er dangers he is often not at all dismayed. I be- 
 lieve that it proceeds from the influence of some 
 invisible evil being, some angel of Satan, to 
 which God, for wise reasons, sometimes gives 
 permission. Physical predisposition may give 
 occasion to such a fiery trial, but the whole of 
 the temptation is founded neither in the body 
 nor the soul ; but this can be proved by nothing 
 but individual experience. The Holy Scrip- 
 tures testify that there are such siftings of Sa- 
 tan. 
 
 Stilling's anxiety was at its height at Freiburg, 
 in the Breisgau, at Offenburg, and at Appenwe- 
 yer. At Rastadt it became tolerable; but his 
 spasmodic attacks then began to rage violently. 
 On Monday the 29th of April, they set off in the 
 morning with a drowsy postillion and two wea- 
 ried horses, for Carlsruhe; on the way, the 
 spasms in the stomach were almost intolerable, 
 and Stilling longed for repose. At first, he was 
 unwilling to visit the Elector, but wished rather 
 to rest himself; however, he still thought that 
 as that great, wise, and pious prince had read 
 the " Nostalgia" with so much approbation, and 
 had written to him a few times in consequence 
 of it, it was his duty at least to make the attempt, 
 and ascertain whether he would be admitted to 
 an audience. He went therefore to the palace, 
 announced himself, was immediately introduced, 
 and urged to return in the evening for an hour, 
 at five o'clock. I say not a word more respect- 
 ing this visit, except that it laid the remote found- 
 ation for the final solution of Stilling's destiny, 
 without his having any presentiment of it at the 
 time. 
 
 On Thursday the 30th of April, they travelled 
 from Carlsruhe to Heidelberg. Lisette had pray- 
 ed during the whole time that her parents might 
 have a prosperous journev. The next morning, 
 Friday the first of Mav, thev journeyed further. 
 Mieg and Lisette accompanied them to Heppen- 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 155 
 
 heim, where, before the door of the inn, they saw 
 their Lisette for th- last time in this lile. Mieg 
 went back with her to Heidelberg, and Stilling 
 anu Eliza continued their way to Frankfort, 
 where they arrived safe and well the following 
 day. 
 
 From Frankfort, they made an excursion to 
 the Schlangen bad, in order to perform the opera- 
 tion on the old and venerable Burggrave Rull- 
 mann and some poor people. There, in pleas- 
 ing solitude, they had time to recapitulate the 
 whole journey ; and after accomplishing all that 
 was desired, they proceeded on their return to 
 Marburg, where they arrived on the 15th of 
 May, and found the whole family in good health. 
 
 The first thing Stilling now undertook was the 
 liquidation of his debts. The greater part of the 
 principal sum which had been advanced him at 
 Schönenthal, immediately after his return from 
 Strasburg, on the security of his father-in-law, 
 was still owing, nor was the security removed ; 
 but now it was done at once. He now did not 
 owe any one a farthing, to the best of his recol- 
 lection. He had formerly removed from Heid- 
 elberg in order that he might liquidate his debts 
 by means of his large salary; this was his and 
 Selma's plan, but not the Lord's; for the chief 
 amount was not paid by the salary, but by the 
 funds provided by Providence. The Lord's in- 
 tention in removing him to Marburg was no 
 other than to preserve him from the misery and 
 terrors of war, by bringing him to a place of 
 safety, and then to crown, in a striking manner, 
 his thirty years' unshaken stedfastness in con- 
 fiding in His aid. even in the darkest times, and 
 in a country which had been the most exhausted 
 by war ; so that every one must confess and say, 
 "'This is the Lord's doing." 
 
 Should any object to my saying that it was 
 the Lord's plan to preserve Stilling from the hor- 
 rors of war, since there have been much better 
 men who have been obliged to endure them, the 
 following may be to such a serviceable reply: 
 That a good shepherd marks the weakest of his slieep ; 
 and such as can endure the least are the chief and 
 primary objects of his care, that he may protect them 
 from the storm and tempest. 
 
 When Providence intends to accomplish any 
 thing, it does not do it by halves, but entirely. 
 Stilling was indebted, when he studied at Stras- 
 burg, between forty and fifty guilders, to a friend 
 there ; the latter did not urge the payment, and 
 Stilling had so much to do with his' other bur- 
 densome debts, that he was happy when a cred- 
 itor let him alone. This went on till the French 
 revolution when every thing was turned up-side- 
 down in Strasburg, as well as elsewhere. The 
 war afterwards broke out, by which the commu- 
 nication between Germany and France was ren- 
 dered extremely difficult; and as Stilling had 
 more heavy and urgent debts, he thought no 
 more of this amount. But his heavenly Guide, 
 who is thoroughly and perfectly just, by no 
 means forgot it; for immediately after Still ing's 
 journey to Switzerland, a friend came to the 
 brother of the Strasburg creditor, who had died 
 long before, and paid him not only the small 
 sum owing, but also the interest for thirty years, 
 so that his payment amounted to nearly a hun- 
 dred guilders. Stilling therefore received from 
 an unknown hand the acknowledgment for this 
 amount ; but he has never learnt who the friend 
 was that so nobly performed this act of kindness. 
 But he will eventually find thee, thou noble- 
 minded individual, where everv thing is made 
 
 manifest, and he will then be able to thank thee 
 as thou deservest ! 
 
 This was therefore, indeed, a blessed, debt- 
 liquidating journey! A mighty difficulty was 
 now gloriously surmounted. After being obliged 
 to incur a load of debt to the amount of four thou- 
 sand five hundred guilders, and then to be enabled 
 to pay the whole, without any property, merely by 
 faith, uprightly and honestly, with the interest, to 
 the very last farthing, did not fail to call forth his 
 fervent hallelujahs. 
 
 A few weeks after Stilling's return from Switz- 
 erland, something remarkable occurred to him. 
 He was sitting one forenoon at his desk, when 
 some one knocked at his door. On calling out, 
 " Come in !" a young man of from twenty-seven 
 to thirty years of age entered the room. He ap- 
 peared restless and uneasy, looked timidly about 
 him, and often cast a shy glance at Lavater's 
 portrait. "You have been in Zurich," said he; 
 "1 was there also; I must be gone;" he walk- 
 ed about in a state of agitation, looked at Lava- 
 ter's picture, and said hastily, " I cannot remain 
 in Germany — I am every where unsafe; 1 might 
 be caught; O sir! help me in making my es- 
 cape!" Stilling felt embarrassed, and asked 
 him if he were a Swiss"? "O yes," answered 
 he, "lama Swiss; but I have no rest— I wish 
 to go to America ; assist me in getting thither I" 
 He said other things besides, and continued rap- 
 idly to pace the room, looking at Lavater's pic- 
 ture, which excited a suspicion in Stilling's mind 
 that he was Lavater's murderer. He therefore 
 advised him to go to Hamburg, where he would 
 always find opportunity to go to America ; but 
 told him to hasten, lest he should fall into the 
 hands of the police. The poor man then sud- 
 denly ran out of the door, and disappeared. 
 
 After Stilling had thus honestly thrown of! 
 the burden of his debts, which he had so long 
 carried, another affair was undertaken. On 
 Stilling and Eliza's return from Switzerland, 
 they had passed the night at Munster, with their 
 children the Schwarzes; and after they had in- 
 formed them of what the Lord had done for 
 them, and how he had blessed them, Schwarz 
 and Hannah proposed that the parents should 
 now crown Jacob and Amalia's long-tried love, 
 and let them be united, since in reality, circum- 
 stances would be neither changed nor rendered 
 more irksome by it. The parents found nothing 
 to object to this ; and in order to surprise the 
 young couple and cause them still greater joy, 
 it was resolved to keep all the preparations se- 
 cret, invite friend Schlarbaum with his family 
 to tea, and that the latter should at once step 
 forth and marry them. The accomplishment of 
 this plan succeeded only in part, for the thing 
 did not remain entirely secret ; the wedding took 
 place on the 12th of July in that year— 1801. 
 Jacob now removed to his parents' house again ; 
 and he and his consort continued to board with 
 them on the same economical footing as before. 
 
 The previous summer, Eliza had used the 
 baths at Hofgeissmar, but her neck had become 
 rather worse than better; she was now advised 
 to try the Schlangen baths, where she stayed six 
 weeks, but this was also of little avail. 
 
 This summer Stilling wrote the second vol- 
 ume of the " Scenes in the Invisible World." 
 On this occasion, I must mention something 
 pleasing and remarkable ; every one is at liberty 
 to make of it what he pleases. I have already 
 observed that Stilling, the winter before, soon 
 after Lavater's death, had published a poem un- 
 
156 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 der the title of " Lavater's Glorification." In 
 this poem, Felix Hess and Pfenninger, two of 
 Lavater's friends, who died before him, are rep- 
 resented as coming in the form of two angels to 
 fetch the weary warrior after his death and con- 
 duct him to the New Jerusalem. About half a 
 year after the publication of this poem, Stilling's 
 pious and faithful friend Breidenstein, the re- 
 lormed preacher at Marburg, came to visit him ; 
 both conversed upon a variety of subjects, and 
 amongst other things, upon the poem. "It is 
 surprising," said Breidenstein, "how beautiful- 
 ly you have made use of the late Felix Hess's 
 promise." " How so 1" inquired Stilling; "what 
 promise'?" Breidenstein replied, " Upwards of 
 twenty years ago, Lavater stood by the side of 
 Felix Hess's dying-bed, weeping, and said, 1 Now 
 thou wilt not stand at my bed-side, when I die !' 
 Hess answered, 'But I will come and fetch 
 thee !' " Stilling rejoined, " Really, I never heard 
 a word of it ; it is, however, something strange ; 
 where is it? I must read it for myself!" "That 
 you shall," said Breidenstein; "it is indeed very 
 strange !" The next day he sent Lavater's mis- 
 cellaneous works, in which there is a short biog- 
 raphy. of Felix Hess; and this conversation is 
 inserted, just as Breidenstein related it. 
 
 1 can with the greatest truth assert that this 
 circumstance had either never come to Stilling's 
 knowledge, or at least that he had not thought 
 of it for many years, even though he might have 
 read it — which latter, however, 1 do not believe. 
 Therefore, if this singular affair be chance, it is 
 one of the strangest that ever occurred ; for first, 
 Hess says to Lavater immediately before his 
 death, nearly thirty years since, " I will come 
 and fetch thee, when thou diest!" Many years 
 after, Lavater dies; Stilling resolves to make a 
 poem on his death; decides upon forming the 
 plan of it, so that two of his friends are to fetch 
 him, and makes choice of the very man who 
 had promised him to do so thirty years before. 
 
 One thing more : when Stilfing was in Zu- 
 rich, he was told that Lavater had had a friend 
 with whom he had lived on a still more confi- 
 dential footing than with Felix Hess, and was 
 asked why he had not made use of him in the 
 poem, for the purpose of fetching Lavater 1 
 Stilling inquired who this friend was, and was 
 told it was Heinrich Hess. This occasioned 
 Stilling to introduce this friend in the "Scenes 
 in the Invisible World," in the following man- 
 ner: the glorified Heinrich Hess is represented 
 as bringing Lavater to the Virgin Mary, be- 
 cause she was desirous of seeing this faithful 
 follower of her Son. Mary then relates to La- 
 vater the Lord's character, as exemplified in his 
 earthly life, &c. This is brought forward pre- 
 cisely in this manner in the second volume of 
 the Scenes. Long after the work was printed, 
 Stilling was once accidentally reading in Lava- 
 ter's "Jesus Messias," the 26th chapter of the 
 first volume, which relates the quiet conceal- 
 ment of Jesus, and found again, to his astonish- 
 ment, that Lavater consoles himself with the 
 hope that the Virgin Mary would eventually re- 
 late to kim, in the blissful regions, the character her 
 Son bore in his earthly life, &c. It may be be- 
 lieved, on my word, that Stilling had never read 
 this before. 
 
 Another journey was also undertaken in the 
 autumn of the year 1801. In a place in the 
 north of Germany there was a very pious per- 
 son, who had the cataract; she was too poor to 
 come to Marburg, or to send for Stilling. The 
 
 latter conferred with Eliza on the subject; and 
 they resolved that as the Lord had so greatly 
 blessed their Swiss journey, and showed them 
 so many favors, they would, from gratitude, un- 
 dertake the journey to their worthy patient at 
 their own expense, and with the Divine assist- 
 ance restore her to sight; they therefore prepa- 
 red for the journey, and Stilling wrote to the 
 person that he would come. The latter was ex- 
 tremely pleased, as may easily be supposed, and 
 made Stilling's intention known in the neigh- 
 bourhood; and as he would have to pass through 
 Brunswick, he was kindly invited to lodge in 
 the house of Mr. Stobwasser, an eminent trades- 
 man, who has a considerable manufactory .of ja- 
 pan-ware, and is a member of the Moravian 
 church. Stilling thankfully accepted the offer; 
 and as their way led them through Minden, they 
 determined to pay a visit to Julia, in order to 
 become acquainted with that worthy woman; 
 and on her inviting them to stay at her house, 
 they joyfully assented. 
 
 Stilling and Eliza commenced this journey on 
 the 18th of September; they took Carol. ne with 
 them as far as Cassel, where she was to remain 
 until her parents returned; for as by her good 
 conduct and cordial affection to her parents she 
 caused them joy, they sought, when occasion of- 
 fered, to return it to her. They lodged at Cas- 
 sel with privy-counsellor Von Kunckcl, whose 
 lady is a near relative of Eliza. Mr. Von 
 Kunckel had always been Stilling's faithful, 
 tried, and intimate friend, and will remain so as 
 long as they shall both continue to exist. Von 
 Kunckel has served in every gradation, and by 
 his faithful activity is become what he is. 
 
 In the afternoon of the next day they rode to 
 Minden, where they remained till after the Sun- 
 day. Julia received them with all the fulness of 
 Christian affection; she and the worthy reform- 
 ed minister, Klugkist, together with his excel- 
 lent lady, manifested all possible friendship to 
 our two travellers. Julia and Eliza formed an 
 indissoluble sisterly alliance with each other, 
 and bound themselves to walk in the path which 
 our adorable Redeemer has himself marked out 
 and trodden. Julia has also two excellent sis- 
 ters, who were likewise there, and helped to in- 
 crease the religious and friendly circle. 
 
 At Göttingen they found the faithful Achelis 
 just on the point of departing; he had received 
 a call as preacher to a place in the neighbourhood 
 of Bremen ; his lady, with her sister, had al- 
 ready gone before to Bovenden, where she ex- 
 pected him. Achelis now accompanied Stilling 
 and Eliza, and from Bovenden they travelled 
 together to Nordheim, where they separated, 
 amidst the expression of a thousand blessings. 
 
 At Nordheim, Stilling was attacked by an in- 
 describable apprehension ; it began before ta- 
 king leave of Achelis ; but whether the good man 
 observed it or not, I know not. It was in reality 
 an apprehension of bad roads, and of the over- 
 turning of the coach, but it was so horrible that 
 it could scarcely be endured; it lasted during 
 the whole journey, and was sometimes stronger 
 and at others weaker. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 22nd of September, in the af- 
 ternoon, they arrived safely at Mr. Stobwasser's 
 house in Brunswick; he himself with his con- 
 sort was at Berlin, where he has also a consid- 
 erable manufactory; but his household showed 
 the travellers all possible affection and friend- 
 ship, and Stilling and Eliza felt truly happv 
 amongst these good people. 
 
STIL LING'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 157 
 
 From this place Stilling rode to the person on 
 whose account he had undertaken the journey ; 
 and happily she received her sight. In Bruns- 
 wick itself, he performed the operation on twelve 
 individuals; and lour leagues 1'rorn thence, at 
 Ampleben, the manorial residence of Mr. Von 
 Böiticher, to which a church-town is annexed, 
 on Madame Von Bode, who, with her husband, 
 belongs also to the true followers of the Redeem- 
 er. Stilling and Eliza rode thither, and remain- 
 ed there some days; Madame Von Bode re- 
 gained her sight, and they returned to Bruns- 
 wick. 
 
 Eliza having been seriously advised to con- 
 sult the celebrated and learned physician Bey- 
 reis, aulic counsellor at Helmstadt, on account 
 of the convulsive affection in her neck, the jour- 
 ney thither was also undertaken. The great 
 man took all conceivable pains to afford the 
 travellers pleasure; he also wrote directions for 
 the use of Eliza, which, however, she was una- 
 ble to follow, because they affected her too vio- 
 lently. 
 
 During his residence in Brunswick, Stilling 
 formed several interesting personal acquaintan- 
 ces, with Campe, Von Zimmerman, Eschen- 
 burg, Pökels, and others. The Duke showed 
 himself extremely gracious; he sent twice for 
 Stilling, and conversed with him a long time, on 
 a variety of subjects, and amongst others, on re- 
 ligion, respecting which he expressed himself in 
 a satisfactory and edifying manner. He then 
 also said to Stilling, " All that you have done here, 
 I look upon as done to myself;" and the following 
 day he sent sixty louis-d'ors to his lodgings. 
 With this the travelling expenses were not only 
 paid, but something even remained over, it 
 was therefore the will of Providence that the 
 Swiss money should be reserved for another 
 very different object. 
 
 Whilst Stilling continued at Brunswick, the 
 consort of the hereditary Count of Stollberg- 
 Wernigerode, born Princess of Schönberg, was 
 safely delivered of a young countess; the pa- 
 rents had chosen Stilling as sponsor for the 
 child; and this still more confirmed the inten- 
 tion, already formed in Marburg, of making a 
 little circuit to Wernigerode. Accordingly, they 
 set off from Brunswick on Friday the ninth of 
 October, and arrived in the evening at the place 
 above mentioned, at the lofty castle which has 
 belonged to the Count's piously-disposed family 
 from ancient times. 
 
 Stilling and Eliza felt here as in the precincts 
 of heaven. He also visited his old friends, su- 
 perintendent Schmid, aulic counsellor Fritsche, 
 advocate Benzler, Blum, government-advocate, 
 and Secretary Closse, who has excellently set to 
 music his song in the "Nostalgia" — "A wan- 
 derer," &c. 
 
 They remained Saturday, Sunday, and Mon- 
 day, with the noble family»of Wernigerode. A 
 gentleman from Saxony, who had business there, 
 and sat next to Stilling at the table, said to him 
 with emotion, " Really a person ought from time 
 to lime to travel hither, in order to recreate and 
 revive himself;" and certainly he was in the 
 right; religion, decorum, politeness, cheerful- 
 ness, dignity, and completely unassuming man- 
 ners, distinguish the character of every member 
 of this noble family. 
 
 Notwithstanding all this, Stirling's melan- 
 choly di 1 not leave him here; it could scarcely 
 be endured. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 13th of October, the travel- 
 
 lers took an affecting and grateful leave of the 
 family of Wernigerode ; the count sent his own 
 coachman with two horses with them to Leesen, 
 from whence Stilling travelled post to Gander- 
 sheim, where the Countess Frederica of Orten- 
 berg, who has been many years his friend, is 
 canoness; she had requested him to visit her, 
 because there were ophthalmic patients there 
 who expected him. 
 
 The Countess Frederica was highly rejoiced 
 at Stilling's visit; and, generally speaking, much 
 honor was shown to both the travellers in that 
 place. They supped in the evening with the 
 Princess of Coburg, who took the place of the 
 princess her mother during her absence. Still- 
 ing was of service to several patients there, and. 
 performed the operation on a poor old wom- 
 an. The evening before their departure, his 
 melancholy rose to a tormenting agony; but to- 
 wards midnight, he applied himself very seri- 
 ously to God in prayer, so that it could not fail 
 to be heard, and then slept quietly till morning, 
 when he continued his journey home with his 
 Eliza; they arrived late in the evening at Min- 
 den, where Julia, Klugkist, and his lady, vied 
 with each other in manifesting their friendship. 
 
 It was now obvious that Julia's aged father 
 was drawing near his end ; Stilling and Eliza re- 
 quested her. therefore, when her lather had en- 
 tered into his rest, to visit them at Marburg, for 
 it would serve to cheer and refresh her; which 
 she promised to do. 
 
 Stilling found much to do at Cassel; so that 
 he was obliged, from morning till evening, to 
 write prescriptions and give his advice: he also 
 operated on several persons for the cataract. 
 
 My readers will remember that brother Coing 
 had been appointed preacher at Braach, near 
 Rothenburg on the Fulda, eleven leagues from. 
 Cassel, and that Maria Coing, with the two 
 children, Frederick and Amalia, were also there. 
 It was Stilling and Eliza's intention to letch these 
 two children from thence, as well as their sister 
 Maria, if she wished it; but especially to visit 
 their good and dear brother again, particularly 
 as they were now in the neighbourhood. In or- 
 der to fulfil this intention, they set out on Thurs- 
 day the 22nd of October, from Cassel ; on dri- 
 ving through the Leipzic gate, he said to his 
 wife, "O, my dear, what would I not give if I 
 could now travel to Marburg!" Eliza answer- 
 ed, " Well, let us do so." Stilling, however, re- 
 fused, for he thought if a misfortune awaited 
 him, it might happen to him anywhere; they 
 therefore rode on, the brother came on horseback 
 to meet them, and in the morning they arrived 
 safely at Braach. 
 
 Their stay at this pleasant place was fixed for 
 a week, during which time Stilling felt like some 
 poor criminal, who is to be executed in a few 
 days. However, he performed the operation on 
 a lady in Rothenburg, and attended several pa- 
 tients. Maria, who had become weakly at 
 Braach, was- to return with them to Marburg, 
 together with the two children, and their depart- 
 ure was fixed for Thursday the 29th of October. 
 For this purpose, brother Coing sent to the post- 
 ing-house at Morschen, and ordered the horses. 
 
 On Wednesday evening, the day before their 
 departure, Stilling's melancholv rose to such a 
 height that he said to Eliza, " If the torment of 
 the lost in hell is not greater than mine, it is still 
 great enough !" 
 
 The next morning, the postillion came at the 
 time appointed, he had driven the diligence to 
 
158 HEINRICH 
 
 Rothenburg, and consequently brought four hor- 
 ses, which, however, contrary to all posting reg- 
 ulations, were very brisk and lively. He put the 
 horses to the carriage, and drove empty through 
 the Fulda; Stilling, Eliza, Maria, the children, 
 and the brother, were transported across, about 
 a gun-shot higher up, in a boat; meanwhile, the 
 postillion drove up the meadow on the other side, 
 and wailed on the opposite shore. 
 
 They got in ; — Stilling sat behind, to the right ; 
 next to him Eliza, with Amalia in her lap ; op- 
 posite her sat Maria, and Frederick opposite 
 Stilling. Brother Coing now took leave, and 
 went back again; the postillion suddenly smack- 
 ed his whip, the four spirited horses went off in 
 full trot, and the driver turning short round, the 
 fore-wheels got entangled, and threw the car- 
 riage to the ground with such violence that the 
 body of the vehicle burst in two in the midst. 
 Being only a chaise, and open in the front, Eli- 
 za, Maria, and the two children, were thrown 
 out upon the meadow; but Stilling, who was 
 sitting in the corner on the falling side, contin- 
 ued in the carriage, and was seriously hurt. 
 Fortunately the wheels came off, so that the 
 coach was not dragged along; there it lay, there- 
 fore, and Stilling was so fast squeezed in that 
 he could not move. It is extremely remarkable 
 that all his melancholy vanished in a moment. 
 Notwithstanding the violent pain — for his whole 
 body was as if it had been broken on the wheel, 
 — he felt an inward tranquillity and cheerful- 
 ness, such as he had hardly before experienced; 
 and although he was still utterly unconscious 
 what the consequences might be, he was so in- 
 wardly resigned to the Divine will, that he was 
 unaffected by the smallest fear of death. Much 
 as the postillion deserved a severe reproof and 
 after that a considerable punishment, Stilling 
 said nothing further to him than, in a kind man- 
 ner, " Friend, you have turned too short. - ' 
 
 Eliza. Maria, and the children, had not suffer- 
 ed in the smallest degree; brother Coing came 
 also running to them ; but when they saw the 
 man to whom they were so much attached, ly- 
 ing bloody and disfigured beneath the coach, 
 they all began to lament bitterly; the carriage 
 was lifted up again, and Stilling, wounded and 
 disabled, halted on Eliza's arm back again to 
 Braach; the postillion dragged the equally wound- 
 ed and disabled vehicle thither also, and it was 
 with difficulty he escaped being soundly beaten 
 by the peasantry of that place. However, they 
 were active in another way ; one of them mount- 
 ed a horse and rode full gallop to Rothenburg to 
 fetch medical assistance, and the others sent re- 
 freshments, such as they had, and as well as they 
 understood what was necessary; but all was nat- 
 urally received as if it were the most precious 
 and suitable of its kind. 
 
 Stilling was in a miserable condition as re- 
 gards the body; the whole of the right breast 
 was hugely swollen, and when one pressed the 
 hand over it a noise was heard ; one of his ribs 
 was fractured; behind, under the right shoulder- 
 blade, he felt violent pains; he had a wound on 
 the right temple, which bled profusely, and was 
 only the breadth of a straw distant from the ar- 
 tery ; and in the right groin and hip he felt great 
 pain, as often as he moved his thigh. In short, 
 every motion was painful. 
 
 The physicians of Rothenburg, Meiss and 
 Freyss, two very able men, soon made their ap- 
 pearance, and by their faithful care and the Di- 
 vine blessing, Stilling in a few days recovered 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 so far as to be able to travel to Marburg. But 
 the coach, with all their learning and abiliiy, 
 they were unable to cure; however, they pro- 
 vided for its reparation, which was committed 
 to the court-saddler, who restored it so ably that 
 it was firmer than before. 
 
 On Monday the 2d of November the journey 
 to Marburg was commenced ; Stilling rode slow- 
 ly on horseback, because he did not choose to 
 trust driving in such dreadful roads ; and it was 
 well he did so ; for the ladies and children were 
 overturned once more, yet without injury. Co- 
 ing accompanied his brother-in-law on horse- 
 back to Mabern, where Caroline expected them ; 
 the next day they rode all together to Marburg, 
 because from thence there is a regular chaussee, 
 but Coing returned to Braach. Stilling had to 
 struggle for a season with the consequences of 
 this fall ; in particular, a giddiness remained for 
 a long time, which however at length disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Selling's state of mind during this journey to 
 Brunswick, may be best understood by a simile 
 — A solitary traveller on foot enters a wood in 
 the evening; he must pass through this before 
 he arrives at the inn. It grows dark; the moon 
 shines in the first quarter, consequently only 
 faintly; a very suspicious and terrible man now 
 joins him, never leaves him, and continually 
 makes as if he would attack him and murder 
 him; at length, all at once he seizes him and 
 wounds him; suddenly some of the traveller's 
 best friends make their appearance, the enemy 
 flies, the wounded man recognizes his friends, 
 who carry him to the inn, and nurse him till he 
 is well again. Dear readers, take this simile as 
 you will, but do not abuse it. 
 
 The commencement of the year 1802 proved 
 a grievous one for Stilling and Eliza. On Sun- 
 day the 3d of January, he received a letter from 
 his friend Meig of Heidelberg, in which he in- 
 formed him that Lisette was ill, but that he did 
 not believe it was of serious consequence, for the 
 physicians still gave hopes. On reading this 
 letter, Stilling felt a deep impression on his mind 
 that she was really dead. There is something 
 in his soul, which causes him always to feel 
 pleasure when he knows that a child, or any 
 truly pious person, is dead, for he is conscious 
 that another soul is in safety; this conviction 
 makes him feel the death of any one belonging 
 to him less than is customary ; but as he pos- 
 sesses a sympathizing heart, it always causes 
 him a severe struggle with respect to his physical 
 nature. Such was also now the case; he suf- 
 fered much for some hours; then offered up his 
 Lisette to the Lord again who had given her to 
 hirn; and on the 6th of January, when he re- 
 ceived from Meig the news of her decease, he 
 was strong, and was able himself effectually to 
 comfort the deeply-mourning foster-parents ; but 
 Eliza suffered severe^. 
 
 Their friends, the Meigs, buried Lisette in a 
 very honorable manner. Meig published a little 
 book, containing an account of her life, charac- 
 ter, death, and burial, together with some little 
 pieces and poems which this event occasioned. 
 
 The grief which these foster-parents felt at the 
 departure of this dear girl, can be scarcely con- 
 ceived. They had brought her up and educated 
 her excellenilv, and God will reward them for 
 having trained her up in His fear, and in reli- 
 gious sentiments. 
 
 It is remarkable that the old mother Wilhel- 
 mi followed her favorite some weeks after, even 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 159 
 
 as her daughter Meig had long before appre- 
 hended. 
 
 About this time died also Burgomaster Eicke 
 of Minden, Julia's father. Stilling and Eliza 
 therefore repeated their invitation to Julia to 
 come as soon as her affairs were arranged; she 
 accepted it, and arrived in Marburg about the 
 middle of January, where she was so much 
 pleased with Sailing's domestic circle and chris- 
 tian society, that she at length expressed a wish 
 to live in the family. Stilling and Eliza re- 
 joiced at this declaration, and the matter was 
 soon arranged; Julia pays a sufficient sum lor 
 her board, and occupies herself with the educa- 
 tion of the little girls, Amalia and Christina. 
 Eliza, indeed, protested seriously against being 
 paid for her board; but Julia maintained thai 
 she would not come to live with them on any 
 other terms. These nearly allied souls were 
 therefore at length unanimous. In March, Ju- 
 lia travelled to Erfurth to visit a friend, and re- 
 turned the August following. From that time, 
 she has been incorporated into Slilling's domes- 
 tic circle, in which she is a real blessing from 
 God, by her piety, cheerfulness, suffering expe- 
 rience, and particularly in the governance and 
 education of 'he two children. 
 
 This spring, another journey was undertaken ; 
 Stilling was sent for from Fulda, whither Eliza 
 accompanied him. On returning, they passed 
 through Hanau and Frankfort, and visited also 
 Prince Frederic of Anhalt and the Countess 
 Louisa, who, the preceding autumn, had remo- 
 ved from Marburg to Homburg-vor-der-Höhe. 
 On this occasion they became acquainted with 
 the widow of Prince Victor of Anhalt ; she is a 
 worthy sister of the Princess Christina of Lippe, 
 a true Christian, and humility personified. Af- 
 ter an absence of about four weeks, they return- 
 ed to Marburg, soon after which Amalia was 
 safely delivered of a daughter. 
 
 The important period also approached, in 
 which Caroline was to be confirmed, previous 
 to receiving the sacrament, — she was now four- 
 teen years and a half old, and tall and strong of 
 her age; she had received very excellent re- 
 ligious instruction for two years, from the two 
 reformed preachers, Schlarbaum and Breiden- 
 stein, Sailing's worthy friends, and it had oper- 
 ated beneficially upon her. She possesses a 
 mind disposed to piety and religion ; and it is a 
 great joy and consolation to her father, that his 
 three eldest children are on the way to become 
 true Christians. Julia wrote to Caroline from 
 Erfurth, and commissioned Aunt Duising to 
 present her with the letter on the day of her 
 confirmation: it is worth the while to insert it 
 here : — 
 
 " My dear and ever-beloved Caroline : 
 " On the most solemn day of thy life, on which 
 all thy dear friends press thee with new affection 
 to their heart, my prayers will also mingle with 
 theirs ; — probably in the very hour in which thou 
 wilt make the solemn vow of eternal love and 
 fidelity to Him who ought always to fill our 
 whole soul, I shall also be asking of Him, faith, 
 fidelity, and love, for thee. 
 
 "My best and dearest Caroline, I earnestly 
 intreat thee duly to consider and keep that which 
 thou promisest on this day, so important for thee 
 in time and eternity ; — love the Lord so as thou 
 lovest no one else! Thou canst not do any 
 thing greater, better, or more important; do not 
 suffer thyself to be deprived ofthat crown which 
 
 thy faith this day views in the Lord's hand for 
 thee, either by flattery, or by the contempt of 
 the world; but continue faithful to Him until 
 death," &c. ' 
 
 The confirmation took place at Whitsuntide, 
 with prayer and much emotion on all sides. 
 
 Sailing's situation, meanwhile, became more 
 and more oppressive. On the one hand, his re- 
 ligious sphere of action became greater, more 
 profitable, and considerable: — the directors of 
 the " London Tract Society," which, in the space 
 of a couple of years, had disseminated edifying 
 and useful publications amongst the common 
 people in England to the amount of a million of 
 guilders, wrote him a heart-cheering letter, and 
 encouraged him to set on foot a similar society 
 in Germany. At the same lime, also, his reli- 
 gious correspondence increased, as well as his 
 practice as an oculist ; whilst, on the other hand,, 
 his peculiar academical vocation became more 
 and more unproductive; the German indemni- 
 fication had transferred the provinces, which 
 generally furnished the university with students, 
 to other rulers, who had themselves universities,, 
 whither their young people were obliged to re- 
 sort and study; the number of students dimin- 
 ished, therefore, visibly ; and those that contin- 
 ued to resort to Marburg applied themselves to 
 such studies as might procure them a mainte- 
 nance, to which the financial department does 
 not belong; and finally, a decrease in the desire 
 to study was observable in all the universities, 
 the cause of which need not be discussed here. 
 Be that as it may, Stilling ; s auditory diminish- 
 ed to such a degree that he had often only two 
 or three hearers. This state of things was in- 
 tolerable to him. To have so large a stipend, 
 and to be able to do so little for it, did not con- 
 sist with his conscience; and yet he was nailed, 
 as it were, to his post ; — he could not do other- 
 wise, and was obliged to persevere; for without 
 this income he could not live. Besides all this, 
 his great end and motive, to work and live for 
 the Lord and his kingdom alone, filled his whole 
 soul ; he saw and heard, every day, how exten- 
 sively beneficial his religious sphere of action 
 was, and this he was obliged to make a secon- 
 dary consideration for the sake of a very barren 
 maintenance. 
 
 Finally, another important consideration was 
 added to all this. The Elector of Hesse is sin- 
 cerely desirous of supporting religion ; but he 
 has also a maxim, which, abstractedly consid- 
 ered, is perfectly correct — that every servant of 
 the state might to give himself up entirely to the de- 
 partment to tohich he has once devoted himself. He 
 is not at all pleased, when a person enters upon 
 another vocation. But Stilling was now so cir- 
 cumstanced, that he was obliged to act in oppo- 
 sition to both parts of this maxim ; which also 
 caused him many a mournful hour. His con- 
 flict was painful: but at this very time Provi- 
 dence began to make distant arrangements for 
 the accomplishment of its plans. It is worth 
 while that I relate every thing here with the 
 greatest minuteness. 
 
 On the 5th of July, 1802. Stilling received a 
 letter from a poor mechanic, in a place at a 
 great distance from Marburg, who neither knew 
 nor could know one word of Stilling's situation, 
 because he revealed it to no one, in which the 
 man stated that he had had a remarkable dream, 
 in which he had seen him traversing and occu- 
 pied in a large field, in which much treasure 
 
160 HEINRICH 
 
 lay scattered about in small heaps; and that he 
 had been commissioned to write to him, and tell 
 him, that he ought now to gather all this treasure 
 into one heap, then sit doion quietly, and attend to 
 this single treasure alone. 
 
 Stilling, during the whole of his life, had seen, 
 heard, and felt so many effects of the developed 
 faculty of presentiment, and also so many — 
 without the theory of the faculty of presenti- 
 ment — incomprehensible predictions of hyster- 
 ical and hypochondriacal persons, that he is well 
 aware to what such things generally belong, 
 and under what head they ought to be classed. 
 But the contents of this letter harmonized so 
 much with what passed in his own mind, that 
 he could not possibly regard it as a matter of 
 chance. He wrote therefore to the man, saying, 
 that though he was well aware that the uniting 
 of that which was manifold with that which 
 was simple, would be good for him, yet he was 
 obliged to live by his professorship; he there- 
 fore wished for a further explanation of his 
 meaning. The answer was, that he must resign 
 himself to the Lord's guidance, who would duly 
 arrange every thing. This event produced in 
 Stilling's mind the first foreboding of an ap- 
 proaching change, and of the development of 
 the Lord's intentions respecting him; and gave 
 him, frotn that period, the proper direction, by 
 fixing his eye on the hitherto scarcely percep- 
 tible aim, so that he might not lose any lime in 
 preparing himself for it. 
 
 About the same time, or somewhat later, he 
 received a letter also from the Rev. Mr. König 
 of Burgdorf, in Emmenthal in the canton of Bern, 
 requesting him to go thither; adding that the ex- 
 penses of the journey were provided lor. This 
 Mr. König was blind of the cataract, and had 
 already corresponded with Stilling on that ac- 
 count ; the latter had also promised him to come, 
 as soon as he should be informed that the travel- 
 ling expenses would be repaid. Stilling and 
 Eliza, therefore, now began to prepare for their 
 second journey to Switzerland. 
 
 During all these occurrences, father Wilhelm's 
 state of health, which had been hitherto so very 
 firm and durable, took quite a different direction. 
 With respect to his mental powers, he had be- 
 come so completely a child that he had no longer 
 any understanding or judgment; but his body 
 now began to neglect the functions necessary to 
 life; at the same time, his continual lying posi- 
 tion produced painful sores, so that his condi- 
 tion was extremely pitiable. The surgeon was 
 obliged to come daily, with a couple of assist- 
 ants, to bind his wounded back and other parts; 
 during which operation the poor man moaned 
 so dreadfully that the whole neighbourhood 
 prayed for his dissolution. 
 
 Stilling could not endure the misery; he gen- 
 erally went out when the time for binding up 
 arrived; but even in the interval Wilhelm often 
 moaned piteously. The day of his deliverance 
 at length arrived; on the 6th of September, at 
 half-past ten in the morning, he passed over into 
 the blissful habitations of his forefathers. Still- 
 ing had him interred with the solemnities cus- 
 tomiry to persons in affluent circumstances. 
 
 Wilhelm Stilling is now therefore no longer 
 here below; his serene walk, unobserved by the 
 great of this world, was nevertheless seed for a 
 fruitful futurity. He is not always a great man 
 who is celebrated far and wide; nor is he al- 
 ways great who does much ; but that individual 
 is so, in a peculiar sense, who sows here, to reap 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 a thousand-fold in the world to come. Wilhelm 
 Stilling was one who sowed in tears; he went 
 forth weeping. and bearing precious seed; now 
 he is doubtless reaping with juy. His children, 
 Heinrich and Eliza, rejoice in the prospect of 
 his welcome ; they rejoice in the thought that he 
 will be sati.sfied with them. 
 
 A week after father Wilhelm Stilling's death 
 Stilling and Eliza commenced their second Swiss 
 journey. They left Marburg on Monday the 13th. 
 of September, 1802. At Frankfort, Stilling found 
 ophthalmic patients, who detained him a few days. 
 On Thursday the 16th, they arrived early in the 
 afternoon at Heidelberg, where the welcome 
 from Madame Mieg was deeply affecting to 
 both. Mieg was engaged by business in the 
 country, and did not arrive till" towards evening; 
 he had dined in company with a person of emi- 
 nence, who had expressed the idea that some gieat 
 man ought to keep Stilling in pay, solely that he 
 might carry on his benevolent practice as an oculist, 
 without impediment. This again excited Still- 
 ing's attention, together with all that had pre- 
 ceded it. The dream of the mechanic; Father 
 Wilhelm's death; and this speech, which in it- 
 self was of no importance, but made an impres- 
 sion just at this time; and finally, another Swiss 
 journey — all this together produced in Stilling's 
 mind a feeling of exalted expectation. 
 
 The following day, Friday the 17th of Sep- 
 tember, the two travellers pursued their way to 
 Carlsruhe. 
 
 I must here go back a little in my narrative, 
 in order to bring every thing into a proper point 
 of view. 
 
 Jacob, as I have already observed, had be- 
 come a father, the previous spring. Notwith- 
 standing his ability and integrity, and notwith- 
 standing all the favorable testimonials of the 
 Marburg magistracy, not the smallest thing 
 could be accomplished for him at Cassel. 
 With his mode of thinking, it was impossible 
 to live by the practice of jurisprudence; his 
 father was therefore obliged to assist him con- 
 siderably, and besides this, he now saw an in- 
 creasing family before him. All this together 
 pressed much upon the worthy young man; he 
 therefore urgently entreated his father to recom- 
 mend him to the Elector, on his journey through 
 Carlsruhe; for as he was born in the palatinate, 
 he could lay claim to being provided for there. 
 
 It is contrary to Stilling's whole character to 
 ask any thing of the kind of a prince with whom 
 he is in particular favor, or recommend any one 
 to an office. Hence, however necessary it was 
 that his son should be provided for, it seemed to 
 him equally difficult, and almost impossible, to 
 make application on his behalf to the Elector. 
 
 I must also mention, that the Couptess of 
 Waldeck, in order to gratify Jacob on his wed- 
 ding-day, had requested the reigning Count of 
 Wernigerode to give him the title of "Counsel- 
 lor of Justice;" he did so, and the Elector of 
 Hesse also permitted him to make use of this 
 title. I now return to the continuation of the 
 narrative. 
 
 Stilling and Eliza arrived at Carlsruhe in the 
 evening of Fridav the 17th of September. On 
 Saturday morning, the 18th, Stilling looked into 
 the well-known Moravian watch-word book, 
 which contains two passages from the Bible and 
 two verses of a hymn for every day in the year. 
 The first passage is called the watch- word, and 
 the second, the doctrinal text. Stilling always 
 takes this book with him, when travelling, in 
 
STILLIN G'S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 161 
 
 order to have daily a religious subject on which 
 he may employ both his head and his heart. He 
 found with astonishment, that the words forthat 
 day were, " And now, O Lord God, establish the 
 word that thou hast spoken concerning thy ser- 
 vant and concerning his house, tor ever, and do 
 as thou hast said:" 2 Samuel, vii., 25; and the 
 verse of the hymn was, 
 
 "His faithfulness O let us praise, 
 And to Him consecrate our days : 
 His promises He will fulfil, 
 To those that know and do his will. 
 
 Hallelujah." 
 
 He then sought out also the doctrinal text for 
 the day, and found the beautiful words, " Be 
 thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee 
 the crown of life." 
 
 This remarkable circumstance completed the 
 pleasing foreboding, and the confidence he had, 
 that it would come to some kind of elucidation 
 respecting him during the day. Soon after, a 
 court-page entered the room, presenting the 
 Elector's compliments, and requesting him to 
 come to him at nine o'clock, and to stay to din- 
 ner with him. 
 
 In consequence of this command, and thus 
 prepared, Stilling went at nine o'clock to the 
 palace, where he was instantly admitted and 
 very graciously received. After exchanging a 
 few words, Stilling felt himself at liberty to 
 recommend his son; he began by premising, 
 that nothing was more difficult for him than to 
 make application of the kind to princes who 
 showed him favor; however, his circumstances 
 and situation pressed him so much, that he was 
 now constrained to make an exception to his 
 rule. He then gave a true account of his son, 
 and offered to procure the most valid written 
 proofs, namely, the testimonials of the Marburg 
 magistracy; and finally besought the Elector to 
 let him serve in the lowest station, and then 
 promote him as he might deserve. If he only 
 earned so much as to enable him to live, with 
 due economy, he would look upon it as a great 
 favor. He then concluded with the words, 
 ■"Your Highness will not take this first and last 
 recommendation ungraciously of me." The 
 Elector expressed himself very favorably; and 
 said he would see if he could not provide for him 
 in the organization of the palatinate. "Speak 
 also," added the excellent prince, "with the 
 ministers and privy counsellors, in order that 
 they may know of the matter when it is brought 
 forward." It follows of course that Stilling 
 promised to do so, and also kept his promise. 
 
 This introduction gave occasion to speak of 
 Stilling's own situation. The urbanity of the 
 Elector imparted such a confidence to Stilling 
 that he expressed himself exactly as he inwardly 
 felt ; on which this great and noble-minded prince 
 rejoined, " I hope God vrill give me the opportunity 
 of bringing you out of this painful situation, and 
 of placing you so that you may be enabled to attend 
 solely to your religious authorship, and to your ocu- 
 listic practice; you must be set entirely at liberty 
 from all other earthly occupations and connections." 
 
 [t is impossible to describe how Stilling felt 
 at that moment, in which the great development 
 of his destiny beamed so gloriously upon him 
 from afar. " Are you in haste with respect to 
 the accomplishment of this affair?" continued 
 the Elector. Stilling; replied, "No, most gra- 
 cious Sire! and I most humbly beg you by all 
 means to wait unil Providence opens a door 
 somewhere, in order that no one may suffer by 
 
 it, or be neglected." The prince rejoined, "You 
 can, therefore, wait half-a-year, or a year 1" 
 Stilling replied, "I will wait as long as God 
 pleases, and until your Highness has found the 
 way which Providence marks out." 
 
 I pass over the remainder of this remarkable 
 day in Stilling's history, only observing that he 
 also paid his respects to the Margravine, who was 
 still inconsolable for the death of her late consort. 
 
 He that is acquainted with the Elector of Ba- 
 den knows that this ruler never retracts his 
 princely word, but always performs more than 
 he promises. Every feeling christian heart can 
 sympathise with Stilling, as he then felt. Blessed 
 be the Lord! his ways are holy! happy he who 
 resigns himself to Him without reserve ; he that 
 places his confidence in Him, shall never be 
 confounded ! 
 
 On Sunday morning, Stilling performed the 
 operation on a poor old peasant, whom the Elec- 
 tor himself had sent for; he then continued his 
 journey to Switzerland with his Eliza. The 
 nearer they approached the frontiers, the more 
 fearful grew the reports, that the whole of Switz- 
 erland was under arms and in a state of insur- 
 rection. This was certainly not pleasant; but 
 Stilling knew that he was travelling in his be- 
 nevolent vocation, and therefore, with Eliza, put 
 firm confidence in the Divine protection; nor 
 was this confidence unavailing. 
 
 At Frieburg, in the Breisgau, they learned 
 the severe trial which the city of Zurich was 
 compelled to endure on the 13th of September, 
 but likewise that it had powerfully experienced 
 the Lord's protection. In the evening of Tues- 
 day the 2lst of September, they arrived safe and 
 well at Basle, at the house of the worthy Mr. 
 Schorndorf; but as there were still disturbances 
 in the neighbourhood of Burgdorf, Stilling wrote 
 to the Rev. Mr. König, stating that he was at 
 Basle, and expected intelligence from him when 
 he could come with safety. Until this intelli- 
 gence arrived, they continued quietly and con- 
 tentedly at Basle ; where he attended some oph- 
 thalmic patients, and operated upon two blind 
 people. 
 
 On the following day, Wednesday the 22d of 
 September, Stilling had a great pleasure afford- 
 ed him. There lives in Basle a very able 
 painter, of the name of Marquard Wocher, a 
 man of the noblest heart and christian senti- 
 ments; on Stilling's first Swiss journey, he had 
 conducted him to a Mr. Reber, a respectable 
 gentleman there, who possessed a very elegant 
 collection of pictures; amongst which an "Ecce 
 Homo" drew Stilling's particular attention. Af- 
 ter contemplating for some time this representa- 
 tion of the suffering Saviour, tears came into 
 his eyes; Wocher observed it, and asked him 
 if the picture pleased him. Stilling answered, 
 " Extremely ! Ah, if I had only a faithful copy 
 of it! but I cannot afford it." " You shall have 
 it," rejoined Wocher; "I will make you a pres- 
 ent of it." 
 
 On the day above-mentioned, Wocher brought 
 this beautiful painting as a welcome ; every con- 
 noisseur admires it. 
 
 This is also the place where I must mention 
 one of the extraordinary favors of God. Who 
 can recount them alH but one and another, 
 which stand in connection with this history, 
 must not be omitted. 
 
 My readers will remember Mr. Isaac of 
 Waldstadt, and how kindly he received Stilling 
 in the greatest depth of his misery, and clothed 
 
162 HEINRICH 
 
 him from head to foot. Stilling, it is true, 
 whilst he was with Mr. Spanier, had repaid 
 him for the money he had Jaid out; but it 
 grieved him often that he could not in any way 
 recompense to the worthy family of this noble- 
 minded individual his kindness to him. This 
 recompense was now to be made in a very 
 striking manner, a manner worthy of God. 
 
 Mr. Isaac's eldest son had also learned the 
 trade of a tailor, and in the course of his travels 
 had been at Basle, where he resided some years; 
 and being also a sincere lover of religion, he 
 had become acquainted with the true worship- 
 pers of Christ in that place. He had afterwards 
 settled at Waldstadt— Rade Vorm Wald, in the 
 duchy of Berg, his native place, taken his broth- 
 ers and sisters to him, and kept house with them ; 
 but as he could not bear the sitting-posture, he 
 began a little shop; a worthy merchant gave 
 him credit, and thus he maintained himself and 
 the family honestly and uprightly. This sum- 
 mer, on the 23d of August, a fire broke out; in 
 a few hours the whole town was laid in ashes, 
 and the good children of the pious Isaac not 
 only lost that which belonged to them, but also 
 the whole of the stock bought on credit. Friend 
 Becker, for such is the real family-name, did 
 not communicate this misfortune to Stilling, for 
 he was too delicate in his sentiments to do so; 
 but another friend wrote to him, and reminded 
 him of his obligations to this family. Stilling 
 felt himself in a dilemma; what he could give 
 the family even at the utmost, was only a trifle 
 for them, and yet, situated as he was, it would 
 be oppressively felt by himself j he therefore 
 sent what he could, and as, just before his jour- 
 ney, he wrote No. 12 of the "Grey Man," he 
 annexed to it an account of this calamity, and 
 besought compassionate aid. While remaining 
 in Basle, Stilling, at the request of the members 
 of the German Society, gave a religious address, 
 at which several hundred persons were present; 
 at the close of the discourse, Stilling reminded 
 them of his former friend, and related his mis- 
 fortune to them ; and his address operated so 
 effectually that the same evening nearly a hun- 
 dred guilders were collected and brought to 
 Stilling. This was the handsome commence- 
 ment of a considerable assistance; for the me- 
 morial in No. 12 of the "Grey Man," produced 
 about a thousand guilders for Becker's children, 
 and about five hundred for the town of Rade 
 Vorm Wald, all which money was transmitted 
 to Stilling. 
 
 I relate this, merely to prove that the Lord 
 provides so completely for those who suffer 
 themselves to be guided entirely and uncondi- 
 tionally by Him, that they are enabled to repay 
 all debts whatever, and even testimonies of 
 Christian affection. 
 
 In a few days the news arrived from Burg- 
 dorf that every thing was quiet there; in conse- 
 quence of which, Stilling and Eliza set out on 
 the 29th of September. He performed the op- 
 eration on an individual at Liestall ; at Leufel- 
 fingen, they dined with their friend Madame 
 Fhrhebrcher; at Olten they found friends from 
 A-.rau, with whom they drank tea; and at Aar- 
 burg they were fetched by the worthy bailiff 
 Senn, of Böfingen, with whom they were to pass 
 the night. As they drove down the magnificent 
 vale of Aar in the evening, and whilst the de- 
 clining sun irradiated the whole landscape, Still- 
 ing saw, all at once, in the south-west, above the 
 horizon, a purple-coloured meteor, which pre- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 sented a brill iant appearance ; he soon discovered 
 that it was a snowy mountain, probably the 
 Jungfrau, or the Junglerhorn. He that has 
 never seen any thing of the kind can have no 
 conception of it; it is just as if the individual 
 beheld a celestial landscape in the regions of 
 light; but the view is all that is pleasing, for to 
 climb up thither, and to dwell in the eternal ice 
 and snow, would not be very agreeable. Friend 
 Senn, who drove before in his cabriolet, turned 
 about and exclaimed, " What divine majesty ! I 
 have seen the snow-hills illuminated many hun- 
 dred times, and yet the sight always affects me." 
 
 After being very kindly entertained at Mr. 
 Senn's house at Zofingen, they rode the next 
 morning to Burgdorf, where they arrived at six 
 o'clock in the evening, and took up their quar- 
 ters at the parsonage. The town of Burgdorf 
 lies on a hill, which resembles a saddle; on the 
 summit towards the west, stands the church, 
 with the parsonage; and on the eastern summit 
 lies the castle; on the saddle between these two 
 summits, lies the town itself, which hangs down 
 on both sides like a parti-coloured saddle-cloth; 
 on the northern side, the Emme, a roaring wood- 
 land torrent, rushes past. There is a beautiful 
 prospect from both summits; towards the north- 
 west are the Jura, there called the Blue Mount- 
 ains, and in the south the magnificent Alpine 
 range appears again, from the Mutterhorn and 
 Schreckhorn, to a considerable distance beyond 
 the Jungfrau. 
 
 Stilling operated upon several blind persons 
 here; the worthy Mr. König regained the per- 
 fect sight of one eye; besides these, he also at- 
 tended upon many ophthalmic patients. I must 
 mention one operation, in particular, during 
 which something occurred which throws light 
 upon the character of the Swiss peasantry. 
 Two strong and handsome men, dressed as 
 peasants, but in a very decent and cleanly man- 
 ner — for cleanliness is a prominent feature in 
 the character of the Swiss — came to the parson- 
 age, with an aged and venerable grey-headed 
 man, and inquired for the strange doctor: Still- 
 ing came, and one of them said to him, "We 
 have brought our father to you; he is blind j 
 can you help him V Stilling looked at his eyes r 
 and replied, "Yes, dear friends! With God's 
 help, your father shall return home seeing." 
 The men were silent, but the big tears rolled like 
 pearls down their cheeks; the lips of the old 
 man trembled, and his sightless eyes were wet. 
 
 During the operation, one of the sons placed 
 himself on one side of his father, and the other 
 on the other side; in this position, thev looked 
 on. When all was over, and the father saw 
 again, the tears flowed afresh, but no one said a 
 word, till the eldest said, "Doctor, what do we 
 owe youT' Stilling answered, "I am not an 
 oculist for money; but as I am on a journey, 
 and am at much expense, I will take something, 
 if you can give me any thing; but it must not 
 be burdensome to you in the least." The eld- 
 est son replied, pathetically, "Nothing is bur- 
 densome to us that regards our father;" and the 
 younger added, " Our left hand does not take 
 back what our right hand has given ;" which is 
 as much as to say, "What we give, we give 
 willingly." Stilling pressed their hands, with 
 tears, and said, " Excellent! you are worthy peo- 
 ple; God will bless you." 
 
 Stilling and Eliza made many friends in Burg- 
 dorf. They were loaded with kindnesses and 
 testimonies of affection; and the excellent Ma- 
 
STILLING'S ^EA 
 
 RS OF TUIT ON. 
 
 163 
 
 dame König maae them ashamed by her su- 
 perabundant faithful attention and hospitality. 
 Here also they became acquainted with the cel- 
 ebrated Pestalozzi and his institution for educa- 
 tion, which now excites so much attention every 
 where. Pestalozzis prominent feature is love 
 to man, and particularly to children ; hence he 
 has long devoted himself to the subject of edu- 
 cation ; he is consequently an estimable and no- 
 ble-minded man. That which is taught is not, 
 strictly speaking, the object that excites so much 
 attention, but it is his plan of tuition, the in- 
 struction of children, which is astonishing, and 
 no one would believe it till he had seen and 
 heard it; but it is peculiarly only the intuitive 
 perceptions that are developed by it, which have 
 reference to time and space; in this his pupils 
 attain, in a short time, to a high degree of per- 
 fection. But how it will result with respect to 
 the development of abstract ideas, and of the 
 moral and religious powers, and, generally, what 
 influence the Pestalozzian method will have 
 upon practical life in future, time must reveal. 
 It is however necessary to be careful, and first 
 of all to see what will become of the boys that 
 are educated in this manner. It is really a haz- 
 ardous thing, to drive on at such a rapid rate in 
 matters of education, before one is sure of a good 
 result. 
 
 On Monday, the 4th of October, in the after- 
 noon, Stilling and Eliza travelled four leagues 
 further to Bern, where they lodged with Steward 
 Niehans, a pious and faithful friend of God and 
 man. Their four days' residence in this extreme- 
 ly beautiful town was completely taken up by 
 business: cataract operations, ministering to 
 many ophthalmic patients, and paying and re- 
 ceiving visits, rapidly succeeded each other. 
 The two travellers here also added greatly to 
 their stock of friends; and Stilling became inti- 
 mate more particularly with the three pious 
 preachers Wittenbach, Müesslin, and Lorsa. 
 Nor must the estimable brothers Studer be for- 
 gotten ; one of whom presented him with a beau- 
 tifully coloured copperplate, representing the 
 prospect from Bern to the snowy mountains, 
 drawn and engraved by himself. 
 
 On the 10th of October, Stilling and Eliza set 
 off again from Bern. On the way, they saw at 
 Hindelbank the celebrated monument of the Rev. 
 Mr. Langhan's lady, a performance of the great 
 Hessian artist Nahl. 
 
 At Burgdorf Stilling operated upon some 
 blind people, and then both set out again by way 
 ofZofini^en to Zurich, Winterthur, and St. Gall, 
 where they lodged with the pious and learned 
 Antistes Stahelin, and again formed a friendly 
 alliance with many estimable individuals. He 
 there couched only one person, but attended 
 several who were diseased in the eye. 
 
 On Wednesday, the 27th of October, they 
 travelled through the paradisiacal Thurgau, 
 along the Bodensee, to Schaff hausen. On the 
 road thither, a man was freed from the cataract 
 at Arbon. At Schaff hausen, they again resided 
 with the dear family of the Rirchhofers. There 
 was here also much to do, but at the same time 
 mental uneasiness and sorrow; for on Sundav, 
 the 31st of October, in the afternoon, the French 
 again entered the place. 
 
 On Monday, the 1st of November, they left 
 beloved Switzerland; but as a blind merchant 
 of Ebingen had sent an express to Schaphausen, 
 they were ohlis^d to make a considerable cir- 
 cuit by way of Müsskirch and the Swabian Alp; 
 
 from Ebingen they were sent for to Balingen, 
 where there was also much to do; and from 
 thence they rode to Stuttgard, where they en- 
 joyed a blissful abode in the house of Mr. Von 
 Seckendorf, and where Stilling was also ena- 
 bled to be of service to many afflicted people. 
 
 Here he found, to his great joy, the Moravian 
 Unity-elder Goldmann, with whom he entered 
 into a warm and fraternal connexion. 
 
 From Stuttgard they were again obliged to 
 make a large and tedious circuit through the 
 Black Forest to Calw, where Stilling found the 
 pious and Rev. Mr. Havlin of New Bulach, 
 with his excellent spouse and daughter, who 
 were all three already known to him by letter. 
 Here also a circle of worthy people collected 
 about the travellers, in the house of the pious 
 book-keeper Schille. From thence they travel- 
 led, on Tuesday, the 9th of November, to Carls- 
 ruhe. iL was at the desire of the Margravine 
 that Stilling made this circuit, because there 
 were several blind persons there, who required 
 his aid. The Elector repeated his promise ; and 
 on Friday, the 12th of November, they com- 
 menced their journey home, by way of Manheim 
 and Frankfort: in the latter place, and at Vilbel, 
 three blind persons were couched; and on Tues- 
 day, the 16th of November, they again arrived 
 well and happy in Marburg. 
 
 The first Swiss journey solved the first prob- 
 lem in Stilling's life — the payment of his debts; 
 and the second solved the second — Stilling's 
 future sphere of action. 
 
 What the exalted Governor of the world be- 
 gins He accomplishes, in small things as well 
 as in great — in the cottage of the peasant as in 
 the court of the monarch. He forgets the ant 
 as little as the greatest potentate. Nothing 
 proves unsuccessful with Him, and nothing 
 stops short with Him. Providence proceeds 
 uninterrupted on its exalted path. 
 
 Brother Coing married, in the spring of 1802, 
 an excellent lady, who is worthy of him. Still- 
 ing, Eliza, sister Maria, and Jacob, set out in 
 order to be present at the marriage, which was 
 to be celebrated at Homberg in Lower Hessia, 
 in the house of the worthy widow of the Metro- 
 politan Wiskemann, the mother of the bride. 
 Now there lives in Cassel a noble-minded, pi- 
 ously-disposed, and affluent individual, Coun- 
 sellor Enyeim, who was a widower, and whose 
 two amiable children were married; he therefore 
 lived alone, with a footman and a cook; and 
 was again in want of a pious and faithful 
 spouse, who might accompany him in his pil- 
 grimage through life. 
 
 A brother of this worthy man is preacher at 
 Homberg, and likewise a very amiable charac- 
 ter; and having seen and observed sister Maria, 
 considered that she would make his brother in 
 Cassel happy. After the observance of the due 
 precautionary measures and rules of decorum, 
 the match was concluded; and Maria, the noble, 
 gentle, good, and pious soul, has obtained a hus- 
 band such as suits her exactly; she is as happy 
 as a person can be here below. 
 
 Thus the blessing of the elder Coings rests 
 upon these four children; they are all happily 
 and blissfully married; for brother Coing has 
 obtained a consort such as the Lord gives to the 
 man whom he loves; Amalia also lives happily 
 with Stilling's virtuous son. Eliza treads the 
 most painful and hardest path, at Stilling's side ; 
 however, besides father Coing's blessing, her 
 father Wilhelm will also supplicate peculiar 
 grace for her from the Lord. 
 
164 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 The year 1802 was terminated by an agree- 
 able visit; Selling's next relative, and the inti- 
 mate friend of his youth from the cradle, the 
 chief surveyor of the mines at Dillenburg, paid 
 him a visit of some days. He is Johann Sell- 
 ing's second son, and a man of integrity and 
 ability. Both renewed their fraternal bond, and 
 parted with regret. 
 
 In the beginning of the year 1803, a circum- 
 stance occurred that had an important influence 
 upon Stil ling's fate. An edict from Cassel ar- 
 rived at the Marburg University, to the effect 
 that no author should send his compositions to the 
 press, until they had been examined by the pio-rector 
 and dean of the faculty to whose department the 
 treatise belonged. 
 
 This limitation of the liberty of the press, 
 which had no reference to the whole country, or 
 to all the schools of learning, or the learned in 
 Hessia generally, but solely to Marburg, uncom- 
 monly grieved all the professors there, who were 
 not in the least conscious of any thing wrong; 
 for, in fact, none but professors, who are ac- 
 quainted with the difficult collegiate relations, 
 can have an idea how greatly an honest man is 
 exposed to all possible raillery when two of his 
 colleagues possess the right to examine his works. 
 
 Stilling reflected awhile, and probably every 
 Marburg professor did the same, upon what 
 could possibly have occasioned this severe ordi- 
 nance. There was now nothing published by a 
 Marburg author, except the usual academical 
 writings, programmes, dissertations, &c., but 
 the " Grey Man," by Stilling, and the Theologi- 
 cal Annals by Wacheler; one of these two, 
 therefore, must probably have become suspect- 
 ed. Stilling reflected over the last number of 
 the "Grey Man," and found nothing that was 
 in the least objectionable ; he could not, there- 
 fore, possibly imagine that such an orthodox 
 work, which has for its object piety, the general 
 tranquillity and safety, and the maintaining 
 of obedience and the affection of the subjects 
 towards their rulers, had given rise to a law so 
 grievous to the University. In order, however, 
 to obtain a certainty in the matter, he wrote a 
 very polite and 'cordial letter to a certain gentle- 
 man in Cassel, whom he had never injured in 
 the slightest degree, and modestly inquired the 
 cause of the severe edict concerning the censor- 
 ship. But how was he alarmed on receiving, 
 in a rather satirical and ungracious reply, the 
 news that the " Grey Man" had caused the cen- 
 sor-edict. By degrees this became generally 
 known ; and any one may easily imagine how 
 Stilling must have felt when he reflected that 
 he had given occasion for the imposition of so 
 heavy a burden upon the University. He had 
 now at once finished with Marburg and Hesse ; 
 and the time seemed tedious to him, till the Lord 
 should completely decide his fate. I scarcely 
 need mention that the Landgrave of Hesse was 
 entirely innocent of this edict; for how can 
 a ruler read and examine every work ?— he must 
 commit these and many other things to be de- 
 cided by men of experience in such matters. I 
 appeal to all the readers of the " Grey Man," 
 and if a single passage can be shown which is 
 opposed to the imperial law of censorship, I will 
 confess I have been in error. 
 
 Ought not a hint t have been given Stilling 
 to cease publishing the " Grey Man 1" But, in- 
 stead of this, to make him a stumbling-block to 
 all his colleagues and the whole University, was 
 very hard for a man who had served his prince | 
 tnd the state with all fidelity for sixteen years. 
 
 In fact, Stilling could now remain no longer 
 in Hessia ; and how fortunate it was that, shortly 
 before, a pleasing prospect had been unfolded to 
 him at Carlsruhe. He openly declared, as well 
 as in his protest, which at his request was an- 
 nexed to the memorial of the University to the 
 Elector, that if his Highness would relieve the 
 University from the censorial edict, he alone 
 would submit himself to it. But this proved 
 of no avail; the law, once given, continued in 
 force. 
 
 The Elector had otherwise always shown 
 Stilling much favor, for which he will thank 
 him in eternity; and his respectful attachment 
 to this prince, who may be called great in so 
 many respects, will never be extinguished. 
 
 During these Easter holidays, another im- 
 portant and remarkable journey was undertaken. 
 At Herrnhut, in Upper Lusatia, and the neigh- 
 borhood, there were many blind people, and 
 such as were diseased in the eye, who desired 
 Sailing's aid. His dear and faithful correspond- 
 ent, Erxleben, therefore wrote to him to come, 
 and that the expenses of the journey were al- 
 ready provided for. Stilling and Eliza conse- 
 quently prepared themselves for another long 
 journey ; for Herrnhut is fifiy-nine German miles 
 distant from Marburg. 
 
 On Friday, the 25th of March, they set out 
 from Marburg. On account of the badness of 
 the roads in Thuringia, they resolved to go by 
 way of Eisenach. Stilling here saw, for the first 
 time, a gentleman who had been many years his 
 friend, the treasury-director, Von Göchhausen ; 
 this worthy man was then ill, but he soon be- 
 gan to amend. They did not stop on the way, 
 but travelled through Gotha, Erfurth, Weimar, 
 Naumburg, Weissenfels, Leipzig, and Würzen, 
 where they spent a few hours very agreeably 
 with their Christian friend, Justiciary Ritcher, 
 with whom, and his daughter Augusta, Stilling 
 carries on an edifying correspondence, and then 
 proceeded to Meissen and Dresden. They passed 
 the night there at the Golden Angel, and found 
 their friend Von Cuningham likewise ill. Still- 
 ing paid a visit the same evening to the vener- 
 able minister, Von Burgsdorf, and was received 
 like a Christian friend. 
 
 On Friday, the first of April, they travelled 
 into Lusatia, and arrived in the afternoon at 
 Kleinwelke, a beautiful Moravian settlement. 
 They found their friend the Rev. Mr. Nietschke 
 in profound grief ; he had lost his excellent con- 
 sort a fortnight before, for this life. Stilling 
 wept with him; for this is the best consolation 
 which can be afforded to one who, like Nietschke, 
 can have recourse to every source of consola- 
 tion. Nature demands her rights; the outward 
 man mourns, whilst the inward is resigned to 
 God. 
 
 They were present, in the evening, at the sing- 
 ing, or the commencement of the celebration of 
 the passion-week. They formed several agree- 
 able acquaintances in this place, and Stilling 
 looked at a few blind people, on whom he in- 
 tended to operate on his return. 
 
 On Saturday, the second of April, they trav- 
 elled in the morning from Kleinwelke, through 
 Budissin and Lobau, to Herrnhut. This place 
 lies on an elevated level, between two hills, the 
 one to the north, the other towards the south ; the 
 former is called the Gutberg, and the latter the 
 Heinrichsberg, on each of which stands a pavil- 
 ion, from whence the prospect is extremely beau- 
 tiful. At about five leagues' distance, towards 
 
STILLING-S YEA 
 
 RS OF TUITION. 
 
 165 
 
 the east, the majestic Sitesian Giant Hills are 
 seen, and towards the south is a distant prospect 
 of Bohemia. 
 
 It is impossible to describe how cordially and 
 lovingly Stilling and Eliza were received at this 
 extremely beautiful and agreeable place, and 
 how much enjoyment they experienced there. 
 I am equally unable to recount the history of 
 their ten days' residence, tor it would increase 
 the size of this volume too much ; besides which. 
 Stilling was seriously requested by the Elders 
 not to say or write much to the praise of the Mora- 
 vian Church, since it prospered better under oppres- 
 sion, contempt, and oblivion, than when it was com- 
 mended. 
 
 Erxleben and Goldmann were particularly 
 glad of their arrival, the first as correspondent, 
 and the second from personal acquaintance at 
 Stuttgard. No one will take it amiss that I do 
 not on this occasion mention the names of any 
 other friends. How could I name them all 1 
 And if I did not do that, it might pain him who 
 was omitted. 
 
 Were I even only to mention the many per- 
 sons of rank and nobility with whom Stilling and 
 Eliza entered into a fraternal alliance here, it 
 would again grieve a number of excellent souls 
 of the middle class, and that justly; for in the 
 connection existing at Herrnhut all are nearly 
 allied in the Lord Jesus Christ ; rank is no longe'r 
 of any value, but the new creature, which is 
 born of water and the Spirit. He, however, who 
 wishes to know more of Herrnhut and its reli- 
 gious and political constitution, has onlv to read 
 the Rev. Mr. Frohberger's letters on Herrnhut, 
 where he will find every thing minutely de- 
 scribed. 
 
 The celebration of the passion- week is heart- 
 cheering and heavenlv in all the Moravian set- 
 tlements, but especially at Herrnhut. Stilling 
 and Eliza diligently and devoutly attended all 
 the services that are devoted to it. The vener- 
 able bishops and elders allowed them also to 
 communicate with the church on the evening of 
 Holy Thursday. This communion is what it 
 properly ought to be — a solemn uniting with 
 Christ the Head, and with all his members of 
 every religious denomination. "What a piously- 
 disposed heart experiences on this occasion, 
 cannot be described — it must be experienced. 
 Stilling felt at that time as if he were conse- 
 crated to 'his new and future occupation; and 
 for such a consecration, certainly no place was 
 better fitted than that in which Jesus Christ and 
 his religion are confessed and taught, perhaps 
 the most clearly and purely in the whole world ; 
 than that place where, in proportion to the pop- 
 ulation generally, certainly the greatest number 
 of true Christians dwell. 
 
 I must however notice, in particular, two in- 
 dividuals at Herrnhut, the lord of the manor, 
 Baron Watteville, and his consort, born Count- 
 ess of Zinzendorf. This worthy lady much 
 resembles her late father, and overflows in 
 a similar manner with love to God and man ; 
 her husband is also a worthy and religious man, 
 and both of them showed Stilling and Eliza 
 much friendship. 
 
 Stilling operated upon several persons at 
 Herrnhut, and administered help and advice to 
 some hundreds, for the concourse of people re- 
 quiring assistance was extremely great. 
 
 On Easter Tuesday, the 12th of April, they set 
 out from Herrnhut to Klein welke, amidst the 
 blessings of many worthy people. Here a few 
 
 more were couched ; and the next day they rode 
 to Dresden, where they continued till Saturday, 
 and then returned by way of Waldheim, Coldiz, 
 Grimma, and Würzen, to Leipzig. The reason 
 of this circuitous route was, because there were 
 some blind people in the poorhouse at Waldheim, 
 whom the kind father of the poor, the minister 
 Von Burgsdorf, desired to see restored to sight; 
 they had also a friendly invitation from his chil- 
 dren, the Von Hopfgartens in Coldiz. Stilling 
 there performed the last cataract-operation on 
 this journey. I regret that I cannot, and dare 
 not, loudly and publicly thank all the dear and 
 excellent people who manifested such unspeak- 
 able kindness to Stilling and Eliza, and with 
 whom they united themselves for time and eter- 
 nity. Every one, however, will see that this 
 cannot be done, for many important reasons ; we 
 will leave it for the next world. 
 
 In the afternoon of Thursday, the 21st, they 
 set off from Leipzig, and passed the night at 
 Weissenfels; the following day they travelled 
 to Weimar, and as they had a commission from 
 the settlement of Herrnhut to Neu-Dietendorf, 
 they made a little circuit thither from Erfurth, 
 spent the Sunday there, and then travelled on 
 Monday, by way of Gotha, to Eisenach. In 
 Gotha, Stilling waited upon the duke, with whom 
 he had a short and interesting conference. 
 
 At Eisenach they found their dear friend Von 
 Gochhausen better again ; with him, his brother 
 and sister, and the worthy Doctor Müller, they 
 spent a pleasant evening, and then travelled, on 
 Tuesday, the 26th of April, to Cassel. Here 
 they rested till Monday, the 2nd of May. Brother 
 Coing came also thither with his lady, and the 
 brothers and sisters spent the few days very 
 pleasantly together. Brother Coing then returned 
 home with his Julia, and Stilling and Eliza, on 
 the day above-mentioned, to Marburg. 
 
 It is a matter of notoriety that the Landgrave 
 of Hesse Cassel accepted the Electoral dignity 
 this spring, for which purpose great solemnities 
 were prepared. In the meantime, early in the 
 morning of Friday, the 20th of May, Stilling re- 
 ceived a letter by a courier from Cassel, in which 
 he was requested to take post immediately and 
 go thither, for Prince Charles of Hesse was there 
 from Denmark; he had unexpectedly surprised 
 his brother, and wished now to speak with Still- 
 ing also. The latter immediately ordered post- 
 horses, Eliza also got ready, and at half-past five 
 they were both seated in their carriage; at nine 
 o'clock in the evening they arrived at their 
 brother and sister Enyeim's in Cassel. In the 
 course of the two following days Stilling spent 
 some extremely pleasant hours with the prince; 
 affairs of the greatest importance concerning the 
 kingdom of God were discussed. Prince Charles 
 is a true Christian ; he cleaves with the highest 
 degree of affection and adoration to the Redeem- 
 er; he lives and dies for him; at the same time 
 he possesses singular and extraordinary knowl- 
 edge and acquirements, which are by no means 
 for every one, and which can in no wise be men- 
 tioned here. After taking a Christian and affec- 
 tionate leave of this great and enlightened prince, 
 Stilling and Eliza set off again from Cassel on 
 Monday, the 23d of May, and arrived in the 
 evening at Marburg. 
 
 Stilling's lectures were very ill attended this 
 summer. Had it not been for the new prospect 
 afforded him the previous autumn at Carlsruhe, 
 he would have been inconsolable. The Whit- 
 suntide vacation now approached. Stilling and 
 
166 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 Eliza had long purposed visiting their friends at 
 Wittgenstein, during these holidays ; and as 
 Stilling's birth-place is only five leagues distant 
 from that place, they intended to make a pilgrim- 
 age together to Tiefenbach and Florenburg, and 
 visit all the places wnich Stilling's childhood and 
 youthful years had rendered remarkable — at least 
 to them. Stilling rejoiced much in the expect- 
 ation of once more visiting these places, arm-in- 
 arm with his dear Eliza, which he had not seen 
 for thirty-seven or thirty-eight years. A thrill- 
 ing sensation pervaded him when these ideas 
 presented themselves to his mind. 
 
 For the accomplishment of this purpose, they 
 both set off for Wittgenstein, which is seven 
 leagues distant from Marburg, on Saturday, the 
 28th of May, the day before Whitsunday, ac- 
 companied by their son Frederick, now eight 
 years old, to whom they intended to show his fa- 
 ther's birth-place. The chancery-director, Hom- 
 bergk of Vach, is a native of Marburg, and not 
 only a near relative of Eliza, but he and his con- 
 sort are also Stilling and Eliza's intimate friends, 
 and are excellent characters. Their abode with 
 these good people was very beneficial; and all 
 the friends in Wittgenstein did their best to re- 
 fresh and gratify the two visitors. 
 
 Tuesday in Whitsuntide was the day on which 
 the journey to Stilling's birth-place was to have 
 been undertaken, and Hombergk with his lady 
 wished to accompany them. Stilling, however, 
 was seized with an inexplicable terror, which 
 increased as the day approached, and rendered 
 the accomplishment of his purpose impractica- 
 ble. In proportion as he had previously rejoiced 
 at the idea of visiting the scene of his youthful 
 days, so much did he now shudder at it; he felt 
 just as if great dangers awaited him there. God 
 alone knows the cause and reason of this very 
 singular phenomenon ; it was not such an anx- 
 itey as that which he felt on the Brunswick jour- 
 ney, but it was perhaps the warning of his 
 guardian angel, which struggled with his long- 
 ing to see his native place, and this struggle 
 caused suffering. The former was like Job's, 
 the latter like Jacob's conflict. The journey 
 was therefore not undertaken; his dear friends 
 respected his terror, and gave way. 
 
 Whilst at Wittgenstein, the remarkable period 
 at length arrived in which Stilling, in the sixty- 
 third year of his age, learnt the decision of his 
 fate. He received a letter from his son at Mar- 
 burg, in which the latter communicated to him 
 the joyful intelligence that the Elector of Baden 
 had appointed him Counsellor of Justice to the 
 Supreme Electoral Court at Manheim, with a 
 regular income in money and perquisites; this 
 was a vocation which exceeded the expectations 
 of both; there was also annexed a question to 
 Stilling in particular, whether for the present, and 
 until his income could be increased, he would come 
 for twelve hundred guilders yearly ? 
 
 Joy at the provision lor the long-tried Jacob, 
 and the near and certain prospect of escaping 
 from a situation which had now become intoler- 
 able, filled Stilling and Eliza with delight and 
 profound serenity; they offered thanks to God 
 with tears, and hastened home, because Jacob 
 had at the same time received orders to come as 
 soon as possible, and enter upon his office. They 
 therefore left Wittgenstein on Friday, the third 
 of June, and arrived in the afternoon at Marburg. 
 
 All hands were now put into activity to accel- 
 erate Jacob and Amalia's removal to Manheim. 
 But a violent conflict between faith and reason 
 How arose in Stilling's soul. 
 
 If Stilling's situation at this time is considered 
 on rational and economical grounds, it was cer- 
 tainly a matter for hesitation, to exchange a 
 place producing twelve hundred dollars in gold 
 for one of twelve hundred guilders currency, 
 particularly as nothing remained over from the 
 large salary first-mentioned; there were even 
 reasons which might have removed Stilling's 
 difficulties, and decided him to remain at Mar- 
 burg, and retain his place; for he could proceed 
 quietly as before, travel during the vacations, 
 and in the interval faithfully discharge the duties 
 of his office : if he had few hearers, or none at 
 all, it was not his fault; and with respect to the 
 impulse he felt to be active in the cause of reli- 
 gion, he might act as he had hitherto done, and 
 if he could not force every thing to be as he 
 wished, God does not require of us more than 
 we are able to perform ; the stone is left lying 
 which cannot be lifted, &c. 
 
 But Stilling's conscience, which has been rec- 
 tified by many trials cf faith and much experi- 
 ence in suffering, and purified from all sophistry 
 by being exercised for many years in the school 
 of grace, judged very differently. According to 
 his inmost conviction, it was imperative upon 
 him to resign his office and return his salary 
 into the hands of his prince, when he found he 
 could no longer earn it to the satisfaction of his 
 own conscience. This position admits of no 
 limitation, and he that thinks otherwise thinks 
 incorrectly. Stilling could now do this boldly, 
 since a way was shown him by which he could 
 attain his object as soon as he entered upon it. 
 He had learnt in the last few years, that the 
 Lord has means enough of helping him out of 
 his distresses without the Marburg stipend; for 
 his debts were liquidated, not by this, but with 
 Swiss money, and it was with the latter, and not 
 with the former, that the expenses of the removal 
 and the new arrangements would be covered. It 
 is, further, the unconditional duty of the true 
 Christian, as soon as the choice is left him of 
 various vocations, to choose that which is the 
 most useful to mankind, and which operates the 
 most beneficially, without any reference to a 
 smaller income, or even none at all ; for as soon 
 as the. individual follows this maxim he enters 
 into the immediate service of the Father and 
 Ruler of all men, and it follows of course that 
 He rewards his servants, and gives them what 
 they need. Stilling therefore felt himself under 
 weighty obligations to accept the call ; for that 
 he was of infinitely greater service by his ocu- 
 listic practice, and especially by his writings, 
 than by his professorship, was beyond a doubt, 
 and those very occupations constituted his whole 
 vocation in the event of his accepting the Baden 
 appointment. It was therefore by all means his 
 duty to accept the call, particularly as in process 
 of time an increase of stipend was promised by 
 a prince who faithfully performs what he prom- 
 ises. 
 
 There came to his mind, in addition to all 
 these motives, the whole of Stilling's guidance, 
 from the very cradle. He must be very blind, 
 who cannot perceive that this had systematically 
 pointed out the way to the door which the Elector 
 of Baden now opened. If Stilling had purposed 
 waiting for some other opportunity, in which 
 more salary would be promised him, it would 
 have been, in his situation, and with the trials 
 of faith which he had experienced, a highly cul- 
 pable mistrust ; and as Providence had undoubt- 
 edly prepared and provided' the vocation, it 
 
STILLING'S YEARS OF TUITION. 
 
 1G7 
 
 would have been also a heinous sin of disobe- 
 dience if he had not accepted it. And, then, this 
 appointment was so strange and so singular in 
 its kind, that another such could not possibly be 
 expected; and, finally, the true and enlightened 
 Christian easily perceives that Selling's great 
 Leader had no other object in it than to retain 
 him and his Eliza continually in the exercise of 
 faith, and to place them in such a situation that 
 their eyes must ever be directed to his gracious 
 hand, and wait upon Him. All these convic- 
 tions decided both to accept the call in reliance 
 on Divine direction ; but in order to do every 
 thing that could be done to keep himself free 
 from blame, Stilling wrote to the Elector of Ba- 
 -den, requesting an addition, if possible, in the 
 "way pi' residence, &c, on which the vocation 
 came, and in it this addition was promised him 
 as soon as any thing of the kind should be va- 
 cant. 
 
 It was now, dear readers, that the great ques- 
 Jon respecting Stilling's real and final destiny 
 was decided, and the second great problem of 
 his wonderful guidance solved. It can no long- 
 er be said, that his faith and confidence in Jesus 
 Christ and in his government of the world, was 
 enthusiasm or superstition ; on the contrary, the 
 Redeemer has gloriously and obviously justified 
 himself and the faith of his servant; and as a 
 proof that Stilling's decision was well-pleasing 
 to Him, He gave him the following distinguish- 
 ed sign of his gracious approbation. 
 
 More than fifty German miles from Marburg 
 there lives a lady, who was utterly ignorant of 
 Stilling's present situation and necessities, but 
 to whom he was known by his writings. This 
 person felt herself inwardly impelled to send 
 Stilling twenty louis-d'ors. She followed this 
 impulse in simplicity and faith; packed up the 
 twenty louis-d'ors, and wrote him at the same 
 time, that she felt herself impelled to send him the 
 money ; he would know well enough how to apply 
 it, and far what purpose. By these hundred and 
 eighty guilders, what still remained over from 
 the Swiss journey was increased, and thus the 
 removal from Marburg and the establishment of 
 a new household in a strange place was facili- 
 tated. I imagine, however, that something yet 
 awaits Stilling, which will develope the reason 
 why this money was sent him. 
 
 What a manifest guidance of God, when clear- 
 sightedly and impartially considered ! If one 
 ef all the drawings of Providence hitherto de- 
 scribed had been wanting, it would not have 
 been possible to have accepted this appoint- 
 ment ;— if Stilling had obtained in Switzerland 
 only the amount of his debts and his travelling 
 expenses, it would have been a glorious and 
 visible favor from God; but then he must have 
 continued in Marburg, because the means would 
 have been wanting for his removal and estab- 
 lishment in a strange place ; for he retained no 
 surplus of all his income at Marburg. 
 
 The Lord's name be praised ! He is still the 
 same God as He has revealed himself in the Bible. 
 Yes, He is justly termed, / am, and was, and 
 shall be, ever the same. Jesus Christ, the same yes- 
 terday, to-day, and for ever. 
 
 On the 25th of June, Jacob and Amalia took 
 their departure, amidst the tears of all their 
 friends and with the heartiest blessings of their 
 parents, for Manheim ; and Stilling and Eliza 
 now prepared for their removal to Heidelberg, 
 which place the Elector had recommended to j 
 them for their future residence ; for though they 1 
 
 are at liberty to reside in any part of the Baden 
 territories they please, because Stilling has no 
 official situation, but devotes himself solely to 
 the great and primary impulse which has labor- 
 ed to attain its development in him from his 
 youth up — that is, to be active as a witness of 
 the truth for Jesus Christ and his kingdom, and 
 to serve his neighbour by his beneficial ophthal- 
 mic cures ; notwithstanding all this, he was un- 
 der the greatest obligation to regard the advice 
 of the Elector as a command ; which was also 
 easily obeyed, because Stilling knew no place 
 more convenient or agreeable, and because he 
 was already known there, having lived in that 
 city before. 
 
 He now applied to the Elector of Hesse for 
 his dismission, and obtained it. At his depar- 
 ture, Stilling wrote once more to him, and thank- 
 ed him for all the favors and benefits he had 
 hitherto enjoyed, and entreated the continuance 
 of his kind favor; of which the Elector also as- 
 sured him in a gracious letter from his own 
 hand. 
 
 It cannot be described what a melancholy sen- 
 sation Stilling's departure caused throughout 
 the Hessian dominions, but especially at Mar- 
 burg; all its inhabitants mourned, and on his 
 leaving, on Saturday, the 10th of September, 
 in the morning, the whole neighborhood wept. 
 But not a word more of these affecting scenes. 
 Stilling and Eliza's hearts were deeply wounded, 
 particularly on passing the church-yard where 
 so many dear friends and relatives repose. 
 
 It follows, of course, that their friend Julia 
 removed with them. They travelled the first 
 day to their children, the Schwarzes, at Mün- 
 ster; there they spent Sunday and Monday, 
 which latter was Stilling's birth-day, and was 
 celebrated on this occasion in an extremely stri- 
 king manner. Schwarz and Julia had formed 
 the plan of it, which was admirably executed. 
 I have omitted recounting any of the birth-day 
 solemnities since 1791 ; they contained too much 
 that is flattering and panegyrical, and to describe 
 all this would be disgusting. 
 
 On Tuesday, the 13th of September, they took 
 leave of their children, the Schwarzes, and trav- 
 elled to Frankfort; there they spent Wednesday 
 and Thursday ; on Friday they rode to Heppen- 
 heim, and on Saturday, the 17th of September, 
 they entered Heidelberg. The watch ward for 
 the day was striking; it stands in Exodus, xv., 
 17: " Thou shalt bring them in, and plant them 
 in the mountain of thine inheritance, in the 
 place, O Lord, which thou hast made for thee 
 to dwell in; in the sanctuary, O Lord, which 
 thy hands have established." I suppose I need 
 not observe that the mountain of the inherit- 
 ance of Jehovah, and his sanctuary, must not 
 be applied to Heidelberg; but Stilling's idea 
 of the mountain of Jehovah's inheritance, his 
 dwelling, and his sanctuary, was, the spiritual 
 Zion and the mystic temple of God, in which 
 he was now to be placed as a servant, and in 
 which he was to labor. 
 
 Friend Mieg had provided a handsome dwell- 
 ing; and his x lady and a friend of hers, had made 
 other requisite preparations. There dwells Still- 
 ing, with his Eliza, Julia, and Caroline; and 
 with the three children, Frederick, Amalia, and 
 Christina; together with the dear, good, and 
 faithful Maria, and a maid-servant ; and now 
 waits further «upon the Lord and his gracious 
 guidance. 
 
 How gladly would I here have openly and 
 
168 HEINRICH 
 
 publicly thanked certain families and intimate 
 and cordial friends at Marburg, for their love 
 and friendship ! But tell me, my beloved friends, 
 how could I do so, without grieving some one 
 or other, whom I do not or cannot name 1 The 
 whole dear, cordial city of Marburg is my friend, 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 and I am its friend ; in this relation we will con- 
 tinue towards each other until our glorification ; 
 and beyond it as long as our existence lasts. 
 You ail know us, and we you; the Lord our 
 God knows all of us. Be He your great reward ? 
 Amen ! 
 
 RETROSPECT OF 
 
 First of all, I very heartily request all my 
 readers to peruse, and carefully examine these 
 few remaining pages, with a calm and impartial 
 mind ; for they develope the real point of view 
 from whence Stilling's whole life, as displayed 
 throughout this work, must be estimated. 
 
 That I, Johann Heinrich Jung, Aulic Coun- 
 sellor, the author of this work, am myself Hein- 
 rich Stilling, and that it is therefore my own 
 history, every one knows ; my incognito is there- 
 fore no longer of any use ; I lay it aside, and 
 speak no longer in Stilling's, but in my own 
 person. 
 
 The first and principal question is, whether 
 my whole history, as I have related it in " Hein- 
 rich Stilling's Childhood, Youth, Wanderings, 
 Domestic Life, and Years of Tuition," be really 
 and actually true ? To this I can with a good 
 conscience answer in the affirmative. In the 
 history of my " Childhood," the persons, char- 
 acters, and the narrative itself, are written and 
 described according to truth ; a variety of em- 
 bellishments, it is true, are introduced, because 
 they were requisite for my object at the time ; 
 but these embellishments decrease in such a 
 manner that few appear in the "Youthful 
 Years," still fewer in the "Wanderings," and 
 none at all in the "Domestic Life ;" only the 
 persons and places, for reasons which I could 
 not avoid, were concealed under fabulous names. 
 In the last part, however, " Stilling's Years of 
 Tuition," with the exception of Raschmann, 
 and a certain student, I have called every place 
 and person by their proper names, for this very 
 important reason — that every one may be ena- 
 bled to examine and ascertain whether I relate 
 the pure and unadorned truth. It is fully worth 
 the while for the reader to convince himself of 
 this ; for if my history be true in its whole ex- 
 tent, results arise from it which perhaps few of 
 my readers would suppose, and of which the 
 majority cannot have even a remote presenti- 
 ment. It is, therefore, an indispensable duty 
 for me to develope and place before them these 
 results and consequences conscientiously, and 
 with rational and logical correctness. I there- 
 fore earnestly beg of all my readers to examine 
 most minutely and strictly all that follows. 
 
 The events of an individual's life, from his 
 birth to his death, all of them in their turn, arise 
 either. 
 
 1. From blind chance ; or, 
 
 2. From a divine and wisely-formed plan, in 
 the accomplishment of which men cooperate, 
 either as beings really free, or else mechanical- 
 ly, like physical nature, yet in such a manner 
 as seems to them that they acted freely. This 
 latter dreadful idea, that men seem only free to 
 act, whilst in reality they act only mechanical- 
 ly, is what is called Fatalism. This is not the 
 place to refute this awful absurdity ; but should 
 
 STILLING'S LIFE. 
 
 it be required, I can do it, thank God ! incon- 
 trovertibly. 
 
 I take it therefore for granted, that God gov- 
 erns the world with infinite wisdom ; yet in* 
 such a manner that mankind cooperate, as free 
 agents ; for this reason ; because fatalism has 
 no influence on my present object. 
 
 It is evident from the meaning of the expres- 
 sion " blind chance," that this nonentity cannot 
 remotely prepare, from premeditated plans, with 
 vast wisdom, the means for their accomplish- 
 ment, and afterwards powerfully execute them; 
 consequently, when all this is supremely evi- 
 dent, as in the history of my life, it would be 
 folly to think of ascribing it to blind chance ; 
 as, in the events of each individual's life, and 
 therefore in mine also, an immense number of 
 other individuals cooperate ; and it is impossi- 
 ble that all these cooperating beings can be un- 
 der the direction of a blind chance. I therefore 
 establish the principle, that nothing happens, or 
 can happen, by mere chance. 
 
 That a person, generally speaking, is in part 
 master of his own fate, and has usually to as- 
 cribe his happiness for the most part to himself, 
 none of my readers will doubt, unless he be a 
 fatalist ; but with such a one I do not come into 
 collision here. But whether I have cooperated as 
 to the manner of my guidance, and whether I have 
 in the smallest degree, intentionally, contributed to 
 any one of the decisive events of my life, is the 
 question on which every thing here depends ; for, if 
 I can prove that this is not the case, results 
 arise from it of a very comprehensive nature, 
 and which are of the utmost importance for our 
 contemporaries. 
 
 There are persons who, from their youth up, 
 experience within them a certain impulse ; this 
 they apprehend and keep in view till their death, 
 and they apply all their understanding and all 
 their powers to attain the object to which this 
 impulse excites them. For instance, one man 
 has an invincible inclination and a primary 
 impulse to mechanical labors. He wrestles, 
 strives, labors, and invents, until he produces 
 works of art which astonish the beholder. Now 
 this is the case in every vocation, and with all 
 the arts and sciences ; for such aspiring indi- 
 viduals are found in each particular depart- 
 ment. They are called great men, people of 
 great minds, great geniuses, &c. But many, 
 notwithstanding all the power and strength of 
 their impulse, and all their pains and labor, do 
 not prove successful, because it does not com 
 port with the mighty plan of the world's govern- 
 ment ; whilst others, who are also men of great 
 talents, and are the cause of horrible evils in the 
 world, succeed in attaining their object, because 
 their actions, with the consequences arising 
 from them, can be applied to good purposes. It 
 is therefore evident, and indeed very certain, 
 
/ 
 
 RETROSPECT OF 
 
 that such men have themselves formed and ex- 
 ecuted the plan of their lives, at least for the 
 most part, and that their impulse was natural 
 to them. Let the reader reflect upon the lives 
 of many great and eminent good and wicked 
 men, and then he will no longer be ahle to douht 
 of the truth of my assertion. 
 
 The great and principal question, therefore, 
 now really is, Am I such a man 1 Do I helong 
 to the above-mentioned class of remarkable in- 
 dividuals, who have for the most part been the 
 authors of their own destinies 1 
 
 Let us examine and reply to this question 
 most strictly and impartially ; and first of all, 
 whether I really possessed such a powerful im- 
 pulse. Most certainly ! I possessed it, and 
 have it still ; it is to labor extensively and com- 
 prehensively for Jesus Christ, his religion, and his 
 kingdom; but it must be well observed, that 
 this impulse did not at all lie in my natural 
 character ; for its chief feature was, on the con- 
 trary, an extensive and highly frivolous delight in 
 physical and mental sensible pleasures ; I beg that 
 this fundamental part of my character be on no 
 account lost sight of. I received the first-men- 
 tioned impulse entirely from without, and that 
 in the following manner. 
 
 The early decease of my mother laid the found- 
 ation of it. My Heavenly Guide began with 
 this, in the second year of my age. If she had 
 continued alive, my father would have become, 
 a farmer, and I should early have been obliged 
 to accompany him to the field ; I should have 
 learned to read and write, and that would have 
 been all ; my head and my heart would then 
 have been filled with the commonest things, and 
 what would have become of my moral charac- 
 ter, God only knows. But my mother dying ear- 
 ly, my father's religious character was stretched 
 to the utmost, and took its direction from inter- 
 course with the Mystics. He withdrew with 
 me into solitude, for which his trade of tailor 
 was well adapted ; and in accordance with his 
 principles, I was brought up entirely separate 
 from the world. My head and heart, therefore, 
 had no other objects to hear, see, and feel, but 
 religious ones ; I was constantly obliged to read 
 the histories and biographies of great, pious, and 
 holy men, and such as were eminent in the 
 kingdom of God, to which was also added the 
 repeated perusal and reperusal of the Holy 
 Scriptures. In a word, I saw and heard no- 
 thing but religion and Christianity, and men wiio 
 thence became pious and holy, who lived and 
 labored for the Lord and his kingdom, and had 
 even offered up their blood and lives for Him. 
 Now it is well-known that the first, impressions 
 upon a mind still entirely void, particularly when 
 they are unmingled, strong, and of many years' 
 duration, become, as it were, indelibly engraved 
 upon the w r hole being of the individual ; and this 
 was also the case with me. The impulse to act 
 extensively for Jesus Christ, his religion, and his 
 kingdom, was so deeply impressed upon my 
 whole being, that no sufferings nor circumstan- 
 ces, during the course of so many years, were 
 able to weaken it ; it became, on the contrary, 
 more and more powerful and invincible ; and 
 though the view of it might occasionally be ob- 
 scured by gloomy prospects for a shorter or 
 longer period, yet it presented itself to my sight 
 so much the more clearly afterwards. That I 
 Y 
 
 STILLING'S LIFE. 169 
 
 sought and cherished this impulse, when a child, 
 no one will suppose ; and it is ridiculous to 
 imagine that this was my father's object. He 
 sought to make me, first of all, a pious and reli- 
 gious man, and next, an able schoolmaster ; 
 and as this vocation, in my country, cannot 
 support a man with a family, he wished me to 
 learn his trade besides, ir order to be able to 
 pass through the world honestly. He gave me 
 histories of the kind above-mentioned to read, 
 because children must have something to en- 
 tertain them, and also that they might excite a 
 desire in me to become a true Christian. But 
 that the fundamental impulse above alluded to 
 arose from it, was the purpose, not of a blind 
 chance, not of my father, nor my own mind, but 
 of the great Ruler of the world, who intended 
 eventually to make use of me. 
 
 I therefore take it as a settled point, that it 
 was not by natural predisposition, but by God's 
 own wise guidance and government alone, that 
 He imparted to my spirit the impulse to live and 
 labor on a large scale for Jesus Christ and his 
 kingdom, and made it my peculiar vocation. 
 
 But as my natural impulse— the highly frivo- 
 lous and copious enjoyment of physical and men- 
 tal pleasures — operated in a manner entirely op- 
 posed to the other engrafted impulse, my Heav- 
 enly Guide began early to combat this danger- 
 ous foe. The instrument for this purpose was 
 also my father, but again, without his having a 
 remote presentiment of it ; for he was entirely 
 unacquainted with my natural impulse, or he 
 would most certainly have avoided rocks on 
 which I should have inevitably suffered ship- 
 wreck if the paternal hand of God had not ea- 
 sily led me past them. My father had no idea 
 of all this; but merely from the mystic princi- 
 ple of mortifying the flesh, I was almost daily 
 whipped with the rod. I know for a certainty 
 that he has frequently chastised me merely to 
 crucify and mortify his affection for me. This 
 kind of correction would have had a highly in- 
 jurious effect on any one else ; but, let it be be- 
 lieved on my word, it was an indispensably re- 
 quisite mode of tuition for me, for my thought- 
 less temperament went to incredible lengths ia 
 unguarded moments ; no one, but God and my- 
 self, knows what horrible thoughts, wishes and 
 desires, were awakened in my soul ; it seemed 
 as if some mighty hostile power had excited in- 
 nocent people, who intended no evil, to cast me 
 into the most baneful and dreadful temptations 
 and dangers, with respect to my moral charac- 
 ter ; but it never succeeded ; it was not my re- 
 ligious impulse, nor my principles (for whence 
 does a child derive principles']) but my father's 
 severe corrections and God's gracious preser- 
 vation, which were the sole causes that I was 
 not thrown a hundred and a thousand times 
 into the pit of perdition. 
 
 This very innate corruption, which was so 
 entirely opposed to my religious impulse, is the 
 reason why my Heavenly Guide was obliged to 
 exercise me, for sixty years together, in the 
 school of affliction, before He could make use 
 of me ; and in the sequel it will be found that 
 all my sufferings had a tendency to mortify fri- 
 volity and worldly-mindedness, and to tear them 
 up by the roots. 
 
 It is therefore now necessary to examine, 
 whether I am really a great man, a man of 
 
170 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 great mind, or a great genius ; that is, whether, 
 by means of my own powers and faculties, I have, 
 *hrough my own efforts, placed myself in such a 
 situation that lean now yield obedience to the im- 
 vulscs granted to me by God, to labor extensively 
 and comprehensively for Christ, his religion, and 
 his kingdom ? 
 
 What my father intended to make cf me. was 
 a good schoolmaster, and besides that, a tailor ; 
 and he so far attained his object that I became 
 a schoolmaster and a tailor ; but I had no high- 
 er wish than to become a preacher. This latter 
 effect was therefore produced by my religious 
 impulse: I wished to study theology; and this 
 would have afforded my father pleasure, but it 
 was utterly impossible ; for his whole property 
 was not sufficient to support me at the Univer- 
 sity even for two years. I was' therefore obli- 
 ged to continue a schoolmaster and tailor ; and 
 my impulse now contented itself with insatiable 
 reading and research, in every department of 
 science ; as my mind had attained a relish for 
 intellectual ideas and sciences, or a classical 
 feeling, it now pursued its course unrestrained, 
 and only sought opportunities for reading and 
 brooding over books. The progress I have 
 made in the departments of scientific knowledge, 
 may certainly be ascribed to my diligence and 
 activity ; and po much is true, that the Lord 
 has made use of it, in a secondary point of view, 
 as a preparatory means, but it has not directly 
 aided the development of my real destiny. 
 
 To be always sitting at the needle, and ma- 
 king clothes for people, was highly repugnant, 
 to me ; and to be everlastingly instructing boys 
 and girls in A B C, in spelling, reading, and 
 writing, was equally wearisome ; by degrees, I 
 considered the being doomed to be a schoolmas- 
 ter and tailor as something very melancholy ; 
 and with this commenced my inward sufferings, 
 for I saw no possibility of becoming a preacher, 
 or any thing else. 
 
 My father's severe discipline still continued ; 
 for though I was no longer beaten every day, I 
 was never happy near him. His inexorable se- 
 verity at every trifling fault awakened in me 
 the irresistible impulse to get away from him as 
 often and as long as possible : and this also be- 
 cause I was obliged to sit at the needle with 
 him from early in the morning till late at night ; 
 so that I accepted every call to be schoolmaster 
 with the greatest joy. As I did not instruct 
 children with pleasure, but merely from a sense 
 of duty, and out of school-hours brooded over 
 books, whilst my heart never thought of earning 
 any thing in addition by working as a tailor ; 
 and besides this, as my easy-minded thought- 
 lessness deprived me of the trifling pay I receiv- 
 ed as schoolmaster, my father was continually 
 obliged to clothe and support me. He saw, to 
 his great grief, that I should never make a good 
 schoolmaster, which naturally rendered him 
 more severe and unfriendly towards me ; and 
 after he had married a worldly-minded, unfeel- 
 ing woman, who required her stepson to go to 
 the field with the rest, and perform all kinds of 
 agricultural labor, even the most difficult, such 
 as hoeing, mowing, threshing; &c, my misery 
 rose to its height ; for my limbs being unaccus- 
 tomed to hard labor from my youth, I suffered 
 .dreadfully. By using the rough implements of 
 husbandry, my hands were always full of blis- 
 
 ters, and the skin remained sticking to the shaft 
 of the hoe ; and when I used the scythe, or the 
 flail, my ribs and hips cracked with the exer- 
 tion ; so that days and weeks seemed an eter- 
 nity to me. At the same time my future pros- 
 pects were gloomy ; I saw no way of escape 
 from this situation, nor was I any longer em- 
 ployed as schoolmaster ; consequently, nothing 
 remained for me, except to work up and down 
 in the country as a journeyman tailor. Oppor- 
 tunities for doing so occurred ; but with all this, 
 my clothes and linen grew so shabby that 1 was 
 looked upon as a good-for-nothing and lost man. 
 My religious impulses shone upon me from afar ; 
 when I reflected on Spener, Franke, or pious 
 preachers in general, and then imagined to my- 
 self what bliss it would be for me to become 
 such a one, and that it was impossible in my 
 situation, my heart broke within me. 
 
 The reasons why Providence led me into this 
 terribly painful situation, were two-fold ; first, 
 to subdue my worldly-mindedness, which ex- 
 ceeded all description, and my ungovernable 
 frivolity; this intention I plainly perceived: and 
 then to take me from my native province, be- 
 cause it could not execute its plan with respect 
 to me, in it ; but I was not at all aware of this 
 object. I was so fond of my own country, that 
 extreme necessity alone could banish me from 
 it, and this soon occurred ; I left it. 
 9 Let it be well observed here, that this first 
 step to my future destiny was taken by no 
 means with, but against, my will. It was ne- 
 cessary that I should be driven out by the pow- 
 er of Providence : and it is of the utmost impor- 
 tance to my object, that the reader should con- 
 vince himself most clearly, that I have contrib- 
 uted nothing to the plan of my guidance. 
 
 My first intention was to travel to Holland, 
 and seek employment from the merchants there ; 
 but what I heard at Solingen, in the Duchy of 
 Berg, caused me to change my purpose. I con- 
 tinued there, and worked at my trade. This 
 kind of employment was extremely repugnant 
 to me ; for my sensuality always required di- 
 verting variety. The reading of novels, or oth- 
 er entertaining stories, was peculiarly that to 
 which my worldly turn of mind was directed. 
 My imagination and fancy were incessantly oc- 
 cupied with the most romantic imagery, in an 
 indescribably vivid manner, and my levity soar- 
 ed above every scruple. Eternal love had com- 
 passion upon me, in such a manner, that by an 
 unspeakably inward drawing to introversion, 
 which penetrated deep into my heart and perva- 
 ded my whole being, it irrevocably decided me 
 to devote myself and the whole of my future 
 life to the Lord. This attraction has always 
 hitherto continued, and will continue till I stand 
 before the throne ; but my natural corruption 
 was far from being eradicated by it. Jesus 
 Christ, by his great and glorious redemption, 
 and by his Spirit, had to combat and subdue it 
 through the medium of wearisome and painful, 
 but gracious trials; this great business is not 
 yet completed, nor will it be until my soul is 
 delivered from the body of sin and death. 
 
 Notwithstanding my spirit had now taken its 
 direction to the great object for which mankind 
 is destined, yet there were an infinite number 
 of bye- paths, and I soon hit upon one of them. 
 My disinclination to the trade of a tailor caused 
 
RETROSPECT OF 
 
 STILLIN G'S LIFE. 
 
 171 
 
 me to seize with avidity the offer of a situation 
 as private tutor in a merchant's house, and my 
 thoughtlessness did not make a single enquiry ! 
 My wretchedness there rose to its height ; such 
 melancholy, such hellish torments, such a pri- 
 vation of all that can afford consolation, no one 
 can form an idea of, who has not experienced 
 the like. Sensuality and frivolity were there at- 
 tacked at the root. At length, I could no long- 
 er endure it ; I ran off, and wandered about in 
 the wilderness ; then recollecting myself, I went 
 back to Rade vorm Wald, where the late Johann 
 Jacob Becker (Mr. Isaac) exercised towards me 
 that glorious master-piece of Christian philan- 
 thropy recorded in my life. I was now so thor- 
 oughly cured of my disgust at the tailor's trade, 
 that subsequently, Mr. Spanier and my master, 
 Becker, could scarcely persuade me to accept 
 the situation of domestic tutor with the former; 
 and I am even now so far from feeling a repug- 
 nance to it, that if needs be, I could immediate- 
 ly place myself again upon the shop-board. 
 
 During my residence with Mr. Spanier, every 
 thing seemed as though I should become a mer- 
 chant. I was daily employed in mercantile af- 
 fairs, every thing succeeded with me, and al- 
 though I had naturally no inclination to com- 
 merce, yet I believed it was the guidance of 
 God ; particularly as I was secretly assured 
 that the rich, handsome, young, and virtuous 
 daughter of a merchant was destined for me, 
 that her father would bestow her upon me, and 
 then take me into partnership. Although I felt 
 no particular pleasure at all this, yet I believed 
 it was the course of Providence, which I must 
 necessarily follow, and regard the whole affair 
 as a piece of peculiar good fortune. 
 
 In the midst of these ideas and expectations 
 I received, most assuredly without my own co- 
 operation, the particular impression mentioned 
 in my history, that I must study medicine. To 
 this I had no objection, nor had those that in- 
 tended to over-rule my future life ; for they said 
 it was, after all, something uncommon for the 
 head of a respectable family to give his daugh- 
 ter to a man who a short time before had been 
 a tailor's apprentice ; but that if I had studied 
 and taken my degrees, all this might be done 
 with propriety ; I should be then Doctor and 
 Merchant at the same time. This was man's 
 plan, and mine likewise, but not the plan of my 
 heavenly Guide. Soon afterwards, the remark- 
 able circumstance occurred to me with the Rev. 
 Mr. Molitor of Attendorn, who presented me 
 with his ophthalmic arcana, and then laid him- 
 self down and died. God knows, that in my 
 whole life I had never thought of becoming an 
 oculist, and that neither I, nor any one of my 
 family, had given the remotest occasion to this 
 bequest. And now let every one who has read 
 my history, reflect, what my ophthalmic prac- 
 tice has hitherto been, is still, and may yet be ! 
 He that does not here recognize the all-ruling 
 band of an omniscient and omnipotent Deity, 
 has neither eyes to see, nor ears to hear ; no- 
 thing will do him any good. 
 
 I made use of the remedies I had obtained for 
 diseases of the eye, and became by this means 
 acquainted with the worthy family of my late 
 father-in-law, Peter Heyders, of Ronsdorf in the 
 duchy of Berg ; and contrary to all expectation, 
 contrary to all my plans and purposes, I was 
 
 obliged to betroth myself to a consumptive and 
 weakly female on a sick-bed, an act in which my 
 worldly interests were really not consulted ; I did 
 it merely from obedience towards God, because 
 I believed it was his will ; there was no idea on 
 my side of falling in love, or anything of the kind. 
 I engaged myself to Christina, although I knew 
 that her father could not support me in the least, 
 and that assistance from the quarter whence 1 
 had previously received it was entirely at an 
 end. I then went with half a French dollar to 
 the University of Strasburg; how wonderfully 
 the Lord there assisted me my history shows. 
 
 i now ask again, was it my plan to marry 
 Christina, and was it my doing that I studied 
 medicine at Strasburg^ 
 
 I returned, and fixed myself at Elberfeld as 
 practical physician and oculist, entirely without 
 salary. I now expected extraordinary results 
 from my practice, for I regarded myself as one 
 whom the Lord had particularly fitted for that 
 vocation. I then thought also, with my reli- 
 gious impulse in connection with this, to work 
 for the Lord and his kingdom ; and believed 
 that I should be a very beneficial instrument, in 
 his hand at the couch of the sick, and be able to 
 serve them both as it respects body and soul. 
 I intended also to write religious books, and 
 thus to satisfy my inward impulse. But all 
 these expectations ended in nothing at all ; my 
 practice was nothing extraordinary, but very 
 ordinary, very common, except that my oph- 
 thalmic cures excited much attention ; my cat- 
 aract operations were in particular extremely 
 successful ; but for these, likewise, I am not at 
 all indebted to my own abilities ; I learned the 
 practice indeed at Strasburg, because it belongs 
 to the study of surgery ; but I had such a hor- 
 ror and repugnance to the practice of it, that I 
 still well remember how I felt, when the poor 
 woman at Wichlinghausen, together with the 
 late Rev. Mr. Müller, Doctor Dinckler, and my 
 friend Troost at Elberfeld compelled me, as it 
 were, to hazard the operation on the above- 
 mentioned poor woman ; I performed it with 
 fear and trembling, miserably ill, and yet the 
 woman recovered her sight admirably. I then 
 gained nmre courage ; but even now, after hav- 
 ing operated upon upwards of fifteen hundred 
 blind people, a trepidation always comes over 
 me when I have to perform the operation. 
 
 I therefore testify again, by all that is true, 
 that I did not contribute in the least degree to- 
 wards my becoming an oculist, nor to the ex- 
 traordinary blessing which has attended my 
 practice as an oculist. This is entirely the 
 Lord's guidance. 
 
 It cannot be described into what profound 
 melancholy I sank, when I clearly saw that the 
 art of medicine was not my department ; and 
 in addition to this painful conviction, there was 
 the oppressive load of debt, which considerably 
 increased every year, without my being able to 
 alter or prevent it. This was in reality medi- 
 cine against sensuality and frivolity; and both 
 were also, God be thanked ! entirely eradicated. 
 I now saw no way of escape whatever ; I had 
 a wife and children, an increasing debt, and a 
 continually decreasing income. I was not de- 
 ficient in learning and knowledge; I crept 
 through every ancient and modern cranny of 
 medicinal literature, and found in this unstable 
 
HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 172 
 
 science nothing but obscurity. I was now I 
 heartily weary of medicine; but wherewith was I 
 I to support myself, and how was I to pay my 
 debts ] I was consequently obliged to surren- 
 der myself to Providence at discretion ; this I 
 did must sincerely, both for time and eternity, 
 and this surrender is not only not annulled, but 
 it has become more and more effectual and un- 
 conditional. 
 
 Religious books ! Yes, I wrote them, but 
 with little perceptible result. " The Sling of a 
 Shepherd's Boy," " The Great Panacea for the 
 Disease of Scepticism," and "The Theodice of 
 the Shepherd's Boy," produced little effect ; on 
 the contrary, " Stilling's Childhood," a piece 
 which I wrote without any intention of publi- 
 cation, but merely to read to a company of 
 young people, and which Goethe sent to the 
 press entirely without my knowledge and will, 
 made an unexpected and incredible sensation ; 
 so that I was urged to continue it, and there- 
 fore wrote, whilst in Elberfeld, "Stilling's Youth- 
 ful Years, and Wanderings," one after the oth- 
 er. I can boldly affirm, that very few books 
 have gained their authors so large, so noble- 
 minded, and so benevolent a class of readers as 
 this ; and even now. after the lapse of twenty- 
 eight years, after so many changes, so much 
 progress and regress in culture and literature, 
 Stilling still continues to be fashionable ; he is 
 still read with pleasure and the same edification 
 as at first. And what a blessing this book has 
 produced with reference to religion and true 
 Christianity, God the Omniscient knows ; and 
 1 also in part, for I can show a multitude of 
 written testimonies to the truth of that asser- 
 tion. The history of Stilling's life, therefore, 
 laid the first and considerable foundation for my 
 real destiny, and the following-up of my reli- 
 gious impulse. 
 
 I now again beg that it may be carefully ob- 
 served, that I did not give the smallest occasion 
 to this extraordinary and important part of my 
 history, which proved the basis of that to which 
 I was eventually and really called ; that is, the 
 following of my religious impulse ; but that it 
 was simply the free arrangement of Providence. 
 
 If it be asked why my heavenly Guide did not 
 at that time place me at my true post, I answer, 
 that there was still very much in me to smooth 
 away ; nor was I yet firm enough in my princi- 
 ples. I still struggled with fatalism ; and be- 
 sides this, the period was not then arrived in 
 which it was proper for me to act. 
 
 At length, in the hour of extremity, and when 
 I saw no way of escape, I was delivered in a 
 manner of which I had not the remotest idea, 
 and of which I had never dreamt. In conse- 
 quence of a treatise on the scientific improve- 
 ment of the common forests in the principality 
 of Nassau Siegen, my native province, by which 
 I sought to afford pleasure to a certain friend, I 
 was appointed public teacher of Agriculture, 
 Technology, Commerce, and the Veterinary 
 Art, at the newly-established Financial Acade- 
 my at Kaisers- Lautern in the Palatinate, with 
 a fixed income of six hundred guilders ; and at 
 my departure, the most urgent debts, to the 
 amount of eight hundred guilders, were liquida- 
 ted in a manner as unexpected as that in which 
 the principal sum was liquidated in Switzerland, 
 two years and a-half ago. 
 
 I therefore removed with my family to Lautern. 
 
 That this again was no preconcerted plan of 
 mine, and not my own guidance, but solely and 
 completely the plan and execution of my heav- 
 enly Guide, every one must feel, who is in any 
 degree capable of reflection. 
 
 I now believed to a certainty, that the study 
 of political economy was the vocation for which 
 Providence had guided and prepared me from 
 my youth up; for I had ample opportunity of 
 learning practically all the sciences I taught. I 
 had studied medicine, because the auxiliary sci- 
 ences belonging to it were indispensable in rny 
 present vocation. My religious impulse was 
 not extinguished ; on the contrary, I intended 
 to unite it with this calling. In this convic- 
 tion, I continued perfectly quiet five-and-twenty 
 years, and labored with all fidelity in my voca- 
 tion ; this is proved by my eleven manuals, and 
 the great multitude of treatises which I wrote 
 during that period. My heart no longer con- 
 templated any more changes, particularly in my 
 old age, until at length the "Nostalgia" became 
 the mighty means of placing me in my peculiar 
 station. 
 
 My readers are already aware, how uninten- 
 tionally I wrote the " Nostalgia ;" the prepara- 
 tives to it, which consisted of the collection of 
 many sentences, the reading of humorous wri- 
 tings, &c, were by no means systematic as re- 
 garded myself, though systematic with God ; 
 and the determination to publish the " Nostal- 
 gia" was so unpremeditated, that I only decided 
 upon it when Krieger besought me to compose 
 something of a classical nature for him ; and 
 when I began, it was by no means my object to 
 write a work of such an extent as it became 
 under my hands, and as it afterwards proved in 
 its effects, which were great, and still are so, 
 since it operates like a ferment in every quarter 
 of the globe ; this 1 can prove. I now received 
 requisitions from every quarter, to devote my- 
 self entirely to religious authorship, stating that 
 I was designed for it by God, &c. " The Grey 
 Man," " The Scenes in the Invisible World," 
 and "The History of the Triumph," increased 
 and strengthened this requisition of my class 
 of readers, which consisted of many thousand 
 good men. But how could I listen to these 
 calls 1 A multitude of domestic hindrances 
 stood in the way ; my debts were not yet liqui- 
 dated; and where was the prince who would 
 pension me for such a very uncommon object t 
 The answer to these questions is this : the Lord 
 cleared the hindrances out of the way in a glo- 
 rious and divine manner; in a similar manner 
 I was enabled to pay my debts ; and the " Nos- 
 talgia" had so prepared the good, great, and 
 pious Elector of Baden, that he immediately re- 
 solved to place me in my true station, as soon 
 as opportunity was afforded him. 
 
 See, my dear readers ! it is in this indescri- 
 bably wise and gracious manner that the Lord 
 has at length led me to the attainment of that 
 aim, the impulse for which He caused to be en- 
 grafted in me in my earliest infantine years. 
 My present occupation therefore is, 
 
 1. The continuance of my ophthalmic prac- 
 tice ; for this vocation has been legitimated and 
 assigned me by the Lord's direction; 
 
 2. The continuance of my religious author- 
 ship, as my heavenly Guide directs ; and 
 
RETROSPECT OF 
 
 STILLINGS LIFE. 
 
 173 
 
 3. The distributing and editing of little edify- 
 ing tracts for the lower classes, for which pur- 
 pose contributions in money are sent me by 
 kind and piously-disposed friends, in order to 
 enable me to disseminate such trai-ts gratui- 
 tously among the lower orders. Whether the 
 Lord has any thing further in view with me, I 
 know not ; I am his servant, let him employ 
 me as He pleases ; but I shall take no step with- 
 out first endeavoring clearly to ascertain his 
 will. 
 
 All my readers will now probably be convin- 
 ced that I am not a great man, a man of great 
 mind, or a great genius ; for I have contributed 
 nothing whatever to any part of the manner in 
 which I have been led ; it was even necessary, 
 first of all, painfully to prepare my natural dis- 
 position, by much labor and tedious sufferings. 
 I was merely a passive mass in the forming 
 hand of the Artist — clay in the hand of the Pot- 
 ter. He, therefore, that regards me as a man 
 of great talents, and great virtues, or even es- 
 timates me as a great saint, does me much 
 wrong ; he acts just as improperly as a person 
 would do, who praised an old, oaken, rude, and 
 coarsely-made chest, as a great specimen of art 
 and a master-piece, because some great man 
 lays up valuable treasures in it for daily use. 
 But, whoever is inclined to wonder and rejoice 
 at me, let him wonder at the way in which I 
 have been led, adore the Father of men, and 
 thank him that He still does not leave himself 
 without a witness ; that He also prepares wit- 
 nesses to tread his sacred paths, and still sends 
 laborers into his vineyard, even at the eleventh 
 hour. 
 
 I now earnestly intreat my readers to give 
 God and ihe truth the glory, and minutely ex- 
 amine the following positions. 
 
 1. Does not the whole history of my life in- 
 contestably show that, not human wisdom and 
 prudence, but He who knows how to govern the 
 hearts, actions, and fates of men, yet, without 
 controlling their free will, has really guided, 
 formed, and brought me forward, from begin- 
 ning to end, according to a premeditated plan 1 ? 
 
 2. Does not my history likewise incontro- 
 vertibly show that, on my part, not the small- 
 est thing was done, either with respect to the 
 project, or the accomplishment of the plan of 
 my life 1 Neither enthusiasm nor error had 
 any part in that plan or its execution ; for 
 whenever I was enthusiastic or mistaken, I 
 was always taught better by the result. 
 
 3. Therefore, if the all-wise, all-kind, and all- 
 powerful Governor of the world has himself 
 guided and prepared me, without either myself 
 or any other individual having part in his plan, 
 can his work have been fruitless 1 Can He so 
 lead and guide a fanatic, an enthusiast, and a 
 deceiver, as He has led me, in order to mislead 
 men 1 He may permit a fanatic and a seducer 
 to labor through difficulties, and obtain, through 
 their own efforts, a number of adherents ; for 
 He leaves free agents at liberty to work, so 
 long as it can consist with his high counsels. 
 But let any one make it appear that, during my 
 whole life, I have at any time labored through 
 difficulties of the kind, or have sought to form 
 for myself a party in a religious respect. 
 
 4. Does it not follow from all this, that my 
 religious system of doctrine, which is no other 
 
 than that which Christ and his apostles, and 
 subsequently all the orthodox fathers of every 
 century, have taught, is true, and has again le- 
 gitimated itself in my guidance \ I may have 
 ideas, I may have minor conceptions, which 
 are not altogether pure, and which are not yet 
 sufficiently rectified ; but in the main object of 
 Christianity, it is as certain that I do not mis- 
 take, as that I am sure that God has led me 
 during my whole life, and has Himself formed 
 rne to be a witness of the truth. However, I 
 can affirm before God, with the most perfect 
 sincerity, that none of my religious ideas have 
 arisen through wearisome reflection, or are the 
 result of any deductions of mere reason, but all 
 of them have unfolded themselves to my mind 
 during the consideration of difficult passages of 
 Scripture. The principal points of the Chris- 
 tian religion, according to my conviction, are 
 contained in the following fundamental posi- 
 tions. 
 
 1. The Holy Scriptures, as we at present 
 possess them, contain, from the first chapter of 
 Genesis to the last of the prophet Malachi, and 
 from the first chapter of the Gospel of Matthew 
 to the last chapter of the Apocalypse, the histo- 
 ry of the revelation of God to man ; and are, 
 therefore, the only credible source of all those 
 super-sensible truths which are needful for man 
 in the attainment of that to which he is des- 
 tined. 
 
 2. Man was first created by God in a state 
 of perfection ; but he sinned by disobedience 
 against God, and by this means, lost the equi- 
 librium between the sensual and moral impul- 
 ses ; the sensual became more and more pre- 
 dominant, and, therefore, with respect to all his 
 posterity, the thoughts and imaginations of the 
 heart of man are evil from his youth up, and 
 that continually. 
 
 3. Previous to this, a class of higher and more 
 spiritual beings had fallen away from God, and 
 become evil ; the prince of these beings had se- 
 duced the first man to disobedience ; these evil 
 spirits can then work upon the spiritual part of 
 man, when he gives them the opportunity for so 
 doing. But there are also good spirits, which 
 are about a man, and likewise influence him, 
 when circumstances require it. Evil spirits, 
 together with Satan their prince, his angels, 
 and all evil men, I call the kingdom of darkness. 
 
 4. God has, from eternity, begotten a being, 
 of the same nature with himself, and which 
 stands in the same connection with him as a 
 son to his father; hence he is also called in the 
 Bible, the Son of God, Logos, the God-word. 
 This Son of God undertook the guidance and 
 redemption of the fallen human race. In the 
 Old Testament, he revealed himself under the 
 name of Jehovah ; and in the New, as a real 
 man, under the name of Jesus Christ. He is 
 God and man in one person. 
 
 5. This God-man, Jesus Christ, redeemed 
 fallen human nature, by his bloody sacrificial 
 death, from sin, death, and the punishment of 
 sin. In this bloody sacrificial death lies the 
 foundation for reconciliation with God, the for- 
 giveness of sins, and, consequently, also of sal- 
 vation. The moral precepts of Christ — which 
 are contained likewise in all their points in the 
 Old Testament, and have been taught almost 
 perfectly by heathens — merely serve to enable 
 
174 HEINRICH 
 
 a man to examine whether, and in how far, the 
 bleeding sacrifice of Christ has had its effect on 
 him. They are the natural consequences of the 
 work of redemption ; but without this, as little 
 possible to be practised in a manner acceptable 
 to God, as that a sick man should be able to 
 perform the business of one in health. 
 
 6. Jesus Christ rose from the dead, and thus 
 became the procuring cause of the resurrection 
 of mankind ; He then ascended to heaven, and 
 undertook the government of the world. He is 
 now, therefore, that God who governs all things, 
 guides all the destinies of mankind, and leads 
 every thing, in great things as well as in small, 
 collectively as well as individually, to the great 
 end of human redemption, which He finally ac- 
 complishes. For this purpose, He stands op- 
 posed, with all his true servants and worship- 
 pers, together with the holy angels, as the king- 
 dom of light, to the kingdom of darkness ; both 
 fight against each other, until the latter is en- 
 tirely overcome, and thus the work of redemp- 
 tion is completed ; the Son then gives up the 
 kingdom to his Father, who again becomes all 
 in all. 
 
 7. God will and must be worshipped in Jesus 
 Christ, in his name ; that is, in his person. 
 God, out of Christ, is a metaphysical nonentity, 
 which daring reason has abstracted from the 
 idea of a supremely perfect man. To worship 
 this nonentity, which never existed any where 
 hut in the head of a philosopher, is pure idola- 
 try. In Christ alone the Father of men is to 
 be found ; there alone He will and can be wor- 
 shipped. 
 
 8. The Holy Spirit, the Spirit of the Father 
 and Son, is, in reality, a being of an equally di- 
 vine nature with the Father and the Son. He 
 is a moral divine love-power proceeding from 
 both, even as light and warmth emanate from 
 the sun. Since the day of Pentecost until now, 
 He is continually operative ; every one who be- 
 lieves in his heart in Christ, receives his saving 
 doctrines, heartily repents of his sin and misery, 
 and inwardly longs to be free from sin, and to 
 become a true child of God, puts on, according 
 to the measure of his faith and the degree of 
 his longing, the Holy Spirit ; so that his moral 
 powers become gradually stronger, and his 
 sensual bias in the same degree weaker. 
 
 This is my true and invariable system of 
 faith, doctrine, and life, which has stood the 
 test of many trials and much experience and 
 purification ; which I have gleaned and collect- 
 ed singly, by degrees, like rare grains of gold, 
 on my wearisome pilgrimage : not by specula- 
 tion, or the effort of my reasoning powers, but 
 whilst striving, for many years, after light and 
 truth, from heartfelt pressure and necessity, and 
 then formed into a rational whole. It is the 
 pure dogma of the Holy Scriptures, untroubled 
 by any sophistry or fashionable commentary, on 
 the truth and certainty of which I am willing 
 to live and die. 
 
 The modern "march of intellect" (as it is 
 termed) stands directly opposed to these an- 
 cient christian doctrines of faith and salvation. 
 Many worthy, upright, and well-meaning men 
 prefer the former to the latter, because they 
 conceive that the doctrines of religion, modified 
 by enlightened reason, are better adapted to the 
 human understanding than this ancient chris- 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 tian system. They have therefore invented an 
 exposition, a Bible commentary, which suits 
 their philosophy. But these good men either 
 perceive or do not perceive, that the tendency 
 of this new enlightening is directed to the es- 
 tablishment of a natural religion, whose dogmas 
 are merely moral, and which, in the end, makes 
 the sending of Christ quite unnecessary, and 
 the Bible no longer needful. But as neither 
 classical feeling nor the beauty of virtue can. 
 restore the moral powers lost in Adam's fall, 
 immorality incessantly increases under the sway 
 of this enlightened reason, corruption grows 
 with rapidity, mankind sinks back into the most 
 senseless barbarism ; and the divine judgments 
 exercise severe and righteous vengeance upon 
 a people that despise every means of moral im- 
 provement and amendment. 
 
 On the other hand, the experience of every 
 age proves, in the cases of millions of individu- 
 als, that the ancient christian doctrine of faith 
 transforms its adherents into good and holy cit- 
 izens, husbands, wives, friends, parents, and 
 children. The new enlightening may, here 
 and there, produce an honest man and an ex- 
 ample of civil virtue, but only' for public appro- 
 val ; such a man may at times perform a brilliant 
 action, but to show kindness in secret, entirely 
 unknown, from real love to God and man, even 
 to enemies, is utterly impossible, except where 
 the spirit of Christ prevails. 
 
 But now the very important question arises, 
 whence comes it that such worthy and well- 
 meaning men, notwithstanding all these un- 
 doubted facts, still continue attached to their 
 new-enlightened system 1 To this it is answer- 
 ed, there are two premises, two foundations for 
 all religious demonstration ; if these premises 
 are false, every mathematically-correct demon- 
 stration becomes also false and incorrect, and 
 that is just the case here. 
 
 The whole of the christian doctrine of faith 
 is founded upon the following fundamental po- 
 sition. God created the first man as a free 
 agent, with the tendency to continually-increas- 
 ing moral perfection, and with it an equally 
 progressive enjoyment of the Supreme Good ; 
 but he suffered himself to be deceived by an 
 unknown evil being, so that he applied this bias 
 to a continually-increasing sensual perfection, 
 and with it an equally progressive enjoyment 
 of earthly good. The Holy Scriptures teach us 
 this fundamental position, and the experience 
 of almost six thousand years teaches us that it 
 is true. Hence it follows immediately, that, — 
 
 If man had continued in his natural state, it 
 would have been natural to him to obey the 
 dictates of morality ; his head would have dic- 
 tated them, and his heart would have followed 
 them ; natural religion would then have been 
 the only true one. But in our present fallen, 
 state, where the senses rule supremely and the 
 moral powers are maimed, we cannot require 
 of the weaker part to overcome the stronger ; 
 there is, consequently, no way of redemption 
 in nature, and the Creator was therefore again 
 obliged to interfere, in order that men might be 
 saved. 
 
 Now he that founds a correct logical demon- 
 stration on these premises, finds «he whole 
 christian system of salvation very rational, and 
 the enlightening of the present day /ery irra- 
 tional. 
 
/ 
 
 RETROSPECT OF STILLING'S LIFE. 
 
 175 
 
 The fundamental position of the new-enlight- 
 ened system is the following: — "The entire 
 creation is a connected whole, on which the 
 Creator has bestowed intellectual and physical 
 powers, and has given them their eternal and 
 unchangeable laws, according to which they 
 work unhindered ; so that there is now no fur- 
 ther need of divine cooperation, or influence : 
 consequently, every thing in the whole creation 
 takes its necessary and unaltraeble course, 
 which has for its object the general good of 
 every being. The human race is a part of this 
 whole ; and the eternal laws of nature operate 
 so that the free will of every man, in every ac- 
 tion, is so guided that he does what he does. 
 Moral philosophy contains the laws according 
 to which the free will must be governed." This 
 position is, in reality, fatalism ; and however 
 much it may be concealed and guarded, it is 
 with all, even the most moderate rationalist, 
 more or less openly or concealed, the universal 
 fundamental idea. 
 
 But how may reason have arrived at this 
 idea 1 I answer, In a very natural manner. It 
 seeks to convince itself of the existence of a 
 Supreme Being, and afterwards to search out 
 his nature and qualities ; and as it knows no 
 other rational being but itself in the whole sen- 
 sible creation, it removes every limitation from 
 the human soul, and then finds an infinitely ra- 
 tional, almighty, omniscient, all-gracious, om- 
 nipotent human soul, which it calls God. Now 
 even as a human artist makes a work of art — for 
 instance, a watch ; and as this watch would be 
 very imperfect, if the artist were continually 
 under the necessity of turning, moving, and 
 helping in various ways, first one little wheel, 
 and then another, — the supremely perfect Art- 
 ist has made a machine, which, because its 
 Maker is supremely perfect, must also be su- 
 premely perfect, and therefore no where requires 
 any after-assistance or cooperation of the art- 
 ist. 
 
 But that this horrible position is not true, our 
 own free feelings tell us, and likewise our very 
 reason ; for if it were true, every act of man, 
 whichever way it may be turned and twisted, 
 as it is performed, is determined by the Crea- 
 tor. The most abominable deeds whien. any 
 individual may commit, and the most dreadful 
 sufferings which men may cause each other, 
 all the oppressions of widows and orphans, all 
 the horrors of war, &c. ; all this, the God of the 
 modern enlightening has purposed ; for he has 
 formed the plan of nature in such a manner that 
 all this must necessarily take place. 
 
 No one will deny that every man who is only 
 in some measure rational, must shrink back 
 from this inference, which is certainly logically 
 correct ; consequently, reason here stands in 
 contradiction to itself : and when that is the 
 case, its jurisdiction ceases, it has reached its 
 limit. Nothing more dreadful can be imagined 
 than that human reason — particularly in our 
 times, when the most unbounded luxury vies 
 with the most ungovernable immorality — should 
 be led in such paths, and that this should even 
 be called the Christian religion ! the mon- 
 strous blasphemy ! 
 
 My dear friends, be either entirely Christians, 
 according to the real, ancient evangelical sys- 
 tem, or entireW rationalists, and we shall then 
 
 I know how to act towards you. Remember Lao- 
 
 I dicca. The midway is a snare which Satan has 
 
 I placed for man. 
 
 Dear brethren and sisters, let us faithfully 
 cleave to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, 
 
 I and to Jesus Christ and his Spirit ; and let us 
 receive the Holy Scriptures of the Old and New 
 Testaments as we have them, and as our sound 
 human understanding comprehends them, as 
 our only source of faith and knowledge. He 
 will come quickly, and will then graciously re- 
 gard our fidelity. Amen. 
 
 Thou who upon th' eternal tnrone 
 
 Dost weigh the fates of all below, 
 And ever v. i ;\v\t the radiant crown 
 
 Of worlds iinnumber'd on thy brow: 
 Surrounded by seraphic flames, 
 
 And throned in light of sevenfold ray, 
 Amidst thy servants' loud acclaims, 
 
 Disdain not ; Lord ! my humble lay. 
 
 Hear, O ye heavens !— thou earth, attend T 
 
 Let roaring thunders silent be ! 
 That ye the song may comprehend 
 
 Which, Lord, I now will sing to Thee. 
 Ye saints, who in his courts reside, 
 
 Lend me your melody divine, 
 That I may praise my heavenly Guide, 
 
 And He his gracious ear incline. 
 
 Thou Love unspeakable and kind, 
 
 The element in which I move, 
 Behold with what a flame refined 
 
 My heart burns in thy precious love ! 
 A nothing in the dust was I ; 
 
 Yet thou, my All ! mad'st choice of m& 
 My growing faith thou long didst try, 
 
 And my desires laid hold of Thee. 
 
 Chosen thy guidance to display, 
 
 A witness of thy truth to be, 
 My heart and all my powers now say, 
 
 " My God, I live and die for thee !" 
 Thee will I faithfully confess ; 
 
 O grant me courage, strength, and power* 
 And neither suffering nor distress 
 
 Shall part us in the trying hour. 
 
 Giver of every perfect gift ! 
 
 Thou found'st me in the lowly cot, 
 And kindly from the dust didst lift 
 
 And raise me to a happier lot. 
 For thou didst hear a father's cry ; 
 
 A mother's prayers touch'd thy heart ; 
 And power and spirit from on high 
 
 To me didst graciously impart. 
 
 Upon the golden scales of fate 
 
 My sufferings thou didst nicely weigh ; 
 Appoint my days their final date 
 
 When I must thy last call obey ; 
 Didst form, e'en then, the plan sublime 
 
 Of what my future course should be : 
 The path didst show which I must climb 
 
 To reach my final destiny. 
 
 An angel at the Savior's throne 
 
 Commission now received from thee ; 
 He laid aside his pearly crown, 
 
 And came enwrapp'd in gloom to me. 
 Of mercy he unconscious seem'd ; 
 
 No pity did his eye betray ; 
 Perhaps by Thee, once fittest deem'd 
 
 T' announce the awful judgment-day 
 
 With all fidelity he led 
 
 Me through youth's wild and varied way : 
 I followed him with secret dread, 
 
 And did each gentle hint obey. 
 Amidst the howlings of the blast, 
 
 My feet by the rude brambles rent, 
 Through rocky clefts I toiling pass'd — 
 
 Thus painfully each day was spent. 
 
 A dubious glimmer often seem'd 
 
 To terminate my arduous way ; 
 I hasten'd on to what I deem'd 
 
 Would all my weary steps repay; 
 When, all at once, my guide severe 
 
 Would tear me from the path I sought, 
 And lead again, through caverns drear, 
 
 And rugged rocks with horrors fraught. 
 
176 H E I N R I 
 
 A most oppressive load of debt 
 
 Weigh'd on me wheresoe'er I went ; 
 Whilst gloomy sadness ever met 
 
 Me with her breath so pestilent. 
 No cool and gentle eastern breeze, 
 
 Which brings refreshment as it blows — 
 No flowery fields, nor shady trees, 
 
 Yielded the traveller sweet repose. 
 
 Thus did I journey on my way, 
 
 Through many a winding up and down, 
 When, suddenly, a cheering ray 
 
 Beam'd on my path — my load was gone 
 My leader with a powerful arm, 
 
 The burden from my shoulder took 
 And with a look that grief might charm, 
 
 He plunged it in the flowing brook. 
 
 Following the footsteps of my guide, 
 
 I walk'd more easy, on my way, 
 Until, at length, a brilliant light 
 
 Announced the near approach of day. 
 
 H STILLING. 
 
 It came— the golden morning came— 
 And all my anxious fears were fled , 
 
 I now have reach'd my blissful aim, 
 And loudly shall my thanks be paid. 
 
 Ye heavenly choirs around the thron 
 
 Your part in my thanksgivings bear, 
 Till I, at length, the victor's crown 
 
 At the great marriage feast shall wear. 
 Then, of my golden harp possess'd, 
 
 With you Jehovah's name I'll praise, 
 And He shall clasp me to his breast, 
 
 Who led me all my earthly days 
 
 Till then, let power divine protect, 
 
 And heavenly peace my spirit cheer 
 My footsteps, here below, direct, 
 
 Till I before thy face appear. 
 The present seed I now shall sow 
 
 To ripen for eternity — 
 O let it to perfection grow, 
 
 Then take thy pilgrim home to thee , 
 
 STILLING'S OLD AGE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 With the prospect of soon arriving at the end 
 of my pilgrimage — at the commencement of my 
 seventy-seventh year— and after having struggled 
 through a year of bodily suffering occasioned by 
 spasmodic affections, debility, a feeling of sacred 
 awe, as it were, thrills through me. The long se- 
 ries of the years of my previous life pass be- 
 fore my soul like shadows on the wall ; and 
 the present appears to me like a great and so- 
 lemn picture, covered with a veil, which I shall 
 draw aside only when my earthly tabernacle 
 reposes in the grave, and ripens for the resur- 
 rection. Grace, and mercy, and salvation, 
 through the atoning love of my heavenly Guide, 
 will then shine through my whole being from 
 this picture. Hallelujah ! 
 
 The aspect of things around me is now very 
 different to that which it presented when I de- 
 scribed Heinrich Stilling's youth. My old age 
 and my youth are two very different points of 
 view. I no longer sit between sun-dials, at the 
 oaken table, in the dark little room, working at 
 a doublet for neighbour Jacob, or sowing but- 
 tons upon shoemaker Peter's Sunday coat. 
 Eberhard Stilling no longer walks about, in his 
 linen frock, with powerful step ; and Margaret 
 no longer comes busily to fetch salt for the soup 
 from the party-colored box behind the stove. 
 The wheels of my blooming aunt no longer 
 whirl about the lamp, and the voice of her song 
 has long been mute. 
 
 Uncle Johann Stilling no longer comes to re- 
 late to his wondering auditory his new discove- 
 ries in electricity, mechanics, optics, mathe- 
 matics, and the like. No ! the aspect of things 
 around me is now totally changed. 
 
 I now sit in my convenient easy-chair, before 
 my much-used desk, and on the walls around me 
 hang pledges to remind me of near and distant 
 friends. My sorely-tried and long and heavily 
 afflicted Eliza totters about me, and cares for 
 the present and the future ; whilst my youngest 
 daughter, Christina, attends upon her and exe- 
 cutes her commands. She is the only one of 
 my children who is still with me, and who often 
 cheers and revives me by her performance on 
 the harpsichord. My daughter Hannah lives 
 happily at Heidelberg with her beloved Schwarz, 
 and ten children. Her eldest daughter is mar- 
 
 ried to Professor Vömel in Hanau, and has pre- 
 sented me with a great-grandson, whose god- 
 father I am. Her eldest son Wilhelm was 
 head-master of the school at Weinhei'm on the 
 Berg-road, and also assistant preacher there ; 
 but he is now here as governor and tutor of the 
 only son of Mr. Von Berckheim, our worthy 
 minister of state. The university of Heidel- 
 berg gave him the diploma of doctor of philo- 
 phy, on account of his diligence, knowledge, 
 and good conduct ; he also visits me almost 
 daily. My son lives in Rastadt with his wife 
 and six children, in the enjoyment of the divine 
 blessing. The Lord leads him through painful 
 paths, but he passes through them as becomes 
 a Christian. His eldest daughter Augusta is 
 also with me, for the purpose of being trained, 
 in Madame Von Grainberg's seminary, to be- 
 come a modest, pious, and accomplished young 
 female. She likewise contributes to cheer my 
 old and gloomy age. 
 
 The worthy lady who founded the institu- 
 tion above-mentioned, Madame Von Grainberg, 
 having undertaken the education of the two 
 grand ducal princesses, and taken my third 
 daughter Amalia, with her to the palace, in the 
 character of an assistant, my eldest daughter 
 Caroline has now entered upon the management 
 of the seminary. Her desirable sphere of ac- 
 tion cheers the evening of my life ; and both 
 the daughters visit us, their parents, almost 
 daily. Lastly, my second son Frederick also 
 spent the last half-year with us, before com- 
 mencing his career in Russia, as financier and 
 agriculturist; his guitar and his fine manly 
 song dispel many of my gloomy hours. But it 
 just occurs to me, that grandfathers and grand- 
 mothers grow very loquacious when the con- 
 versation turns upon their family. In order 
 therefore not to fall into the commission of this 
 fault, I will now return to the subject, and take 
 up the thread of the history of my life from 
 " Stilling's Years of Tuition." 
 
 On my arrival at Heidelberg, in September 
 1803, I learnt that the Grand-duke, at that time 
 still Elector of Baden, was at Manheim. I 
 therefore rode thither the next day, in order to 
 announce my arrival to him in person, and to 
 pay my respects to him. He received me very 
 graciously, and said, "I rejoice at having you in 
 my territories. From my youth up I have had 
 
STILL I NG'S OLD AGE. 
 
 177 
 
 the desire to devote all my powers to religion 
 and Christianity ; hut God having confided to 
 me the office of ruler, I am obliged to yield my- 
 self up to it entirely. You are the man whom 
 God has prepared for this object. I therefore 
 free you from all earthly obligations, and com- 
 mission you hy your correspondence and au- 
 thorship to promote religion and practical Chris- 
 tianity in my place ; for this I call you, and 
 take you into my pay." 
 
 This was threfore my political and legal call- 
 ing to my future vocation, which wanted noth- 
 ing but a written confirmation, which, howev- 
 er, I did not deem necessary, well knowing 
 that no one would have any claim upon me on 
 that account. 
 
 I returned with great inward peace of mind 
 to Heidelberg ; for the great and radical im- 
 pulse, which I had felt within me from the cra- 
 dle, was now satisfied. A material point, how- 
 ever, still disturbed my repose, notwithstanding 
 my unshaken confidence in riiy heavenly Guide ; 
 I found every thing quite different in Heidelberg 
 to what I had left it ten years and a-half previ- 
 ous. Every thing was dear, and by no means 
 cheaper than at Marburg ; many things, indeed, 
 were even dearer. Our friends had written to 
 us, advising us to sell our household furniture, 
 for we could replace it in a superior manner at 
 Heidelberg ; but we found it just the reverse. 
 Our handsome furniture was sold in Marburg 
 at a low price, and we were obliged to procure 
 in its stead inferior articles at a higher rate. 
 In short, the removal from Marburg to Heidel- 
 berg, with the whole arrangements at the lat- 
 ter place, cost me nearly a thousand guilders. 
 I was able to meet this heavy expence from 
 what remained over from my journies ; but 
 there was nothing left as a resource for any fu- 
 ture occasion. 
 
 In Marburg, my yearly income was about two 
 thousand five hundred guilders, of which noth- 
 ing remained over, notwithstanding the strict- 
 est economy. Circumstances, which I cannot 
 disclose or explain to the public, considerably 
 increased my expenditure. These circumstan- 
 ces continued almost entirely the same ; and 
 to meet them, I had scarcely half the amount 
 of my Marburg income to receive. When, at 
 the close of the year 1803, my wife and I grad- 
 ually discovered and experienced this, and 
 found that we could not keep house in Heidel- 
 berg by any means for less than in Marburg, 
 gloomy melancholy lay like a mountain on my 
 soul ; — my reason spoke very lively and loudly : 
 Thou hast never before taken a step towards 
 arbitrarily removing thyself out of the situation 
 in which Providence had placed thee ; there- 
 fore thy Heavenly Guide helped thee power- 
 fully through. But is this now the easel Hast 
 thou neither directly nor indirectly contributed 
 to the call which the Elector of Baden has 
 given thee to come hither"! Was thy impulse 
 to work for the Lord and his kingdom pure 1 
 Did not the vain desire also lie hidden in the 
 bottom of thy soul, to shine as a great light in 
 the church of God, and by thy writings to be- 
 come famous throughout the world 1 And 
 finally, are there any duties superior to that of 
 taking care that thy wife and children do not 
 fall into poverty! And canst thou answer for 
 exchanging the means which Providence had 
 
 given inio thy hands for this purpose, for a sit- 
 uation which, with all thy good intentions, and 
 good will, is still enveloped in the obscurity of 
 the future?" &c. All these questions stood 
 like reproving judges before my soul, and I 
 could not bring forward a single word in my de- 
 fence. What were my feelings ! I now found 
 no other way of escape than that of the se- 
 verest, strictest, and most impartial self-exam- 
 ination, how it stood with me in reference to 
 all these points. 
 
 In the course of this examination, I found — 
 what all the children of Adam find in similar 
 circumstances — that whatever men undertake, 
 and in whatever they cooperate, sin is inter- 
 mingled ; but in the material part of my guid- 
 ance I found nothing with which I could re- 
 proach myself ; for all the circumstances which 
 decided my spheje of action, and my connex- 
 ion and situation in Marburg, unanimously gave 
 me the hint to withdraw from that station. But 
 that which completely impressed the seal of 
 divine vocation upon this hint, was, that there 
 was a prince who was just in want of a man 
 whose predominating impulse was to be active 
 for the Lord and his kingdom, and that this 
 prince knew and loved this man, — a case which 
 is probably singular in its kind. 
 
 Even the summer before, when the Elector 
 wrote to me that he was then able to offer me 
 twelve hundred guilders, that I might come, 
 and that he would by degrees improve my cir- 
 cumstances, I informed him that I could not 
 support myself and my family upon it. But as 
 nothing further transpired, I reconsidered eve- 
 ry point minutely, and felt that it was my duty 
 to obey the call ; for I was convinced that it 
 was the only one I could expect during the re- 
 mainder of my life. 
 
 On examining whether my impulse to work 
 for the Lord was pure, or whether the vain de- 
 sire did not secretly mingle with it to become 
 celebrated by my writings, I found that all our 
 best works cannot stand the test in the divine 
 light; but I found, likewise, that if vanity had 
 been my motive, I certainly should not have 
 chosen that particular vocation which is the 
 most exposed to the contemjfÄmd opposition 
 j of the great men of the preserfWge. After all 
 I this had become clear to me, providing for my 
 family was no longer a question with me ; for I 
 was convinced that I had followed the will of 
 my Heavenly Guide, and therefore that troubled 
 me no longer. How gloriously the Lord legiti- 
 mated my confidence, will be shown in the se- 
 quel. 
 
 I employed the close of the year 1803 in ar- 
 I ranging my library, and with the complete re- 
 gulation of my escrutoire and my study ; but 
 j this occupation was almost daily interrupted by 
 I a multitude of letters and visits, as well as by 
 : ophthalmic patients. Thus I concluded the year 
 i 1803, which had been such an important one 
 for me, and began the next by continuing the 
 history of my life, under the title of M Heinrich 
 Stilling's Years of Tuition." This work, toge- 
 ! ther with the preparation of the fifteenth num- 
 ber of the 14 Grey Man," and a couple of tales 
 in Aschenberg's Annual, occupied me during 
 the winter, which was, on the whole, a very 
 painful one for me and my family ; for our Caro- 
 j line fell dangerously ill, and our youngest daugh- 
 
178 HEINRICH 
 
 ter, Christina, suffered from an abscess in the 
 left arm, which gave reason to fear a caries in 
 the bone, which might induce lameness, and 
 even death itself. Caroline at length recover- 
 ed ; but Christina, who was then in her fifth 
 year, seemed gradually to waste away, and be- 
 come consumptive. My stock of money, be- 
 sides, began also to declins, and assistance was 
 therefore requisite from a higher quarter. Nor 
 was this assistance delayed ; for towards the 
 end of the month of March, I received a letter 
 from a very estimable lady in Upper Lusatia, in 
 which she called upon me to go thither, since 
 there were many poor blind people and such as 
 suffered in their eyes, who required my pre- 
 sence ; the travelling expences would be repaid, 
 and I should find on the way, two hundred dol- 
 lars (three hundred and sixty guilders) for my 
 expenses. 
 
 We thanked the Lord for this continuance of 
 his gracious guidance, and began to prepare for 
 this long journey ; for Herrnhut, or rather Gör- 
 litz, whither I was invited, is eighty German 
 miles, or one hundred and sixty leagues distant 
 from Heidelberg. 
 
 The first duty incumbent upon me was to in- 
 form the Elector of my intended journey. I 
 therefore rode to Carlsruhe, where I spent some 
 agreeable days in his society. On this occasion 
 he commissioned me to speak with the mem- 
 bers of the Moravian Conference at Berthols- 
 dorf, for he was very desirous of having a set- 
 tlement of the brethren in his territories. I 
 then took leave of him, and returned to Heidel- 
 berg. 
 
 Although our friend Julia Richerz undertook, 
 with true maternal fidelity, the care of our two 
 little girls, yet it was painful to us both, and 
 particularly to my wife, to leave the little suf- 
 ferer, Christina, for so many weeks. Howev- 
 er, it could not be avoided ; for on account of 
 my age and my frequent spasmodic attacks, I 
 could not travel alone. 
 
 We commenced our journey on the 3rd of 
 April, 1804, in our own carriage with post- 
 horses. The weather was extremely agreea- 
 ble ; at Heidelburg, and along the Berg road, 
 the almond aÄpeach-trees were arrayed in the 
 richest bloomy all nature seemed to smile upon 
 us, and announce a pleasant journey. But we 
 were deceived ; for in the afternoon, when wfe 
 came within view of the distant Feldberg, be- 
 tween Darmstadt and Frankfort, I saw it was 
 still covered half-way down with snow, and that 
 the Wetterau mountains were also enveloped 
 in this wintry garb ; I consequently began to be 
 apprehensive, for I was acquainted with the 
 road to Herrnhut, having travelled thither be- 
 fore. We arrived in the evening at Frankfort. 
 
 It must be a matter of great indifference to 
 the reader of the evening of my life, what befel 
 us at each posting-house from one day to ano- 
 ther. In short, it was a wearisome journey ; 
 spasms in the stomach within, and continual 
 danger from the weather and bad roads from 
 without, were the order of the day. There 
 were occasionally, however, days of cheering 
 and vernal weather ; seldom, indeed, but so 
 much the more agreeable and invigorating. It 
 follows of course, that the two hundred dollars 
 were wailing for us in the way. 
 
 During this journey, we spent a few days at 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 Cassel, one at Eisenach, and one and a-half at 
 Erfurth ; and at length we arrived, in the eve- 
 ning of the 19th of April, at Kleinwelke, a Mo- 
 ravian settlement, near Bautzen in Upper Lu- 
 satia. 
 
 The sphere of operation to which I was called 
 by this journey commenced here ; a crowd of 
 blind people, and such as were diseased in the 
 eye, came about me, and I attended to them, 
 in weakness, as much and as well £s I was 
 able. 
 
 On the 23rd we left Kleinwelke for Herrnhut, 
 where we fixed our quarters at the congrega- 
 tional lodging-house, and were immediately vis- 
 ited by various dear friends. At Herrnhut, 
 we enjoyed the fruits of brotherly love in all 
 their plenitude, and the Lord also gave me the 
 opportunity of effecting much, and of being of 
 service to many sufferers. 
 
 I also laid before the Moravian conference at 
 Berthoisdorf the wish of the Elector of Baden, 
 to have a Moravian settlement in his domin- 
 ions ; but as they were just on the point of es- 
 tablishing a settlement at Konigsfeld in the 
 Black Forest, in Würtemburg, near the borders 
 of Baden, the Elector's wish could not be grant- 
 ed, for two reasons ; — first, because the estab- 
 lishment of such a settlement is very expen- 
 sive ; and secondly, because Konigsfeld being 
 situated near the borders of Baden, a second 
 station in the vicinity would be superfluous. It 
 is, however pleasing to notice, that some years 
 afterwards, by an exchange of territory, Ko- 
 nigsfeld came under the dominion of Baden, and 
 thus Charles Frederick's pious wish was event- 
 ually fulfilled. 
 
 We remained at Herrnhut till the 9th of May, 
 and then rode five leagues further to Görlitz, 
 whither I was called by various ophthalmic pa- 
 tients, 
 
 Görlitz is an extremely agreeabte and very 
 flourishing town. It lies on a beautiful and fer- 
 tile plain, which is terminated towards the east 
 by a rocky declivity, adjoining the little river 
 Neisse. On this rock stands the sumptuous 
 church of St. Peter and St. Paul, which is cele- 
 brated for its large and astonishing organ, its 
 great bell, and its subterranean crypt. It is a 
 glorious sight to see the sun rising over the 
 giant mountains, from this place. Towards the 
 south-west, at some little distance, stands the 
 hill called Landskrone, quite isolated. From 
 this point of view it does not appear very high, 
 although it is visible from every part of Lusa- 
 tia, from any eminence. The reason is, be- 
 cause the whole land is high in this part. 
 
 Görlitz was also interesting to me on another 
 account. The celebrated Jacob Böhme was a 
 master-shoemaker and citizen of this place ; 
 and it was extremely affecting to me, to find 
 his memory still so much cherished, and its in- 
 fluence so beneficial. The inhabitants of Gor-' 
 litz esteem it an honour that Böhme was a 
 townsman of theirs, although it is now two hun- 
 dred years ago since he lived there, and was 
 undeservedly aud basely ill-treated by the cler- 
 gy of those times, especially by Gregorius Rich- 
 ter, one of the chief preachers. Böhme incul- 
 cates nothing in his writings contrary to the 
 Augsburg Confession; he went diligently to 
 church, and frequently received the sacrament. 
 In his manner of life he was blameless ; a faith- 
 
STILLING' 
 
 ful subject, an exemplary husband and father, 
 and a kind neighbour ; this was well known in 
 Görlitz, and yet the proud priesthood treated 
 him as an arch-heretic. One morning, Böhme 
 went on some errand to the Rev. Mr. Richter ; 
 but scarcely had he entered the door, when 
 Richter seized a slipper, and threw it at the 
 head of the good shoemaker ; the latter quietly 
 picked it up, and laid it again at the clergy- 
 man's feet. On Bohme's decease in 1624, the 
 clergy would not suffer him to be buried in the 
 churchyard. The case was referred to the high 
 consistory court at Dresden, and the corpse was 
 obliged to be kept until the decision returned, 
 which ordered that Bohme's corpse should be 
 interred with all the honours due to a good 
 Christian, and that the whole of the clergy 
 should attend the funeral. This was done ; but 
 the clergy accompanied the procession only as 
 far as the gate of the town, when their worships 
 turned back again. The churchyard lies.on the 
 north side of the town. I had Bohme's grave 
 pointed out to me ; — it is covered with a small 
 square hewn stone, on which is inscribed the 
 year in which Böhme was born, his name, and 
 the year in which he died. A private teacher 
 of respectability in Görlitz, related to me, that 
 taking a walk one day, he had seen two Eng- 
 lishmen at this tomb, emptying their snuff-box- 
 es, and filling them with earth from Bohme's 
 grave. This had induced him to lay a new 
 stone upon it, in place of the old one, of which 
 scarcely anything remained. 
 
 We enjoyed much friendship in this agreea- 
 ble town, and I had opportunity enough of ren- 
 dering service to the afflicted. After a six 
 days' residence, we left Görlitz for Niesky, a 
 considerable Moravian settlement, in which is 
 the seminary where young people are prepared 
 and formed for the ministry. Here I became ac- 
 quainted with several excellent and learned 
 men, and also with other interesting members 
 of the Moravian church, who showed us much 
 affection and friendship. 
 
 The day following, I rode a few leagues into 
 the country, to perform the operation for the 
 cataract on a blind person of rank. I saw at a 
 distance before me the mountain called the 
 Schneekuppe, the highest peak of the Giant 
 range. I think, however, that the Blauen, at 
 the upper end of the Black Forest, is still higher 
 than either the Brocken or the Schneekuppe ; 
 and yet these mountains are but hills compared 
 with the Alps of Switzerland. 
 
 In the afternoon I returned to Niesky, where 
 we lodged at the congregational hotel, as is 
 customary in all the Moravian settlements. I 
 am unwilling to detain the reader with all the 
 visits paid and received, and with all the opera- 
 tions and ophthalmic cures performed here ; it 
 would only be a reiteration of what occurred at 
 every place I came to; I shall insert only one 
 remark. Lusatia has a very peculiar constitu- 
 tion. It consists entirely of large manorial es- 
 tates, which are called state properties, and 
 their noble possessors statesmen. Berthoisdorf 
 is a manor of this kind ; but it now belongs to 
 the Moravian community, which chooses its 
 states-man out of its own members, amongst 
 whom there are always several noblemen 
 There are six towns which belong to Lusatia, 
 the principal of which are Bautzen and Görlitz ; 
 
 S OLD AGE. 179 
 
 and these six towns have also their peculiar lib- 
 erties and privileges. 
 
 The subjects of these manors are all of them 
 Wends ; that is, descendants from the ancient 
 Vandals, who acted such a conspicuous part at 
 the migration of the northern tribes. They all 
 profess the christian religion, but still retain 
 their original language, although they almost all 
 speak and understand German. There are still 
 also churches in which the Wend language is 
 used in preaching. Vassalage prevails through- 
 out the country. 
 
 The day following we received an invitation 
 from the lord and lady of a neighbouring manor, 
 to spend a few days with them, in order that I 
 might operate upon an old blind woman in their 
 own house. We therefore rode in the after- 
 noon to this delightful mansion. In the evening, 
 the countess took me by the arm, and led me 
 through hilly nurseries, at the end of the vil- 
 lage, into a little, mean, but cleanly and well- 
 kept peasant's- cottage, where we found an old 
 blind woman sitting upon a chair in the dark- 
 ened room. 
 
 " Good evening, aged mother," said the 
 countess ; " God has here sent you a friend, 
 through whom He will restore you to sight." 
 
 The woman started up from her chair, strove 
 to come towards us, stretched out her hands, 
 and exclaimed, with tears, " Where are you, 
 divine angel V The countess kissed her cheek, 
 and said, "Sit down, good mother! I have 
 brought you something you must take to-mor- 
 row, and the day after I will bring you this 
 friend, who will open your eyes." I also spoke 
 some friendly and consoling words to the old 
 woman, and then we returned home. On the 
 morning of the day appointed, I again went 
 thither with the countess, and performed the 
 operation on the woman. I then presented her, 
 with her eyes re-opened, to the countess, — but 
 such scenes are altogether indescribable. It 
 was a faint image of that interview I shall soon 
 experience, when I shall appear before Him, as 
 a poor sinner, naked and bare, and shall then 
 behold Him, with open face, as He is. The 
 countess embraced the delighted woman with 
 tears of joy, after which we again set off for 
 Niesky. It may easily be supposed that the 
 patient enjoyed all due attention. But the good 
 countess had now another affair at heart, which 
 was, how she could put into my hands, in a ten- 
 der and feeling manner, the two hundred dol- 
 lars she had destined for me as a reward for the 
 operation ; and this also she accomplished in a. 
 masterly manner. 
 
 Blessed art thou now, thou sorely-tried ancf 
 glorified friend, who wast perfected through 
 suffering ! Rest sweetly in the arms of thy 
 Redeemer, till we again see each other. 
 
 It is a Very correct remark, that subjects can 
 never be happier than when they are vassals of 
 such excellent masters. 
 
 We continued nine days at Niesky ; and 
 when my business was ended, we travelled 
 back to Kleinwelke, where we arrived in the 
 evening of the 24th of May. 
 
 I again found much to do there, so that I 
 was obliged to remain until the 19th. On that 
 day wejeturned to Herrnhut, in order to be 
 present at the conference of the preachers, to 
 which I had been invited. 
 
180 HEINRICH 
 
 It was just fifty years since Bishop Reichel 
 had instituted this meeting ; and the venerable 
 old man was still living, so that he was also 
 able to join in the celebration of the jubilee of 
 this preacher's conference. On the 30th of 
 May, a great number of preachers, belonging to 
 both the Protestant confessions from all the 
 neighbouring provinces, assembled at Herrn- 
 hut. On this occasion there were about seven- 
 ty of them. No preacher is rejected, and it is 
 of no importance whether he is in connexion 
 with the Moravian church or not. Persons of 
 other ranks are not admitted unless by particu- 
 lar favor, except the states men ; for it is ne- 
 cessary that the latter be acquainted with what 
 their preachers undertake or conclude upon, in 
 order, if needful, to render them their advice 
 or assistance. Admission is also granted to a 
 few students of divinity. They assemble at 
 eight o'clock in the morning, open the sitting 
 with singing and prayer, and then consult to- 
 gether, not so much upon scientific subjects as 
 upon their official duties, the life and walk of 
 the preachers and members of the church, and 
 especially upon the maintaining of the pure doc- 
 trine of practical Christianity. 
 
 Letters are received at this conference of 
 preachers, not only from every province in Eu- 
 rope, but also from all parts of the world. It 
 being impossible to read all these in one day, 
 the most important of them are selected, read 
 aloud, consulted upon, and afterwards answer- 
 ed. The transactions of the day are committed 
 to paper, and these minutes are then communi- 
 cated to the foreign members and friends of the 
 Moravian church. 
 
 The jubilee rendered the conference that 
 year particularly interesting. The two bishops, 
 Reichel and Rissler, who had labored many 
 years with Zingendorf, and had travelled in 
 Asia, Africa, and America, in the service of the 
 Lord, were present. The first, as the peculiar 
 founder of the institution, and the Rev. Mr. 
 Baumeister of Herrnhut, opened the sitting with 
 brief addresses full of unction. It is necessary 
 to have heard such men, in order to pronounce 
 a judgment upon religious eloquence. 
 
 At noon, the whole company is decorously, 
 moderately, but abundantly entertained at the 
 congregational hotel, at the expense of the com- 
 munity ; and the next morning, all the gentle- 
 men take their departure. 
 
 We also left Herrnhut on the same day, and 
 travelled by way of Kleinwelke, Ponnevvitz, 
 Königsbrück, and Herrnsdorf, to Dresden, in 
 consequence of having been very kindly invited 
 by the lords of the manor at those places. We 
 passed a night at each of them, and arrived at 
 Dresden on the 4th of June, at nine o'clock in 
 the morning. There we spent the day, visited 
 our friends, and continued our route the next 
 morning. I was detained in Würzen and Leip- 
 zig, by cataract and ophthalmic patients ; which 
 was likewise the case in Erfurth and Cassel. 
 There I learnt, with astonishment, that the 
 Elector had given a vocation to my son-in-law 
 Schwarz, to become Professor of Divinity at 
 Heidelberg, and that he had accepted the call. 
 To this I had not contributed in the smallest 
 dpgree ; for I had made it a most inviolable law 
 never to make use of the influence I might have 
 in my present connexion with the Elector, to 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 recommend any one, and least of all my own 
 children and relatives. However, it was to me 
 a suhject of infinite importance and adoration, 
 that a gracious Providence should conduct my 
 two eldest married children, with their families, 
 into my immediate vicinity, and provide lor them 
 so reputably. 
 
 At Marburg, where I was likewise obliged to 
 remain a few days, I was visited by Schwarz, 
 in order to relate to me the circumstances of his 
 nomination, on which occasion we conversed 
 with great earnestness upon his important voca- 
 tion. From this place we continued our journey, 
 without stopping, till we reached Heidelberg, 
 where we arrived in the evening of the 4th of 
 July, in health as it respects the body, and blessed 
 in our souls. We were met at Weinheim by our 
 children from Manheim and Heidelberg, where 
 we also found our daughter Christina recovered, 
 and in health. All this incited in us the most 
 lively thanksgivings to our Heavenly Guide. 
 
 During the whole of this tedious and danger- 
 ous journey, which lasted a quarter of a year, 
 Providence had so graciously guided and pre- 
 served us that not the smallest accident had be- 
 fallen us ; and were I fully to relate all the 
 benefits and blessings which we had enjoyed, 
 and could relate all the edifying conversations 
 and the heavenly intercourse with so many 
 favoured children of God of all ranks, it might 
 serve as a matter of edification to many read- 
 ers ; but modesty on my part, and the possibili- 
 ty of pitiful censure on the other, make it my 
 duty to be silent upon the subject. This I can 
 however assert, that this journey was extreme- 
 ly conducive to the instruction and restoration 
 of us both. 
 
 Our residence at Heidelberg was not at this 
 time of long duration. The Elector, who was 
 still at Schwetzingen, sent for me from time to 
 time, in the court equipage, to dine with him. 
 One day he said, during dinner, "Dear friend, 
 I shall now soon go to Baden ; you must ac- 
 company me -thither for a few weeks, for I 
 gladly have you near me." I replied, " As your 
 Electoral Highness commands." But in reality 
 I was alarmed, for where should I find the 
 money to reside for several weeks at such a 
 much-frequented bathing-place"! The journey 
 had certainly produced me a few hundred guild- 
 ers, but these- 1 required for the time to come, 
 and the following winter. However, I immedi- 
 ately took courage ; and my old motto, which had 
 been so often my rod and my staff — " The Lord 
 will provide" — tranquillized my mind. After 
 dinner, the prince took me into his cabinet, 
 and gave me three hundred guilders, with the 
 words. "This is for your residence at Baden." 
 
 My occupation now consisted in carrying on 
 my extensive correspondence ; in writing " The 
 Grey Man," and "The Christian Philanthro- 
 pist," as well as in attending to many cataract 
 and ophthalmic patients, who daily came to me 
 for aid. 
 
 The 21st of July was the time fixed for my 
 departure for Baden. I therefore took with me 
 our friend Julia, my wife, the little Christina, 
 and my niece Maria to wait upon us ; for the 
 baths were very salutary to my wife, to Julia, 
 and the delicate Christina. We fixed our quar- 
 ters at the lodging and bathing-house, whilst 
 our daughter Caroline continued the housekeep 
 
ST IL LING'S LAST HOURS. 
 
 181 
 
 ing in Heidelberg, with the two little ones, 
 Frederick and Amalia, and the servants. 
 
 Baden is a very ancient place, and was very 
 much frequented even during the time of the 
 Romans, for its baths. It lies in a beautiful 
 valley, and is an extremely agreeable abode. It 
 is seven leagues distant from Karlsruhe, and 
 two from Rastadt. The valley takes its direc- 
 tion from the south-east, and runs towards the 
 north-west; through it flows the little river 
 Ohss, which is of some importance, particularly 
 for floating wood. The horizon is bounded by 
 the lofty indented mountains of the Black Forest, 
 at whose feet, on both sides of the valley, fruit- 
 ful hdls delight the eye, covered from the top to 
 the bottom with fields, vineyards, and gardens. 
 On the southern side of one of these hills, to- 
 wards the north, the town extends itself; upon 
 its summit stands the castle, which, before the 
 building of Rastadt, was inhabited by the Mar- 
 grave of Baden. 
 
 Through the wide opening of the valley to- 
 wards the north-west, the eye surveys the lovely 
 plains of the Grand Duchy of Baden and the 
 luxuriant Alsace, whilst in the blue distance the 
 romantic Vogesen mountains rise to view, and 
 the majestic river Schein winds through this 
 spacious valley, like a broad silver ribbon thrown 
 over a variegated flowery meadow. In the 
 height of summer, when the sun goes down be- 
 hind the Vogesen, and illumines the valley of 
 Baden as far the lofty mountains in the back- 
 
 ground, it presents a sight which may be justly 
 deemed one ol the greatest beauties of nature. 
 It must be seen, for it is impossible to describe 
 it. In other respects, the air is here so balmy 
 and pure, that many come hither merely to 
 breathe it, without using the baths. 
 
 My readers will easily believe me upon my 
 word, that I was not one of the customary 
 visitors of the baths, who only come thither to 
 make themselves merry once a year ; for every 
 description of sensual taste finds there oppor- 
 tunity enough to indulge itself. 
 
 I occupied myself, just as at home, with 
 writing letters, literary labours, and ophthalmic 
 cures ; but did not neglect, when the weather 
 permitted, daily to ramble out in this garden of 
 God, in order to listen to the pervading voice 
 of eternal love which is not obvious to every 
 one. By degrees a circle of good men formed 
 itself, in which we felt at ease, and who shared 
 with us in the pure enjoyment of nature. 
 
 I here wrote the first " Pocket-book Annual," 
 for 1805, which contains the totally-unlike por- 
 trait of the Elector. The latter mostly resided 
 about two leagues from this place, at the " Fa- 
 vorite," a very pretty country-seat, where I 
 visited him from time to time. 
 
 Towards the end of the month of August, 
 there was occasion for another journey. The 
 old blind clergyman, Faber, at Gaissburg in the 
 I vicinity of Stuttgard, desired me to perform the 
 i operation upon him. * * * * * 
 
 STILLING'S LAST HOURS. 
 
 BY HIS GRANDSON, W. H. E. SCHWARZ. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The life of Johann Heinrich Jung, surnamed 
 Stilling, private Aulic Counsellor to the Grand 
 Duke of Baden, Doctor of Philosophy and Medi- 
 cine, and member of many learned societies, 
 which was so abundantly blessed in its mani- 
 fold labors, has, by his own account of it, been 
 long made known to the public, and is regarded 
 by every believer as a striking instance of the 
 paternal guidance of Divine Providence. In the 
 following pages, we propose giving only the 
 principal features of the last scenes of his life, 
 which terminated on the 2d of April, 1817, in 
 order to give the world a new proof how a Chris- 
 tian may glorify God by his faith, even unto 
 death. 
 
 The venerable old man, whose eldest grand- 
 son I have the honour to be, and in whose 
 vicinity circumstances had fortunately placed 
 me for a year previous to his death, began, at 
 the commencement of 1816, in the seventy- 
 seventh year of his age, sensibly to feel the 
 diminution of his constitutional powers, which 
 had been previously so strong and healthy. 
 
 It was with mournful anxiety that his children, 
 grandchildren, friends, and admirers, observed 
 the increasing debility of their beloved friend 
 and parent ; and many a prayer ascended from 
 far and near, to heaven, for the prolongation of 
 his mortal life. God answered them in his wis- 
 dom ; for He stÜFered him to remain as a bless- 1 
 
 ing on earth, for a longer season than we could 
 have expected from existing circumstances. 
 
 An excursion of pleasure, to visit his children 
 at Heidelberg and the neighbouring places, and 
 later in the summer, a similar one to Baden and 
 his children in Rastadt, appeared to have re- 
 stored strength to his constitution ; and in the 
 course of that summer he was still enabled to 
 restore sight to seventeen blind persons ; but s 
 he was incessantly troubled with painful spa^ 
 modic attacks, together with his general de- 
 bility, and suffered besides this from a pain in 
 the side, w 7 hich he himself ascribed to a fall he 
 had experienced some time before from a coach, 
 and an organic defect which had been thereby 
 produced, he was under the necessity of keep- 
 ing his bed during the whole winter of 1816-17. 
 Notwithstanding the most invigorating reme- 
 dies, which were administered in order to alle- 
 viate his sufferings, his strength decayed more 
 and more. From that time, he was no longer 
 able to continue his correspondence ; he mere- 
 ly gave instructions for replying to letters of the 
 most importance ; but at length, even dictating 
 became too difficult for him in his illness, and 
 no more answers could be given. 
 
 Yet this was not the only thing that troubled 
 him, since he was well persuaded of the indul- 
 gence of those who addressed him by letter ; — . 
 he had the pain of seeing his consort, who had 
 suffered for a series of years from jugular con- 
 I tractions, attacked by a violent pectoral disor- 
 
182 HEINRICH 
 
 der and ulcers in the lungs. The venerable 
 couple bore their afflictions with the most cheer- 
 ful resignation to the will of divine Providence ; 
 but whilst the view of their painful sufferings 
 rent the hearts of their children and their friends, 
 their example inspired them at the same time 
 with fortitude. 
 
 Father Stilling's vital powers seemed occa- 
 sionally to recover themselves, and at such 
 times he endeavoured to proceed with his prin- 
 cipal labours ; but his hands soon succumbed 
 under bodily weakness. It was in these more 
 vigorous hours that he began to write his " Old 
 Age," and was able to prepare it for the press 
 as far as the preceding fragment extends. 
 
 His strength did not suffer him to write more, 
 and he forbade the continuation of it. That 
 which he relates in it of his old age, is indeed 
 sufficient to make the reader acquainted with 
 his final outward circumstances, and cause him, 
 at the same time, to admire the strength of 
 mind which continued his constant attendant 
 upon his sick-bed, and bore his soul, even at his 
 last breath, towards heaven. The little which 
 we shall here notice of the remainder of his life, 
 must not be considered as a continuation of his 
 biography, but as a testimony to the truth of the 
 Christian faith, and at the same as a fulfilment 
 of the wishes of many friends, who desire to 
 know the particulars of his last hours. 
 
 He said, with joy, at the beginning of the 
 winter, on receiving the last volume of his 
 " Scripture Narratives" and his " Casket" from 
 the press, " I have still been able to complete 
 my ' Scripture History !' " Towards Christmas, 
 our honoured father's weakness and the illness 
 of his dear consort increased to such a degree, 
 that we could no longer entertain hopes of re- 
 taining either of them for any length of time. 
 They both now divested themselves of every 
 earthly care which they might still have had upon 
 their hearts, for those they were about to leave, 
 and were ready for their departure. However, 
 Heaven was still willing to grant us their 
 presence for some months longer; for at the 
 commencement of the year 1817, they again 
 attained more strength, so that they were 
 occasionally able to continue out of bed for a 
 ^ime. 
 
 ™ The venerable old man had previously often 
 said to his consort, who was concerned for him 
 even on her dying-bed, " It is all the same to 
 me how it comes, whether I am able to con- 
 tinue my labors or not ; I am prepared for every 
 thing." And this entire submission to the will 
 of his heavenly Father he continually manifest- 
 ed ; and hence he exclaimed, in a fit of pain 
 occasioned by his violent spasmodic attacks, 
 " God has guided me from my youth up, by a par- 
 ticular providence ; I will not be dissatisfied now, 
 but glorify him also in my sufferings." 
 
 During the whole period of his confinement 
 to his bed, his thoughts were incessantly direct- 
 ed to subjects connected with the kingdom of 
 God. These were his favorite topics of con- 
 versation with his partner, his children, and his 
 friends ; and hence he read with indescribable 
 satisfaction Kanne's work, entitled " Lives, and 
 Extracts from the Lives of Awakened Chris- 
 tians," and Schubert's "Antiquities and Novel- 
 ties of Superior Psychology ;" and he observed 
 on one occasion, " These men are selected by 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 Providence to be important instruments in trie 
 present century." After having finished the 
 perusal of Blumhardt's Magazine of the most 
 recent intelligence of the Protestant Bible and 
 Missionary Societies (Basle, 1817), on our con- 
 versing together upon the pleasing progress of 
 the kingdom of God in modern times, he said, 
 " See, my dears ; it is a pleasure and recrea- 
 tion to me in my old age, whilst I am lying 
 thus, to hear of the further extension of the 
 Christian religion." 
 
 In this kind of occupation, in the perusal of 
 other religious books, and edifying himself from 
 the Holy Scriptures, which always lay near him, 
 and from spiritual poetical compositions, he 
 passed his time, which, as he said, never seem- 
 ed long to him. 
 
 It was only occasionally that his strength 
 permitted him to converse with us ; and if 
 friends came at such favorable moments who 
 were desirous of speaking with him, he was 
 able to comply with their wishes. At these 
 times he always conversed in the same cheer- 
 ful manner as had rendered him at all times so 
 amiable in social life. On such occasions, he 
 was fond of speaking of his youthful life ; and 
 frequently spoke to a female friend, with pecu- 
 liar pleasure, of his relatives in the provinces of 
 the Lower Rhine. But if any one expressed 
 satisfaction at his improving state of health, he 
 would not listen to it ; and when a young friend 
 once said to him, she hoped that the more fa- 
 vorable weather in the spring would impart 
 new vital strength to him, he replied, " Oh, do 
 not tell me anything of the kind ; for I do not 
 wish my friends to deceive themselves." And 
 he often mentioned to his physician that he felt 
 his end approaching. 
 
 His chief recreation was, as it had always 
 been, song and music ; and whilst young friends 
 sang in accordance with his feelings, tears of 
 pleasure would escape him. Having been for 
 some weeks unable to lie any longer in the same 
 apartment with his suffering consort, because 
 her disorders required a different temperature, 
 he visited her daily for some time ; on which 
 occasions he was led to the bedside of the suf- 
 ferer, and at last rolled thither in an arm-chair. 
 It was then delightful to listen to their edifying 
 discourse. 
 
 Even as from his youth up, by his life and 
 conversation, and his numerous writings, as 
 well as in the astonishing acquaintance and 
 knowledge which he had acquired with so 
 much industry in every department of science, 
 he at all times proved what the Apostle Paul 
 says, — that the knowledge of Jesus Christ sur- 
 passes all other knowledge. He confirmed this, 
 as we were speaking with each other upon the 
 effects of his writings, and said to us, " Yes, all 
 knowledge, all ability for writing, all reputation, 
 and the like, is obtained merely through cir- 
 cumstances, according to the will of God ; and 
 no man will be either interrogated or judged 
 according to them, when he stands before the 
 throne of God. But it is the application of 
 them, and the little portion of humility and faith 
 which the individual possesses, which the grace 
 of God will regard as acceptable." He like- 
 wise said on one occasion to his youngest son, 
 that " He was grieved that he had not devoted 
 more time in his life to drawing and manual oc- 
 
STILLING'S LAST HOURS. 
 
 183 
 
 cnpations ;" for in such things he possessed 
 particular ability. 
 
 We might have adduced many expressions 
 which had reference to his love of activity and 
 his faith in Jesus Christ, did we not fear being 
 too prolix. It is also universally known that 
 our venerable father Stilling, in his life and 
 writings, praised and glorified the Redeemer 
 alone, and was chosen as a distinguished instru- 
 ment of divine grace, together with many other 
 able men, to be a great support of the church in 
 the age of a falsely-enlightened infidelity. His 
 company was always cheering, instructive, and 
 edifying, and continued so till the hour of his 
 departure. 
 
 However, as the vernal season approached, 
 the illness of the venerable couple increased. 
 But both of them, in their willingness to suffer, 
 and in their confidence in the Lord, sought with 
 great self-denial to hide from their family their 
 sufferings and decay. We perceived, never- 
 theless, the approach of the mournful period 
 that soon followed. After his faithful com- 
 panion's ulcerated lungs, in defiance of all the 
 remedies which had been administered, had at- 
 tained to complete suppuration, and oppression 
 and debility had increased to the highest de- 
 gree, she gently and blissfully fell asleep in the 
 Lord, on the 22nd of March, 1817. Two days 
 previously, the venerable old man, clearly per- 
 ceiving by his medical knowledge that her end 
 was fast approaching, after having repeated to 
 her some beautiful verses out of Gellert's and 
 Paul Gerhard's hymns, "Unto the Lord com- 
 mend thy way," &c., took leave of her with the 
 words, " The Lord bless thee, thou suffering 
 angel ! The Lord be with thee 1" And when 
 he heard of her decease, he calmly folded his 
 hands, lifted up his eyes to heaven, sighed, and 
 ejaculated, "Thank God she has finished her 
 «ourse !" After this, he likewise lived more in 
 the other world, and prferred being left to him- 
 self more than before, clearly conscious that 
 the departure of his consort was also for him 
 the first step of transition. Hence he said to 
 us, when we were lamenting her decease in his 
 presence, " This cannot be so painful to me as 
 it is to you ; since I hope so soon to see her. 
 again." And that was fulfilled for which he 
 prayed many years before, on the 19th Novem- 
 ber 1790, in the ode he composed on his third 
 nuptials, and which both had foreboded, name- 
 ,ly- 
 
 " Father, until our journey s end 
 Conduct us hand in hand." 
 
 His debility increased, although his spirit al- 
 ways remained animated like that of a young 
 man, as he himself expressed it, and as the 
 lively look of his eye testified, which continued 
 open and bright to his last breath. Hence he 
 \vas able, only a few days before his end, to 
 speak a few words of encouragement to the no- 
 ble daughter of an illustrious female friend, 
 previous to her confirmation, and also to dis- 
 course briefly with her illustrious son and noble 
 sister. He also spoke upon several subjects 
 with other acquaintances ; and said once to an 
 old friend, and to his second daughter, amongst 
 other things, " Listen ; I have something of 
 importance to tell you, relating to psychology ; 
 I have completely the feeling as if I possessed 
 a two-fold personality ; one spiritual, the other 
 
 corporal. The spiritual hovers over the ani- 
 mal. Both are in a state of warfare in man ; 
 and it is only by the mortification of all sensual 
 desire that he can attain to their entire separa- 
 tion^ not, indeed, by his own power, but by de- 
 nying himself, with the Divine assistance." 
 
 All other discourse but such as had reference 
 to God and his plan of salvation was onerous 
 to him and therefore he said " that he had not 
 spent a weary moment on his sick-bed, until 
 after the death of his wife ; since which, time 
 seemed long to him." For the deceased, by 
 her self-sacrificing love and anxiety for him, as 
 well as by her sympathy even in the smallest 
 things which concerned him, had become indis- 
 pensable to him as the partner of his life and 
 the friend of his soul. She overflowed with 
 tenderness even towards the children of his 
 former marriage, and was, generally speaking, 
 a pattern of human kindness and gentleness, 
 of self-denial and humility, and was therefore 
 truly invaluable to him. Hence he longed so 
 much the more to reach his home, and to be 
 elevated above all earthly thoughts and cares. 
 His debility daily increased ; and having had, 
 for the last half-year, an invincible repugnance 
 to substantial food of every kind, of which the 
 efforts of the most able physicians and all the 
 care of his friends were unable to divest him, 
 and as the water now rose in his chest, it was 
 easy to foresee that the dear man would only 
 continue a few days longer as a living pattern 
 amongst us. In this situation he said to a fe- 
 male friend, " It will soon be over!" And on 
 her replying " Ah, how happy you are, in being 
 able to say this!" he answered in a friendly 
 tone, " Well, I am glad that you acknowledge 
 it." 
 
 When we learned that his end was so near, 
 we took courage in our affliction, and sought to 
 take advantage of every moment of his remain- 
 ing with us, for our edification and establish- 
 ment in faith. For if ever his society produced 
 this blissful influence, it was so on his dying- 
 bed, where, with the most astonishing consid- 
 eration and calmness, he awaited the moment 
 of his departure, which he probably perceived 
 beforehand to the very hour, and in which, by 
 his filial resignation to the Divine disposal, as a 
 true hero of the faith, he glorified God in the 
 mortal conflict, who strengthened him for it, and 
 afterwards beatified him. His end was an ob- 
 vious proof of the truth of the christian faith ; 
 for no mere deist or rationalist, but the Chris- 
 tian alone, is able to resign his breath with that 
 spiritual fortitude and all that consciousness 
 which the departed saint retained with every 
 recollection to his latest breath ; and with that 
 seriousness with which, although so far ad- 
 vanced in the divine life, he represented to him- 
 self his near dismission, with the tranquillity 
 and cheerfulness consequent upon it, which ir- 
 radiated his dignified countenance. 
 
 Hence the honor of his life and sentiments, 
 and the cause of the kingdom of God, calls upon 
 me publicly to state to the world the particulars 
 of his last hours, together with the most im- 
 portant expressions he made use of in the full 
 possession of consciousness, according to the 
 testimony of all present, as well as that of his 
 estimable physician, in order that all the glory 
 may be given to God. 
 
184 
 
 HEINRICH STILLING. 
 
 When he saw that his dissolution was no 
 longer at a distance, he desired that all his chil 
 dren should assemble around him ; and the 
 latter were able to arrange their affairs in such 
 a manner as to afford themselves this last plea- 
 sure. Yet still the idea troubled him, lest their 
 official duties should be forgotten for his sake ; 
 and hence he said to them, on seeing them re- 
 main longer with him than usual, "You are 
 staying too long ; you are neglecting too much ; 
 attend to your incumbent duties ;" for however 
 gladly he had them about him, he could not 
 endure it, when it seemed to him that they ne- 
 glected the business of their vocation. After 
 they had pacified him on this point, he suffered 
 one of his children to be continually with him 
 at his bed-side. He had previously dlways 
 used a bell in order to call those of his family 
 who were in attendance in the anteroom, since 
 he was fond of being alone. He also spoke 
 with each of his children of things which, on 
 their account, were still at his heart. His fre- 
 quent inquiries about the time, proves that du- 
 ring the last two da) T s, in the frequent attacks 
 of disease, the time seemed long to him, and 
 that he longed for his heavenly habitation. In 
 the night between Palm-Sunday and the Mon- 
 day following, he spoke much to his youngest 
 son, who was watching by him, respecting his 
 approaching dissolution, which he had not done 
 before ; and believing his end to be near, even 
 at that time, he said to him, towards day-break, 
 " Now go and call the family." However, his 
 strength returned in some measpre, and he 
 smoked a pipe, as he did also the day before his 
 decease. But the water in the pleura caused 
 him much uneasiness, after the pain in his 
 side and the spasmodic attacks had for some 
 weeks disappeared ; he was therefore obliged 
 to breathe and groan aloud, and with difficulty ; 
 and cough frequently ; but all this passed away, 
 the day preceding his dissolution. He spoke 
 very little, and only in broken sentences, but 
 always in perfect consciousness ; he also slept 
 little, although he frequently closed his eyes ; 
 for he immediately opened them when any one 
 moved, or the door was opened. 
 
 On that day, and even previously, as well äs 
 on the following day, he was probably much 
 occupied in thought, with proofs, objections, 
 counter-proofs, and refutations of the doctrine 
 of immortality and of the Christian faith ; this 
 was apparent from his uneasiness in sleeping 
 and waking, and from the broken words and 
 sentences which he uttered on these subjects ; 
 for he constantly saw near him in a dream— as 
 is also related of St. Martin — a black man, who 
 harrassed him, and occupied and disturbed his 
 active spirit ; seemingly as if evil spirits sought 
 still to trouble him upon his dying-bed, and even 
 to cause to him to swerve from the faith ; for 
 he said while asleep, " Tell me, my dear chil- 
 dren, who is that black man there, who is con- 
 tinually tormenting me } Do not you see him ?" 
 He had dreamed some days before, as he told 
 his daughter the day following, that the black 
 man said to him, " Come with me ;" but that 
 he had answered, "No, 1 will not : go away !" 
 But all these temptations were overcome the 
 day before his end, on which his uneasiness 
 was succeeded by a profound tranquillity and 
 solemnity. He also thus expressed himself on 
 
 this subject to his third daughter : " I believe I 
 have fought the mortal conflict ; for I feel as 
 much alone as if I were in a desert, and yet in- 
 wardly so comfortable !" But on their express- 
 ing their opinion that he would have no farther 
 struggle with death, and on asking him respect- 
 ing it, he replied, "No, there is many a little 
 trial to sustain." And that the Christian con- 
 templates the near approach of death neither 
 with levity nor presumption, is evident from 
 what he expressed on the subject to his second 
 daughter; — when she was conversing with him 
 during this period on the subject of death, he 
 said, " Dying is an important affair, and no 
 trifle ;" and on another occasion, " Futurity is 
 a wonderful thing." From whence it appears 
 that, even to the man who has labored with all 
 his powers, and in every possible direction, for 
 the honor of the Most High, and to whom futu- 
 rity was able to present itself in the fairest col- 
 ors—that even to him, the transition into the 
 life to come, and the account so soon to be 
 rendered, appeared supremely solemn and im- 
 portant. Being wont to speak aloud in his 
 sleep during the whole of his life, it was also 
 now the case ; and as he awoke occasionally, 
 he said to his second daughter, " Since the 
 death of my wife, I do not feel at home, and 
 talk nonsense in my sleep." But on her reply-' 
 ing, "No — on the contrary, what you say is only 
 edifying;" he said, " Indeed ! — that is truly a 
 divine favor !" He frequently expressed his 
 anxiety lest he should say anything improper 
 during his slumbers ; for he wished only to 
 speak and suffer for the glory of his Lord. 
 Thus I heard him make use of no other than 
 devotional expressions when asleep, such as, 
 "God has guided me with unspeakable kind 
 ness ;" "The Lord bless you ;" " We must be 
 very cautious in examining into the meaning 
 of a subject, lest we fall into error ;" and sim- 
 ilar phrases. 
 
 When his weakness increased, his frequent 
 talking in his sleep ceased ; and when awake,, 
 he spoke less by words than by friendly looks. 
 When he observed how every one vied in wait- 
 ing upon him, he frequently said, " Dear angels, 
 cause you so much trouble." Thus he said 
 also, " children, I am so affected by your un- 
 exampled love ; — however, I could wish, for 
 your sakes, not to die in the paroxysm of my 
 complaint ;" for he experienced a frequent re- 
 petition of violent attacks of his disorder, which 
 was occasioned by water in the pleura, his 
 disease having terminated in that painful disor- 
 der; and hence he said to us more than once, 
 " There is something melancholy in being suf- 
 focated, but there is perhaps a necessity for it." 
 Near his bed, which was fixed in his study, from 
 whence so many blessings for the world had, 
 emanated, and which being adorned with sub- 
 lime paintings, engravings, and memorials, re- 
 sembled a sanctuary, he had constantly beauti- 
 ful flowers standing in pots. His looks linger- 
 ed with particular pleasure upon these, and on 
 Miiller's engraving of Raphael's Madonna, which 
 hung upon the wall opposite him. 
 
 He said also, whilst conversing with his 
 youngest son, who had the care of his flowers, 
 " See, dear boy, the pretty flawers ;" they were 
 hyacinths, narcissuses, and violets ; and round 
 about them the pretty children's heads. In the 
 
STILLING'S LAST HOURS. 
 
 185 
 
 night between the last day of March and the first 
 of April, he said many things to me respecting 
 my dear parents, brothers, and sisters, in Hei- 
 delberg, as well as upon other topics, and my 
 office as a preacher. He then requested a glass 
 of fresh water, which he drank with particular 
 pleasure, his parched gums languishing more 
 and more for refreshing liquids; and he praised 
 this draught of water the next day to his two 
 youngest daughters, saying, " No one can form 
 an idea of the pleasure I had, last night, when 
 drinking a glass of fresh water. When nature 
 returns to her pure state, and partakes of water 
 and wine, it is the best thing the individual can 
 take, if the spasms will permit it." And hence 
 he said, soon after, " The most simple food is 
 requisite for man in his first and last days ; 
 water and milk is the beginning and the end.'' 
 
 Towards day-break, he called to his youngest 
 son, to fill his pipe, which he seemed to relish. 
 The same morning, being the first of April, 
 whilst his children were with him, and another 
 of my brothers was with us, of whom on his 
 arrival the evening before he had enquired after 
 the welfare of the family, he exhorted us as 
 follows ; " Dear children, be diligent in the true 
 fear of God! People often think they , do 
 enough if they only occasionally attend church 
 and sacrament ; but true religion consists in en- 
 tire resignation to the will of God, and in con- 
 tinual intercourse with Him, and in prayer !" 
 
 Hereupon, as his second daughter requested 
 him to intercede in heaven, together with his 
 beatified consort, for his family ; he answered 
 in his simple way, "We must first see what 
 the usage is in yonder world ;— we will then 
 pray for you." 
 
 He then repeated the following verses from 
 the Halle Hymn-Book.— Hymn xi. v. 22. 
 
 "Those blading wounds which Jesus bore, 
 
 My refuge are, my only boast ; 
 Through these with joy to heaven I'll soar, 
 
 And mingle with the heavenly host." 
 
 And on hearing his third daughter ask her 
 sister where these words were to be found, he 
 gave the Halle collection of spiritual songs, 
 which was lying near him, to his second daugh- 
 ter, directed her to search and mark out some 
 of the most beautiful hymns, and enjoined her 
 to let her children in the seminary learn to sing 
 them well in choir, and said, " Learn plenty of 
 texts and verses by heart ; they will be found 
 to be of service." At the same time he recom- 
 mended her always to let the church hymns be 
 sung in the genuine and simple church melodies, 
 without any thing of an artificial nature ; for he 
 loved that which was simple and sublime, even 
 in church matters. He afterwards said to her, 
 as the conversation turned upon certain friends, 
 "Write to the dear people, and say that I 
 thought much about them in my last days, — that 
 I loved them, and that we should eventually find 
 sufficient subjects for conversation." He also 
 subsequently said concerning them, "They are 
 beloved of the Lord." 
 
 That day, which was Tuesday the 1st of 
 April, many friends still came to see him, and 
 to be witnesses of the cheerfulness and solem- 
 nity with which the venerable old man endured 
 his sufferings through the power of faith. And 
 every heart was elevated to heaven at the sight ; 
 and the wish eventually to die a similar chnst- 
 A a 
 
 ian death produced many new and ardent re- 
 solves to glorify God upon earth by a life well- 
 pleasing to Him. 
 
 And then, when father Stilling saw his friends 
 looking, or coming in through the half-open 
 door, which stood immediately opposite his eye, 
 he testified his love for them by a friendly nod, 
 and if at the moment he felt a little accession 
 of strength, he spoke a few words to one and 
 another of them. At the same time his cheer- 
 fulness, which had been an invariable attraction 
 to every one, never forsook him. On observing 
 a female friend looking through the door, he 
 jocosely said, " Madame Von R — is peeping 
 through the key-hole !" Another female friend 
 came towards noon, and grateful for the ac- 
 quaintance she had mad^with him by the grace 
 of God, she spoke of the beautifully pure mind 
 which the Lord had given him, on which he an- 
 swered, " Oh, you must not praise me !" He af- 
 terwards mentioned to the same individual, that 
 whilst reflecting upon the whole period of his life, 
 which, as he himself said, was long, but ap- 
 peared to him as a dream, " I had once in my 
 youth a little flute, which fell upon the ground, 
 and was broken, on which I wept for two days 
 together ; and it cost only sixpence ; — but money 
 was scarce in those days ;" and then con- 
 tinued, " Tell me, what have the critics been 
 able to effect against me ] Whatever they 
 wrote, availed nothing!" About this time, he 
 sent for me, and inquired whether the jubilee of 
 the Reformation festival would be celebrated 
 that year; on my telling him I was convinced 
 that no solemnity would be neglected as regard- 
 ed that important festival, he replied, " Yes, I 
 have, in fact, heard something of it," and was 
 satisfied respecting it. 
 
 At dinner-time, he wished to be again left 
 alone, and spoke little or nothing; his distress- 
 ing sensations had also at that time passed away, 
 and cheerful repose glistened in his large and 
 intelligent eyes. 
 
 The watches which hung near him he had 
 wound up himself to this time, and had also 
 counted his jewels, &c, in the drawer of the 
 little table which stood near him ; for his love 
 of order, which had been of such service to him 
 in his numerous occupations, did not leave him 
 to the last moment ; for even then, he was 
 anxious to take the mixtures and medicines, for 
 which he always asked at the precise period, 
 which he frequently refused when presented to 
 him earlier. He also directed the faded flow- 
 ers to be exchanged for fresh ones, which he 
 was able to call by their proper names, and had 
 them placed on his table. In the afternoon, he 
 again asked for his pipe, and was calm and 
 cheerful. His lips being swollen, he requested 
 a glass pipe to drink out of, and directed where 
 it was to be shortened, in consequence of being 
 found too long. He was well pleased with this 
 mode of drinking, and said jocosely, "When 
 using the glass tube, the douaniers in the neck 
 do not perceive it." 
 
 Towards evening he again fell asleep, on 
 which account it was impossible to gratify manjf 
 of his friends who desired once more to see him 
 whom they so much esteemed, because the fre- 
 quent moving of the door disturbed him. 
 
 Once, on awaking, he said to his daughters 
 who were present, " I always think it is morn- 
 
 $ 
 
186 HEINRICH 
 
 ing. In the next world there will be an eternal 
 day." 
 
 On his second daughter's presenting him with 
 -a nosegay from her pupils, all of whom he lov- 
 ed inexpressibly, with the words, " Dear father, 
 the children send you these flowers:" he re- 
 plied in his usual cordial tone, " The dear chil- 
 dren ! They are also like the tender flowers, 
 which voluntarily unfold themselves to the rays 
 of the sun." 
 
 Towards six o'clock, he stated to his friendly 
 physician all his complaints, and even began a 
 conversation with him upon the goodness of the 
 water of the Herrnbrunnen in Baden-Baden. 
 His eldest son from Rastadt soon afterward ar- 
 rived, in order to see his venerable parent once 
 more. He could not immediately receive him, 
 on account of the paroxysm under which he was 
 suffering ; as soon as it was over, he called him 
 to him, and as the former was speaking of the 
 happy exit of his deceased mother, he replied, 
 " Observe, we cannot exactly say how it is with 
 her ; she has endured to the end, and I must still 
 either labor on, or suffer on ! " Of a friend 
 who had seen him only the day before, he spoke 
 with much respect and affection, and said, " I 
 have had frequent opportunities of seeing him, 
 and have spoken much with him on theosophi- 
 cal subjects, the whole extent of which he had 
 investigated, on which occasions I learnt to 
 know his heart." Subsequently, I said to him, 
 u These May-flowers," which stood upon his 
 table, " are much too beautiful ;" on which he re- 
 plied, in his cheerful way, " Nothing is too beau- 
 tiful for me !" And on his second daughter's 
 saying to him afterwards, " Yes, dear father, 
 you will soon see much more beautiful things 
 than these!" he rejoined, "That cannot be 
 known, it must be felt." He subsequently said, 
 " I love you all so dearly, and yet it is so easy to 
 part with you." On his eldest son's replying. 
 
 The reason is, because you love the Lord so 
 much more ;" he answered, "Yes, that is it." 
 He also said afterwards to the former, " Be 
 steadfast in faith ; it has never misled me ; it 
 will also guide thee faithfully, and by it we will 
 all abide." He then said, "continue in love, 
 you dear angels !" And on his third daughter's 
 replying, " You are our angel, dear father 1 " 
 he answered, "We will be so reciprocally !" 
 Meanwhile the night approached, and he fre- 
 quently laid himself in a sleeping posture, and 
 generally speaking, his whole frame was tran- 
 quil. As soon as he awoke, and found occasion 
 and power to speak, he did so. Thus he once 
 said, "If our Redeemer had only that to drink 
 *which I have, it would have done him good ; 
 but they gave him vinegar to drink, stretched 
 out their tongues at him, and mocked him, and 
 yet he said, 'Father, forgive them, they know 
 not what they do ! ' This was the mightiest 
 prayer that ever was uttered." And on this he 
 prayed, " Father, if it be thy holy will that I 
 should longer remain here, give me strength and 
 I will gladly still labor and suffer." His third 
 daughter afterwards said, " How it grieves me 
 to see you lie there and suffer so much !" To 
 which he replied, " Do not always speak so ; 
 our Lord was stretched out in a very different 
 manner." Later, on observing us all about him, 
 and mournful looks fixed upon him, he said, " If 
 you still wish to say any thing to me, do so." 
 
 STILLING. 
 
 When the watch-light was brought, which he 
 generally sent for about the time of falling 
 asleep, he said, " I do not require it ; I travel 
 the whole night." He subsequently continued, 
 " When a person belongs to the christian church, 
 not only must man and wife, but all the children 
 also, agree in one point ; and that is dreadfully 
 difficult." 
 
 Towards morning, he had the following dream, 
 which he related on awaking, to his eldest son 
 and his third daughter. " I felt myself actively 
 engaged," said he, " with my late consort in do- 
 mestic affairs ; — the ' Grey Man ' afterwards ap- 
 peared to me — but not the one in the Nostalgia 
 — and conducted me into heaven, and said to 
 me that I need not trouble myself in the least 
 about my wife, with whom it went well ; he 
 himself had conducted her from one stage of per- 
 fection to another ; but that I must still wait." 
 He afterwards expressed himself as follows ; 
 " Oh, I feel such an indescribable peace of soul, 
 which you cannot perceive in consequence of 
 my bodily wretchedness." Meanwhile his weak- 
 ness increased, and it was difficult for him to 
 speak in continuance, his voice having already 
 lost its power ; hence he made frequent use of 
 broken expressions, such as " A complete resig- 
 nation to the Lord," &c, and would often have 
 gladly continued, had his weakness permitted. 
 
 But his serenity and solemnity of feeling rose 
 to a still higher degree, and we could only pray 
 in his presence. It was then, on feeling him- 
 self sufficiently strong, that he uttered an inter- 
 cessory prayer, in which he besought God " to 
 preserve all his children in the faith of Jesus 
 Christ, and to keep them as branches in the 
 vine, that he might find them after thousands of 
 years bound together as in one bundle." 
 
 Soon after, towards four o'clock in the morn- 
 ing of the same day, being Ash-Wednesday, the 
 2nd of April, feeling that his end was approach- 
 ing, and that he was going to the Father, and 
 in the consciousness that he was sufficiently 
 strong for a last and solemn act, he collected us 
 all around him, inquiring, with his wonted kind- 
 ness, whether we had any ojection to his pres- 
 ent intention of partaking of the sacrament with 
 us ; and after his eldest son had removed his 
 scruples respecting it, since at that time of 
 the night the only clergyman of the Reformed 
 Chnrch (there being at that time no evangelical 
 church-union existing), who was also a venera- 
 ble old man, could not be sent for, and having 
 received our heartfelt consent and our thanks 
 for his patriarchal intention, he made us kneel 
 down, uncovered his head, folded his hands, and 
 prayed with all the power of the spirit and of 
 faith — which even still expressed itself in his 
 voice — to the following effect : " Thou, who 
 didst shed thy blood for us on the cross, and 
 didst overcome death and hell; who didst even 
 there forgive thy enemies; thou divine Media- 
 tor, forgive us also now, whilst venturing in our 
 weakness upon this solemn act, which we other- 
 wise would not have undertaken." 
 
 He then took the plate, on which he had bro- 
 ken in pieces the bread, held his hands cross- 
 wise over it, pronounced the usual form of ben- 
 ediction, and continued, " And thou, Lord, 
 bless this element of bread." On which he said, 
 " Take, eat ! — this is His body, which was given 
 up to death for our sins." 
 
STILLIN G'S LAST HOURS. 
 
 187 
 
 Inwardly affected by the dignified action of 
 the pious old man, thus celebrating with his 
 family, even on his dying bed, the bond of love, 
 the sacred supper, we partook of the consecra- 
 ted food. And after he had expressed the wish 
 that his Heidelberg children had also been with 
 us, he took his ordinary goblet instead of the 
 cup, crossed his hands over it in the same man- 
 ner, gave thanks, and said, according to the 
 words of the institution, "Drink ye all of it; — 
 this is the cup of the new covenant in His blood, 
 which was shed for you and for many, and in 
 the end for all, for the forgiveness of sins !" 
 And having himself partaken of it the last, he 
 stretched out his hands to bless us, and exclaim- 
 ed, " The Lord be with you !" 
 
 And after having terminated this solemn and 
 exalted act, as a Christian patriarch on his dy- 
 ing bed, and according to pure evangelical prin- 
 ciples; — which he would not have undertaken 
 had there not been a necessity for it, because 
 he honored and followed order, usage, and cus- 
 tom in all things — he laid himself down to sleep, 
 and sublime peace of soul evidenced itself in the 
 already transfigured countenance of the hero in 
 the faith. He might also have doubted, as well 
 as we, whether he should live to see the dawn- 
 ing of the following Wednesday. 
 
 His weakness from this time increased more 
 and more, and convulsive feelings manifested 
 themselves, so that we frequently thought the 
 moment of suffocation had arrived. Heart rend- 
 ing was the sight of the venerable old man, 
 when his breath failed him ; — he folded his 
 hands, lifted up his eyes towards heaven, sup- 
 posing he would never again enjoy the vital 
 air. We had frequently to witness this distress- 
 ing and, to us, terrific appearance of suffoca- 
 tion ; and we could only pray that God would 
 alleviate his passage home. When the severe 
 attacks were repeated, he exclaimed , " Lord, 
 receive me into thy everlasting habitations !" 
 And once, when it was difficult for him to strug- 
 gle for breath, in consequence of the water in 
 his chest, he stretched out his arms upwards, 
 and exclaimed, "Away, away!" Meanwhile 
 his dry and languishing gums were constantly 
 refreshed by reviving liquids, and his love for 
 cleanliness and order was perceptible even till 
 his end. At another time he exclaimed during 
 the tormenting spasm, " Strength, thou Con- 
 queror of death !" All this he uttered with a 
 weak but affecting tone of voice, whilst his looks 
 lingered upon the various members of his fami- 
 ly who surrounded his bed, and whom his ex- 
 alted example of patience and fortitude in this 
 continuous mortal conflict could not but incite 
 to prayer. And whenever the one or the other 
 of us found himself obliged to leave the room, 
 in the course of waiting upon him, and in the 
 anxiety to present their dying parent with every 
 refreshing and strengthening remedy, he looked 
 anxiously after him, and occasionally said, " Let 
 no one go away." 
 
 Thus did the venerable old man struggle for 
 several hours with dissolving nature, and it 
 seemed as if distant rays from the kingdom of 
 light encircled his dignified countenance, and 
 imparted to him strength for the conflict. Then 
 
 I when he saw us standing mournfully around 
 • him, and perceived our sorrow for him, he said, 
 " Have patience." Later in the forenoon, he 
 saw one of his friends, who was a clergyman, 
 looking in at the door, whom he greeted with a 
 friendly look ; and when the latter stepped up 
 to his bedside, and expressed his thoughts, say- 
 ing, " He who suffered on the cross enables you 
 to overcome," he replied, " Certainly, I do not 
 doubt of it." And when the former pronounced 
 the following words — 
 
 " How shall I feel, O God of grace, 
 
 When I ascend to worlds unknown, 
 And see thee with unveiled face, 
 And worship at thy glorious throne !" 
 
 he also assented to them with a "Yea and 
 Amen !" 
 
 But the solemn and mournful moment now 
 gradually approached. The far-advanced Chris- 
 tian, like his Redeemer, was to drink the cup 
 of tribulation to the very dregs, as a glorious 
 testimony of faith to the world. And it was 
 the middle of the holy week. He went, with 
 his Saviour, to meet death and victory. On be- 
 holding his countenance beaming with affection 
 and dignity, one could have exclaimed, " O 
 Death, where is thy sting ! grave, where is 
 thy victory ! But thanks be unto God, who 
 hath given him the victory, through his Lord 
 Jesus Christ." 
 
 He continually sought us out, one after the 
 other, with his benign and solemn look, and 
 once exclaimed, " Continue in prayer ;"andwe 
 ceased not. 
 
 He refreshed his languishing lips a few times 
 more with cooling drinks, until at length he 
 said, " It is enough; no more will go down!" 
 Several times he stammered forth supplicating 
 expressions, when suffering from convulsive at- 
 tacks, to the great Consummator, such as, 
 " Lord, cut short the thread of life !" and " Fa- 
 ther, receive my spirit !" and then we thought 
 we heard him breathe his last. However, his 
 vigorous constitution recovered itself a little ; 
 he prepared himself for the approaching mortal 
 blow by stretching himself out at full length, 
 and what he otherwise regarded as necessary : 
 then fixed his eyes on the picture of the infant 
 Jesus, which hung opposite to him ; and now 
 his eyes failed, and he closed them with all the 
 power of bodily and mental strength. We stood 
 breathless, and continued in prayer, while con- 
 vulsion fearfully distorted the features of the 
 sufferer. Once — and a second time — it seemed 
 as if evil spirits sought to discompose his noble 
 mien ; but behold ! the dignified traits of his 
 sublime countenance returned to their dignity 
 and benignity, and heavenly purity perfectly 
 presented itself to our gazing eyes ; and when 
 at noon-tide the sun shone most cheeringly, his 
 breath departed, and the Christian had over- 
 come ; in faith was his victory. 
 
 There is sorrow on earth for the departed 
 benefactor, counsellor, friend, and incomparable 
 father. Father Stilling is lamented, even in the 
 most distant countries ; but in heaven there is 
 joy amongst the blessed, and an unceasing song 
 of praise before God ascends from his beatified 
 spirit ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
Several Numbers Now Ready. 
 
 [MI A K IP E k3>©. 
 ILLUMINATED AND NEW PICTORIAL 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH 
 
 SIXTEEN HUNDRED HISTORICAL ENGRAVINGS, 
 
 EXCLUSIVE OF AN INITIAL LETTER TO EACH CHAPTER, 
 
 BY J. A. ADAMS, 
 MORE THAN FOURTEEN HUNDRED OF WHICH ARE FROM ORIGINAL DESIGNS, 
 BY J. G. CHAPMAN. 
 
 THE GREAT SUPERIORITY OF EARLY PROOF IMPRESSIONS, 
 from the Engravings, will ensure to those who take the work in Numbers the possession of it m 
 
 THE HIGHEST STATE OF PERFECTION. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY HARPER & BROTHERS, N. Y. 
 
 WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY. Revised Edition ; ^with an 
 Appendix, containing all the additional Words in the 
 last Edition of the larger Work. 8vo. Sheep Extra. 
 Price $3 50. 
 
 PRESCOTT'S CONQUEST OF MEXICO. History of 
 the Conquest of Mexico, with a Preliminary View of the 
 Ancient Mexican Civilization, with the Life of the Con- 
 queror, Hernando Cortes. By Wm. H. Prescott. 
 Illustrated by Engravings. 3 vols. 8vo. Price $6 00. 
 
 STEPHENS'S YUCATAN. Incidents of Travel in Yuca- 
 tan. By John L. Stephens, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo. 120 
 Engravings. Price $5 00. 
 
 GREEK ANTIQUITIES. A Dictionary of Greek and Ro- 
 man Antiquities. Edited by William Smith, Ph.D., 
 and Illustrated by numerous Engravings on Wood. First 
 American Edition, carefully Revised, and containing nu- 
 merous additional Articles relative to the Botany, Miner- 
 alogy, and Zoology of the Ancients. By Charles An-- 
 thon, LL.D. 8vo. Price $5 00. 
 
 AN ELEMENTARY TREATISE ON HUMAN PHYSI- 
 OLOGY, on the Basis of the Precis Elementaire de Phy- 
 siologic Par F. Magendie. Translated, Enlarged, and 
 Illustrated with Diagrams and Cuts. Especially design- 
 ed for the Use of Students of Medicine. By John Re- 
 vere, M.D. 8vo. Price $2 00. 
 
 ANTHON'S VIRGIL. The ^Eneid of Virgil, with English 
 Notes, Critical and Explanatory, and Metrical and Bio- 
 graphical Indexes. By Charles Anthon, LL.D. 12mo. 
 Price $2 00. „ • . 
 
 DR. OLIN'S TRAVELS. Travels in Egypt, Arabia Pe- 
 tnea, and the Holv Land. By the Rev. Stephen Olin, 
 D D., President of the Wesleyan University. 2 vols, 
 small 8vo. With 12 Illustrations on Steel. Price $2 50. 
 
 HISTORY OF EUROPE, from the Commencement of the 
 French Revolution in 1789 to the Restoration of the Bour- 
 bons in 1815. By Archibald Alison, F.R.S.E., Advo- 
 cate. 4 vols. 8vo. Extra Sheep. Price $5 00. 
 
 BRANDE'S ENCYCLOPAEDIA. Comprising the Histo- 
 ry, Description, and Scientific Principles of every Branch 
 of Human Knowledge. Edited by W. T. Brande, 
 F.R.S.L. & E. Extra Sheep. Price $4 00. 
 
 THE LIFE OF JAMES ARMINIUS, D.D. Compiled 
 from his Life and Writings, as Published by Mr. James 
 Nichols, by Nathan Bangs, D.D. Portrait. Price 
 50 cents. „ . _ , 
 
 SACRED BIOGRAPHY; or, the History <.f the Patriarchs. 
 To which is added, the History of De -.rah, Ruth, and 
 Hannah, and also the History of Jesus tirist. By Hen- 
 ry Hunter, D.D. 8vo. Price $1 75. 
 
 PHARMACOLOGIA, being an extended Inquiry into the 
 Operations of Medicinal Bodies, upon which are founded 
 the Theory and Art of Prescribing. By J. A. Paris, 
 M.D., cantab. F.R.S. ' From the Ninth London Edition. 
 With Notes, by CA. Lee, A.M., M.D. 8vo. Price $175. 
 
 INTEREST TABLES AT SEVEN PER CENT. By 
 George A. Stansbury, Esq. Royal 8vo. Price $1 50. 
 
 KENDALL'S SANTA FE EXPEDITION. Narrative of 
 the Texan Santa Fe Expedition, comprising a Description 
 of a Tour through Texas, and across the great South- 
 western Prairies, the Camanche and Caygiia Hunting- 
 grounds, with an Account of the Sufferings from Want 
 of Food, Losses from hostile Indians, and final Capture 
 of the Texans, and their March, as Prisoners, to the City 
 of Mexico. With Illustrations and a Map By George 
 Wilkin? Kendall. 2 vols, small 8vo. Price $2 50. 
 
 THE HEART DELINEATED in its State by Nature, and 
 as renewed by Grace. By Hugh Smith, D.D. 18mo. 
 Price 50 cents. 
 
 RELIGION IN AMERICA ; including a View of the vari- 
 ous Religious Denominations in the United States, &c, 
 &c. By Rev. Dr. Baird. 8vo. Price 50 cents. 
 
 REASONS FOR NOT BEING A ROMAN CATHOLIC. 
 By Rev. CiESAR Malan of Switzerland. 8vo. 50 cents. 
 
 BEDFORD'S MIDWIFERY. A System of Midwifery : 
 translated from the French of M. Chailly, with Notes, by 
 G. S. Bedford, M.D. 8vo. Price $2 00. 
 
 INVITATIONS TO TRUE HAPPINESS, and Motives for 
 becoming a Christian. By Joel Parker, D.D. Ismo. 
 Price 37| cents. 
 
 A NEW SYSTEM OF FRENCH GRAMMAR. Contain- 
 ing the first Part of Noel and Chapsal's Grammar, with 
 Questions, a Key in English, an Abridgment of the Syn- 
 tax, «fec, of the same Authors, Lessons in Reading, &c, 
 &c. By Sarah E. Seaman : edited by Prof. C. P. Bor- 
 denave. 12mo. Price 75 cents. 
 
 SHAKSPEARE. — THE BEST AND ONLY COMPLETE 
 EDITION. The Dramatic Works and Poems of William 
 Shakspeare, with Notes, Original and Selected, and In- 
 troductory Remarks to each Play, by Samuel Weller 
 Singer, 'F. S.A., and a Life of the Poet hv Charles 
 Symmons, D.D. Illustrated by 19 splendid Engraving! 
 on Steel. 8vo. Price $2 75. Well bound. 
 
 THE ENGINEERS' AND MECHANICS' POCKET- 
 BOOK. By C EL Haswell. 12mo. Tucks and gilt 
 edges. Price $1 50. 
 
 BARNES'S HEBREWS. Notes, explanatory and practi- 
 cal, on the Epistle to the Hebrews. By Albert Barne*. 
 12mo. Price 75 Cents. 
 
The Autobiography of Heinrich Stilling, 
 
 Late Aulic Counsellor to the Grand-duke of Baden, &c. Translated from the 
 
 German, by S. Jackson. Price 25 cents. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 From Frazer's Magazine. 
 " This book is the most delightful in the whole course of 
 German literature. It is equal, without being an allegory, 
 to Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress." 
 
 TaiVs. 
 
 11 Why has a work so long been withheld, or overlooked, 
 which only requires to be known to make its way to the 
 t wärest and soundest portion of the true old heart of England, 
 and to keep its place on our parlour shelves, somewhere be- 
 tween the ' Memoirs of Oberlin,' and those of our own ' Vic- 
 ar of Wakefield V This may seem high praise ; but it is 
 as highly merited. Let us conclude with hearty thanks to 
 Mr. Jackson, who has given us a book from the German, 
 which ought to become extensively popular, and which we 
 trust will long continue to be admired by English readers, 
 from its delightful affinity with all that is felt to be the 
 finer parts of our best national characteristics." 
 
 Metropolitan. 
 
 " The first part of this book is exquisitely pastoral ; and 
 the beautiful simplicity of nature was never made to appear 
 more beautiful than it does in the unsophisticated charac- 
 ters of the Stilling family. From his youth upward, Hein- 
 rich seems to have been marked by the hand of God as one 
 chosen to vindicate his ways, and to show how a true Chris- 
 tian could bear up against all evils, pass unscathed through 
 all trials, and meet, with pious resignation, all tribulations. 
 It is a book for the serious, and to make the thoughtless be- 
 come so." 
 
 Evangelical. 
 
 " It is indeed a remarkable production ; incident and di- 
 alogue are wrought up together, in a manner strongly re- 
 sembling the composition of romance : yet we cannot doubt 
 the truth of the narrative. The story is simple as the Pil- 
 grim's Progress, and fascinating as Robinson Crusoe." 
 
 Monthly Repository. 
 u The book is one of that species, the enjoyment of which 
 both implies and produces good in the reader. It resembles 
 those simple scenes in nature, the charm of which is sent 
 home to the heart by the universal power of nature, and 
 fixes itself there more firmly than can all the violence of tor- 
 rent, precipice, and tempest. An indescribable interest 
 pervades the volume." 
 
 Printing Machine. 
 " This is a book not to be talked about, but to be fallen 
 in love with, and one, therefore, rather for readers than for 
 critics. It is like a beautiful human countenance, formed 
 to take the hearts of all beholders, but which yet no one 
 ever became enamoured of from the truest and liveliest 
 description. The book is altogether one of the most de- 
 lightful we have ever read. On the whole, perhaps, in the 
 interest it excites, and the hold it takes of the mind, it re- 
 minds us as much of the effect of Robinson Crusoe as of any 
 other narrative we know ; but the two differ in this, that 
 whereas Defoe's work gives to fiction all the life and force 
 of fact, this charms us by making fact as interesting and 
 poetical as fiction. But in Stilling's life, the representation, 
 if less rich and diversified, has perhaps even, from its great- 
 er simplicity and more perfect unity, that which insinuates 
 itself deeper into the heart. This is a mere story of ordi- 
 nary life, but told by an extraordinary mind, which sheds 
 ^ver it of its own beauty, and makes its stoniest places to 
 olossom like the rose. We feel that we have met with an 
 honest book, a» we might feel after having made acquaint- 
 ance with a man, that we had found in him a noble na- 
 ture. That simplicity of spirit which is not ignorance, but 
 the highest wisdom, is spread over every page of the book 
 like sunlight." 
 
 Spectator. 
 
 u Heinrich Stilling contains a complete picture of German 
 lif* as exhibited among the better classes of the peasantry. 
 It also presents us with a picture of a singular and power- 
 ful, if not a first-rate mind, and with the struggles its own- 
 •r underwent in the pursuit of learning." 
 
 Literary Gazette. 
 u A more perfect specimen of a style of writing peculiar 
 to Germany has never yet received an English translation. 
 U it therefore a literary curiosity." 
 
 Athenäum. 
 
 "As a book of genuine and unaffected character, this 
 biography has been rarely surpassed. The third volume 
 closes a biography which, for its truth and simplicity, should 
 be acceptable to all, whatsoever be their sect or party." 
 Sun. 
 
 u The first part of the book is strictly a prose pastoral, ad- 
 hering closely to nature, and furnishing the reader with de- 
 lightful specimens of the better class of German peasantry. 
 The characters of the author's family, and the descriptions 
 of his own early wanderings and studies, are given with a 
 minuteness to which nothing but their extreme beauty and 
 delicacy could reconcile us ; but, indeed, Stilling, like our 
 own Goldsmith, adorns everything he touches— so fertile is 
 his fancy, and so picturesque his power of narration. It is 
 greatly to his credit, too, that though his book is impregna- 
 ted with a strong religious feeling, and his scriptural allu- 
 sions are incessant, there is no cant or affectation of supe- 
 rior virtue about him. Piety, in his estimation, is a thing 
 to feel, not to talk about ; hence he recommends himself to 
 all classes of readers. * * * But the main charm of this 
 book is its unaffectedness, in which quality it may vie even 
 with the Robinson Crusoe of Defoe." 
 
 Conversations Lexicon. English Edition, Glasgow, vol. iv., 
 p. 273. 
 
 " His celebrated work is incomparable. He relates with, 
 modesty and simplicity the way in which his life was pass- 
 ed among the classes of people less favoured by extensiv» 
 gifts of fortune ; and his pious and pure heart discloses it 
 self so unaffectedly and involuntarily, and the style is at 
 the same time so excellent, that the work is one of the 
 most popular among the German classics." 
 
 Christian Observer, Feb., 1836. 
 
 " The translation, and not least that of the poetry, is well 
 executed. Jung, or, as he is more commonly called, Stilling, 
 was a truly devout man, and unwearied in his labours to stem 
 the torrent of vice and infidelity that broke in upon his na 
 tive land. 
 
 Penny Cyclopaedia. 
 " It was at Gogthe's suggestion that he wrote his inter- 
 esting Autobiography, to whom he had often related it. As 
 a writer he was very popular." 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM FOREIGN NOTICES. 
 From Goethe's Autobiography. 
 " Among the new-comers, there was one who particularly 
 interested me ; his name was Jung, and is the same who 
 was afterward known under the appellation of Stilling. On 
 becoming more intimately acquainted with him, he was 
 found to possess a sound understanding, which, reposing 
 upon the mind, suffered itself to be governed by inclinations 
 and passions ; and from this very mind arose an enthusiasm 
 for all that is good, right, and true, in the utmost possible 
 purity : for his course of life had been very simple, and yet 
 had abounded with events, and a manifold activity. The- 
 element of his energy was an impregnable faith in God, and 
 in an assistance immediately proceeding from Him, which 
 obviously justified itself in an uninterrupted provision, and 
 an infallible deliverance from every distress, and ev°ry evil. 
 Jung had experienced numerous instances of r'.,s kind in 
 his life, and they had recently been frequenth repeated ; so 
 that though he led a frugal life, yet it was without care and 
 with the greatest cheerfulness ; and he applied hfmself most 
 diligently to his studies, although he could not reckon upon 
 any certain subsistence from one quarter of a year to an- 
 other. I urged him to WHITE his life, and he promised 
 to do so." 
 
 Mathison's Letters, Part I. 
 " Stilling, far from throwing too brilliant a Tight upon the 
 picture of his life, has, on the contrary, placed many things, 
 and invariably those which are precisely the most honour- 
 able to his. spirit and his heart, in a dubious and uncertain 
 light. He has preserved in it many an excellent popular 
 ballad." 
 
 Conversations Lexicon, 
 u He has described the greatest part of his life, without 
 fictitious embellishments, in the celebrated work, ' Heinrich 
 Stilling's Childhood Vouthful Years, and Wanderings,' ia 
 a manner which co i pletely corresponds with his mental 
 and piously poetic character " 
 
HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW-YORK, 
 
 HAVE NOW READY, A REVISED EDITION OF 
 
 WEBSTER'S DICTIONARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ENGLISH LANGUAGE, 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 ALL THE ADDITIONAL WORDS IN THE LAST EDITION OP THE LARGER WORK 
 
 Price $3 50, Sheep. 
 
 RECOMMENDATIONS, 
 
 This volume is designed to be a complete defining and 
 pronouncing dictionary for general use. With reference to 
 the first object, it embraces a much larger proportion of Dr. 
 Webster's great work, than is usual in abridgment! of this 
 kind, comprising more than half the matter of the two ori- 
 ginal quartos. With reference to the second object, import- 
 ant additions have been made from other sources, which 
 render it a more comprehensive work than any of the kind 
 in our language ; embracing, as it does, not only the pro- 
 nunciation of English words, but of Latin, Greek, and 
 Scripture Proper Names. Being formed with these views, 
 U contains : 
 
 1st. All the words which are found in the American Dic- 
 tionary, with numerous additions from other quarter*. 
 
 2d. A12 the definitions of the original work, with all the 
 shades of meaning as there given, expressed in the author's 
 own language, though to some extent in abridged terms. 
 The plan, however, has been to give the definitions, espe- 
 cially of synonymous words, with great fu'hiess ; so that this 
 •work is a substitute, to a great extent, tor a book of syno- 
 nyms. 
 
 3d. A complete system of English Pronunciation, every 
 word being so marked, as to exhibit the power of each let- 
 ter, and the proper place of the accent, at a single glance. 
 
 4th. A synopsis of words of disputed pronunciation. This 
 enables the reader to examiue for himself, as to doubtful 
 points. About nine hundred words are given in the synop- 
 sis, with the decisions of seven distinguished writers on 
 English orthoepy. 
 
 5th. The whole of Walker's Key to the Pronunciation of 
 Latin, Greek, and Scripture Proper Names. This is the 
 sole and acknowledged standard on these subjects, both in 
 England and America. When printed by itself, this work 
 makes a volume of nearly three hundred pages, 8vo. 
 
 Of the numerous recommendations of the original work 
 and the abridgment, the following only can be here given 
 From officers of Yale and Middlebury Colleges, and of the 
 Andover Theological Institution. 
 
 " The merits of Dr. Webster's American Dictionary of the 
 English language are very extensively acknowledged. We 
 regard it as a great improvement on all the works which 
 have preceded it : the definitions have a character of dis- 
 crimination, copiousness, perspicuity, and accuracy, not 
 found, we believe, in any other dictionary of the English 
 language." 
 
 From Rev. Dr. Wayland, President of Brown University. 
 
 " It gives mo pleasure to state, that I have made use of 
 your quarto or octavo dictionary, ever since the time of their 
 publication ; and that for copiousness, for exactitude of 
 definition, and adapledness to the present state of litera- 
 ture and science, they seem to me to be the most valuable 
 works of the kind that 1 have ever seen in our language."' 
 
 From Dr. Chapin, President of Columbia College, D. C. 
 
 u 1 am prepared, after protracted and careful examination, 
 to say that, in my judgment, the dictionary of Noah Webster 
 possesses unrivaled merit." 
 
 From Hon. Judge Story. 
 
 M 1 have had occasion to use and examine Dr Webster's 
 quarto dictionary, and the abridgment of it by Mr. Worces- 
 ter Each of them appears to nie to be executed with great 
 caie, learning, 7 id ability ." 
 
 From Dr. Fisk and other officers of the Wesleyan Univertttf t 
 Middletown, Ct. 
 " We have seen and examined your American Dictionary, 
 and we think it unrivaled by any work of the kind in th* 
 English language." 
 
 From the Medical Faculty of Yale College, and other distin 
 guished physicians. 
 
 " The subscribers having examined Dr. Webster's quarto 
 and octavo dictionaries, take pleasure in expressing our ap 
 probation of these works. The definitions, the most import- 
 ant part of such works, as to practical purposes, are full 
 and correct, and the vocabulary is by far the most extensive 
 that has been published ; indeed,, it is so complete as to be 
 a substitute for all other dictionaries of the language." 
 From the Rev. T. H. Gallaudet, late Principal of the Amer- 
 ican Deaf and Dumb Asylum. 
 
 " I have no hesitation in sa; ; ng, that Dr. Webster's Eng 
 lish Dictionary is decidedly the best with which 1 am ac* 
 quamted." 
 
 Similar recommendations have been given by more thai 
 a hundred members of Congress, and by various conven 
 tions of literary men and teachers. 
 
 FOREIGN TESTIMONIALS. 
 From the Cambridge Independent Press. 
 
 "When this work is as well known in Britain as it is i*, 
 America, it will supersede every other book of the kind im 
 the same department of letters. Its excellence is obvioua 
 and indisputable." 
 
 From the Dublin Literary Gazette. 
 
 "Dr. Webster's knowledge of languages appears to ba 
 extensive, and his researches for authorities to establish the 
 meaning of words, not to be met with in other dictionaries, 
 numerous. The introduction of technical and scientific 
 terms is a very valuable addition to a general dictnuiary. 
 The notation adopted by him for expressing the true sound 
 of the vowels, is much simpler than that introduced b? 
 Sheridan, and followed by Walker." 
 
 From the Examiner. ' 
 
 " The veteran Webster's work is new to this country ; but, 
 as far as we can judge, it seems to justify the highly favour- 
 able character it has long maintained in America ; and our 
 view is corroborated by that of a learned friend and critic, 
 who does not hesitate to say, that it is the best and most 
 useful dictionary of the English language that he has ever 
 seen." 
 
 From the Sun. 
 
 " It is impossible to refer to any one page, without disco»» 
 ering that Dr. Webster is a capital etymologist. His deri- 
 vations are exceedingly just, and his explanations of term!? 
 are full without be ng redundant." 
 
 From i,." Aberdeen Chronicle. 
 
 " We beg to call the attention of our readers to the repnh- 
 licatinn of this work, the s;i"reme excellence nf which imo 
 obvious, that it is unnecessary for us to enlarge on ita 
 ments." 
 
 Extended critiques <m the work, confirming these views, 
 have appeared in the Westminster Review, and the Scion 
 tific Journal of Professor Jameson of Edinburgh. 
 
" Books that you may carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand 
 
 ARE THE MOST USEFUL AFTER ALL. A MAN WILL OFTEN LOOK AT THEM, AND BE 
 TEMPTED TO GO ON, WHEN HE WOULD HAVE BEEN FRIGHTENED AT BOOKS OF A LAR 
 GER SIZE, AND OF A MORE ERUDITE APPEARANCE." Dr. JollHSOTl. 
 
 HARPER'S FAMILY LIBRARY, 
 
 Now comprising 171 vols. 18mo, abundantly illustrated by Maps, Portraits, and En- 
 gravings. Price, neatly and uniformly bound in muslin gilt, $75 70. Each work sold 
 separately. 
 
 Nos 1, 2, 3. — Milman's History of the 
 Jews 
 
 4, 5.— Lockl'art's Life of Napoleon Bo- 
 naparte. 
 
 6. — Southey's Life of Nelson. 
 
 7. — William's Life of Alexander the 
 Great. 
 
 €, 74.— Natural History of Insects. 
 
 9. — Gait's Life of Byron. 
 
 10. — Bush's Life of Mohammed. 
 
 — Scott's Letters on Demonology and 
 Witchcraft. 
 i2, 13.— Gleig's History of the Bible. 
 
 14. — Discovery and Adventure in the 
 Polar Seas and Regions. By Les- 
 lie, Jameson, and Murray. 
 
 15. — Croly's Life of George IV. 
 
 16. — Discovery and Adventure in Afri- 
 ca. By Jameson, Wilson, and Mur- 
 ray. 
 
 17. 18, 19, 66, and 67— Cunningham's 
 Painters and Sculptors. 
 
 20. — James's History of Chivalry and 
 the Crusades. 
 
 21, 22.— Bell's Life of Mary Queen of 
 Scots. 
 
 23. - Russell's Egypt. 
 
 24. — Fletcher's History of Poland. 
 
 25. — Festivals, Games, and Amuse- 
 ments. By Horace Smith. 
 
 26. — Brewster's Life of Sir Isaac New- 
 ton. 
 
 27. — Russell's History of Palestine. 
 26- — Memes's Memoirs of the Empress 
 
 Josephine. 
 
 29. — The Court and Camp of Bona- 
 parte. 
 
 30. — Lives and Voyages of Drake, 
 Cavendish, and Dampier. 
 
 .21. — Barrow's Description of Pitcairn's 
 Island, and Account of the Mutiny of 
 the Ship Bounty. 
 
 32, 72, 84.— Turner's Sacred History 
 of the World. 
 
 33, 34. — Mrs. Jameson's Memoirs of 
 Female Sovereigns. 
 
 35, 36.— The Landers' Travels in Afri- 
 ca, and Discovery of the Source and 
 Termination of the Niger. 
 
 37. — Abercrombie on »he Intellectual 
 Powers. 
 
 38, 39, 40 — St. John's Lives of Cele- 
 brated Travellers. 
 
 41, 42.— Lord Dover's Life of Frederic 
 the Great. 
 
 43, 44.— S medley's Sketches from Ve- 
 netian History. 
 
 45, 46. — Thatcher's Lives of the In- 
 dians. 
 
 47, 48, 49. — Account of British India. 
 By Murray, Wilson, Greville, Ains- 
 lie, Rhind, Jameson, Wallace, and 
 Dalrvmple. 
 
 50. — Brewster's Letters on Natural 
 Magic. 
 
 51, 52.— Taylor's History of Ireland- 
 
 53. — Discovery on the more Northern 
 Coasts ul America. By P. F. Tyt- 
 ler. 
 
 54. — Humboldt's Travels. By Mac- 
 
 gillivruy. 
 
 55. 56.— Euler's Letters on Natural 
 Philosophy. Edited by Brewster and 
 tiritu'itin. 
 
 57. — Mn, lie's Popular Guide to the 
 Observation of Nature 
 
 58. — Abercrombie's Philosophy of the 
 Moral Feelings. 
 
 59. — Dick on the Improvement of So- 
 ciety by the Diffusion of Knowledge. 
 
 60. — James's History of Charlemagne. 
 
 61. — Russell's History of Nubia and 
 Abyssinia. 
 
 62. 63.— Russell's Life of Oliver Crom- 
 well. 
 
 64. — Montgomery's Lectures on Poetry, 
 Literature, &c. 
 
 65. — Barrow's Life of Peter the Grea_t. 
 
 66. 67.— Lives of Painters and Sculp- 
 tors, Vols. IV. and V. 
 
 68, 69. — Crichtou's History of Arabia. 
 
 70. — Fraser's History of Persia. 
 
 71. — Combe on the Principles of Phys- 
 iology applied to the Preservation of 
 Health, -fee. 
 
 72. — Turner's Sacrod History of the 
 W- ,d, Vol. V 
 
 " ¥ r ~*«1J> History of the Barbary 
 
 *,' '^»tural History of Insects, Vol. II. 
 75, *<5.- Paulding's Life of Washing ■ 
 ton 
 
 77. — Ticknor's Philosophy of Living. 
 
 78. — Physical Condition of the Earth 
 and its most remarkable Phenomena 
 By Higgins. 
 
 79. — History of Italy: translated b) 
 Greene. 
 
 80. 81.— The Chinese. By Davis. 
 
 82. — History of the Circumnavigatior 
 of the Globe. 
 
 83. — Dick's Celestial Scenery. 
 
 84. — Turner's Sacred History of the 
 World, Vol. III. 
 
 85. — Gri scorn's Animal Mechanism and 
 Physiology. 
 
 86. 87, 88, 89, 90, 91.— Tytler's Uni- 
 versal History: continued by Dr. 
 Nares. 
 
 92, 93.— Life of Franklin, by Himself; 
 and a Selection from his Writings. 
 
 94, 95. — Pursuit of Knowledge under 
 Difficulties— its Pleasures and Re- 
 wards. 
 
 96, 97. — Paley's Natural Theology: 
 edited by Brougham, Bell, and Pot- 
 t«r. 
 
 98. — Natural History of Birds. 
 
 99. — Dick's Sidereal Heavens. 
 
 100. — Upham on Imperfect and Disor- 
 dered Mental Action. 
 
 101. 102.— Murray's History of British 
 America. 
 
 103. — Lossing's History of the Fine 
 Arts. 
 
 104. — Natural History of Quadrupeds. 
 
 105. — Life and Travels of Mungo Park. 
 
 106. — Dana's Two Years before the 
 Mast. 
 
 107. 108.— Parry's Four Voyages for 
 the Discovery of a Northwest Pas- 
 sage. 
 
 109, 1 10.— Life of Doctor Johnson ; with 
 a Selection from his Works. 
 
 111. — Bryant's Selection from Amer- 
 ican Poets. 
 
 112, 1 1 3. — Halleck's Selection from 
 British Poets. 
 
 114, 115, llfi, 117, 118.— Keightley's 
 
 Ilistorv of England. 
 119, 120.'— Hale's History of the United 
 
 States. 
 
 121, 122.-Irving's Life of Goldsmith, 
 and Selection from his Writings. 
 
 123, 124.— Distinguished Men of Mod- 
 ern Times. 
 
 125. — Renwick's Life of De Witt Clin- 
 ton. 
 
 126, 127. — Mackenzie's Life of Commo- 
 dore Perry. 
 
 128. — Life and Travels of Bruce : by 
 Sir Francis B. Head. 
 
 129. — Renwick's Lives of John Jay and 
 Alexander Hamilton. 
 
 130. — Brewster's Lives of Galileo, Ty- 
 cho Brahe, and Kepler. 
 
 131. — History of Iceland, Greenland, 
 and the Faroe Islands. 
 
 132. — Manners and Customs of the Jap- 
 anese. 
 
 133. — Dwight's History of Connecti- 
 cut. 
 
 134. 135.— Ruins of Ancient Cities: by 
 Charles Bucke. 
 
 136, 137. — History of Denmark, Nor- 
 way, and Sweden : by Cnchton and 
 Wheaton. 
 
 138. — Camp on Democracy. 
 
 139. — Lanman's Michigan. 
 
 140. — Fenelon's Lives of the Ancient 
 Philosophers. • 
 
 141. 142.— Count Segur's History of 
 Napoleon's Expedition to Russia. 
 
 143, 144. — History of Philosophy 
 translated, continued, and edited by 
 Rev. Dr. Henry. 
 
 145. — Bucke's Beauties, Harmonies, 
 and Sublimities of Nature. 
 
 146. — Lieber's Essays on Property and 
 Labour, as connected with Natural 
 Law and the Constitution of S<»ciety. 
 
 147. — White's Natural History of Sel- 
 borne. 
 
 H8.— Wrangell's Expedition to Siberia 
 
 i nd the Polar Sea. 
 149 150.— Popular Technology; or, 
 
 Piofessions and Trades. By Hazen. 
 151, 152, 153.— Italy and the Italian 
 
 Islands. By Spalding. 
 154, 155.— Lewis and Clarke's Travel* 
 
 West of the Mississippi. 
 
 156. — Smith's History of Education. 
 
 157. — Mesopotamia and Assyria. By 
 Fraser. 
 
 158. — Russell's History of Polynesia 
 or, the South Sea Islands. 
 
 159. — Perilous Adventures; or, Re 
 markable Instances of Courage, Per 
 severance, and Suffering. 
 
 160. — Constitutional Jurisprudence of 
 the United States. By Dr. Duer. 
 
 161. 162, 163. — Belknap's American 
 Biography ; edited, with Notes, by 
 F. M. Hubbard. 
 
 164. — Natural History of the Elephant 
 
 165. — Potter's Hand-book for Readers 
 and Students. 
 
 166. — Woman in America: her Moral 
 and Intellectual Condition. 
 
 167. 168.— Border Wars of the Revolu- 
 tion ; embracing the Life of Brant. By 
 
 W. L. Stone. 
 
 169. — Vegetable Substances used for 
 Food. 
 
 170. — Michelet's Elements of Modern 
 History : edited by Rev. Dr. Potter 
 
 171. — Bacon's Essays, and Locke on 
 the Understanding. 
 
9 
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 Harpbr & Brothers, 82 Cliff-street, New- York, have just issued a new and complete 
 catalogue of their publications, which will be forwarded, without charge, to any one 
 ordering the same either personally or by mail, post-paid. In this catalogue may be 
 found about eleven hundred volumes, embracing every branch of literature, standard 
 and imaginative. The attention of persons forming libraries, either private or public, 
 is particularly directed to the great number of valuable standard historical and miscel- 
 laneous works comprised in their list, among which are the following : 
 
 The School District Library, containing 250 vols., bound in 
 gilt muslin, pric« $95 00, or 38 cents per volume. 
 
 The Family Library, 171 vols., gilt maslin, $75 70. 
 
 The Classical Library, 36 vols., gilt muslin, $15 85. 
 
 The Boys' and Girls' Library, 32 vols., gilt muslin, $10 75- 
 
 Mrs. Sherwood's Works, 15 vols., gilt muslin, $12 75. 
 
 Miss Edgeworth's Works, 15 vols., gilt muslin, $11 95. 
 
 Sparks's American Biography, 10 voU., gilt muslin, $7 50. 
 
 Hannah More's Works, complete, 7 vols., gilt muslin, $§ 50. 
 
 The same Work, 2 vols. 8vo, she p extra, $2 75. 
 
 Shakspeare's Werks, 6 vols., g muslin, $6 50. 
 
 The same, 2 vols. 8vo, sheep extra, $2 75. 
 
 Plutarch's Lives, 4 vols., sheep extra, $3 50. 
 
 The same, 8vo, sheep extra, $2 00. 
 
 Alison's History of Europe, 4 vols., sheep extra, $5 00. 
 
 Gibbon's Decline and FaU of the Roman Empire, 4 vols., 
 sheep extra, $6 00. 
 
 Prescott's History of the Conquest of Mexico, 3 vols., ele- 
 gantly printed, bound in gilt maslin, $6 00. 
 
 Russell's History of Modern Europe, 3 vols., sheep extra, 
 $5 00. 
 
 Robertson's Historical Works, 3 vols., sheep extra, $5 00. 
 Murdock's Mosheim's Ecclesiastical History, 3 vols., sheep 
 extra, $7 50. 
 
 Maclaine's Mosheim's Eeelesiastical History, 2 vols., sheep 
 extra, $3 50. 
 
 Barnes's Notes on the New Testament, 7 vols., gilt muslin, 
 $5 25. 
 
 Neal's History of the Puritans, 2 vols., sheep extra, $3 00. 
 Rollin's Ancient History, complete, 2 vols., sheep extra, 
 $3 75. 
 
 Hallam's Europe during the Middle Ages, sheep extra, 
 $2 00. 
 
 Hallam's History of the Literature of Europe, 2 vols., sheep 
 extra, $3 75. 
 
 Milman's History of Christianity, gilt muslin, $1 90. 
 
 Prideaux's Historical Connection of the Old and New Tes- 
 taments, 2 vols., sheep extra, $3 75. 
 
 Waddington's Chureh History, gilt muslin, $1 75. 
 
 Works of Edmund Burke, 3 vols., sheep extra, $5 00. 
 
 Works of Joseph Addison, 3 vols., sheep extra, $5 50. 
 
 Works of Rev. Robert Hall, 3 vols., sheep extra, $5 00. 
 
 Works of Rev. Wm. Jay, 3 vols., sheep extra, $5 00. 
 
 The Illuminated and New Pictorial Bible, containing more 
 than 1600 Engravings. 
 
 Summerfleld's Sermons and Sketches of Sermons, gilt mus- 
 lin, $1 75. 
 
 Saurin's Sermons, 2 vols., sheep extra, $3 75. 
 Webster's 8ro Dictionary, sheep extra, $3 50. 
 jLuij^i CL isieal Dictionary, sheep extra, $4 75. 
 Dictionary «► Greek and Roman Antiquities, sheep extra, 
 $4 75. 
 
 M'Cttlioch's &eegraphieal Dictionary, 2 veil., sheep extra. 
 
 Brande's Encyclopaedia of Science, Literature, ftad Art, 
 
 sheep extra, $4 00. 
 Hooper's Medical Dictionary, sheep extra, $3 00. 
 Cooper's Surgical Dictionary, sheep extra, $3 88. 
 Crabb's English Synonymes, sheep extra, $2 38- 
 Brown's Bible Dictionary, sheep extra, $1 75. 
 Writings of Cornelius Mathews, gilt muslin, $1 00. 
 Stephens's Travels in Yucatan, 2 vols., gilt muslin, $5 00. 
 Stephens's Travels in Central America, <fcc, 2 vols., gilt 
 
 muslin, $5 00. 
 
 Stephens's Travels in Greece, Turkey, <fcc, 2 vols., gilt 
 muslin, $d 75. 
 
 Stephens's Travels in Egypt, the Holy Land, &c, 2 Vols., 
 
 gilt muslin, $1 75. 
 Dr. Olin's Travels in Egypt, the Holy Laad, &c., 2 vols., 
 
 gilt muslin, $2 50. 
 Dr. Durbin's Travels in Europe, 2 vols., gilt muslin, $2 50. 
 Dr. Keith's Land of Israel, gilt muslin. 
 Kendall's Santa Fe Expedition, 2 vols., gilt muslin, $2 50. 
 Dr. Fisk's Travels in Europe, sheep extra, $3 25. 
 Life of Rev. Dr. Fisk, gilt muslin, $2 00. 
 Hon. Amos Kendall's Life of General Jackson, gilt avislin. 
 Hunter's Sacred Biography, gilt muslin, $1 75. 
 Roberts's Memoirs of Hannah More, 2 vols., gilt muslin, 
 
 $1 50. 
 
 Magendie's Human Physiology, edited by Dr. Revere, gilt 
 muslin, $2 00. 
 
 Paris's Pharmacologia, edited by Dr. Lee, gilt muslin, $] 50. 
 Good's St idy of Medicine, 2 vols., sheep extra, $5 00. 
 Dr. Bedfbn 's new Work on Midwifery, gilt muslin. 
 Cruveilhier's Anatomy, edited by Dr. Paterton, gilt mus- 
 lin. 
 
 Religion in America, by Dr. Baird, gilt muslin. 
 
 Reasons for not being a Roman Catholic, by Dr. Malan of 
 
 Switzerland, gilt muslin. 
 Haswells Engineers' and Mechanics' Pocket-Book , roan, 
 
 with flaps, $1 50. 
 Stansbury's Interest Tables at Seven per Cent. 
 Upham's Mental Philosophy, 2 vols., sheep extra, $2 50. 
 Upham's Treatise on the Will, sheep extra, $1 25. 
 Dymond's Essays on the Principles of Morality, muslin, 
 
 $1 38. 
 
 Dr. Bangs 's Life of Arminius, gilt muslin, 50 cents. 
 
 Dr. Parker's Invitations to True Happiness, gilt muslin, 
 
 38 cents. 
 
 The Nestcrians, by Dr. Grant, gilt muslin, $1 00. 
 Notfl and ChapsaJ's French Grammar, gilt muslin, 75 
 cents. 
 
 Hempel's German Grammar, 2 vols., $1 75. 
 Dr. Mutt's Travels in Europe and the East, gilt muslin, 
 $1 90. 
 
 Miss Sedgwick's Letters from Abroad, 2 vols., gilt muslin, 
 $1 90. 
 
TRULY VALUABLE WORKS 
 
 PBEPARING FOR IMMEDIATE PUBLICATION 
 
 BY HARPER & BROTHERS, NEW-YORK. 
 The Works of the Rev. William Jay. 
 
 The Works of William Jay, Collected and Revised by himself With a beantiful Portrait. New and enlarged Edi- 
 tion. To be published in about Twelve Numbers, at 25 Cents each, forming three splendid octavo Volumes. 
 
 Chailly's Midwifery, edited by Dr. Bedford. 
 
 A System of Midwifery : translated from the French of M. Chailly, with Notos, by G. S. Bedford, M.D. 8vo. Plate«. 
 
 Dr. Durbin's Travels. 
 
 Travels in Europe. By Rev. J. P. Durfin, D.D. 2 vols, small 8vo. With numerous fine Illustrations. 
 
 Dr. Keith's Land of Israel. 
 
 The Land of Israel, according to the Covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. By Alexander Keith, 
 D.D., Author of " Evidence of Prophecy,"" Demonstration of the Truth of the Christian Religion," &c. With 20 splen- 
 did Engravings on Steel. 12mo. 
 
 The Mysteries Opened, by Dr. Stone, 
 
 The Mysteries Opened ; or, Scriptural Views of Preaching and the Sacraments, as distinguished from certain Theo- 
 ries concerning Baptismal Regeneration and the Real Presence. By the Rev. John S. Stone, D.D. 
 
 M'llvaine's Evidences of Christianity. 
 
 The Evidences of Christianity, in their External, or Historical, Division : exhibited in a Course of Lectures. By 
 Charles Pettit M'Iltaine, D.D., Bishop of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the State of Ohio. I2mo. 
 
 Morse's School Geography, with Fifty Maps, &c. 
 
 A System of Geography for the Use of Schools, illustrated with more than Fifty Cerographic Maps, and numerous 
 
 Wood-cut Engravings. By Sidney E. Morse, A.M. 
 
 This Geography has the great advantage of presenting the Map and Description on the same page, or on pages directly 
 opposite, so that the pupil can readily refer from one to the other. The Maps are more numerous, and generally on 
 a larger scale than in any other school geography. The Exercises on the Maps are so framed as to present a connected 
 view of the great natural features of each country. .The Descriptions are in a series of short p*iagraphs, written in a 
 remarkably concise style, and confined to the most interesting and characteristic matter. The General and Comparative 
 Views at the end of the volume are admirably fitted to strengthen the judgment. The whole work is the result of years 
 of careful study. It will be printed on fine paper, in the same beautiful style as Harper's Illuminated Bible, and the 
 new art of Cerography. now applied for the first time to a work of this kind, will enable the publishers to make it the 
 cheapest school geography ever issued. 
 
 Kendall's Life of General Jackson. 
 
 The Life of General Andrew Jackson. By the Hon. Amos Kendall. To be completed in about Fifteen Numbers, 
 at Twenty-five Cents each, illustrated with Engravings or Prints, averaging two to a Number, embracing Likenesses 
 of the General, and some of his most distinguished co-actors, Drawings of his Battle-grounds, &c. Several Numbers are 
 
 now ready, and are for sale by the principal Booksellers throughout the United States. 
 
 Neal's History of the Puritans, 
 
 The History of the Puritans, or Protestant Nonconformists ; from the Reformation in 1517, to the Revolution in 1688 ; 
 comprising an Account of their Principles, their Attempts for a farther Reformation in the Church, their Sufferings, and 
 the Lives and Characters of their most consid* .-able Divines. By Daniel Neal, M.A. A New Edition. With very 
 copious additional Notes, by the Rev. J. O. Choules. To be completed in Eight Numbers, at 25 Cents each. With a 
 
 Portrait of a Distinguished Puritan to each Number. Several Numbers are now ready. 
 
 Harper's Illuminated and New Pictorial Bible. 
 
 Embellished with Sixteen hundred Historical Engravings, exclusive of an Initial Letter to each Chapter, by J. A. Ad- 
 ams ; more than Fourteen hundred are from Original Designs, by J. G. Chapman. Complete in about 50 Numbers, at 
 25 Cents each. Several Numbers are now ready, syid are for sale by the principal Booksellers throughout the U. States. 
 
 M'Culloch's Universal Gazetteer. 
 
 A Dictionary, Geographical, Statistical, and Historical, of the Various Countries, Places, and Principal Natural Ob- 
 jects in the World. By J. R. M'Cullooh. In which the Articles relating to the United States will be re-written, and 
 greatly multiplied and extended, and adapted to the present Condition of the Country, and to the Wants of its Citizens. 
 By Daniel Haskel, A.M. To be completed in 18 Numbers, at 25 Cents each. 
 
 Anthon's Homer. 
 
 Homer's Iliad, with English Notes. By Charles Anthon, LL.D. 12mo. 
 
 New Greek Grammar. 
 
 A Grammar of the Greek Language, from the German of Kühner, Matthias, Buttmann, Rost, and Thiersch, to which 
 are appended Remarks on the Pronunciation of the Greek Language, and Chronological Tables explanatory of the same. 
 
 By Charles Anthon, LL.D. 12mo. 
 
 A New Greek and English Lexicon, 
 
 Including Liddell and Scott's enlarged Translation of Passow's Greek and German Lexicon, with Additions and Im- 
 provements from the Greek and English Lexicons of Donnegan and Dunbar, &o., by Henry Drisler, A.M., under the) 
 supervision of Professor Anthon.